A mere five and three-quarters miles, a mere 1,700 feet gained in elevation, and we’re already three weeks into the year. Then again, by this time last year I’d hiked less than three miles. Last year was the hikingest year in my life. I guess it’s a good start, what with the norovirus and all.
I went to Briones again: the last hike of the old year and the first hike of the new. Here I use the word “hike” loosely, having spent much of my hike sitting. If I cannot climb Diablo I will at least contemplate it, and I spent an hour sitting in the fire road doing just that.
I am housebound these days, with Zeke’s falling down. Leaving for an hour is a gamble. Leaving for a morning: unthinkable. There is plenty to do around the house, chores and gardening and drawing up plans for the writing cabin. and I still have a week of work for Earth Island Journal. I am not yet bored quite all the way out of my skull. Still, Becky took a shift today caring for him and I ran out of the house and into the hills.
A ridge faces east, Diablo across the valley. The wind blew hard against it and raptors rode the updraft. I sat, paid mind to the valley’s breath.
The oaks are the same, and the buckeyes. Audubon’s warbler watched from a rusted strand of barbed wire.
At least I thought it an Audubon’s warbler. I have not learned enough yet. I have immersed myself in the wrong world. For 15 years I woke, sought out the day’s ration of bad news, selected the worst to write about. In a week that ends. There is no escaping the bad news, but at least I need not seek it out for a living. The lichen holds enough drama for me today, and the dappled tans of chert collapsed across the trail with the last winter rain.
There is no escaping the bad news, but at least I need not seek it out for a living.
I love this. A motto to live by, at least when one can.
Um, although I said that just I’m more excited than I have been in ages as I finally settle down to write that book on Abramoff, the Interior Department and the Indian Trust Fund. But there’s bad bad news and good bad news, and Steve Griles going to jail is definitely good bad news.
finally settle down to write that book
Yes!
yes, Chris it’s a Audubon’s (Yellow-rumped) Warbler
I loved Briones when I lived in the Bay Area during the 1980s, thanks for the reminder. Oh…I have to go work on something now…thanks for the reminder!
Wasn’t it just an outstandingly crystal clear transparent lower atmosphere yesterday? Could see Diablo from way up north in the Sacramento Valley. It beckons - I will hike it from the base this year. When?
The lichen holds enough drama for me today, and the dappled tans of chert collapsed across the trail with the last winter rain.
Gold. Pure gold.
For 15 years I woke, sought out the day’s ration of bad news, selected the worst to write about.
...meanwhile you shared some of the best of your writing with us: the incredible poetic vision with which you detail your interactions with the natural world.
Without this kind of “best” news, the worst news loses its impact.
(I just reread your Star Jasmine post recently; I’ll be planting some, come spring.)