tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68936645714096054862024-02-22T13:58:11.278-08:00State Park Closures TripThis blog is about my quest to visit all 70 of the California State Parks on the closure list, to raise awareness of the parks and encourage others to visit. All posts and photos are by Lucy D'Mot, and may be freely used to promote the State Parks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-70046430748573974412012-07-24T21:07:00.000-07:002012-07-24T21:07:04.679-07:00POINT CABRILLO LIGHT STATION STATE HISTORIC PARK: Trip #70 of 70 !!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9ofvgIuRtlWL_2e6C73PjMRCZrVTe789Yfi_w-QceU38g6mDSesiSiiwWFT5z3CEvoeZmoc1r9l3WhD9nhbJLLhOvtNaKBo1WKcqVn23jv8RBZkmDViBpqYxNxEujd4H7HnmrjlPay-V/s1600/DSC06347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="292" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9ofvgIuRtlWL_2e6C73PjMRCZrVTe789Yfi_w-QceU38g6mDSesiSiiwWFT5z3CEvoeZmoc1r9l3WhD9nhbJLLhOvtNaKBo1WKcqVn23jv8RBZkmDViBpqYxNxEujd4H7HnmrjlPay-V/s320/DSC06347.JPG" /></a>
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Tuh Duh! Drum roll please. Presenting <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=22276">Point Cabrillo Light Station State Historic Park</a>, trip number 70 out of 70 of the State Parks that were put on the closure list a year ago! Woohoo! To be honest, when I began my visits in July 2011, I wasn't even sure if I actually intended to get to them all. But I did! And it has been well worth it!
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Point Cabrillo Light Station includes the historic 1909 Light Station, and 270 acres of undeveloped coastal bluffs and prairie. The property was purchased and preserved from development in 1992 by the <a href="http://scc.ca.gov/">California State Coastal Conservancy</a> and managed by a non-profit affiliate, the North Coast Interpretive Association. It became a state park in 2002.
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The park includes not only the light house, but also three restored buildings that were the homes of the light house keepers, a small marine museum, and walking trails that take you through the fields and meadows, and along the spectacular head-lands of Mendocino that thrust out into the Pacific.
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Patty and I began our visit by parking in the day-use lot and walking the half mile down the access road. Every few yards was a plaque with a marine science related question, like: "If it takes a Gray Whale two months to travel 6,000 miles from Baja to the Arctic, how many miles per day must it swim?" Word Problems!
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtJPfJLSc5Pp4KiQhhq1q1WpoIfAw0crMKIbsAWoGJD31MeTJq7NSbS3dyU08p4f2Xqc3deJ66nHs-V13ayopBC91Er3Jns_hm0P7aUydlzq0iLwlOqXf-B4xj77_qopO4lj9uy3moVhq/s1600/DSC06363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="192" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtJPfJLSc5Pp4KiQhhq1q1WpoIfAw0crMKIbsAWoGJD31MeTJq7NSbS3dyU08p4f2Xqc3deJ66nHs-V13ayopBC91Er3Jns_hm0P7aUydlzq0iLwlOqXf-B4xj77_qopO4lj9uy3moVhq/s320/DSC06363.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOapULLAzgtF7NGw6tEMy1MQsK0rt-s9tlVVOifLzeNRb2L7iRzOJn7K5rjYBhyphenhyphenW0vhC5cs_1Lmeee1RpYJvX5Ay6njrWaFxOmZL3nxjAri7WWYjioeBNZ4Jw5Ny09fL9-2Prqilpj-ZGd/s1600/DSC06359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOapULLAzgtF7NGw6tEMy1MQsK0rt-s9tlVVOifLzeNRb2L7iRzOJn7K5rjYBhyphenhyphenW0vhC5cs_1Lmeee1RpYJvX5Ay6njrWaFxOmZL3nxjAri7WWYjioeBNZ4Jw5Ny09fL9-2Prqilpj-ZGd/s320/DSC06359.JPG" /></a>
But, before our brains hurt too much, we were rescued by the appearance of the light-keepers' homes and out buildings. Photographs and furnishing from the day are inside the three buildings. The exteriors are painted in what we learned were the tradi-tional lighthouse keeper colors, and the gardens filled with all of those lush perennials that refuse to grow at my inland home.
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A few more yards down the road is a large shed - The Marine Science Exhibit - a small but packed museum filled with specimens of all sorts. There are a couple of modest aquariums, many shell exhibits, and even a paper mache Gray Whale made by art students from the local Big Brothers and Sisters organization.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeR1dProSkYfOhS61ALOD70PuOBZXaAO8GQ7XB_-t7tMGlvvtuo4HCZNqHkujVrAVLOhuXloAVw74TeUt46ApG8fgRLnUU5-61wsV7JqiirC8K09IXifQ_BvIXPFJepXjCW1p_9gAp6bx7/s1600/DSC06381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="177" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeR1dProSkYfOhS61ALOD70PuOBZXaAO8GQ7XB_-t7tMGlvvtuo4HCZNqHkujVrAVLOhuXloAVw74TeUt46ApG8fgRLnUU5-61wsV7JqiirC8K09IXifQ_BvIXPFJepXjCW1p_9gAp6bx7/s320/DSC06381.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgd1HtCvTo_2JJaCTZR8CmoOWKdBL2SQxoCuMdITd3LWL6gQiO3nNJvP9XOHTj_4y1CDr1kXuZ6k5nmPt6h8k-rxycQMKrhjqlWW7qvE5YLSVTk41qpbPneYQEkt3MuXXHTSCaZRXmNyu/s1600/DSC06382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="177" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgd1HtCvTo_2JJaCTZR8CmoOWKdBL2SQxoCuMdITd3LWL6gQiO3nNJvP9XOHTj_4y1CDr1kXuZ6k5nmPt6h8k-rxycQMKrhjqlWW7qvE5YLSVTk41qpbPneYQEkt3MuXXHTSCaZRXmNyu/s320/DSC06382.JPG" /></a>
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The ground floor of the lighthouse is half museum, half gift shop. The stairwell to the top is roped off, for official use only. It is chalk full of the beacon's history, including photographs of lighthouse families from the past.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlbUWGl9f890fYrG3xiqSCR_HPPDArZ6yPhkyJQezjidJrA7TCSSdqlrhlSaWA09uXNzDPLamjHw6vkfR-OUWjsZKlcSUZkFugwij9PUQEb11f8D5ZeAb4i9alurP0iLlIEI8_fxOPKCk/s1600/DSC06394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlbUWGl9f890fYrG3xiqSCR_HPPDArZ6yPhkyJQezjidJrA7TCSSdqlrhlSaWA09uXNzDPLamjHw6vkfR-OUWjsZKlcSUZkFugwij9PUQEb11f8D5ZeAb4i9alurP0iLlIEI8_fxOPKCk/s200/DSC06394.JPG" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcortWEiq44cPoZL4p3onE75S-WU6F3-Fdu0KMUK8KqDtGrbvICRUFScOJVjmUQAC8iJeZf5df83ZmFsU8ckKErX2leO8PpLkjgbavp6txGlw1aei16Wq6gdkxybh4JIzOMyamyxFR31w_/s1600/DSC06396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcortWEiq44cPoZL4p3onE75S-WU6F3-Fdu0KMUK8KqDtGrbvICRUFScOJVjmUQAC8iJeZf5df83ZmFsU8ckKErX2leO8PpLkjgbavp6txGlw1aei16Wq6gdkxybh4JIzOMyamyxFR31w_/s200/DSC06396.JPG" /></a>
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The emblems of The US Lighthouse Service, The US Life Saving Service and the US Coast Guard were displayed proudly in the museum.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhUk1CReavZbBqHUqLZk99UlSGXBYnI2wr2JhjpNHVAAEVBArClF02CNoEZNbW4eih9o7001wvlwoQyDg99Jb997MIXsLfpP9kMZQIJcudDrkzJiKYjLPpmlWMYAu55aa7eLnrm9ak_Rs/s1600/DSC06388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhUk1CReavZbBqHUqLZk99UlSGXBYnI2wr2JhjpNHVAAEVBArClF02CNoEZNbW4eih9o7001wvlwoQyDg99Jb997MIXsLfpP9kMZQIJcudDrkzJiKYjLPpmlWMYAu55aa7eLnrm9ak_Rs/s320/DSC06388.jpg" /></a>
The actual light that cuts through the pea soup fog every ten seconds is itself a classic. It is a Fresnel lens third order rotating optic built by the Chance Brothers of Smethwick England. Most Fresnel lenses were made in France with only about fifteen coming from the British Chance Bros. The Point Cabrillo lens is one of only three remaining in the USA. This four panel lens rotates one complete revolution every forty seconds, thereby producing a "flash" anywhere on the horizon every ten seconds. Gorgeous!
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Next we headed out to the cliffs and meadows of the headlands. A Sea Lion was swimming in the cove.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUDWr4LLZdLKud8-e1FuQyTjt5ImsApXY1Ey4e7bb9yJDJmhdcl8GpBc3w8AEH80hh4MV7w9D3kxaAXScVHsvXqOlFwxCeyb3-jgepUPEaMhmuoVFe5V-DLii2Fn6-c1z1YRmABph0Ous/s1600/DSC06414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUDWr4LLZdLKud8-e1FuQyTjt5ImsApXY1Ey4e7bb9yJDJmhdcl8GpBc3w8AEH80hh4MV7w9D3kxaAXScVHsvXqOlFwxCeyb3-jgepUPEaMhmuoVFe5V-DLii2Fn6-c1z1YRmABph0Ous/s320/DSC06414.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__lANC0NfE6sJxbucmSSaOFW-I2zTrnYDJfK2qs83pF-PBp8gqaY9ed6KpHd3eEmo1RWCJ61jLqtIPA0erp1qoKERwf2TeezBtNnCRb-FlARqzSeeo3dJfCktO1znN5Q29wdIxqA6xEfu/s1600/DSC06424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__lANC0NfE6sJxbucmSSaOFW-I2zTrnYDJfK2qs83pF-PBp8gqaY9ed6KpHd3eEmo1RWCJ61jLqtIPA0erp1qoKERwf2TeezBtNnCRb-FlARqzSeeo3dJfCktO1znN5Q29wdIxqA6xEfu/s320/DSC06424.JPG" /></a>
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A Deer was munching in the meadow, perhaps on these exotic, two-tone poppies, or the lavender and yellow asters.
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Two orange billed Black Oyster Catchers came out to protect their nest from marauding Seagulls. Birds, sea mammals, land mammals, hiking, history, wildflowers and a lighthouse all in one park. Not bad!
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When California State Parks acquired Point Cabrillo, the management was assumed by a newly formed non-profit organization: The <a href="http://www.pointcabrillo.org/">Point Cabrillo Lightkeepers Association (PCLK).</a>
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The State provided the Coastal Conservancy with four million dollars to be used for the restoration of the Light Station. From 2002 to 2006, the Coastal Conservancy granted that money to the PCLK who used it under the supervision of the State Parks Department. Is this getting confusing yet?
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The PLCK used the funds to restore two of the three light keepers' houses and the three historic out buildings. They state that further restoration, along with the historic fencing and gardens will be accomplished as additional funds become available.
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Funds? What funds? This park is the 70th park that I have visited that is on the closure list due to <i>lack of funds</i>.
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Or so we thought. I cannot close out my year long project without mentioning last week's stunning news that California's Parks and Recreation department "discovered" they had under reported <b>54 Million Dollars $!$! </b> This has resulted in the resignation of parks director Ruth Coleman, and the firing of one other employee. In case you were out hiking and missed the news, you can <a href="http://www.sacbee.com/2012/07/21/4646682/hidden-parks-funds-spark-outrage.html">read about it in this Sacramento Bee article.</a>
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I join those who are outraged at the deception, the cover-up, and whatever else will be revealed in upcoming hearings. Each and every park on the closure list was responsible for finding their own funds to stay open. Thousands of people have contributed time and money in big ways to make it happen. To all of you I say, "Thank You!!!"
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSS_GiqlwWwDxWTIRv3WmUr0kfZkCKPFWrC35bHn_0luLIBsSsPCbTpi6OLoeM6O6lmk4Ic9zzpv6xmTE1lijRpcDr-n3gB3Ti5Ov-89DeUYQQSOWotBMcXHb0_VPp6qseAQbKXJaoVFx/s1600/DSC06344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSS_GiqlwWwDxWTIRv3WmUr0kfZkCKPFWrC35bHn_0luLIBsSsPCbTpi6OLoeM6O6lmk4Ic9zzpv6xmTE1lijRpcDr-n3gB3Ti5Ov-89DeUYQQSOWotBMcXHb0_VPp6qseAQbKXJaoVFx/s320/DSC06344.JPG" /></a>
I do not regret one minute spent at our beautiful parks. I hope this "found" money returns to parks and rec so that we all can continue our ownership of our amazing and diverse lands.
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May the brilliant Fresnel at Point Cabrillo Light Station continue to shine and draw us in. And maybe once in awhile, it can beam towards Sacra-mento and shed some light on any nefarious accounting practices.
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And now... for the rest of the state!
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-54870822962996862952012-07-23T21:40:00.000-07:002012-07-24T08:07:07.688-07:00MANCHESTER STATE BEACH: Trip #69 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggms6eVv76O4ZfEK91jLHaKVCLpgslfTop-bvT4iV-nfDxDZGuccplUt4ivRan3zQ8Cp3obEdD4XzSYnCO5cai8Y1DZSw00hsvazRf-twvHC529aKtvFvo7zmwYRDLdQul0M47PUFAzUGB/s1600/DSC06292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="243" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggms6eVv76O4ZfEK91jLHaKVCLpgslfTop-bvT4iV-nfDxDZGuccplUt4ivRan3zQ8Cp3obEdD4XzSYnCO5cai8Y1DZSw00hsvazRf-twvHC529aKtvFvo7zmwYRDLdQul0M47PUFAzUGB/s320/DSC06292.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFflRg15NtgOqT8cp1mq5HKbDAz7gme_QnirW5ZE8mxVbIdKpRGyuj2IbHI4PZhn6GHA0ZgK6AREeuCY71oo2j_uLj4SyZQWYGF8nyHt3e-VkGn_VyWLjRELsUA9hpPoiBeBjiLcCAfTHJ/s1600/DSC06325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="221" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFflRg15NtgOqT8cp1mq5HKbDAz7gme_QnirW5ZE8mxVbIdKpRGyuj2IbHI4PZhn6GHA0ZgK6AREeuCY71oo2j_uLj4SyZQWYGF8nyHt3e-VkGn_VyWLjRELsUA9hpPoiBeBjiLcCAfTHJ/s320/DSC06325.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJhyH3MgDJS-8rdh4RMujuS-t5Apoylc7W9YCTDdl0Nz6mwfRCs5pDx7SxKPdI9sVDrm99jvSqP7dY4PsLi_cbHYJLgeafBuHLx5RN-xsPjr6IrtGdImIQvWPL2wthkLTiamgoFF68YmN/s1600/DSC06242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="242" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJhyH3MgDJS-8rdh4RMujuS-t5Apoylc7W9YCTDdl0Nz6mwfRCs5pDx7SxKPdI9sVDrm99jvSqP7dY4PsLi_cbHYJLgeafBuHLx5RN-xsPjr6IrtGdImIQvWPL2wthkLTiamgoFF68YmN/s320/DSC06242.JPG" /></a>
This particular blog is more personal than most of my posts. I have debated whe-ther or not to write of my in-ward experiences and obser-vations while at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=437">Manchester State Park & Beach</a>, and I have decided to do so.
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It was while visiting this park that I received word that my Father had completed his earthly journey and passed away. This was followed by an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solar_eclipse_of_May_20,_2012">annular solar eclipse</a>. As my trip to Manchester will be forever colored by these two events, I am choosing to write about them.
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A red dragonfly greeted me at the entrance of the beach. In some Native American tradi-tions, <a href="http://www.birdclan.org/dragonfly.html">Dragonfly represents illusion</a>. Or as the saying goes, "Things are seldom what they seem."
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Perhaps that is why I found a pine cone in the sand, and saw birds moving in unison as they fished their dinner out of the surf. Maybe the energy of the day was unusual be-cause before the afternoon was done, we'd be viewing the only annular solar eclipse that we would see in our life time.
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When planning our week long Fort Bragg/State Parks trip for the third week in May, Patty and I had originally planned to begin at one of the heavily forested parks. But when we realized the eclipse would be 90% visible from any beach on the northern California coast, we instead opted for Manchester Beach to begin our trip.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKsHzjSEhEKGJgDXhKiowavx2KVYrtIhc_VpWAEm-BJS0YKOYdZVt6W2u82Peo-NmyUD7uLQ7Rm8nc9jpLYfUTg5eN1E8nYEkFRgiHDc-KGxDwoRxcbHE2WNDjALShGetfExPRP7jm6e8/s1600/DSC06264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="296" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKsHzjSEhEKGJgDXhKiowavx2KVYrtIhc_VpWAEm-BJS0YKOYdZVt6W2u82Peo-NmyUD7uLQ7Rm8nc9jpLYfUTg5eN1E8nYEkFRgiHDc-KGxDwoRxcbHE2WNDjALShGetfExPRP7jm6e8/s320/DSC06264.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJscN052NEfMzX4JZjBiZr_xmHCX8MuWV0vT4CwH27np_rvAwyNWKZ0XA1GnO8G2z-wfNZmEZa_ne1I6w5ftPAj6lh5fF_wMHjEGtLZ8TfKLj0SWN6hJWdv6TkvXEX07ofENKqsGYzFiyQ/s1600/DSC06262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="211" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJscN052NEfMzX4JZjBiZr_xmHCX8MuWV0vT4CwH27np_rvAwyNWKZ0XA1GnO8G2z-wfNZmEZa_ne1I6w5ftPAj6lh5fF_wMHjEGtLZ8TfKLj0SWN6hJWdv6TkvXEX07ofENKqsGYzFiyQ/s320/DSC06262.JPG" /></a>
The state beach extends five miles from just above the mouth of Garcia Creek to the mouth of Alder Creek. Walk-ing north, we had a pristine beach almost to ourselves, even on a clear Sunday with an upcoming eclipse!
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To the south, huge logs that have been tossed up by the sea lie in jumbled piles at the foot of sand dunes. Man-chester is known for the large quantities of driftwood that accumulate on shore. Small structures - both crude and creative - had been assembled on the sand by previous beach goers.
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Also near Manchester’s southern boundary is the <a href="http://www.pointarenalighthouse.com/">Point Arena Lighthouse</a>, where visitors can still climb to the top of the Pacific Coast's tallest ocean beacon. Sitting on the rocky cliffs so familiar to California's north coast, it was originally built in 1870, then rebuilt after the 1906 earthquake.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFraX6Qab7ATnmvBxJGz0iGPxMsvlUoKjPc-m2087sdOTySaISDa6fOBi8wB3dNPmijiZhTF-VrpB2K2gyl00bEJ8L9AH5FBP6opnllvN2MG4Y-lhpVPwpwaqPuZGo7kaJ_-uimvauIiqA/s1600/DSC06280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="189" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFraX6Qab7ATnmvBxJGz0iGPxMsvlUoKjPc-m2087sdOTySaISDa6fOBi8wB3dNPmijiZhTF-VrpB2K2gyl00bEJ8L9AH5FBP6opnllvN2MG4Y-lhpVPwpwaqPuZGo7kaJ_-uimvauIiqA/s320/DSC06280.JPG" /></a>
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As always, the water birds made me smile as I watched them search for food in the shallow water and sand. But not even they could com-pletely snap me out of my heavy-hearted, anxious mood.
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I had spent the last four days with my Dad in the South Bay. He had slipped into a coma three days earlier. I spent time at his bedside singing traditional hymns while he slept. I knew his time was short, a day or two at the most.
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A small estuary lay behind the dunes on the south end of the beach, offering resting and nesting habitat for waterfowl.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjXBqfLfWR_g3jgZW3igAdNH8JG43LMKp9USTYrKMcdiCG1o6s3yz_R8_Lgu7YPvfqRhFwMEpHmz4zZS_klAfJSUaJ7heoplXylfsOBIX-5urMlF2mAhG7Pm0WN1-3_Dyu54uVxOU7nwx/s1600/DSC06294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjXBqfLfWR_g3jgZW3igAdNH8JG43LMKp9USTYrKMcdiCG1o6s3yz_R8_Lgu7YPvfqRhFwMEpHmz4zZS_klAfJSUaJ7heoplXylfsOBIX-5urMlF2mAhG7Pm0WN1-3_Dyu54uVxOU7nwx/s320/DSC06294.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyEwfFugyfHQ0j5bu_JXCbl3Vadv1mPwlLyFUzB1Wp2qjZ3EObrmRvRuapm9Qdw6Hoj4SncZhz3dhAIGqBvM-5962gh19yhVuNoeVXiB4GlSWinQ4k4s3JN8IdsiRFNxDsqeOEwWAHjcf/s1600/IMG_6003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="225" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyEwfFugyfHQ0j5bu_JXCbl3Vadv1mPwlLyFUzB1Wp2qjZ3EObrmRvRuapm9Qdw6Hoj4SncZhz3dhAIGqBvM-5962gh19yhVuNoeVXiB4GlSWinQ4k4s3JN8IdsiRFNxDsqeOEwWAHjcf/s320/IMG_6003.jpg" /></a>
A driftwood log took on the shape of an Alligator bench. I spotted an odd looking rock. It was different from the other beach rocks. This one was flat and smooth. It had the shape of a man's footprint. I held it for a moment. It made me think of my Dad, and how his "walk" was coming to a close. I wanted to show the rock to Patty, but she was about a half mile down the beach, so I put in on the "alligator bench" where I could find it to show her later.
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When Patty caught up with me I picked up the rock to show her. As I held it in my hands it broke into three pieces. I was stunned. I lay the rock down on a piece of wood and we watched as cracks continued to form in the pieces of rock until there were eventually eight or nine broken pieces. It seemed a metaphor for my Dad's body physically breaking apart. I actually found myself checking the time. It was 3:30pm
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Wondering if the rock was made of a soft material we threw pieces of it against other rocks and wood, but it would not break into any more pieces.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-O9CBgqVKofXD0IapGDRHBBNtMQrkAJL12dHF2jfREp5-HI9zB0sVhd5Yio71wCClYFvQ8XDYjMCG0nNqBCH9N4i7odHLFLVvbned3WaLOTIGnN_D8cvinpeEMpe9w9w4c9wiNDsNClk/s1600/DSC06277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-O9CBgqVKofXD0IapGDRHBBNtMQrkAJL12dHF2jfREp5-HI9zB0sVhd5Yio71wCClYFvQ8XDYjMCG0nNqBCH9N4i7odHLFLVvbned3WaLOTIGnN_D8cvinpeEMpe9w9w4c9wiNDsNClk/s320/DSC06277.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuntAAjyt8CNkOqfLtgDRsKYo1DXCWMVoZVsYumY02tc4ZnKQ5kcQbPaGMhYfK9cQo_kgVrHpufjonrtA7ALlWKyENI2OVecJN9zjkTMctY4EGAq4tF06t2NWs_9HB-X7QWQJ6gbPuhmX/s1600/DSC06287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuntAAjyt8CNkOqfLtgDRsKYo1DXCWMVoZVsYumY02tc4ZnKQ5kcQbPaGMhYfK9cQo_kgVrHpufjonrtA7ALlWKyENI2OVecJN9zjkTMctY4EGAq4tF06t2NWs_9HB-X7QWQJ6gbPuhmX/s320/DSC06287.JPG" /></a>
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We quietly began our walk back to the north end of the beach, passing more driftwood. A huge flock of white seagulls - at least 100 birds - flew over my head and the song "Swing Low Sweet Chariot," popped into my mind. It was one the hymns I'd been singing to my Dad. The gulls made me think of the line, "a band of angels comin' after me, comin' for to carry me home." I teared up. I could almost see the gulls pulling the chariot.
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Within five minutes my cell phone rang. Dad had passed at 3:45pm. He was home.
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We walked quietly along the creek for about an hour. Then we found a bit of shelther from the wind in the dunes, donned our "eclipse sun-glasses" and watched the sun disappear...
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...and then return.
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The eclipse was the perfect final metaphor that was offered up on this day. My Dad had suffered for years. Now the light had returned. We were both at peace.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-27036987080244372372012-07-22T16:23:00.001-07:002012-07-22T16:23:26.188-07:00SALTON SEA STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #68 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIuIQeReGZE1C8ZhQeZoQFtONUUbh6eoV6Azmvvs1kgaw1pGiwLUFOB4gTs2sVe8QxtMjbxVi2PwHeTi9Y0uRPkXBWwiuCU0a2RvdwLhn0AvICAXucSPIjMybEP1QfSsJ9TP0aVqIRT4N/s1600/Kill+the+Earth+4+%2521%2521%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIuIQeReGZE1C8ZhQeZoQFtONUUbh6eoV6Azmvvs1kgaw1pGiwLUFOB4gTs2sVe8QxtMjbxVi2PwHeTi9Y0uRPkXBWwiuCU0a2RvdwLhn0AvICAXucSPIjMybEP1QfSsJ9TP0aVqIRT4N/s320/Kill+the+Earth+4+%2521%2521%2521.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxqbtYY1okwE82YxBYogA6b71sWpbTAxn-KCdSyN77TgdzGLmN28WLD1E2TVrt04cQdLuj657VWzCPP-faJtlrDeFgdcRbztaIqk5SJNA0kehnGYhCVvrwuk2dbwjR8OebuZ5e5EQQlrs/s1600/IMG_4673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="225" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxqbtYY1okwE82YxBYogA6b71sWpbTAxn-KCdSyN77TgdzGLmN28WLD1E2TVrt04cQdLuj657VWzCPP-faJtlrDeFgdcRbztaIqk5SJNA0kehnGYhCVvrwuk2dbwjR8OebuZ5e5EQQlrs/s320/IMG_4673.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdqQ6o5sNrweNfvmhoRLyg6APFEsBO6JXyTM-DH1GjXulzKI0EnxfBaTh2kzYDFhhXpYkiyJZkvlyhElFk6vmDjvFIDp703HvXo6sITJStMFxXwQO32aNjBetSL2yiNYQxhZQ8KAScB0t/s1600/IMG_4633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdqQ6o5sNrweNfvmhoRLyg6APFEsBO6JXyTM-DH1GjXulzKI0EnxfBaTh2kzYDFhhXpYkiyJZkvlyhElFk6vmDjvFIDp703HvXo6sITJStMFxXwQO32aNjBetSL2yiNYQxhZQ8KAScB0t/s320/IMG_4633.JPG" /></a>
First there was a Salton Sea. Then there was no sea. Now there is again.
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<a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=639">The Salton Sea State Recre-ation Area</a> just south of Palm Springs is both one of the world's largest inland seas and one of the lowest spots on earth, sitting at 227 feet below sea level.
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In this particular incarnation, the Salton was accidentally re-created in 1905 when high spring flooding on the Colo-rado River crashed the canal gates that lead into the Imper-ial Valley. For the next eight-een months the entire volume of the Colorado rushed down-ward into the Salton Trough. By the time engineers were able to stop the water in 1907, the Salton Sea had been re-born at forty-five miles long and twenty miles wide, crea-ting 130 miles of shoreline.
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The Salton Sea is one of only two parks of the 70 on the closure list that I had previ-ously visited. I know it's not the favorite park of some folks. In the winter many dead fish wash up on shore attracting a lot of flies. I find in endlessly fascinating though, and was sorry I didn't have more than a few hours to spend to view and understand the sea's oddities.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxFdj29QSOR0KD-yaYNyaeztbMsseiSPKqCk3tTC7OHD9uCodYfifluUnJSmqEipl_6cSEemdt1ij-WaOypqRE2iZbmDLSDeA-QcaZfI3W67M9k1kphRbY_Fcc4SzZZNhisPxrb310FgR/s1600/IMG_4650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="275" width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxFdj29QSOR0KD-yaYNyaeztbMsseiSPKqCk3tTC7OHD9uCodYfifluUnJSmqEipl_6cSEemdt1ij-WaOypqRE2iZbmDLSDeA-QcaZfI3W67M9k1kphRbY_Fcc4SzZZNhisPxrb310FgR/s320/IMG_4650.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tRLx7FIDjUg24O1Kz_VZIY0_jeK8GZU0cMtjm6sUTUAJsLphMa72EkepCIvr3VsHq3_C0F6B8dm_-3SakqG0kXwcQnNJkq1IPJ6quS3gjVC42ZqQbhQFbMVkgSEkKfmIqbjmEceT3MKF/s1600/IMG_4655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="275" width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tRLx7FIDjUg24O1Kz_VZIY0_jeK8GZU0cMtjm6sUTUAJsLphMa72EkepCIvr3VsHq3_C0F6B8dm_-3SakqG0kXwcQnNJkq1IPJ6quS3gjVC42ZqQbhQFbMVkgSEkKfmIqbjmEceT3MKF/s320/IMG_4655.JPG" /></a>
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On some days, up to four million birds – over 400 species - visit the sea at one time. This was of course, a major draw for me.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicToPyXU5w64cgU4jfa2JrvjcHAvYP_E_htg09fC44AMapn4wh5clIN5O2S-WWA0HbXqCRVqHqbl6FENdvE8qkV6BCpl38e5Wu8tbUIgdGun5XkeP2fD8Zoh04-Y0KTpS9_vlsqjHMhDjp/s1600/IMG_4642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicToPyXU5w64cgU4jfa2JrvjcHAvYP_E_htg09fC44AMapn4wh5clIN5O2S-WWA0HbXqCRVqHqbl6FENdvE8qkV6BCpl38e5Wu8tbUIgdGun5XkeP2fD8Zoh04-Y0KTpS9_vlsqjHMhDjp/s320/IMG_4642.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PKsRGpCSSFr1qQSP9Ts12RtxtCvXgb0vJS4vfYSmj45M8KtOUtEgrUz-nWVGyClBQ3BKeQTYXRBvrfMe_mHa29X69pHOtAWyacZpnZhRIj1qLo3AK6mBm0v4mDdXuFacYyObqIsRepDR/s1600/IMG_4654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="192" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PKsRGpCSSFr1qQSP9Ts12RtxtCvXgb0vJS4vfYSmj45M8KtOUtEgrUz-nWVGyClBQ3BKeQTYXRBvrfMe_mHa29X69pHOtAWyacZpnZhRIj1qLo3AK6mBm0v4mDdXuFacYyObqIsRepDR/s320/IMG_4654.JPG" /></a>
Not to mention the beautiful, rainbow stripe colors of the marsh foliage and accom-panying sky!
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Eons ago, the Gulf of Cali-fornia flowed all the way up here and beyond the Colo-rado River. Eventually, sand deposits formed a dam be-tween here and the ocean. Behind the dam a huge inland sea was created. Over cen-turies, fresh water from the river replaced all of the salt water creating Lake Cahuilla.
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About 500 years ago the Colorado River shifted south into the gulf, and the lake began to dry up, exposing large salt deposits.
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Native Americans lived along the edges of this lake for generations. Their fish traps and other artifacts from those days can still be seen.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitVR983d0ZXAVA346rtTTope4O-xAqTV0q-B8SzBf8X9MUA3hZ8FClpkUG-pa5MVSPshwyYTFJxC55rsDyszn2mpZ1BfKVfPJeicOg2C2Rw-hMYXoedbxDNIy9d3mk9QinfEhDLKQlJWq/s1600/IMG_4672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="218" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitVR983d0ZXAVA346rtTTope4O-xAqTV0q-B8SzBf8X9MUA3hZ8FClpkUG-pa5MVSPshwyYTFJxC55rsDyszn2mpZ1BfKVfPJeicOg2C2Rw-hMYXoedbxDNIy9d3mk9QinfEhDLKQlJWq/s320/IMG_4672.JPG" /></a>
In the mid 1800s, the lake was nearly dry. Miners came for the salt and farmers for the highly fertile soil. Water was brought in via irrigation canals, and agriculture commenced.
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Today the sea is once again shrinking and becoming saltier as the fresh water evaporates.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i9O2BPxUiGPA5nXJNyfjoNPTfBGqcH7UkpIO0afHf9hxzprINl-Oao_njeD3YZ4wyW_nrXDDRk3htZhNbNtcBaL4pwQAkaMzlk2qlD0JHvYAbQSLtlqc5XRJEd_5flgbKZKHUn4u-b0H/s1600/IMG_4661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i9O2BPxUiGPA5nXJNyfjoNPTfBGqcH7UkpIO0afHf9hxzprINl-Oao_njeD3YZ4wyW_nrXDDRk3htZhNbNtcBaL4pwQAkaMzlk2qlD0JHvYAbQSLtlqc5XRJEd_5flgbKZKHUn4u-b0H/s320/IMG_4661.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDt3LjTWNV5yBaqkSBC9OxuOraiUy24bQ_4li7ARpGFJSIakS1iHdkILBoNDapdzd9_XnbiQv4OzU05XM4F5EEe3dA9bU422zMMSTc6U0Ps7eovQ6IjneLrssKqj-CJ1-hGo2iYU4Jn-qo/s1600/IMG_4631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDt3LjTWNV5yBaqkSBC9OxuOraiUy24bQ_4li7ARpGFJSIakS1iHdkILBoNDapdzd9_XnbiQv4OzU05XM4F5EEe3dA9bU422zMMSTc6U0Ps7eovQ6IjneLrssKqj-CJ1-hGo2iYU4Jn-qo/s320/IMG_4631.jpg" /></a>
There was a mild sulfur smell in the air on the day I visited. This was caused by large algea blooms in the sea, as a result of fertilizer in the fresh water agricultural run-off. When the algae blooms die en-masse, oxygen levels go down and the sulfuric aroma can be quite potent on some days, I'm told. This, and winter water temperatures below fifty-five degrees are what is believed to cause the massive number of dead fish - mainly Tilapia - on shore every year.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEa86rOTtp0KNPtTN1pipw7W8swLTDlZQB8A-sSNAfT9CWx3yeJww-FpKHR7tKXHTQnBPzRojhWvt26PJ8SquHEZjm4VNKNIg9ZJoRBi__umMtipni2n9jeKOoYxG4lz7QZNZ_YJdr6hL/s1600/IMG_4630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEa86rOTtp0KNPtTN1pipw7W8swLTDlZQB8A-sSNAfT9CWx3yeJww-FpKHR7tKXHTQnBPzRojhWvt26PJ8SquHEZjm4VNKNIg9ZJoRBi__umMtipni2n9jeKOoYxG4lz7QZNZ_YJdr6hL/s320/IMG_4630.JPG" /></a>
As a recreation area, The Salton Sea saw it's heydey in the 1950s and 60s, with Air-stream trailers galore popu-lating the campgrounds. Var-ner Harbor provides easy access to the sea for boating and water skiing. I personally can't imagine skiing or swim-ming in such heavily salted water. Ick! I was tempted to rent a kayak, but the after-noon winds were already kicking up so I decided against it.
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Increasing salinity has not only made swimming a less popular activity here, but has also limited the number of types of fish that can be found. Most fish currently caught are Tilapia (when they're not covering the shoreline with their skeletons.)
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjON3QlkslMjCiDFrH2kL3jYkE8fyaYSoYFNBLAsNNtxAZLZSGPNVNMIffl7eMPrO-8__fk3MAziT3jV5tP51K2cH9moVoyBLzteEal8KzHSynNOTQmCZ9CLsSf6kIpsr7Y7jd4dSEhXtNT/s1600/IMG_4632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjON3QlkslMjCiDFrH2kL3jYkE8fyaYSoYFNBLAsNNtxAZLZSGPNVNMIffl7eMPrO-8__fk3MAziT3jV5tP51K2cH9moVoyBLzteEal8KzHSynNOTQmCZ9CLsSf6kIpsr7Y7jd4dSEhXtNT/s320/IMG_4632.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpwbEOCBwBixgae8Cdz9JKWLKZIKaMRF8mCR3AEl5HAcjCEKqeIJ2srM1ZCURlpzY08l10gyV1hyphenhyphenps-iYtLZBO1BFnz3RIoVpXFnN2FjoEeaWeXZuv0V9vwaKJhqXcRNVS0TSRIxc6vl6/s1600/IMG_4634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="228" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpwbEOCBwBixgae8Cdz9JKWLKZIKaMRF8mCR3AEl5HAcjCEKqeIJ2srM1ZCURlpzY08l10gyV1hyphenhyphenps-iYtLZBO1BFnz3RIoVpXFnN2FjoEeaWeXZuv0V9vwaKJhqXcRNVS0TSRIxc6vl6/s320/IMG_4634.JPG" /></a>
In addition to the Tilapia, Striped Bass, Orange Mount Corvina, Gulf Croaker and Sargo are the main species that have been introduced to the Salton, beginning in 1929. Although the sea is consi-dered to be one of the most successful fisheries in the world, the increasing struggle with high salinity levels and unnatural algae blooms make it a less and less healthy environment for the fish.
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So the battle is on to save the sea. In some ways though, it's the opposite of <a href="http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2011/08/mono-lake-trip-6-of-70.html">Mono Lake</a>. With Mono, it is human interference that has caused the lake levels to drop and the salinity level to rise. Efforts to save Mono Lake primarily involve reversing the human-made damage.
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The Salton Sea on the other hand, seems to be once again drying up of its own accord. True the algea blooms are aggravated by runoff from farmlands, but I found myself wondering about the wisdom of trying to save a sea that seems to be disappearing somewhat naturally.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4DDJ4ER1OZ1osTwDBJxQeoX7ZX1pBsUcJ0N9zeE_-Rhh1gRzHoD9KysiR9mbvqpGwlBWH9xeQXiZ51frpgINGif8ZaXiGPB4ffE2jWXp1jCl7KDFmMcmX8vQoWyV2yUlngqQ32HiKAYf/s1600/IMG_4636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4DDJ4ER1OZ1osTwDBJxQeoX7ZX1pBsUcJ0N9zeE_-Rhh1gRzHoD9KysiR9mbvqpGwlBWH9xeQXiZ51frpgINGif8ZaXiGPB4ffE2jWXp1jCl7KDFmMcmX8vQoWyV2yUlngqQ32HiKAYf/s320/IMG_4636.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S-Yv-sC7FWWcL_yNhHgprQh1by6VVvxwTrx2e-fe9upP9vPiDmsKSVf3ZKnethP1L3OtfHK5XmpjuONopQMeaJLi8jfZX4xcsC45bPwXehGwZH1molA2XBOrVbtW8JzvaXsmvW6APPuU/s1600/IMG_4635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="199" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S-Yv-sC7FWWcL_yNhHgprQh1by6VVvxwTrx2e-fe9upP9vPiDmsKSVf3ZKnethP1L3OtfHK5XmpjuONopQMeaJLi8jfZX4xcsC45bPwXehGwZH1molA2XBOrVbtW8JzvaXsmvW6APPuU/s320/IMG_4635.JPG" /></a>
Well, all that being said, I only have a few hours of informa-tion with which to form an opinion. So, I will leave it to those who have more know-ledge and skill in this matter than I do - and to Mother Nature of course - to deter-mine the long term fate of this sea. And where will all the birds go?
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I'm anticipating finding myself in this part of the world again next winter. I will most defi-nitely alot a full day to return to this strange body of water, to take memory cards worth of photos of birds and dead fish. Yeah!
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtIdGQ-_5NGoa7VF-z8iC3PCkBuTMsfFWnzD5q171L22-T1Es8hGudOdjyTxfxTz57Ayh1jUfFQHEJnRUi4Bb7doyu9KJSXfboeT01STrYJ8VdyOFGM7kqppDeJwbBGsWPuya1awTtBe6/s1600/IMG_4646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtIdGQ-_5NGoa7VF-z8iC3PCkBuTMsfFWnzD5q171L22-T1Es8hGudOdjyTxfxTz57Ayh1jUfFQHEJnRUi4Bb7doyu9KJSXfboeT01STrYJ8VdyOFGM7kqppDeJwbBGsWPuya1awTtBe6/s320/IMG_4646.JPG" /></a>
<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-4817767059106084142012-07-17T10:19:00.001-07:002012-07-17T10:19:11.593-07:00AUSTIN CREEK STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #67 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5X4P68FCyAumYB_7t4d3PZxVeLRI-AakeEYVhlj71hB8ZvUx2wsXkt7Z8qZuYAOUGHtsih1XiKuO790PUAuQGiIHng1XZAff5SE1H-bfIXy5OaauziP_QSxioO9semecivNCH6tzubwCi/s1600/DSC07259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5X4P68FCyAumYB_7t4d3PZxVeLRI-AakeEYVhlj71hB8ZvUx2wsXkt7Z8qZuYAOUGHtsih1XiKuO790PUAuQGiIHng1XZAff5SE1H-bfIXy5OaauziP_QSxioO9semecivNCH6tzubwCi/s320/DSC07259.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JeUUPAECtBiau1oao3y93NVCPo7xt2ann38dDizCGvd9BaasIJSDGVlM478FYZZFCgDaqA8AZH-tc7YohyphenhyphenIoHAy7R4d1GYBWNJVHvnoTMwx2fNLvVwEkIHOxLumYn3TrvDOsUUhOhUr8/s1600/DSC07318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="184" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JeUUPAECtBiau1oao3y93NVCPo7xt2ann38dDizCGvd9BaasIJSDGVlM478FYZZFCgDaqA8AZH-tc7YohyphenhyphenIoHAy7R4d1GYBWNJVHvnoTMwx2fNLvVwEkIHOxLumYn3TrvDOsUUhOhUr8/s320/DSC07318.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBHCnNZzhKKbHAhNM4TbjjBoywHCTag_xYWXdflju5otjt5JqxrFPTMEqWyXiPzfZbmdqNwtCDhoiVUgA8OhvsEOxMOrHMaEtWEjYYjSdavIY9H17R7gj3rc6arxjHJ2XlTnVkLURqKSL/s1600/DSC07276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="303" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBHCnNZzhKKbHAhNM4TbjjBoywHCTag_xYWXdflju5otjt5JqxrFPTMEqWyXiPzfZbmdqNwtCDhoiVUgA8OhvsEOxMOrHMaEtWEjYYjSdavIY9H17R7gj3rc6arxjHJ2XlTnVkLURqKSL/s320/DSC07276.JPG" /></a>
As always, I was pleased to find that my Google Maps directions brought me right up to the kiosk for... Armstrong Redwoods! But, but... my destination was <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=452">Austin Creak State Recreation Area.</a>
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As I sat in my car next to the dark booth, pondering what to do next, a ranger magically appeared from inside the kiosk. He informed me that both Austin Creek and Arm-strong Redwoods have the same entrance. The official Austin Creek day-use lot was two and a half miles up the road, with facilities (bath-rooms etc) currently closed.
My faith in Google restored, I paid the day-use fee and headed down the road.
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Austin Creek offers twenty miles of both hiking and equestrian trails, panoramic wilderness views and back-country camping. The topography can be rugged, with elevations ranging from 150-1500 feet. If you desire to get away from civilization for a bit, Austin Creek SRA offers a sense of isolation from the crowds of the Russian River and Santa Rosa area wine country.
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I didn't have to hike too far for some peace and quiet. In fact on this early June weekday, my short three mile hike found me in complete isolation. Perhaps the combination of having to take a 2-1/2 mile windy drive beyond Armstrong Redwoods, and the fact that it was a drizzly day gave me the trails to myself.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7oNU80hYL-MKWUociVMmre43pmFHcjZHZjbhEthHyeWjSOqQUVMszvAhwdgyoTV8BDKJDfsDTGzjLLGaPeoWvewt4c-OQWNnbYsG7R8jw-I5A2_NEKF5mekeo1R9NqJtuqDGIPtmgbBjn/s1600/DSC07252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7oNU80hYL-MKWUociVMmre43pmFHcjZHZjbhEthHyeWjSOqQUVMszvAhwdgyoTV8BDKJDfsDTGzjLLGaPeoWvewt4c-OQWNnbYsG7R8jw-I5A2_NEKF5mekeo1R9NqJtuqDGIPtmgbBjn/s320/DSC07252.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyuE0e_1rnNHS2ujn7a2boteO6umIEOO7gZTe5-K_YosICfBKWVC74zeH1FtuYB2uqMGnyIizGDYgkEifLHLOxGFH-meV85K0pYQ1JcVRi1i-EDCkYGLywVqR3QAgIduMIztjNEXz4Asm/s1600/DSC07255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyuE0e_1rnNHS2ujn7a2boteO6umIEOO7gZTe5-K_YosICfBKWVC74zeH1FtuYB2uqMGnyIizGDYgkEifLHLOxGFH-meV85K0pYQ1JcVRi1i-EDCkYGLywVqR3QAgIduMIztjNEXz4Asm/s320/DSC07255.jpg" /></a>
The overnight rain made the trail exceptionally soft on my feet, and accentuated that wonderful Redwood Forest aroma. Thanks to a cute little "pooper scooper" station, Horse droppings were <i>not</i> a part of that forest scent.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpuBqigrin74oQ780TdO6vl0VxMMrhz-drumtOw_koFgtpyY4NcqROh69Wrb2bSDsnrdycky9LNA36FH4SjgUaSLKOmiYO42ofxovWHHtJYFbyOQwVMXM8jnU9Xt7kwFGtNiAVwN4UAOb/s1600/DSC07273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpuBqigrin74oQ780TdO6vl0VxMMrhz-drumtOw_koFgtpyY4NcqROh69Wrb2bSDsnrdycky9LNA36FH4SjgUaSLKOmiYO42ofxovWHHtJYFbyOQwVMXM8jnU9Xt7kwFGtNiAVwN4UAOb/s320/DSC07273.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHtXA2U3OaydbxSlODyVyRbd9NTj95hmoSDPWRh2KVhX_ZinVxChkiz3wlmnv3-XDfsIjTgfxZZGgrcwZqHLoDiwbpOZr05Ty_9esYDwsQxjA2DcvyQREobrEGjufXlIMFPUJ6XBOeyy0/s1600/DSC07286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHtXA2U3OaydbxSlODyVyRbd9NTj95hmoSDPWRh2KVhX_ZinVxChkiz3wlmnv3-XDfsIjTgfxZZGgrcwZqHLoDiwbpOZr05Ty_9esYDwsQxjA2DcvyQREobrEGjufXlIMFPUJ6XBOeyy0/s320/DSC07286.JPG" /></a>
I did not stray too deeply into the wilderness today, but rather chose to enjoy the misty quiet. I sat on a log for about twenty minutes to absorb the environment, with Lizards, Birds and Squirrels as my only distraction.
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Since I was already there, after my hike I drove back down to the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=450">Armstrong Redwoods</a> parking lot where there was a short, markered nature walk amoungst some ancient "<a href="http://www.manataka.org/page15.html">Standing People,</a>" (an expression sometimes used by Native Americans when referring to trees and other plant life.)
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Armstrong Redwoods is a 700-acre tall tree preserve. It was set aside by logger <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=23367">Colonel James Armstrong</a>, one of the few 19th-century timber barons who recognized both the beauty and the board feet in California’s Redwood groves.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-jQFg0DQgGXMGqrKJSwiiDZNmBrr3hQjVTWaXKCAOiVmrxb3fGiRrciADElqOY1bmT22EWB844eod33ke6hElJsqlPRbZ-Q4uo0qVz2FinXMgNqnVepOhXqpBKk1m85JUUR7Ch_BF4dc/s1600/DSC07291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="234" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-jQFg0DQgGXMGqrKJSwiiDZNmBrr3hQjVTWaXKCAOiVmrxb3fGiRrciADElqOY1bmT22EWB844eod33ke6hElJsqlPRbZ-Q4uo0qVz2FinXMgNqnVepOhXqpBKk1m85JUUR7Ch_BF4dc/s320/DSC07291.JPG" /></a>
The park has some excellent picnic grounds and features the Redwood Forest Theater, a 1,200-seat outdoor amphi-theater, a popular site for con-certs and plays. Paved walk-ways were being enjoyed by a few Segway Scooter enthusiasts.
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A short, self-guided nature trail wanders among the virgin trees and past interpretive displays. The 310 foot Parson Jones tree and the 1,400 year old Colonel Armstrong tree are the grand highlights. I was baffled by the tourists - who with map in hand - stopped and wondered with exasperation how much further it was to the two iconic trees. Sigh! It seemed to be a chore. Gosh, another quarter mile still left for them to walk. Sheesh.
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I, on the other hand, found myself thoroughly enchanted by each and every gentle giant. All of my life I have seen shapes - faces, animals and genitalia - in nature (and in art too, actually.) Sticks, stones, shrubs and trees have always had images jump out at me. I can understand why so many cultures have acknow-ledged nature spirits. When I see a fantasy film (like Snow White and the Hunts-man) where seemingly inanimate things in the forest become creatures, I am tickled, because I've always seen that.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDt3HW-boHnOCV0Lsmpqwc4YIwvzU3txjZ92W2YvrWSK-IUH3zcJT1pUGUQG5qiQIf8z88jpqBpSW6D0CFGhbCBhmKN0v77fu0WG27LRnqg6_lz-qGpddWfOPsJz6bX8QbMnqc3XnkuqwY/s1600/DSC07301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDt3HW-boHnOCV0Lsmpqwc4YIwvzU3txjZ92W2YvrWSK-IUH3zcJT1pUGUQG5qiQIf8z88jpqBpSW6D0CFGhbCBhmKN0v77fu0WG27LRnqg6_lz-qGpddWfOPsJz6bX8QbMnqc3XnkuqwY/s320/DSC07301.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklY7v-lPkr8TxuRKqlmenJU5WPbFOgZnwtdV6OO1B1WjSW7EnEi48ECrLRbS_WpYX0_uLsxJ34MauRaX1U7PCtHVAv5EdGQ2WXK0T3Q8-UZKitLGHmfg5AhO1jHY9_pSksFoaZKpylChB/s1600/DSC07289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklY7v-lPkr8TxuRKqlmenJU5WPbFOgZnwtdV6OO1B1WjSW7EnEi48ECrLRbS_WpYX0_uLsxJ34MauRaX1U7PCtHVAv5EdGQ2WXK0T3Q8-UZKitLGHmfg5AhO1jHY9_pSksFoaZKpylChB/s320/DSC07289.JPG" /></a>
So I'm posting a few photos of my favorite nature spirits from this park. I've restrained myself in my blogs up to this point. I hope you see some of what I see because it always brings me pure delight. Above, it is obviously an Elephant on the left, and a mooned faced Goddess on the right.
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Below can you see the man in the cap, sitting down and enjoying a cigar on the left? Or, the Woman and the Wild Boar studying something of interest in the distance on the right?
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJjrmS1jXJbADI2Y2JaWzTfdxuLU-7yvbWdCSjxfR-tbG_MSLgpl3wm62AXG2cNu9Oz9YEG_vneSDSbjV_VlgYATd0l9NY_0b37FKQukCOUL4OA7LVSlEA3t6F8JEKsQophpXQQNeqEzj/s1600/DSC07300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJjrmS1jXJbADI2Y2JaWzTfdxuLU-7yvbWdCSjxfR-tbG_MSLgpl3wm62AXG2cNu9Oz9YEG_vneSDSbjV_VlgYATd0l9NY_0b37FKQukCOUL4OA7LVSlEA3t6F8JEKsQophpXQQNeqEzj/s320/DSC07300.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzKb0dNQTCAFTEOhFRr5PLcSolHlHKNiPBKGwnAphxzAuxmP6CiYWbzhOgr3dUYCeR7x1cVnfKEQB8MMrVygFz0m1u0geyBqa3aeqYbqLBqv8ugBQ4uhmf-Oran71XYdyY-ZfPgRBZhcJ/s1600/DSC07306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzKb0dNQTCAFTEOhFRr5PLcSolHlHKNiPBKGwnAphxzAuxmP6CiYWbzhOgr3dUYCeR7x1cVnfKEQB8MMrVygFz0m1u0geyBqa3aeqYbqLBqv8ugBQ4uhmf-Oran71XYdyY-ZfPgRBZhcJ/s320/DSC07306.jpg" /></a>
Well, even if no one else saw what I did, it still made me sad to see so many people walk by, intent only on the destination of the Jones and Armstrong trees at the end of trail. With a kind of "museum glaze" in their eyes, they did not turn their heads to enjoy the many other trees, or for the matter the environment in general.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWXd6aR4aCmxfqa68wk-BToDc2xha3cVCawKNeFIjRk03Ot7vowAAT0TACiVtwXSPIImZ_M_JqUf-0gFlbED6PZlKwMuSZVtLFkyfDgQLoOm2Wyl54s0Y0NeYUf42yglFpCRNmJ66gxNy/s1600/DSC07283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWXd6aR4aCmxfqa68wk-BToDc2xha3cVCawKNeFIjRk03Ot7vowAAT0TACiVtwXSPIImZ_M_JqUf-0gFlbED6PZlKwMuSZVtLFkyfDgQLoOm2Wyl54s0Y0NeYUf42yglFpCRNmJ66gxNy/s320/DSC07283.jpg" /></a>
It reminded me of the time I visited The Louvre in Paris. Throngs followed the signs through a long maze of hallways to the Mona Lisa, so intent on viewing this tiny painting behind bullet proof glass, that they never even glanced at the dozens of Rembrandts and other masterpieces hanging on the walls en route.
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Ah well, at least they have come to the park, and will perhaps take just a little bit of new appreciation for the forest with them.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-76111838324923580912012-07-14T10:38:00.000-07:002012-07-14T10:38:16.514-07:00CHINA CAMP STATE PARK: Trip #66 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbyrayb4VPw_bJJA9kNFGVbnUzw9r8s5b3ibZmqhEOvOWAhpVI-4jSlEfO5xnQT1bvSJ9RNHWKgSz6sbIUGhGBbGWcQiQquhkRxXqSwqyruAqOIa5fg7kSkIBIux2cdYSdOHz3LjSdsKD/s1600/DSC07512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbyrayb4VPw_bJJA9kNFGVbnUzw9r8s5b3ibZmqhEOvOWAhpVI-4jSlEfO5xnQT1bvSJ9RNHWKgSz6sbIUGhGBbGWcQiQquhkRxXqSwqyruAqOIa5fg7kSkIBIux2cdYSdOHz3LjSdsKD/s320/DSC07512.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXElD_xg6TB0t4xaez43ixcVvXbyHPRteK33IWU43UmS3RgY0yrnIeMYyTBVRb_kgA00jiGhzh8lHXme8RM0F4ybTn22iNa5n262-0WgN8cTtSvNVHbYkNG0NB2PA8sv4RKf6oGMLZuTT/s1600/DSC07394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="205" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXElD_xg6TB0t4xaez43ixcVvXbyHPRteK33IWU43UmS3RgY0yrnIeMYyTBVRb_kgA00jiGhzh8lHXme8RM0F4ybTn22iNa5n262-0WgN8cTtSvNVHbYkNG0NB2PA8sv4RKf6oGMLZuTT/s320/DSC07394.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduhSN-10gy1XJKCm_u_UUS7H9cgYNUiN4X0BDvJVyDvZMCFLYLeXPqKwH5LmjlxqIbkYRWJJbGi4C6LYJJ2ApjwNPf-NOvQy7HqgHGBRSRy9GUJd4RvxWbkXCBVa35za1LPSTtkkvcvpC/s1600/DSC07465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="303" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduhSN-10gy1XJKCm_u_UUS7H9cgYNUiN4X0BDvJVyDvZMCFLYLeXPqKwH5LmjlxqIbkYRWJJbGi4C6LYJJ2ApjwNPf-NOvQy7HqgHGBRSRy9GUJd4RvxWbkXCBVa35za1LPSTtkkvcvpC/s320/DSC07465.JPG" /></a>
Typically when visiting these 70 state parks, I read the general information on the individual park's website in advance. I get directions, I know approximately how long I will hike, and have a broad idea of what's in store. Be-yond that, I try to leave room for an element of discovery and surprise. I try not to have too much of a preconceived idea of what the park is going to be like.
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Even so, I expected that my visit to <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=466">China Camp State Park</a> would have history and hiking. I also expected an opportunity to photograph large quantities of waterfowl in the salt marshes of San Pablo Bay. But surprise! Instead, it was the deer who ruled the day, keeping me nonstop company during the hiking portion of my visit. I saw very few birds at all.
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China Camp is a neighbor-hood hiking/biking park, campground and historic site. It was originally a Chinese shrimp fishing village that thrived in the 1880s. Nearly 500 people from the Canton region lived and worked here.
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I began my visit with a five mile hike. Fifteen miles of hiking, mountain biking and equestrian trails are available. The deer beckoned. Even as I was driving into the park, I had to stop and let them cross the road.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAp-z2DdFesDKT1jrizR8gDPknaXIIjTAa0Lptt2fDawRalJ2AU8CRBqrH_rkY2xC1aeiCH7RTpKU2SnyWqlkbTQEP7BxNJ2q3PIq1RFSXTk8XR1RMYdg0yC2K3uqJ3BvA6hTlMYRR3BH/s1600/DSC07417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAp-z2DdFesDKT1jrizR8gDPknaXIIjTAa0Lptt2fDawRalJ2AU8CRBqrH_rkY2xC1aeiCH7RTpKU2SnyWqlkbTQEP7BxNJ2q3PIq1RFSXTk8XR1RMYdg0yC2K3uqJ3BvA6hTlMYRR3BH/s320/DSC07417.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8ONx8Bi4gpx83fF8YvuCV9FRRUjOrfxzSuW7VeuoU14EkAdjJvqJ982lUnUGaGWdMQ0NZUY0D8fO47bRRoeKkg7PceXhxppzGMq9tfgFfHRqZNeGc-x266vf32NdmvwgdJngeo0qNY2I/s1600/DSC07403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8ONx8Bi4gpx83fF8YvuCV9FRRUjOrfxzSuW7VeuoU14EkAdjJvqJ982lUnUGaGWdMQ0NZUY0D8fO47bRRoeKkg7PceXhxppzGMq9tfgFfHRqZNeGc-x266vf32NdmvwgdJngeo0qNY2I/s320/DSC07403.JPG" /></a>
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I took way to many photos to post, as they were very cooperative subjects. They were even willing to expose their babies and backsides to my lens.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwOg6eSkSdj87DZpCQbqqNDcIKPxmlHzz1_liZV4Symm6f3NWNoToHt2sUttGtTvN3iqsbe_5BrB8M-rxRLf_vOG7RmIWELhd5ZwSEKrMdC3-78_nnFRAmz_v3Yg8Udqpedjsih3tvmfR/s1600/DSC07526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwOg6eSkSdj87DZpCQbqqNDcIKPxmlHzz1_liZV4Symm6f3NWNoToHt2sUttGtTvN3iqsbe_5BrB8M-rxRLf_vOG7RmIWELhd5ZwSEKrMdC3-78_nnFRAmz_v3Yg8Udqpedjsih3tvmfR/s320/DSC07526.JPG" /></a>
From the trail there were views of the bay, flowering shrubs and tree topped knolls. The terrain varied from covered oak woods, to open meadows and an occasional hilltop. Wild purple sweet peas were abundant. While not a crowded park on this weekday, a runner or bicyclist passed me by every five minutes or so.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXGb8gwqDrKbrAovfHb8R5vhk_A97jbFIsAlcfQtTxhur5AeWhKlf-2yi-lX_95COeu73BclmSE3yC3-ZhGweeGuigzjMwIF9RiAmPXtaDbcTM8D42qFXVnfnfCeNRrhY1JfvhrY8y34K/s1600/DSC07453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXGb8gwqDrKbrAovfHb8R5vhk_A97jbFIsAlcfQtTxhur5AeWhKlf-2yi-lX_95COeu73BclmSE3yC3-ZhGweeGuigzjMwIF9RiAmPXtaDbcTM8D42qFXVnfnfCeNRrhY1JfvhrY8y34K/s320/DSC07453.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjabOKoMZWtzUVYue8XeBC5Gal5lx5K4tiszdBSGgRzRPNaHLAJgE9WNZpGgtoc4oZq_VZg3DJrp7Ff_Sdz_DR2cPCQxkumcc3KXw28DjFHbDLx-Cry7AoupCuw58CxBFj3lquw3TJ3g9xl/s1600/DSC07457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjabOKoMZWtzUVYue8XeBC5Gal5lx5K4tiszdBSGgRzRPNaHLAJgE9WNZpGgtoc4oZq_VZg3DJrp7Ff_Sdz_DR2cPCQxkumcc3KXw28DjFHbDLx-Cry7AoupCuw58CxBFj3lquw3TJ3g9xl/s320/DSC07457.JPG" /></a>
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The exhibits at China Camp Village helps tell the story of these hardy shrimp fisherman. In its heyday, there were three general stores, a marine supply store and a barber shop.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhnJOJ_YOZxg5WVd_OVQ0nM7F1wToDsfqhYVVKJzhtVKeTmhNOfsR_SJoz49LjfZDaoZBzVP_fMDldCyV_8A1JZLuCpyChWRHsyf12qoNJJgDrhainLfR6Gc1EGgBY35x4an69KtP-2Np/s1600/DSC07495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhnJOJ_YOZxg5WVd_OVQ0nM7F1wToDsfqhYVVKJzhtVKeTmhNOfsR_SJoz49LjfZDaoZBzVP_fMDldCyV_8A1JZLuCpyChWRHsyf12qoNJJgDrhainLfR6Gc1EGgBY35x4an69KtP-2Np/s320/DSC07495.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFZ08MHy9XBzYxqsVkgiMoCfithm_1IccmOOo88u6G9WSisQiFv3uvuYSxT9eqb_r2przllH60Tag94ddspVIDTy5zXOlx6gzkxX-tXrOjHWWjQcTNfwTzeRL5Csv3WHHgjT4LLzsTvPG/s1600/DSC07511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFZ08MHy9XBzYxqsVkgiMoCfithm_1IccmOOo88u6G9WSisQiFv3uvuYSxT9eqb_r2przllH60Tag94ddspVIDTy5zXOlx6gzkxX-tXrOjHWWjQcTNfwTzeRL5Csv3WHHgjT4LLzsTvPG/s320/DSC07511.JPG" /></a>
The Quan Bros. snack shop at China Camp Village is open on weekends. Food, beverages, and ice cream are available. On some days you can meet the long-time resident and shrimp fisher-man Frank Quan here.
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Old shrimp boats float at the end of the pier and sit dry-docked on the beach.
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Chinese shrimp fisherman established these “fish camps” where they lived and worked in isolation from other communities. They main-tained their culture, language and traditions. The camp grew from an original 76 men and boys in 1870, to 469 village members in 1880, including women, children, a school teacher and a barber. The <a href="http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=47">Chinese Exclusion Act</a> passed in 1882 prohibited the immigration of laborers and denied naturalization to Chinese immigrants. By 1900, the population of China Camp declined to 122, with only 79 fisherman remaining.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa8Io3XxO0sxtrUoCSsfJ07p2u7-oS25xI7Nnpn_YuLpQC9vxSyxmBUmQowfUd3GSknuUuTgTtjCuW_zWUC6Vf9mU-Z2enjZDbh3-GYRsWt6ElxS3CwuKiERwgun_7EbEJznnGCbbh8os/s1600/DSC07493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="280" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa8Io3XxO0sxtrUoCSsfJ07p2u7-oS25xI7Nnpn_YuLpQC9vxSyxmBUmQowfUd3GSknuUuTgTtjCuW_zWUC6Vf9mU-Z2enjZDbh3-GYRsWt6ElxS3CwuKiERwgun_7EbEJznnGCbbh8os/s320/DSC07493.JPG" /></a>
Shrimp fishing revived in the 1930s and 1940s, due primarily to the efforts of the Quan family. They ran the last remaining shrimp fishery in San Pablo Bay, rented out boats for sport fishing and opened a restaurant.
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The preservation of this historic village is largely credited to the Quans.
Modest, stilted homes and gardens from earlier days sit on the hillside. A small beach in front of China Camp Village offers swimming and picnicking.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1xRkqlkYazZjORB-xykNFF4ftPSxBjOilvzVXDlZqi_Q3FGRJtkjCDsM8liEzLava5fw6SLvept8cY9n5ea5eMVHmwShkl1eKz7RMP7cGU3021HHBlcMcXdMAJQlh6RVtC21ZhEqtsUc/s1600/DSC07502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="157" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1xRkqlkYazZjORB-xykNFF4ftPSxBjOilvzVXDlZqi_Q3FGRJtkjCDsM8liEzLava5fw6SLvept8cY9n5ea5eMVHmwShkl1eKz7RMP7cGU3021HHBlcMcXdMAJQlh6RVtC21ZhEqtsUc/s320/DSC07502.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi125EXVSgOxBsHJORXuVN2_Z0Z2B6R_TGqgljnQRwBxfXt5GXXSn_VUI5jXLE1zdarkhTHbjCqlaeY_56t50e6GHAy5EifveQI3axcqnty-XbMzFpYiHwsKyZcULBy0IeW0UBLsYNdCJEo/s1600/DSC07505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi125EXVSgOxBsHJORXuVN2_Z0Z2B6R_TGqgljnQRwBxfXt5GXXSn_VUI5jXLE1zdarkhTHbjCqlaeY_56t50e6GHAy5EifveQI3axcqnty-XbMzFpYiHwsKyZcULBy0IeW0UBLsYNdCJEo/s320/DSC07505.JPG" /></a>
A row of abalone shells mark the entrance to the shrimp drying area. A large brick drying oven remains on site.
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There is a small museum describing an early Chinese settlement, telling the history of both the Chinese culture and the biology and ecology of Shrimp. Fishing imple-ments and items from every-day life are on display.
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I was especially intrigued by the desk in the center of the museum, built in the octagon shape of the I-Ching, although the eight trigrams were not carved into it.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hF9jWWg-Mndjtl2wv2neXW7hh_N3yGiSDfHN9h5iGbVhZ-KAKIM1xGaSZmqpafiBvw4wW4QIaujVhMlVeF1VgYTs1coQG8lfKLK3VJE3wlkKq7UVovT_miOvHarTB00qxX41rfSxmA7Z/s1600/DSC07518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="179" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hF9jWWg-Mndjtl2wv2neXW7hh_N3yGiSDfHN9h5iGbVhZ-KAKIM1xGaSZmqpafiBvw4wW4QIaujVhMlVeF1VgYTs1coQG8lfKLK3VJE3wlkKq7UVovT_miOvHarTB00qxX41rfSxmA7Z/s320/DSC07518.JPG" /></a>
China Camp SP is staying open largely due to the efforts of <a href="http://friendsofchinacamp.org">The Friends of China Camp. </a> As of July 1, the campgrounds are once again taking reservations. They have raised the $250,000 needed to keep the park open for another year. A fund raiser last month at the San Fran-cisco Maritime Museum was a grand success, featuring San Francisco Sym-phony musicians, wine and beer, a dim sum station, an oyster bar, and a silent auction. Efforts, as with all the parks, are ongoing to keep the dollars rolling in for more long term sustenance.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2TzP0gJbwhyphenhyphenijsbXtkrJ-vQu9miPssJG1tBMJfysXP68tEc7SUcOyJtp3lSbvbzBb1yuZuGkDLGV8zmdwv7QGnenhdR7kjWeXSaYp-KhVuM6u8RICrN6PP5nO12aFOrhmn-IJ-oSJFUJ/s1600/DSC07402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2TzP0gJbwhyphenhyphenijsbXtkrJ-vQu9miPssJG1tBMJfysXP68tEc7SUcOyJtp3lSbvbzBb1yuZuGkDLGV8zmdwv7QGnenhdR7kjWeXSaYp-KhVuM6u8RICrN6PP5nO12aFOrhmn-IJ-oSJFUJ/s320/DSC07402.JPG" /></a></div>
I chose to walk the mile back to my car along the paved road and the beach front rather than the hiking trail. I happily found myself once again in the company of deer.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_mxdcgMAuar5zw1q2sHnRaIA4xK1nmHPxye85ISCWnLisA-W7BT4JkXDPMBQzwVgoAaQtKQe-jF-W0a0x4Cxbih34puhvS3jPBiDkmrxz4ZwLqjZq0aHO8RnQiuY9WhyMXDu3Wte-fga/s1600/DSC07509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="360" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_mxdcgMAuar5zw1q2sHnRaIA4xK1nmHPxye85ISCWnLisA-W7BT4JkXDPMBQzwVgoAaQtKQe-jF-W0a0x4Cxbih34puhvS3jPBiDkmrxz4ZwLqjZq0aHO8RnQiuY9WhyMXDu3Wte-fga/s320/DSC07509.JPG" /></a></div>
<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-52848219144320831502012-07-11T22:47:00.000-07:002012-07-11T22:47:32.484-07:00SAMUEL P. TAYLOR STATE PARK: Trip #65 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyncKIybAk6DckX5QLBAWfOkzUh1OUuzeMqHwjxtk8b3TvMiNrrwi9EUS3eGvisjA524m7FjW0Sid1c7XgD-VkY-zG8PLMhwmhjRMd9gI3dFnR95iQouL7aF5p0tSafV95ZihNTEcGydMt/s1600/DSC07172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="201" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyncKIybAk6DckX5QLBAWfOkzUh1OUuzeMqHwjxtk8b3TvMiNrrwi9EUS3eGvisjA524m7FjW0Sid1c7XgD-VkY-zG8PLMhwmhjRMd9gI3dFnR95iQouL7aF5p0tSafV95ZihNTEcGydMt/s320/DSC07172.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LdQDBFAjP2HNqL_Xr15_R7xfzv6GF3xnHp4bsn4K0E31_fl241-50F_XoylFNjiyxbaR2Z7Lfh0yJVu_7Hqukd8HQUrjOT2hbg3ghgPAFmY4HEvO6f7n5HErVCk-ZewBrXyF_NvDoZhD/s1600/DSC07191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="154" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LdQDBFAjP2HNqL_Xr15_R7xfzv6GF3xnHp4bsn4K0E31_fl241-50F_XoylFNjiyxbaR2Z7Lfh0yJVu_7Hqukd8HQUrjOT2hbg3ghgPAFmY4HEvO6f7n5HErVCk-ZewBrXyF_NvDoZhD/s320/DSC07191.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sMk6mOZomn0a7u6to5BBs3lewU_GsVfCs0uH998PiZf6RS2hXmP3Z-2IHi0DlL2D_0BOh38J0k7f0yBVKRlmW5Zej1KZUBRmQ2-KSVQ4yR0CbSxP0wxMufdjKRLY8YcXG_fk9DlRPGWY/s1600/DSC07178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="261" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sMk6mOZomn0a7u6to5BBs3lewU_GsVfCs0uH998PiZf6RS2hXmP3Z-2IHi0DlL2D_0BOh38J0k7f0yBVKRlmW5Zej1KZUBRmQ2-KSVQ4yR0CbSxP0wxMufdjKRLY8YcXG_fk9DlRPGWY/s320/DSC07178.JPG" /></a>
There's nothing quite like a climb to the top of a mountain to make you feel like you've accomplished something on a given day. Especially when you are rewarded with not only a fabulous view, but the company of Butterflies for the entire trip back down.
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<a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=469">Samuel P. Taylor State Park</a> was one of the first to come off the closure list way back in October 2011. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/07/california-parks-saved-from-closure_n_1000977.html">The National Park Service</a> will be taking over the concession here, (as well as at <a href="http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2012/06/tomales-bay-state-park-trip-56-of-70.html">Tomales Bay</a> and <a href="http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html">Del Norte Redwoods</a>,) to keep them open through 2013.
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The hiking trail to the top of Barnabe Peak was going to be between five and seven miles round trip, depending on which paths I chose.
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I parked in the day-use area near the park entrance, and walked past the picnic grounds which were in heavy use by families, bicyclists, frisbee throwers and dogs. Dogs are allowed in the picnic and campground areas only, not on the trails. I walked across a bridge over the creek which was also a Salmon crossing, although on this day I didn't have to stop to let any pass by.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9d_Pvn605jIE3ghi0q__vpw4WBH8rmx1JWUcg39OBIixhshFqANOq_KOkvHZa114i5Ktcs2OgjKCXkCJ5FcmvOi2ASH380Gwrhl7Df1fAPRpYbe9d92KMjBQEaXgygIkddwE7Eh5fRN-/s1600/DSC07135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9d_Pvn605jIE3ghi0q__vpw4WBH8rmx1JWUcg39OBIixhshFqANOq_KOkvHZa114i5Ktcs2OgjKCXkCJ5FcmvOi2ASH380Gwrhl7Df1fAPRpYbe9d92KMjBQEaXgygIkddwE7Eh5fRN-/s320/DSC07135.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OUOCm1dCiuLBpRmHRBn2Ebbv5-k5PgCP2p9YCJ9CWHcUBxF0arc72MmpllhrooJT3q2UuNoV9vwZfLjzyNiD-Dp_SmcoPRMod6Mgt22BrRwQnW4ur8vWgGJPwgxur2QZxalYTz_lsOgE/s1600/DSC07137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OUOCm1dCiuLBpRmHRBn2Ebbv5-k5PgCP2p9YCJ9CWHcUBxF0arc72MmpllhrooJT3q2UuNoV9vwZfLjzyNiD-Dp_SmcoPRMod6Mgt22BrRwQnW4ur8vWgGJPwgxur2QZxalYTz_lsOgE/s320/DSC07137.JPG" /></a>
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I headed down Devil's Gulch trail. The first half mile followed both the creek and the highway. This short portion of the trail was quite thick and overgrown with foliage and brambles. One wildflower seemed to be trying to conserve space by plastering itself onto the leaf of a neighboring plant.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hig-wVFRFuGG8lLPDOO1YDn-2d4RrHHK49oAuyo92ccMkPdmZr7I-crkDMdBnZlVyhNHdVyGQfJhXjROLkHiG6FPF54LPF3Wrl4i97icJRbImEC9h2Mqpa6kEbw-EShxVdL-ACilJcJV/s1600/DSC07136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hig-wVFRFuGG8lLPDOO1YDn-2d4RrHHK49oAuyo92ccMkPdmZr7I-crkDMdBnZlVyhNHdVyGQfJhXjROLkHiG6FPF54LPF3Wrl4i97icJRbImEC9h2Mqpa6kEbw-EShxVdL-ACilJcJV/s320/DSC07136.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRMrNR8iQwl_lw4tc2AgftpPN7ydwyjbj95bQ43YDf5fLfyrwoN2JHCqd0KFWr68OwzJnXTpE7ekGfifr0zaPFC9PHiximUwKbXODDqafmgVXzIP2SA62OzlAdC41Qm-K3hre8WvZKIz4/s1600/DSC07149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRMrNR8iQwl_lw4tc2AgftpPN7ydwyjbj95bQ43YDf5fLfyrwoN2JHCqd0KFWr68OwzJnXTpE7ekGfifr0zaPFC9PHiximUwKbXODDqafmgVXzIP2SA62OzlAdC41Qm-K3hre8WvZKIz4/s320/DSC07149.JPG" /></a>
I crossed the highway and picked up the trail on the other side. (Why <i>did</i> the hiker cross the road?) Here the path became a more legi-timate hiking trail, with bram-bles cleared from the path-way, and well marked mile-age signs. What a pampered hiker I am!
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Another half mile and I veered off onto Bill's Trail. For the next couple of miles the hike is a respectable, 1400 foot, uphill trek. I welcomed the shade of the Douglas Firs, Oaks and Maples. I took a short, five minute detour to see the Stairstep Falls, but they had already dried up to a trickle in early June.
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Samuel Penfield Taylor came to California from Boston during the gold rush, and was one of the fortunate few who actually prospered by it. He cashed in his gold, purchased 100 acres of timberland and built a papermill. Using scrap paper and rags from San Francisco, his mill produced newsprint as well as the new-fangled square-bottomed paper bag.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkctpzm4MzpKoD7Se6eursubA0m5KqJs4Sx1ahK01g9lTapxYSLQbYBGsyrPT-7LGby1LOoJbNP4lUoaWdGwOath8xi6bshslA7rpUH4B82Ec5Aq3Igb59lpgNsM99KpzyOpo-GR2TPt-/s1600/DSC07150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="216" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkctpzm4MzpKoD7Se6eursubA0m5KqJs4Sx1ahK01g9lTapxYSLQbYBGsyrPT-7LGby1LOoJbNP4lUoaWdGwOath8xi6bshslA7rpUH4B82Ec5Aq3Igb59lpgNsM99KpzyOpo-GR2TPt-/s320/DSC07150.JPG" /></a/>
Taylor built a resort hotel and Camp Taylor. It was one of the first places in the country to offer camping as a recrea-tional activity. It was one of California's most popular vacation destinations in the 1870s-1880s.
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The forest trail made a bend and in an instant I was out of the woods and in a bright, treeless meadowland with a long view of the Marin headlands. From here it was a short climb to the top, via a service road, where a tree bearing strange fruit stood next to a fire lookout.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZx3h_ucBRem5ZY3MwRXOYfaDIfiCT-faQqiiHlcPwA-FEgBLZgFT1gEF6j8QZwWC4kd4bAEdzRiHaLmk3kEvi5BOKQObvCdz79zfrR98NJUAH-pFWAn16MByy8AS5p5DEKU8ObJ6qia6/s1600/DSC07160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZx3h_ucBRem5ZY3MwRXOYfaDIfiCT-faQqiiHlcPwA-FEgBLZgFT1gEF6j8QZwWC4kd4bAEdzRiHaLmk3kEvi5BOKQObvCdz79zfrR98NJUAH-pFWAn16MByy8AS5p5DEKU8ObJ6qia6/s320/DSC07160.jpg" /></a>
At this point I had a choice of returning the way I came - through the cool, shady forest - or taking the sunny service road back down the mountain. I was uncertain as to how long the service road was, but I chose it anyway, for variety sake. It turned out to be quite a bit shorter - and steeper - than the forest trail. I was glad I was going downhill rather than up.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-cziqXc8prEXHSUbNx_02dwEojvKFjQ40FeqvJbAvOz8MWvyyicVBWoMXXTRnfL9MR2Jesb1IhgH24SFovXVEaB8gUaEJ04zPI8KpftdvTfQctSFMghrWEfd9fd4i7-2uHd3kwY9iI2p/s1600/DSC07158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-cziqXc8prEXHSUbNx_02dwEojvKFjQ40FeqvJbAvOz8MWvyyicVBWoMXXTRnfL9MR2Jesb1IhgH24SFovXVEaB8gUaEJ04zPI8KpftdvTfQctSFMghrWEfd9fd4i7-2uHd3kwY9iI2p/s320/DSC07158.JPG" /></a>
Now that I was out in the sun, Butterflies and Lizards joined me on my excursion. The Butterflies seemed ambivalent about my presence, flitting all around me and landing right in front of me.
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The Lizards on the other hand, found me startling, and froze to camouflage them-selves, giving me ample opportunity to take their picture.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-UJIH9Ihf8rFok5SXgTz1cLr_LzlcYjEIfu53pJGWkpzOOFo4lGynfB346feHCuV76EOIy4h0dtb3KlAlewDXJJyK4vLlSv9lwmKohL6btvRDMeyQr9z44bYmbzqZR1ER8seMOi5i4Gj/s1600/DSC07177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-UJIH9Ihf8rFok5SXgTz1cLr_LzlcYjEIfu53pJGWkpzOOFo4lGynfB346feHCuV76EOIy4h0dtb3KlAlewDXJJyK4vLlSv9lwmKohL6btvRDMeyQr9z44bYmbzqZR1ER8seMOi5i4Gj/s320/DSC07177.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6WyRhiOcfwlWQd7JSp8j7i2KXmHaISQUo1wRi7vF-KAyQrHbW4-Mt398Oz3HTIM-ZO9FeNqcXhQVOuEUqTPMmtaej82CK8rE_MVNjv3ukExvYtqFYp2Yxw9Z6L0lOl7DDIEYJyVQ5vrY/s1600/DSC07180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6WyRhiOcfwlWQd7JSp8j7i2KXmHaISQUo1wRi7vF-KAyQrHbW4-Mt398Oz3HTIM-ZO9FeNqcXhQVOuEUqTPMmtaej82CK8rE_MVNjv3ukExvYtqFYp2Yxw9Z6L0lOl7DDIEYJyVQ5vrY/s320/DSC07180.JPG" /></a>
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As suddenly as I had found myself out of the forest, I found myself back in it and at the campground. No ecotones here!
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM15tKUTYtsUaTZki79xzeiQbVikVih0EJyd2UfX6zNmMaIqkOwjb86qE6ArahirlM5a9JlBCQhOiDUjYRZdbOE79giBXKWzYsP3nTxb6lYYeThMsesNFZittQ1QVRKc1n1ipSTcPQFMKl/s1600/DSC07166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM15tKUTYtsUaTZki79xzeiQbVikVih0EJyd2UfX6zNmMaIqkOwjb86qE6ArahirlM5a9JlBCQhOiDUjYRZdbOE79giBXKWzYsP3nTxb6lYYeThMsesNFZittQ1QVRKc1n1ipSTcPQFMKl/s320/DSC07166.JPG" /></a>
But, I had climbed a moun-tain. It was a good half-day adventure, with time left in the day to head 15 minutes down the road and visit Tomales Bay. I definitely plan to return soon, and enjoy the park at a more leisurely pace.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnAmuQnV3-gIBlpsbUm8h3XB7pHwGqLSDGR7p4Zwp7vrsa8QaVFrn3wcpP5IiA-d6G5QJkRMS0TP0cQ-FA69N5hQ54MP3Qb8l7sTj_Ppg8RhQcnb0q94UZkd6u3qrrfL0im3oUtNsnIx4/s1600/DSC07157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="390" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnAmuQnV3-gIBlpsbUm8h3XB7pHwGqLSDGR7p4Zwp7vrsa8QaVFrn3wcpP5IiA-d6G5QJkRMS0TP0cQ-FA69N5hQ54MP3Qb8l7sTj_Ppg8RhQcnb0q94UZkd6u3qrrfL0im3oUtNsnIx4/s320/DSC07157.JPG" /></a>
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-14527649006093564002012-07-10T22:38:00.001-07:002012-07-10T22:38:06.901-07:00HENDY WOODS STATE PARK: Trip #64 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-CKXU4u8tpfJmsSAgtyqhnMm2Jf_-gINoRBms5i3DSMXC_c1nTQGMQpysS7eCitqYsaqc2klupnh9rEQ0wa8RuCqaLGQNsctWrdkmX2J4achv0xHrIYPxCfsxNBrfvQBfNmKwshg7Jhk/s1600/DSC06919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-CKXU4u8tpfJmsSAgtyqhnMm2Jf_-gINoRBms5i3DSMXC_c1nTQGMQpysS7eCitqYsaqc2klupnh9rEQ0wa8RuCqaLGQNsctWrdkmX2J4achv0xHrIYPxCfsxNBrfvQBfNmKwshg7Jhk/s320/DSC06919.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7IaDei9RELP5mtQZ0Vg4MSTDoS7tF-WuHofImhLZVdx57AVSFQpZALiF2l7lUgSwXP2Wh7zt_vrMyYS4qBycTXP95gkYJi5B_x4BOUwcPJkm1oYqUH8YLlDjHRc7Ebshc3y-LkGj6T5z/s1600/DSC06920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="298" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7IaDei9RELP5mtQZ0Vg4MSTDoS7tF-WuHofImhLZVdx57AVSFQpZALiF2l7lUgSwXP2Wh7zt_vrMyYS4qBycTXP95gkYJi5B_x4BOUwcPJkm1oYqUH8YLlDjHRc7Ebshc3y-LkGj6T5z/s320/DSC06920.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQ3bKo79ZRsxwklduK3LR4Gu2bS_8WSD_gmWxxk395XijFYHCfgQ-2i50qwKbsebxXImz_mcgBCEnzLmaXwDhePTGx2j6WZ77Cb4q-z4RpeZm23eZ5xOPCZG227CX1hJeqKIvEBeMMw16/s1600/DSC06890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQ3bKo79ZRsxwklduK3LR4Gu2bS_8WSD_gmWxxk395XijFYHCfgQ-2i50qwKbsebxXImz_mcgBCEnzLmaXwDhePTGx2j6WZ77Cb4q-z4RpeZm23eZ5xOPCZG227CX1hJeqKIvEBeMMw16/s320/DSC06890.JPG" /></a>
As Patty and I pulled up to the kiosk at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=438">Hendy Woods State Park</a> we overheard the ranger tell the folks in the car ahead of us, "We're taking camping reservations for summer now. We're staying open." Yes!
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Hendy Woods is 20 miles in-land from the coast, south of Mendocino. The road follows the Navarro River in the heart of the emerging Anderson Valley wine country. Vine-yards, one-pump gas stations and the occasional quirky art gallery dot Highway 128.
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Hendy Woods SP boasts two old-growth redwood groves, Big Hendy and Little Hendy. This land was originally bought a century ago by iron foundry owner <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joshua_Hendy_Iron_Works">Joshua P. Hendy</a>. For as long as he owned the land he vowed to protect the gentle giants residing in his domain.
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He sold the land to the Masonite Corporation at a time when California's popula-tion was growing and needed lumber. When Hendy died, the groves were sold and many of the trees in the out-lying areas came down. But, the big Hendy Grove re-mained untouched and still stands today. Eventually Masonite Corp., in coopera-tion with the <a href="http://www.savetheredwoods.org/">Save the Red-woods League</a>, donated 405 acres to the State Parks in 1958.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hyuiLZ0xpgLUwjh4MJvUw4JI6pYB02ueUS1zoUPb01Hbv9PS0n0haY5D4_n_jd6H6gUlPJR1dD7w5zs5FDT6xzSvdyWvFNt_uHeYfJh-oZsjxZCIsWFQdyX8fXZZhuBDP3rCIK5q6wXx/s1600/DSC06857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hyuiLZ0xpgLUwjh4MJvUw4JI6pYB02ueUS1zoUPb01Hbv9PS0n0haY5D4_n_jd6H6gUlPJR1dD7w5zs5FDT6xzSvdyWvFNt_uHeYfJh-oZsjxZCIsWFQdyX8fXZZhuBDP3rCIK5q6wXx/s320/DSC06857.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwQwM_L7u-50VcVVacsdZ-n4nZW_D-oC2NvRTzPo6JY_dQjRtLb4XQYuCfS0IANaP1bZvWxVKG9mPqMEomFqVVlEwyTdPwtZQLzUfBKMgncAR9K7cjg37FEw8R9HjMaj0iaAgr9KP-w3A/s1600/DSC06883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwQwM_L7u-50VcVVacsdZ-n4nZW_D-oC2NvRTzPo6JY_dQjRtLb4XQYuCfS0IANaP1bZvWxVKG9mPqMEomFqVVlEwyTdPwtZQLzUfBKMgncAR9K7cjg37FEw8R9HjMaj0iaAgr9KP-w3A/s320/DSC06883.JPG" /></a>
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The day-use parking lot is next to a large open meadow with twenty-five picnic sites. We dragged our ice chest to one of the picnic tables. From here you can enjoy lunch while viewing the Big Hendy Grove or listening to the low water gently lap up against the river rocks on the banks of the Navarro River.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9PeDhDG9_dYqSeEwNUMi7HQDtLnsdffqoaJOhG7J3z-B9OQtXsRu4taj5bGuwmjynaDFLlDAs52cqNe7Q1CDXxNvoT_z8l4GripBfmLCxMirjxIgtSP8UyRZbmWlNySr550-vjNAAgD_/s1600/DSC06912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9PeDhDG9_dYqSeEwNUMi7HQDtLnsdffqoaJOhG7J3z-B9OQtXsRu4taj5bGuwmjynaDFLlDAs52cqNe7Q1CDXxNvoT_z8l4GripBfmLCxMirjxIgtSP8UyRZbmWlNySr550-vjNAAgD_/s320/DSC06912.JPG" /></a>
Or you can sit by and watch helplessly as a brazen blue-jay makes off with your almond.
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Most of the main trailheads start here as well. Several miles of hiking trails criss-cross each other frequently. The paved road is never far away in the event you get turned around.
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We headed down Big Hendy trail. The Redwood Sorrel and Sword Ferns that I've now become accustomed to in a redwood forest were abundant. The path, as always, was just a slightly paler hue of red than the trees, and was as soft as carpeting to walk on.
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While I love all Redwood forests, there is something especially exquisite in the spaciousness of the old-growth, virgin groves that the more clumped together second-growth trees don't provide.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBLG61pMXKR0O8UZvRRs2yItz2OgX7b76Qb5CZ8C417elekqw1Jt8hTG2-p-dYU7AKI0AV_kth7ETAk8FFF_G35ROK5AQF20U7eIRAeuQJIiJ0rFvSkqPWeWFRI4wZ1U6N3Y4PCN1QLcY/s1600/DSC06872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBLG61pMXKR0O8UZvRRs2yItz2OgX7b76Qb5CZ8C417elekqw1Jt8hTG2-p-dYU7AKI0AV_kth7ETAk8FFF_G35ROK5AQF20U7eIRAeuQJIiJ0rFvSkqPWeWFRI4wZ1U6N3Y4PCN1QLcY/s320/DSC06872.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5KQNi1bjZHs1Cc7pN8sM4Aoy-fHWCl8r5jSqoeobk7dqKt53gp6wsCHW933sdmChIER2Cw1MGvErpAom9U8mmAhN_5xsb1JM6DRqmJCNZ4DTrrec2rEVmkJE2VjZ-XzgagtHkz6YAynD/s1600/DSC06871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5KQNi1bjZHs1Cc7pN8sM4Aoy-fHWCl8r5jSqoeobk7dqKt53gp6wsCHW933sdmChIER2Cw1MGvErpAom9U8mmAhN_5xsb1JM6DRqmJCNZ4DTrrec2rEVmkJE2VjZ-XzgagtHkz6YAynD/s320/DSC06871.JPG" /></a>
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We eventually walked all of the trails, including the short hike to a unique site where the "Hendy Hermit" used to reside.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUarCIp46sIkDpvunve9cfaE7_xp5ciGfF7LWTMwrdyVF7Xl_MMuwIQsKJK88jNDLAzUiNqpn1gUdRr9P4-7l37aBKsQ8ToYifB9uVS7YDGw1uDcwDAzVP9Hbcacf_8dzR5IGp7Jria_M/s1600/DSC06904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUarCIp46sIkDpvunve9cfaE7_xp5ciGfF7LWTMwrdyVF7Xl_MMuwIQsKJK88jNDLAzUiNqpn1gUdRr9P4-7l37aBKsQ8ToYifB9uVS7YDGw1uDcwDAzVP9Hbcacf_8dzR5IGp7Jria_M/s320/DSC06904.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petrov_Zailenko">Petrov Zailenko</a>, better known as the Hendy Hermit, lived primitively in these woods for over eighteen years. Details of his life are sketchy. An illegal Russian immigrant, he entered the United States after World War II on a fishing boat. Untrusting of authority and fearful he would be returned to his homeland, he hid in this forest until a few days before his death on August 31, 1981.
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The redwood tent structure that served as his home - the Hendy Hut - still remains. You can step inside and see where a plank that served as his bed protected him from the elements. Proper ventilation allowed him to have a fire inside during winter. Those precious few who he trusted enough to know him, found him to be a quiet, gentle soul.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivtGdhEpzQGGWTRqUxUjEcC7JzdaAWC0Tq-TBXCJhLwQKe8XAZJ4_Psu1cDB5UGlmOFJOGRqo-HjdMF64E96imV2suVAe-109k3AInHaXpIij1AtN0tHLCYpBRQnTFgp_Lb_xManRgvHy7/s1600/DSC06901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="284" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivtGdhEpzQGGWTRqUxUjEcC7JzdaAWC0Tq-TBXCJhLwQKe8XAZJ4_Psu1cDB5UGlmOFJOGRqo-HjdMF64E96imV2suVAe-109k3AInHaXpIij1AtN0tHLCYpBRQnTFgp_Lb_xManRgvHy7/s320/DSC06901.JPG" /></a>
Mythology about him deve-loped. It was said he had magic-like animal qualities. People claimed to spot him in the woods only to have him disappear in an instant.
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Sadly, campfire-style horror stories were also told. Tales of the monster in the woods frightened youngsters, while teenage boys would seek him out and take pleasure in tormenting him.
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Many local residents were not aware of his presence until he was admitted to the hospital a few days before his death.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMHzAbeui3o6uzRAD2Je1vfoKDEu4OByNHqin5q6gEWyVijRFn6gTs_A0Y7aJV8x8jHsXukkEnRg_KfsdhZieTvJUcB2ROO8cz6g5jFryuOSToWg3aIicxDaT0tlUw4Eb8Y2-9LBg3yvg/s1600/DSC06903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMHzAbeui3o6uzRAD2Je1vfoKDEu4OByNHqin5q6gEWyVijRFn6gTs_A0Y7aJV8x8jHsXukkEnRg_KfsdhZieTvJUcB2ROO8cz6g5jFryuOSToWg3aIicxDaT0tlUw4Eb8Y2-9LBg3yvg/s320/DSC06903.JPG" /></a>
In addition to the "regular" hikes, there is a half mile Discovery Trail, plus a wheel-chair accessible nature trail that explores the Redwoods. Canoes, kayaks and swim-mers may enjoy Navarro River, but only in late winter to early spring as it quickly becomes quite shallow. Fishing is not permitted in the park, but is allowed in the watershed down stream.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjmiBNkoMLJzGALDGLMwhGQ23dybulXwFeOegU0v3G3CEBdljk6gqsZojpEfPo9oeoikvRxc23E5fitErCAS6y1m8SXPJ2eFX7Ht_uccRaZ4n2gO85pa20ujeAUkn1dynwu4HjH6_uaBK/s1600/DSC06866.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjmiBNkoMLJzGALDGLMwhGQ23dybulXwFeOegU0v3G3CEBdljk6gqsZojpEfPo9oeoikvRxc23E5fitErCAS6y1m8SXPJ2eFX7Ht_uccRaZ4n2gO85pa20ujeAUkn1dynwu4HjH6_uaBK/s320/DSC06866.jpg" /></a>
Okay, picnic lunch: check. Share almonds with Blue-jay: check. Hike all of the trails: check. See the Hendy Hermit Hut: check. Play in Navarro River: check.
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Time to head back to the coast and spend some time at <a href="http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2012/06/greenwood-state-beach-trip-53-of-70.html">Greenwood State Beach</a>.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR0J0bMlTlejeOQ-VV_JFz6qaBLpREZzlXxsxEbGAHwgGy4vTtvOg1cEKNO-8t5hWwu1ZDUFW3hSf-sN1PsmVR8Ov685LDZQJirCMJotBkvhKA9yZzu8ZytKo6Gyt0Vi1HwFUvwnGtWxw/s1600/DSC06875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="390" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR0J0bMlTlejeOQ-VV_JFz6qaBLpREZzlXxsxEbGAHwgGy4vTtvOg1cEKNO-8t5hWwu1ZDUFW3hSf-sN1PsmVR8Ov685LDZQJirCMJotBkvhKA9yZzu8ZytKo6Gyt0Vi1HwFUvwnGtWxw/s320/DSC06875.JPG" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-10632644166853682182012-07-09T20:59:00.000-07:002012-07-10T13:33:24.162-07:00JUG HANDLE STATE NATURE RESERVE: Trip # 63 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrzl1C03c9Q_pIjoUGKWVvnKnj0MbJFQ9UGr-A3PjK5i0kNHeo69tpDiGnagNGlOQs_qIAfSYF9J89ws3EGRYKFxF2UMnil6eTBaalIoe6MULStJCESGglBZchCYa7CjlVOgIzcG69cSb/s1600/DSC06823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="277" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrzl1C03c9Q_pIjoUGKWVvnKnj0MbJFQ9UGr-A3PjK5i0kNHeo69tpDiGnagNGlOQs_qIAfSYF9J89ws3EGRYKFxF2UMnil6eTBaalIoe6MULStJCESGglBZchCYa7CjlVOgIzcG69cSb/s320/DSC06823.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8502y4e1Nf92nJottYcMFJ85qFD0dzTFzv2PbH8ZBUPAiKsVLfkLcFzVZjcCHK6JR8rAmrrRu71S64pP5sLqtTC8Pw0YEDvAHGNw1qg2faDJm6EY9bmv1KkWTEsd3ZsQVRAZ_4Z2BXhsr/s1600/DSC07007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="171" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8502y4e1Nf92nJottYcMFJ85qFD0dzTFzv2PbH8ZBUPAiKsVLfkLcFzVZjcCHK6JR8rAmrrRu71S64pP5sLqtTC8Pw0YEDvAHGNw1qg2faDJm6EY9bmv1KkWTEsd3ZsQVRAZ_4Z2BXhsr/s320/DSC07007.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxC6h1eCCbLvVfnxRlwsRGbGocDXrbo_FHpkVndcw11g15DasTr8x2Gs-lWC91FWeyrQcUKT_C4nbRRestLz8_CLStpCovTDyoFYLm2oNCWHtHqUQY5yn71-YdHF-gAb9LwTlAUnepX7CK/s1600/DSC06801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxC6h1eCCbLvVfnxRlwsRGbGocDXrbo_FHpkVndcw11g15DasTr8x2Gs-lWC91FWeyrQcUKT_C4nbRRestLz8_CLStpCovTDyoFYLm2oNCWHtHqUQY5yn71-YdHF-gAb9LwTlAUnepX7CK/s320/DSC06801.JPG" /></a>
A sleeping Sea Lion lay on the beach at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=441">Jug Handle State Nature Reserve</a>, taking a break from his annual swim from Mexico to Alaska. Small signs with small print asked beach-goers to keep a res-pectable distance. I didn't see the first sign, and couldn't read the second one. Mr. Seal had camouflaged himself pretty well with sand, and had Patty not pointed him out, I may have never noticed him. Note to self: Pay more atten-tion to the signs.
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I was excited to visit Jug Handle. Not only was I inter-ested in the beach, the geo-logy and the forest, but I was curious to see this park that California Naturalist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Olmsted">John Olmsted</a> had fought so hard for back in 1972 when a motel tried to build on the bluff.
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I had seen the film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1870481/">My Father Who Art in Nature</a>, made by John's son Alden in honor of his recently deceased Dad. The movie included footage of the battle to save Jug Handle and I wanted to see what all the shouting was about.
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Jug Handle features a two and a half mile self-guided nature trail called The Ecological Staircase which explores five wave-cut terraces formed by glacier, sea and tectonic activity that built the coast range. Each of the terraces was uplifted from sea level about 100,000 years before the one below it.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgun6Y-uOV9uq5-c-GhV_A7xP6ES5slg_c0hYnUkfgRRtPs1r6IhOrYz5FjhfEnfce4oJDyS_KGtYW8Bc3ce8LZNx2Jsou4vKkF9-dmCcziSiVrZQa9Cz_HNeDSc6ZyjBD7jAYAqgcs9UXo/s1600/DSC06811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="231" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgun6Y-uOV9uq5-c-GhV_A7xP6ES5slg_c0hYnUkfgRRtPs1r6IhOrYz5FjhfEnfce4oJDyS_KGtYW8Bc3ce8LZNx2Jsou4vKkF9-dmCcziSiVrZQa9Cz_HNeDSc6ZyjBD7jAYAqgcs9UXo/s320/DSC06811.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0OCES8Bwtl4pI7yCRroqZFcrviC2f-qgrYAlcS7Kz5WL6zCFgxsjnMFTRCcNM2hd_6YAicEEgv_54qom0ZWahHC2eh8bssHbeA1X7YsXfIOIdD6RxZNie_-rto51Njwr-SGtjPEAsbill/s1600/DSC06832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0OCES8Bwtl4pI7yCRroqZFcrviC2f-qgrYAlcS7Kz5WL6zCFgxsjnMFTRCcNM2hd_6YAicEEgv_54qom0ZWahHC2eh8bssHbeA1X7YsXfIOIdD6RxZNie_-rto51Njwr-SGtjPEAsbill/s320/DSC06832.JPG" /></a>
Plants on each terrace represent a more advanced stage in succession, indica-ting what the previous, next lower terrace may look like in 100,000 years. The lowest terrace consists of prairie; the second is covered with pines; the third supports a unique pigmy forest with knee-high trees possibly several dec-ades old. Few places on earth display a more com-plete record of ecological succession, making Jug Handle a very unique and special place.
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We began the hike around the top of the bluff, enjoying the coastal plants and wild-flowers, as well as a the gorgeous view of the beach below.
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Once on the beach, I joined the sea lion (at a respectable distance of course - thank goodness for a long lens) by plopping down onto the sand and sitting quietly for twenty minutes or so while Canadian Geese played in the water, and rough waves came pounding into the horseshoe shaped cove.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiERl5_3jZmEYJpCbD5Mp0O2zQiUbL0T638H3rMpXCD3jW-Ti2zDH_EuuBwEQDoLGAOc3I1rlzHUBp7dAppjCfb9zCaES5as7hxkFGIWu4VNpGHikwoBSSkV_03c45xO7qtX-aD9tgCaU1/s1600/DSC06808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiERl5_3jZmEYJpCbD5Mp0O2zQiUbL0T638H3rMpXCD3jW-Ti2zDH_EuuBwEQDoLGAOc3I1rlzHUBp7dAppjCfb9zCaES5as7hxkFGIWu4VNpGHikwoBSSkV_03c45xO7qtX-aD9tgCaU1/s320/DSC06808.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0CKc3vbZP_7TAhOYl5Y6DUw7XmaNDBc7HGxbwKKCYklJMI4S77itGs5H3KLcIpnlmtyBqETjzdQLyZ8s1Jq0e_lCDxoQXrZnXJR3lWfeTtsOXJ2hcuiEgpHtljFdGBOi7LcydtZ3p1uD/s1600/DSC06814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0CKc3vbZP_7TAhOYl5Y6DUw7XmaNDBc7HGxbwKKCYklJMI4S77itGs5H3KLcIpnlmtyBqETjzdQLyZ8s1Jq0e_lCDxoQXrZnXJR3lWfeTtsOXJ2hcuiEgpHtljFdGBOi7LcydtZ3p1uD/s320/DSC06814.JPG" /></a>
We crossed an elevated wooden walkway that went under the bridge to officially begin our hike. The trail through the forest was very busy on this midweek day in May. Not only is Jug Handle one of the few remaining parks with no fee, but it is highly utilized by school children.
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We ran into quite a few groups of students, always well behaved, and in the company of both chaperones and naturalists explaining the forest to them. One group was learning to do a "solo hike." With a guide at each end of a small portion of the trail - probably not longer than fifty yards - students were sent one at a time to make their way through the woods.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvirMENpEl-l098QssFUzcXIZ4VBlPVHXunXqmuQra6EiocIm2qbqap72xioAj1siQchBtsW5iwiEt2ef53yTxfCQYzpUc7_3TCPMHSC5Nmwa23H9NVu40l2MNtteXQ71iPp5OayfCgAc/s1600/DSC06835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvirMENpEl-l098QssFUzcXIZ4VBlPVHXunXqmuQra6EiocIm2qbqap72xioAj1siQchBtsW5iwiEt2ef53yTxfCQYzpUc7_3TCPMHSC5Nmwa23H9NVu40l2MNtteXQ71iPp5OayfCgAc/s320/DSC06835.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_XJF8uTHxbzSK9TpV4oREvmjq7CXZzItUtEsVqU5ApwRMZJDe_Krgk8qRf6EQp28STpp2NlbKGNuDr47Gcnfzf1pAtTueO4LF_IN21eKrNSU_W7tGuhr79oil4Hpqgvew_w_9rgjCqxi/s1600/DSC06841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_XJF8uTHxbzSK9TpV4oREvmjq7CXZzItUtEsVqU5ApwRMZJDe_Krgk8qRf6EQp28STpp2NlbKGNuDr47Gcnfzf1pAtTueO4LF_IN21eKrNSU_W7tGuhr79oil4Hpqgvew_w_9rgjCqxi/s320/DSC06841.jpg" /></a>
I thought this was terrific! As someone who has taken to solo hiking with increasing frequency, I was pleased to see the kids learning to be only with themselves for a few moments, and gaining the confidence to find their way down the trail.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7LFF5DermwbsAyxywVq_CproWddZMDsv8HKHsAB1S4rUVhaDWWkHhGnAeWa9hrSbHgq5HGQ05i2YSxe3mhxE0PgEX9cMQmLMJi8B4bM4EwOEb4PQpBagTbQqDmTc9x6z7GJfxJciuUO4/s1600/DSC06853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="219" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7LFF5DermwbsAyxywVq_CproWddZMDsv8HKHsAB1S4rUVhaDWWkHhGnAeWa9hrSbHgq5HGQ05i2YSxe3mhxE0PgEX9cMQmLMJi8B4bM4EwOEb4PQpBagTbQqDmTc9x6z7GJfxJciuUO4/s320/DSC06853.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhw_sGYse_IAscIQU_usEg5n_sMgSTjhFMDiyldSkQP3lVzFZ9DbuzuLZMeTNXWlj9Vmnp29YlecMgk0qlYdtEPiCqzTwr0dppZME4-KAUgUSsLQmIXEZUvm31ftVphMwS5yRpTFBR5WET/s1600/DSC06852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhw_sGYse_IAscIQU_usEg5n_sMgSTjhFMDiyldSkQP3lVzFZ9DbuzuLZMeTNXWlj9Vmnp29YlecMgk0qlYdtEPiCqzTwr0dppZME4-KAUgUSsLQmIXEZUvm31ftVphMwS5yRpTFBR5WET/s320/DSC06852.JPG" /></a>
It should have been easy to follow the path at Jug Handle. Twenty-eight markers on the two and a half mile trail alongside beautiful rows of Hostas (!) should have kept any hiker honest. So Patty and I walked at our own paces.
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I was ahead of Patty, so when I got to where the trail washed out, I sat and once again enjoyed some quiet time while I waited for her to catch up with me. I played with a dog belonging to some local hikers. Then I <i>followed the signs</i> down a rutted, golden road lined with wild rhododendrons. It looked more like a 4WD service road than the hiking paths.
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Within a few minutes I knew I had taken a wrong turn. I retraced my steps and got back on track. But between my quiet time and my wrong turn, Patty and I had completely missed each other, and she ended up back at the park headquarters way before me.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0AblMyVFxBezoHw1FbRaAci9LqoEByP_Y_lN1I1g189aa1t-jd9FTr6QQNS2REIWZ_3A7NT6btm-Q-x78XPVmTrOgrvV7VCd8xA9Oh8c8UQurwQ4QQQ6wgU2rH2Lo2rKckbheBFTXfoL/s1600/DSC06851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0AblMyVFxBezoHw1FbRaAci9LqoEByP_Y_lN1I1g189aa1t-jd9FTr6QQNS2REIWZ_3A7NT6btm-Q-x78XPVmTrOgrvV7VCd8xA9Oh8c8UQurwQ4QQQ6wgU2rH2Lo2rKckbheBFTXfoL/s320/DSC06851.JPG" /></a>
As it turns out, there are in fact a couple of signs at the end of the trail that point in the wrong direction. The ranger, local residents and a couple of hiking websites confirm that many folks end up walking half way back to Fort Bragg by following these erroneous signs. Seriously, would it be that hard to fix?
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Well, all's well that ends well. And indeed it is ending well - at least for the moment - for Jug Handle SNR. Alden Olmsted's <a href="http://www.olmstedparkfund.org">spare-change fundraising drive </a>contributed $9,500 for the reserve established by his father.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWTO3VpwNmLU6WSDOqZ5-bky1VFD4osWku38sJxpoXuCKPbd4f44qQdRcbhwxS8WqGovZYD_v550_T4VTfXBq436GYt_Kp9lNZYm7cTm2XstQKyapNM749o1dqViUYFSSIHMrqroEN47m/s1600/DSC06812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWTO3VpwNmLU6WSDOqZ5-bky1VFD4osWku38sJxpoXuCKPbd4f44qQdRcbhwxS8WqGovZYD_v550_T4VTfXBq436GYt_Kp9lNZYm7cTm2XstQKyapNM749o1dqViUYFSSIHMrqroEN47m/s320/DSC06812.JPG" /></a>
The California State Parks Foundation put up another $9,500. The donations will allow maintenance of basic services, such as restroom and trail upkeep and trash removal.
There is a ton of scientific info to be gleaned at Jug Handle. I'm glad we'll still be able to access it for at least one more year.
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I'm going to go back to my habit of taking written information with a grain of salt and mixing it with instinct.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUkbItQcX1fEQUfnTE5z1Tg0Kds_uoyjN23ADgOgGhKu9u_yEjpr3ni-Ecg9XUMj33NAwhGiam3PVaz2PyG9WjRdyWjIQiVJP8KDuXWEsqgELvhpGc78ceAzbSTUn2r29CKAK-sW14ahC/s1600/DSC06827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="188" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUkbItQcX1fEQUfnTE5z1Tg0Kds_uoyjN23ADgOgGhKu9u_yEjpr3ni-Ecg9XUMj33NAwhGiam3PVaz2PyG9WjRdyWjIQiVJP8KDuXWEsqgELvhpGc78ceAzbSTUn2r29CKAK-sW14ahC/s320/DSC06827.JPG" /></a>
And should I stumble upon a sleeping sea lion because I didn't see a poorly placed sign - well - I'm sure he'll let me know his boundaries and I'll behave accordingly!
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-37603000798887009142012-07-07T11:20:00.001-07:002012-07-08T10:49:03.431-07:00PICACHO STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #62 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAMdXEsI5Sy1f3YRoMljkAPd9Ojw8sDKLK7lsz5JEVWe9IcMX1tuKh4aiivz4sUXKkiiydkOoTZtvbX2hnVRsPFD4zfYHgJh_X33FwVzlW8XA1dbtpzVmhyxA08JZMK-xBy7pI0Cj28tr/s1600/IMG_5033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="295" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAMdXEsI5Sy1f3YRoMljkAPd9Ojw8sDKLK7lsz5JEVWe9IcMX1tuKh4aiivz4sUXKkiiydkOoTZtvbX2hnVRsPFD4zfYHgJh_X33FwVzlW8XA1dbtpzVmhyxA08JZMK-xBy7pI0Cj28tr/s320/IMG_5033.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqgl0D9iLnQEDq-4K_jtUQLcNqjPDkSJD9CGqSveD_mjMfoz5bzYfKZCKMLBTCIclHqlHKd3j9JyBYYX-tQOW_2eLg653qrJqQsGq_1v7UMWfgeTQWxu4ULuuOZ32dJ7IOGIoeE3z2Fit/s1600/IMG_5068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="261" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqgl0D9iLnQEDq-4K_jtUQLcNqjPDkSJD9CGqSveD_mjMfoz5bzYfKZCKMLBTCIclHqlHKd3j9JyBYYX-tQOW_2eLg653qrJqQsGq_1v7UMWfgeTQWxu4ULuuOZ32dJ7IOGIoeE3z2Fit/s320/IMG_5068.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVafY572JTSULdnWNDszSGc3HD3w5e6cJB9z56tKiFQWC_SSY7Ai9M91MK8JDBL2ioCXMhW1h9_vIuB2U3WvNyiaRjWmMXvnWoTNexgf0YXwQIsOdMv1_GefR5i5G0z0ZIkb7vEu9DZ-h5/s1600/IMG_5052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVafY572JTSULdnWNDszSGc3HD3w5e6cJB9z56tKiFQWC_SSY7Ai9M91MK8JDBL2ioCXMhW1h9_vIuB2U3WvNyiaRjWmMXvnWoTNexgf0YXwQIsOdMv1_GefR5i5G0z0ZIkb7vEu9DZ-h5/s320/IMG_5052.JPG" /></a>
My state park trips have certainly taken me to every corner of California. From Del Norte Redwoods on the the northwest coast just ten minutes below the Oregon border, to this trip to <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=641">Picacho State Recreation Area</a> on the most southeastern point of the state, five miles from Yuma, Arizona.
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Picacho, now a ghost town, was an early gold mining town on the Colorado River with a population of about 100. It was named Picacho (Spanish for "big peak") after a nearby mountain in Arizona of the same name. In fact I hiked <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Picacho_Peak_State_Park">Picacho Peak</a> just outside of Tucson a few years back.
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More than any of my other state park trips, Picacho was more about the journey than the destination. In fact, I must now confess, I never made it all the way to the park. The park's website advises carry-ing extra water and essential supplies when traveling to Picacho, and in the event of trouble, parking in the shade. Shade?
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It also warns that the twenty-four mile road (each way) is mostly unpaved and heavily washboarded. Sure enough, the road was miserable. After traveling about five miles - at 5-10 miles per hour - I stopped to reconsider completing the trip. The only other vehicles I saw were either four-wheel drive or old beat-up pick up trucks. Me, Roxy, and most certainly my little Corolla with 350,000 miles on it, were not having a good time.
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I flagged down an RVer who confirmed that the entire road was bad. And so I made the executive decision not to continue. I need my little car to last me for awhile longer. If anyone chooses to "ding" me for not really getting to all 70 parks because of this, well, so be it. I tried.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi384awJLittuq_oElliHpoumS_txjEW2sGcMfimPVytMdpgHiBHROw0YSuBFTCd2HQNtpmncJsPwfHFiSss697YuoLtlS-5gV8jApA3qnooWQC_800h7tynaLa7QEKJziuLqVriAJwV3QM/s1600/IMG_5017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi384awJLittuq_oElliHpoumS_txjEW2sGcMfimPVytMdpgHiBHROw0YSuBFTCd2HQNtpmncJsPwfHFiSss697YuoLtlS-5gV8jApA3qnooWQC_800h7tynaLa7QEKJziuLqVriAJwV3QM/s320/IMG_5017.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HPPOa5xqUskDBLX8hdc5rffkFCPvvUSu9P1YZd0XOyChRT-NhynPEHv5WUUxwrFyIajvvf0bhkom0cOVi6azKtSLQ9YI9p8Y2IRcQisWpPabkohz4Epa6nQtyVaBZuTz1RJ_aojUrb6i/s1600/IMG_5025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="135" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HPPOa5xqUskDBLX8hdc5rffkFCPvvUSu9P1YZd0XOyChRT-NhynPEHv5WUUxwrFyIajvvf0bhkom0cOVi6azKtSLQ9YI9p8Y2IRcQisWpPabkohz4Epa6nQtyVaBZuTz1RJ_aojUrb6i/s320/IMG_5025.JPG" /></a>
In the meantime, as anyone who enjoys taking pictures knows, there's <i>always</i> something to photograph. Roxy and I got out of the car and meandered about the desert for awhile.
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I assumed the dramatic peaks in the distance were part of the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25086">Ice Cream Canyon</a> trail. Descriptions made it sound like a strawberry and pistachio fairyland. It was intriguing, but I was willing to forego it this time around.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR-M7cRgikiQ3ebg7_BOu8S17UhRdm8w4aU4ZuOKB32lVGEu5n0MODjRvbo9TySL6dDZzTWidcA8T5vOapRc5EzD8pSBO9soRNPb4vwQEGQqGBgugQ7EgrNdDdIhlmzbl_0KPIBcfGbkt/s1600/IMG_5055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR-M7cRgikiQ3ebg7_BOu8S17UhRdm8w4aU4ZuOKB32lVGEu5n0MODjRvbo9TySL6dDZzTWidcA8T5vOapRc5EzD8pSBO9soRNPb4vwQEGQqGBgugQ7EgrNdDdIhlmzbl_0KPIBcfGbkt/s320/IMG_5055.JPG" /></a>
The first couple of miles of the drive went through agricul-tural land. An irrigation canal supported a few water fowl, the only birds I saw on this trip.
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The water fed many acres of red and green winter vege-tables, their colors more prominent under the overcast January sky.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v2_SQlGVQy9AUV5V7ZkP268DAKbA4bu9VVK9sMr8nWs0EIb_wlJnv7zvveVyXAFwXIjXAQzkgSfRI05MWzequlVwDg9_WvxOrc9pNdFEpjqDIvl26hRpr3EkxV7pQOHmBJD2Ww-Qal7Y/s1600/IMG_5059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v2_SQlGVQy9AUV5V7ZkP268DAKbA4bu9VVK9sMr8nWs0EIb_wlJnv7zvveVyXAFwXIjXAQzkgSfRI05MWzequlVwDg9_WvxOrc9pNdFEpjqDIvl26hRpr3EkxV7pQOHmBJD2Ww-Qal7Y/s320/IMG_5059.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPZsjgr9PyXdZ0WhzXNgzwgdqfsV5yXDI5QznbI3Pj4Mc7khy67eTCmK0JARpIDqwO6snGuGcerVo3dK6LsCt7WZaxojDsvIGuSDJyoC1AkHKy1SKjMXPN_I_Fxl71ipNYLec94nWGHeV/s1600/IMG_5072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPZsjgr9PyXdZ0WhzXNgzwgdqfsV5yXDI5QznbI3Pj4Mc7khy67eTCmK0JARpIDqwO6snGuGcerVo3dK6LsCt7WZaxojDsvIGuSDJyoC1AkHKy1SKjMXPN_I_Fxl71ipNYLec94nWGHeV/s320/IMG_5072.JPG" /></a>
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Sadly, much of the route I traveled was being used as land fill and/or a dump. A couple of eerie looking, mangled dolls mounted on posts marked a large area littered with trash.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0v13zcwyuklPCpBHoHmskGaZsL0vgDqCHtFQWjsOq27Bh0igMYuMFF7gFBzhqTkeAj54EoONKjU5FrQiaYFjQw15BqsWeSJWH7RfddxFYTFbCq-iaoziPtOWx3Bbfrt42dpPSxqXqCq04/s1600/IMG_5047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="278" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0v13zcwyuklPCpBHoHmskGaZsL0vgDqCHtFQWjsOq27Bh0igMYuMFF7gFBzhqTkeAj54EoONKjU5FrQiaYFjQw15BqsWeSJWH7RfddxFYTFbCq-iaoziPtOWx3Bbfrt42dpPSxqXqCq04/s320/IMG_5047.JPG" /></a>
These junk-yard dolls mostly made me chuckle. But, being in the desert - a place where I've had more "unexplained experiences" than other geo-graphic realms, I half expec-ted them to come to life at any moment. Adding to my sense of disorientation was my cell phone randomly flipping back and forth between California time and Arizona time, which is an hour later. I was never really certain of the hour.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkiKAcpuQgAZXZC8DFxSLGNYmaZK2PdMhUA_yAw-xEfQFCLh1EUlqXO7SpOJXcERFrtAFIXKbqzM_TFqGvfLtXs9gd2O-Xxhw9fkZQHsg3RlmrBJ8xMsyEMaaD0RZAJvJpxJZpv0Ip_1q/s1600/IMG_5037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkiKAcpuQgAZXZC8DFxSLGNYmaZK2PdMhUA_yAw-xEfQFCLh1EUlqXO7SpOJXcERFrtAFIXKbqzM_TFqGvfLtXs9gd2O-Xxhw9fkZQHsg3RlmrBJ8xMsyEMaaD0RZAJvJpxJZpv0Ip_1q/s320/IMG_5037.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTrwkAInve0m-tz8STBCsPFQ1mYRNs0028Wu1tZXBaIajXwFhE6t-NH2ysx9sdwPwRmehkfZfeuDNR5M1wKrLjAAo8HaVpxz9Ho0l6kRUgdpSw76jnkgyhv5t3iUkNhIRUc2-kCOVWFO7/s1600/IMG_5048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTrwkAInve0m-tz8STBCsPFQ1mYRNs0028Wu1tZXBaIajXwFhE6t-NH2ysx9sdwPwRmehkfZfeuDNR5M1wKrLjAAo8HaVpxz9Ho0l6kRUgdpSw76jnkgyhv5t3iUkNhIRUc2-kCOVWFO7/s320/IMG_5048.JPG" /></a>
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Picacho SRA is popular with boaters, hikers, anglers and campers, although I certainly didn't see any vehicles towing a boat on this bumpy road. Supposedly there are wild burros, bighorn sheep and thousands of migratory waterfowl once you arrive at the official park.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyYpwVl6yGx8Z57pTm9iVwIEz7WrVK5HJCYQ5DukObvrBxqJZwQe8nyrGYzNHMrKxho2Kdi3dtnvMT05CAwRjCG6Hh-S1rnzV7V6YluQ4mixWnrkWyE_Uznm8jXWZC3EoZSUD2NsZoTYN/s1600/IMG_5034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyYpwVl6yGx8Z57pTm9iVwIEz7WrVK5HJCYQ5DukObvrBxqJZwQe8nyrGYzNHMrKxho2Kdi3dtnvMT05CAwRjCG6Hh-S1rnzV7V6YluQ4mixWnrkWyE_Uznm8jXWZC3EoZSUD2NsZoTYN/s320/IMG_5034.JPG" /></a>
But from where I was, even bird and insect life was virtually non-existent. The landscape was still beautiful in its barrenness though.
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Perhaps one day I will return with a sturdier vehicle. Until then...
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-3221949017526553082012-07-06T21:51:00.001-07:002012-07-06T21:54:29.735-07:00PORTOLA REDWOODS STATE PARK: Trip #61 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fWIK1KaoojYrNC6erbvRt_bYkS_ceFix2HexCmfJATQDTsewfjnPI2Uc7_XspOz-vXReygrGGKQ36ze1rvJ9xA_uiSgbgbhO9x1g9O70eQMa4BYoIr_0gL4yUuWtaBwri8JBN4alRFeN/s1600/DSC07553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="197" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fWIK1KaoojYrNC6erbvRt_bYkS_ceFix2HexCmfJATQDTsewfjnPI2Uc7_XspOz-vXReygrGGKQ36ze1rvJ9xA_uiSgbgbhO9x1g9O70eQMa4BYoIr_0gL4yUuWtaBwri8JBN4alRFeN/s320/DSC07553.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmPCBB7p28OewS7YoZ6vhGWQxt5EQ8IgJRoge_sbs9FachbAYJWd9uIMyNg8XTL1xCokZTAYXtfwpHWfmJVEbHUEDUki04xaxB_Bq-HphqEe3-iP0hUvv_TMMEc1iCHaBlUTv9TtE-VOy/s1600/DSC07546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="298" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmPCBB7p28OewS7YoZ6vhGWQxt5EQ8IgJRoge_sbs9FachbAYJWd9uIMyNg8XTL1xCokZTAYXtfwpHWfmJVEbHUEDUki04xaxB_Bq-HphqEe3-iP0hUvv_TMMEc1iCHaBlUTv9TtE-VOy/s320/DSC07546.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iR4EpcO30ddFBJqD9VfohXE3tj5TsqCtcBaxA3XKygCtsv2C1RlSPEZJIbnwMHpRiDijZDev4NtIk6XuT98JtQ3VcDEPCYnnpVS2swganEKjD9O4b3lvoQwiWXs07Q-4I8fBG2ey0i-t/s1600/DSC07550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="269" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iR4EpcO30ddFBJqD9VfohXE3tj5TsqCtcBaxA3XKygCtsv2C1RlSPEZJIbnwMHpRiDijZDev4NtIk6XuT98JtQ3VcDEPCYnnpVS2swganEKjD9O4b3lvoQwiWXs07Q-4I8fBG2ey0i-t/s320/DSC07550.JPG" /></a>
If you had asked me a year ago when I began my visits to these 70 State Parks, which type of park I thought I would enjoy the most I would have probably said, "The beaches." Or maybe the desert.
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But, now that I have com-pleted these particular tra-vels, I have to say that the parks with the Redwood Trees have lumbered to the top of my list.
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That being said, I have to confess that my trip to <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=539">Portola Redwoods State Park</a> was not as extensive as it could have/should have been.
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Ever since I was a kid I've had difficulty tolerating car rides on windy roads. Even now I occasionally get motion sick, even as the driver. And so it was on this day. Portola Redwoods wins the prize for the windiest, narrowest road of the 70 parks.
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I even stopped at the local market in La Honda, just outside of the park, to pur-chase a bottle of ginger ale and to ask the locals if there was another route to the Redwoods. They grinned as they informed me it was another ten miles of torture.
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Perched on the opposite side of the Santa Cruz Mountains from Big Basin Redwoods State Park, Portola Redwoods is sometimes referred to as “Little Basin Redwoods State Park.” In fact the park is named after explorer <a href="http://www.sandiegohistory.org/bio/portola/portola.htm">Don Gaspar de Portola</a> who led an expedition in search of Monterey Bay in 1769.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IDQKgPVo7ZRLDeqma2pfrUhyhh9qw5dyewXQq7ScX67L9TyFlfCws2KAEaoUjFsMXqHYqHjIYGUatPVeeV0-UgypFh60NIrUhI7hKZ1QPZCvy5kofTIazmqhMh5JduklCBQwaeUf7Hpg/s1600/DSC07549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IDQKgPVo7ZRLDeqma2pfrUhyhh9qw5dyewXQq7ScX67L9TyFlfCws2KAEaoUjFsMXqHYqHjIYGUatPVeeV0-UgypFh60NIrUhI7hKZ1QPZCvy5kofTIazmqhMh5JduklCBQwaeUf7Hpg/s320/DSC07549.JPG" /></a>
The park centers around two creeks — Peters and Pesca-dero — which flow through a basin. Douglas fir and oaks top the ridges while red-woods, accompanied by huckleberry and ferns, cohabitate at the lower elevations. Most redwoods here are second-growth. Like many trees in the Santa Cruz Mountains, they were logged during the 19th century.
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Once I arrived at the the park, I was not up for hiking any of the eighteen miles of trails. The narrow road and constant severe turns left me queasy, with a need to "recover" rather than hike.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtcCFWs8jyR4zEUpfPsaQQr8x_sHQkH4PE-Bgoewrk3bmE2ZLm1wiMjUG2WX7oIiVyKUDRkg5rw1oAUQ_jz1bKV9LfDkPH496OBMsduFhrpsoiJxMZ8hTK6GDgnIghPiIV2Jqo0yGeU0v/s1600/DSC07556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtcCFWs8jyR4zEUpfPsaQQr8x_sHQkH4PE-Bgoewrk3bmE2ZLm1wiMjUG2WX7oIiVyKUDRkg5rw1oAUQ_jz1bKV9LfDkPH496OBMsduFhrpsoiJxMZ8hTK6GDgnIghPiIV2Jqo0yGeU0v/s320/DSC07556.jpg" /></a>
Three months earlier I had been contacted by nature photographer <a href="http://kipevansphotography.com/">Kip Evans</a>. He was involved in the making of a film for the <a href="http://www.savetheredwoods.org/">Save the Redwoods League</a>, and asked if I would be interested in being interviewed for it. Although I'm not real keen on being on film, I agreed to meet him at Portola Redwoods.
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Ill tempered weather and family matters caused me to cancel. It was probably just as well. My complexion would have been green. And there was something else that concerned me. I knew they wanted me to say something about the Redwoods, why I loved them, and why they are important to me. And at the time, I wasn't really sure why. I couldn't put it into words.
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But now I can. The Redwoods stand tall and strong, with no need to exert their power in a flurry of activity. They are still and quiet, content to be what they are, unaware of their own grandeur. They have no need to shout, "Hey look at me." Rather they slowly and patiently exist without hubbub while nurturing the ecosystem that surrounds them.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrT5Ty0-iDT8AwUuLoeqMTHCYafKfrKZx7M3hvlDU7FZMcCXUmEIkvBAD9A2WhmVLL0P8hUmExhsZr5Tw1pGCnjz5Jw1jO5ijV_01XNayRmaEXOqimbY1bV-hyUJJz27nu4cVikx5QDrZ/s1600/DSC07312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrT5Ty0-iDT8AwUuLoeqMTHCYafKfrKZx7M3hvlDU7FZMcCXUmEIkvBAD9A2WhmVLL0P8hUmExhsZr5Tw1pGCnjz5Jw1jO5ijV_01XNayRmaEXOqimbY1bV-hyUJJz27nu4cVikx5QDrZ/s320/DSC07312.JPG" /></a>
Over the past decade I have become acutely and con-sciously aware of the impor-tance of daily quiet time and stillness in my own life. It is usually when I am alone and quiet that the magic happens. Internal dilemmas are calmed, inspiration comes and I can hear the whispers in the "spaces between." There is peace. There is respect.
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And finally, I realized that the Redwoods remind me of my Dad. My visit to Portola came two days after his Memorial Service. Like the trees, my Dad stood firm. His principles would not be swayed by frivolity or loud argument. Rather, he walked his talk as best as any human can, regardless of consequence. And when he left the earth, a strong imprint remained.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXmDVsxH35NzTg9HyeJSHk-Pzly5DY8Bwze1kX_kKeeIVUwYMTB1p69PLThth-Ub0ny25dLDgiDGJg5CMFn0mUbGdPyUQZYQfA1yIS1HglpPD9wOXp5R4sgxSDPMqfqOE-PgctCm4uR6V/s1600/DSC07555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXmDVsxH35NzTg9HyeJSHk-Pzly5DY8Bwze1kX_kKeeIVUwYMTB1p69PLThth-Ub0ny25dLDgiDGJg5CMFn0mUbGdPyUQZYQfA1yIS1HglpPD9wOXp5R4sgxSDPMqfqOE-PgctCm4uR6V/s320/DSC07555.JPG" /></a>
So while my photos and hiking at Portola Redwoods SP was minimal, I nonethe-less gathered strength - and a calm stomach for the ride back - as I sat quietly and absorbed the intangible. I had peace for the drive home.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiF9SWvcBU4I66FHMn2cLYnrHoqJjRND2lrTEkKX6TMX8UpmonlUyL2FQpbh_EUx5VdfL0PQUdB9tRzb4xbmrux13WwpmhYDLOAV90fVRFuQNyGA35JzgAezmbau8BIo8k83ySWPB3rcyt/s1600/DSC07552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="390" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiF9SWvcBU4I66FHMn2cLYnrHoqJjRND2lrTEkKX6TMX8UpmonlUyL2FQpbh_EUx5VdfL0PQUdB9tRzb4xbmrux13WwpmhYDLOAV90fVRFuQNyGA35JzgAezmbau8BIo8k83ySWPB3rcyt/s320/DSC07552.JPG" /></a></div>
<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-73975711505642452672012-07-05T12:11:00.000-07:002012-07-11T10:19:46.223-07:00PETALUMA ADOBE STATE HISTORIC PARK: Trip #60 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00XM9TarTSbs22-0xYhhMnf26l7zkFGPaItA35w7hb9POy001pJcKE16-cDCp_1xmPMc1HYJF4u291c5lxq-3YFwmC0YQXjD0VboKhahT5TUK553aYAlWVLx5uHALOT-IP9uV9-mzx9dJ/s1600/IMG_6395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="163" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00XM9TarTSbs22-0xYhhMnf26l7zkFGPaItA35w7hb9POy001pJcKE16-cDCp_1xmPMc1HYJF4u291c5lxq-3YFwmC0YQXjD0VboKhahT5TUK553aYAlWVLx5uHALOT-IP9uV9-mzx9dJ/s320/IMG_6395.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbppG4ak0GjSBd1nu2TFmm0ROsY_R8uB7dD98AeaaVpHEKoQHRmwspu8hCSkECw0dL9NvltXVYlHDf66MgZXrhbHYQoPqskQCBr4NdtpLAIWB4zIfQce4C8NBzEinHAGcWNpB1jZDYVHSi/s1600/IMG_6358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="216" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbppG4ak0GjSBd1nu2TFmm0ROsY_R8uB7dD98AeaaVpHEKoQHRmwspu8hCSkECw0dL9NvltXVYlHDf66MgZXrhbHYQoPqskQCBr4NdtpLAIWB4zIfQce4C8NBzEinHAGcWNpB1jZDYVHSi/s320/IMG_6358.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKf2qK6zWmrX8df1mJhJFlaVKwYDTTLQePw9Sb1CGYm_DF534jWPXq5-yFpfRACysXwes2QPez_6s0xAEjyEps-a5nQZ7vVoeWEUw_chHpWmSzZUfOQjB_QdIJ5SU75IGoX8Thyphenhyphenc0q3_V/s1600/IMG_6449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKf2qK6zWmrX8df1mJhJFlaVKwYDTTLQePw9Sb1CGYm_DF534jWPXq5-yFpfRACysXwes2QPez_6s0xAEjyEps-a5nQZ7vVoeWEUw_chHpWmSzZUfOQjB_QdIJ5SU75IGoX8Thyphenhyphenc0q3_V/s320/IMG_6449.JPG" /></a>
The second floor rooms of the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=474">Petaluma Adobe State His-toric Park</a> were filled with sleeping bags and backpacks of local fourth graders who were spending the night in a unique living history program where they take on the roles and tasks of every day life at an 1840's ranchero.
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Petaluma Adobe was the main residence and agricul-tural empire of <a href="http://www.militarymuseum.org/Vallejo.html">General Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo</a>, one of the most powerful men in the Mexican Province of California from 1834 to 1846. The huge adobe building was the largest private rancho in California at the time.
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Since the 1970's, Petaluma Adobe has offered this <a href="http://www.petalumaadobe.com/educational/elp.html">Environmental Living Program</a>, (ELP) allowing students, teachers and parent supervisors to stay overnight at the Adobe.
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It is a short walk from the parking lot and beautiful, shaded (in summer) picnic area to the adobe.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5-3-ELviMsiL-QKJoTrPjVn9Ryp2KMzbJSHmK_quJihwC-N4te-6BadWno36gTMDxf_RYlRz41tSMr3bSfnVWD9wrW-SKK3OGOhF12AUQg7me4iNa8VxLXce5QVc3ve97v0TGlWkXS_Q/s1600/IMG_6365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5-3-ELviMsiL-QKJoTrPjVn9Ryp2KMzbJSHmK_quJihwC-N4te-6BadWno36gTMDxf_RYlRz41tSMr3bSfnVWD9wrW-SKK3OGOhF12AUQg7me4iNa8VxLXce5QVc3ve97v0TGlWkXS_Q/s320/IMG_6365.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7uLpslqlHkGI050xg9tJQZznR8Sk57DjQRoNh2UVXLxXnWmjUC586xK9NWDaxIOIbDoXQjm58zAFUVS5erjtKLDPUZqA2YUSzDOuDk0inGho5PD0nUd8FN-xh1lCKuRN2v2NDiFRvJXN/s1600/IMG_6363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7uLpslqlHkGI050xg9tJQZznR8Sk57DjQRoNh2UVXLxXnWmjUC586xK9NWDaxIOIbDoXQjm58zAFUVS5erjtKLDPUZqA2YUSzDOuDk0inGho5PD0nUd8FN-xh1lCKuRN2v2NDiFRvJXN/s320/IMG_6363.jpg" /></a>
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A bust of General Vallejo sits grandly at the beginning of the path. After stepping across a foot-bridge over the creek, I followed the contour of a mature cactus hedge edging the walkway to the General's home.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPW-WMjFVJOr9uHNnYyKiTsx573oSACG9MsHiiI16lBP-IbBmndsQWugMaGPaK6gRDIfcC4jnfeyF_oyxiGeG6yOduTsRmkRxFoIyspgWnRNtXIIxqojuXDWJBVu-lpquGB7qvrGPmhwy/s1600/IMG_6418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPW-WMjFVJOr9uHNnYyKiTsx573oSACG9MsHiiI16lBP-IbBmndsQWugMaGPaK6gRDIfcC4jnfeyF_oyxiGeG6yOduTsRmkRxFoIyspgWnRNtXIIxqojuXDWJBVu-lpquGB7qvrGPmhwy/s320/IMG_6418.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguI4gZ90o8NLjH6Q29l5prWCQ_FFWSSxieGglfdAFewCDZcUxxXp_Prn8D_aZAASEDiFevOdFThnILnOGVIwwgjj2f76d7IQVb5M_G7qjVQKjiI7V5vDXsCsnW6nkrS1RyPjXIjCl1c0ur/s1600/IMG_6401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguI4gZ90o8NLjH6Q29l5prWCQ_FFWSSxieGglfdAFewCDZcUxxXp_Prn8D_aZAASEDiFevOdFThnILnOGVIwwgjj2f76d7IQVb5M_G7qjVQKjiI7V5vDXsCsnW6nkrS1RyPjXIjCl1c0ur/s320/IMG_6401.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zPcDEcLm28qGsKweQRgT_C2BwA7p7xY8aThB9fXrP75jSxFYzeGCe7fLH0w9eZk374DGZIybFyByDGJ21zAwu57sqVYSGBRctCAz3chQ5I_Gbl1FkSLyowzWHzg3BrmQ14W_nw0woO8x/s1600/IMG_6400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zPcDEcLm28qGsKweQRgT_C2BwA7p7xY8aThB9fXrP75jSxFYzeGCe7fLH0w9eZk374DGZIybFyByDGJ21zAwu57sqVYSGBRctCAz3chQ5I_Gbl1FkSLyowzWHzg3BrmQ14W_nw0woO8x/s320/IMG_6400.JPG" /></a>
Vallejo owned all of the land as far as the eye can see from his adobe. From here he ran his cattle, hide and tallow business, raised sheep, bred horses, and grew numerous crops.
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The wide open fields are still used for pasture land, and today I could see a few sheep safely grazing.
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It is these activities and more that the students experience during their overnight ELP program. Cooperation with each other is emphasized, as working together was impera-tive to survival in California's early years. The activities include preparing meals, adobe-brick making, candle making, basket weaving, wood working, leather work-ing, weaving and spinning, and entertainment.
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Meals that were typical of the period are prepared on an outdoor stove. Cooking outside was a common feature of the California adobe lifestyle. Two boys made endless trips to the woodpile, hauling back logs for the cook-stove, insuring that the pots of beans and rice never went cold. On the lawn, crude baskets woven by each of the children lay drying in the sun.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARmM0Zb3wGR0kqGerkGPGGxRHjPQ-hOii19NijAy9KLMkNueduyllERgkIO7AmP53DlYftEyoYKNVUY885eqDIcOb0d02DUGUxpZQWW2hQ32g0FLGpVeHQ-K_zmy6QwgrsH0NqqidDzUr/s1600/IMG_6386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARmM0Zb3wGR0kqGerkGPGGxRHjPQ-hOii19NijAy9KLMkNueduyllERgkIO7AmP53DlYftEyoYKNVUY885eqDIcOb0d02DUGUxpZQWW2hQ32g0FLGpVeHQ-K_zmy6QwgrsH0NqqidDzUr/s320/IMG_6386.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSlfqKvDWBMoEqLNZI6uzLJDNhG_WQPD1N6AglDGYCzb4TeVVQg2DWwTzaufrUSaYXLpcJ95ON4L3JZFA4SiIKhIoMR21cZ0AEnBWlsUpZTjZy8IgO_JaSLIS23U8pHPphtTOM3IJ0JTk/s1600/IMG_6389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSlfqKvDWBMoEqLNZI6uzLJDNhG_WQPD1N6AglDGYCzb4TeVVQg2DWwTzaufrUSaYXLpcJ95ON4L3JZFA4SiIKhIoMR21cZ0AEnBWlsUpZTjZy8IgO_JaSLIS23U8pHPphtTOM3IJ0JTk/s320/IMG_6389.JPG" /></a>
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Candles were dipped, and simple wooden candle holders made by the students were lined on a long bench.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1Gx3d3RQn9U9VKKX3qQ-HtBskYgIUjcvNa6JcmwxoxEU4cwtwD9TXs2OjJlctrYjacg32e4EJ6YPBtHy7EhtXOCeK8ZNBfeGW8-VkcE6Xf5f2tJG5uz4iJanCwv8g0W3nhg3yQrIP3da/s1600/IMG_6448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="266" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1Gx3d3RQn9U9VKKX3qQ-HtBskYgIUjcvNa6JcmwxoxEU4cwtwD9TXs2OjJlctrYjacg32e4EJ6YPBtHy7EhtXOCeK8ZNBfeGW8-VkcE6Xf5f2tJG5uz4iJanCwv8g0W3nhg3yQrIP3da/s320/IMG_6448.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4sHX3XRMBwt-RYvqmf-3TjDDUAlNTNEspza8wQuz4YX9Ja4A7hReYN2UveozHsnIjruRQfLuNUtJOlbIHxBt6BvofTmOcDl6kQ12AH_XnhGuEJf1kvM4uNcFYg6_HwnsYbl7QDiTAray/s1600/IMG_6417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4sHX3XRMBwt-RYvqmf-3TjDDUAlNTNEspza8wQuz4YX9Ja4A7hReYN2UveozHsnIjruRQfLuNUtJOlbIHxBt6BvofTmOcDl6kQ12AH_XnhGuEJf1kvM4uNcFYg6_HwnsYbl7QDiTAray/s320/IMG_6417.jpg" /></a>
Period attire was encouraged, especially for the females. Young ladies performed their tasks wearing long dresses or skirts.
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Of particular excitement amongst the students was that they all would take turns at work duties in the middle of the night. Groups of students (with an adult supervisor of course) would abandon their sleeping bags, taking two to three hour shifts throughout the night to ensure that all elements of ranch life ran smoothly.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyD6ESCXWfvWrkG5OveY3VRlgziTRg9TQeCEdbL20hlmm_m9_iNBH1N2gVNxahI0pQt5yKajcNurW64JHviJTSFfYAjTQnjFBfZJLoHt4e9PU5fJA4rIY-dWxsEyw-1k5gR1S8liDUUZed/s1600/IMG_6454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="252" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyD6ESCXWfvWrkG5OveY3VRlgziTRg9TQeCEdbL20hlmm_m9_iNBH1N2gVNxahI0pQt5yKajcNurW64JHviJTSFfYAjTQnjFBfZJLoHt4e9PU5fJA4rIY-dWxsEyw-1k5gR1S8liDUUZed/s320/IMG_6454.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIjNfxej5dlNFkp_24Imzq1AUWH6vq7Aorc0xmMRAyRZe5tycf5X1biAM_bieMMTz3X0HXDbvWQfdiUMk_QaNQNdLG1xe1Z4MFa0n9DXhKO0IR67lZz4nvubHnIn3hdcpjqddt3k3L87H/s1600/IMG_6440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="279" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIjNfxej5dlNFkp_24Imzq1AUWH6vq7Aorc0xmMRAyRZe5tycf5X1biAM_bieMMTz3X0HXDbvWQfdiUMk_QaNQNdLG1xe1Z4MFa0n9DXhKO0IR67lZz4nvubHnIn3hdcpjqddt3k3L87H/s320/IMG_6440.JPG" /></a>
The rooms of the adobe not occupied by children contain authentic furniture and exhi-bits depicting early rancho life. A dining room set-up and a large loom were featured in the south wing.
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The <a href="http://www.sonomaparks.org/">Sonoma-Petaluma State Historic Parks Association</a> is the non-profit partner that has worked to further the interpre-tive and educational functions of the area's local historic parks since 1982. Through benefit concerts and other fund raising events, the "<a href="http://www.petalumaadobe.com/savepashp.html">Save Petaluma Adobe</a>" drive has raised the needed $110,000 to operate under the State Park system for another year.
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A small museum on the ground floor gave the history of the California area, Califor-nia under Mexican rule and General Vallejo's family, mili-tary and agricultural careers.
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I strolled around the remaining outdoor area. A large hide was on display as part of the tanning exhibit. I greeted Sophie, the white Mediterranean Donkey, who was being administered some medications as she was not feeling well of late.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVbMIaZOezP8hUi4y3OPPpIYuZ1SGz9cINNjvITSTIH5vSyYS0xIA9SHUl992-Qxnm9AO6axtDMMBFLGDNZqvEsVoKY1qFYW9NX2KvKvdLOY_uDWHoW0lYZKDp19iKE9ZqBdDIaK7rmOW/s1600/IMG_6405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVbMIaZOezP8hUi4y3OPPpIYuZ1SGz9cINNjvITSTIH5vSyYS0xIA9SHUl992-Qxnm9AO6axtDMMBFLGDNZqvEsVoKY1qFYW9NX2KvKvdLOY_uDWHoW0lYZKDp19iKE9ZqBdDIaK7rmOW/s320/IMG_6405.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngaVLkXi-nH94bRq_7u3XKvp_D4h4Gv5oQrpkQcpwF_ys65DWc5or6-RTQFKHoupUTl_M95zMHP_ft8Kvpp9TLJnRSQDzxHykcSkY6Fk1Db6imMhnzigMr-PG0UBp1bSauoK-0l-FgZgb/s1600/IMG_6396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clearright; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngaVLkXi-nH94bRq_7u3XKvp_D4h4Gv5oQrpkQcpwF_ys65DWc5or6-RTQFKHoupUTl_M95zMHP_ft8Kvpp9TLJnRSQDzxHykcSkY6Fk1Db6imMhnzigMr-PG0UBp1bSauoK-0l-FgZgb/s320/IMG_6396.JPG" /></a>
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Bravo to all who had a hand in keeping the Petaluma Adobe open. Students and the public at large now have another year to visit this grand estate.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-1778355615613953032012-07-01T09:27:00.000-07:002012-07-01T12:22:18.228-07:0069 OF THE 70 PARKS STAYING OPEN: I've visited all 70 - hope you will visit one or two!Today is July 1, the day of the new State Budget, and the day of the deadline for the 70 State Parks on the closure list to figure out how/if they were going to stay open.
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Celebrations are occurring at some of the parks this weekend, as the great news is <a href="http://www.sacbee.com/2012/07/01/4602499/only-one-state-park-remains-on.html">69 parks are staying open</a> for at least one year, many with a two or three reprieve. Hurray!!!!!!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!!
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That being said, the reprieves <i><b>are temporary.</b></i> Parks are staying open largely as a result of each individual park taking on mounds of fund raising and legal paperwork. Now the work will be ongoing for all of them, until such time as the state budget reverses itself. Well, we don't need a crystal ball to see the near future on that matter.
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As to my blog and visiting all 70 parks, I have in fact visited them all. On June 11 I made my 70th trip to the Portola Redwoods near Santa Cruz. It has been an amazing experience. I still have to blog about the last eleven, and I will continue to do so for the next week or so I until they are all up. I knew from the get-go that I would enjoy this project. But, it turned out to be so much more than 70 pleasure trips. The experience has been genuinely transforming. I will write more about that when I wrap-up my adventures in a couple of weeks.
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In the meantime, go visit the parks! The concensus in my conversations with "park people" is that the best way for individuals to help keep the parks open is by using them! You can help keep the parks opening by visiting with family, friends or alone. How often do you have an opportunity to "help" by having fun?
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Of course you can always make a donation to individual parks or to the California State Park Fund Assocation.
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Here is a link to the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/parkindex/">California State Parks page</a> that allows you to search for a park by city, region, type of park, etc.
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If you prefer an alphabetical list, here is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_California_state_parks">wikipedia link</a>. There are 280 to choose from, no doubt one or two near you!
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These parks belong to us. If we don't use them they might go away. I know I would be sad if my future park blogs looked like this page, lots of information but no pictures.
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The only park remaining on the closure list is Providence Mountain SP out in the East Mojave. This park was actually already closed before last year's announcement.
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And so, with all sincerity I say, "I Hope to See you at the State Parks!"
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LucyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-15258600669867155842012-07-01T02:15:00.002-07:002012-07-01T02:15:54.061-07:00BENICIA STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #59 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4YNbHKyxRyuqETNlNxX5emRoBN4Tz0uuoaZ5bQXBYLe8L7TFnwOKe6btFzBUIvuFdMJ_7fwt39aNDELealL-P46F5LIsUtCXTHdzO8DECSAmQhq5tA0ecWEw9tpccsgEL5BXEK5W-rng/s1600/IMG_5484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:right;margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="216" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4YNbHKyxRyuqETNlNxX5emRoBN4Tz0uuoaZ5bQXBYLe8L7TFnwOKe6btFzBUIvuFdMJ_7fwt39aNDELealL-P46F5LIsUtCXTHdzO8DECSAmQhq5tA0ecWEw9tpccsgEL5BXEK5W-rng/s320/IMG_5484.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6RZmXXUXixYil8ib0CCRXgot_7q6L5SVva0rM7aYl4CwN-U7Di-SfOobrLxDXjjCbb9lxXDZTKqLneGWkXYBIT3u2Oq9RIQUpYOqdjRMILLH6kEM5AeyW4PqPRFkvDTFuoXH_7GnTIOc/s1600/IMG_5446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:right;margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="130" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6RZmXXUXixYil8ib0CCRXgot_7q6L5SVva0rM7aYl4CwN-U7Di-SfOobrLxDXjjCbb9lxXDZTKqLneGWkXYBIT3u2Oq9RIQUpYOqdjRMILLH6kEM5AeyW4PqPRFkvDTFuoXH_7GnTIOc/s320/IMG_5446.JPG" /></a>
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So here it is, July 1, 2012, the "D-day" for the 70 state parks on the closure list. And as <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/calif-officials-say-65-of-70-state-parks-will-temporarily-stay-open-as-result-of-state-budget/2012/06/28/gJQAqMjQ9V_story.html">reported in the National News</a> two days ago - 65 of the 70 parks have received at least a one year reprieve! Hurray!!
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But alas. The small tidal marsh, <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=476">Benicia State Recre-ation Area</a>, is one of the five still needing a rescue. The park is less than one square mile, and is where the Sacra-mento and San Joaquin Rivers empty into San Francisco Bay. There is an abundance of wildlife, and Patty, Roxy and I saw plenty of it on a beautiful day this past February.
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Although the park is putting up the gates today, many of the 200,000 people who visit annually to hike, walk, run, ride bicycles and fish, will still have access to it. A large number of the park users are local, entering via a pede-strian freeway overpass from a Benicia neighborhood across Interstate 780.
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There are two short, paved paths going in opposite directions from the entrance. We took the one that runs along the Freeway first. An exercise par-course is on this path. Roxy waited patiently for Patty to finish her exercises.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqyn3Py6qXGTjHjWvJoBa0EzTkKD2XIsBZM5v35f4-8kSiWmFok7uNQs2sofRa315xBYAIWGIkz2tLH5H9k8U_JkLuIRzFDrdCrJIaXWxFLhnloaFe4HazMwPVjVkyDEXRNeCPS8rK1ey/s1600/IMG_5390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="280" width="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqyn3Py6qXGTjHjWvJoBa0EzTkKD2XIsBZM5v35f4-8kSiWmFok7uNQs2sofRa315xBYAIWGIkz2tLH5H9k8U_JkLuIRzFDrdCrJIaXWxFLhnloaFe4HazMwPVjVkyDEXRNeCPS8rK1ey/s320/IMG_5390.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02E1ocdljAejn1pUMAyXXsfxEEctbGmupUgeMIKWpdYfFzWijNToZ4DZxBHMmFEodXi5ot-S1iUW8tL43WGzBkOVe_fivJqQTxpKnLxEXUadt063G8W62ADa4in_oKbDjkRCahBUBjRTT/s1600/IMG_5450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right;margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="280" width="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02E1ocdljAejn1pUMAyXXsfxEEctbGmupUgeMIKWpdYfFzWijNToZ4DZxBHMmFEodXi5ot-S1iUW8tL43WGzBkOVe_fivJqQTxpKnLxEXUadt063G8W62ADa4in_oKbDjkRCahBUBjRTT/s320/IMG_5450.JPG" /></a>
Short nature paths lead from the exercise trail through the adjacent marshland to the water’s edge. Birds and early spring blooms were a-plenty on these short, lovely marsh trails.
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Teasel groves, pyracantha, and blossoming fruit trees graced our walk. Sparrows and Scrub Jays flit back and forth in front of us. And be still my heart - not one - but two Peregrine Falcons!
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Fourteen tributaries flow west from the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. pouring through the Carquinez Strait, the narrowest point of the San Francisco Bay.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtM5Boyg5rIoz-crIVfz9aAiJUBr_VJ5Q9LiWXtaELFLLmCUxAJIlJFReURhoESah8AZlTXD50u_iArl2WYvsx5ufkw6ksH7M-8JLMbHlAvliTh0gxA8rQZJp0Q2iLN_2kGJxpt3mRmDK8/s1600/IMG_5443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtM5Boyg5rIoz-crIVfz9aAiJUBr_VJ5Q9LiWXtaELFLLmCUxAJIlJFReURhoESah8AZlTXD50u_iArl2WYvsx5ufkw6ksH7M-8JLMbHlAvliTh0gxA8rQZJp0Q2iLN_2kGJxpt3mRmDK8/s320/IMG_5443.JPG" /></a>
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After exploring the short nature trails and enjoying the long view of the Carquinez Strait and the hillside homes that surround it, we retraced our steps back to the park entrance.
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Benicia SRA was financed by the Federal Land and Water Conservation Fund, which requires that lands purchased be kept open to the public, making its closure a bit of a sticky issue.
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Next, Patty, Roxy (on leash of course!) and I headed out in the other direction on the 1-1/2 mile walk to Dillon Point. This part of the trail is a paved road shared with cars. However, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday it is closed to vehicle traffic, so we and the other walkers, riders and runners were able to monopolize the entire road. I suppose this will be the case all of the time now that the gate(s) are up.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPMEKdBuqjbbPKWm2x93VFJFKPpuS_bZYWhmHUXjutn36TfSkicVV-1zHZWVHzxkzMH1QckwoqBR2XBGhaRbQTkC6T9pO1imZQLE9y0vqDP0vTFL-HjJAJPG8vdpvWU5tRMdiadvAO0c7/s1600/IMG_5473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:right;margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPMEKdBuqjbbPKWm2x93VFJFKPpuS_bZYWhmHUXjutn36TfSkicVV-1zHZWVHzxkzMH1QckwoqBR2XBGhaRbQTkC6T9pO1imZQLE9y0vqDP0vTFL-HjJAJPG8vdpvWU5tRMdiadvAO0c7/s320/IMG_5473.jpg" /></a>
En route to Dillon Point we were delighted to stumble upon the <a href="http://baynature.org/organizations/forrest-deaner-native-plant-botanic-garden/">Forrest Deaner Native Plant Botanical Garden</a>. We spent half an hour reading the well labeled signs and learning more about indigenous plants. It is not clear how this very active garden will be affected by the park closure.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeti7yJ5B49cx_X0A_1GugPAXEJGo6ZHRgxTknLjO0svCsxojfBhvY-3SfU6YdD_KflbraK7utEwY5VbkTyh46MmxcDlYjQjs0flLczEpFq3glVxCfrb0hXVR7G61QDhAEBy62a4WPnl4/s1600/IMG_5474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeti7yJ5B49cx_X0A_1GugPAXEJGo6ZHRgxTknLjO0svCsxojfBhvY-3SfU6YdD_KflbraK7utEwY5VbkTyh46MmxcDlYjQjs0flLczEpFq3glVxCfrb0hXVR7G61QDhAEBy62a4WPnl4/s320/IMG_5474.jpg" /></a>
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I was pleased to see that the Coffeeberry and Cream Bush Plants were growing side by side. And clearly the Coyote Mint was being appreciated as evidenced by the not quite camouflaged Coyote in the field across from the garden. Coyotes! They are one of my favorite critters and this was my third sighting this year.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmAQbVS0WsTXwGJkHFg1JphsTgIue6oTntqtDfoQfzp6ocbitPYTLF5XCDSXxcQhelJGeBvxu45DIPY8NKPeRP-r0yefwLMduLnQc-l_6yEwe9m3DQZVzR9DYhpr5gxDyJPzzpmcjJhyO/s1600/IMG_5459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:right;margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmAQbVS0WsTXwGJkHFg1JphsTgIue6oTntqtDfoQfzp6ocbitPYTLF5XCDSXxcQhelJGeBvxu45DIPY8NKPeRP-r0yefwLMduLnQc-l_6yEwe9m3DQZVzR9DYhpr5gxDyJPzzpmcjJhyO/s320/IMG_5459.JPG" /></a>
At Dillon Point is a popular fishing area where local anglers cast for starry flounder, sturgeon and striped bass, although with the gates up they will now have to walk instead of drive the mile and half to the point, hauling their gear and tackle.
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It is also here that the park trail hooks up with the <a href="http://www.ridgetrail.org/">Bay Area Ridge Trail</a>, a trail system being built around the San Francisco Bay. Currently 375 of the eventual 550 miles of trail is complete. I watched a solo hiker as he passed me and headed yonder onto the Bay Trail under the Carquinez Bridge.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02cYml-K-s1kbjtgXBsOGfk-pmuvJLWQ2v_rl91BZldmCN3dVPGAF0fX0gYqz6VCe0IuaBbGOnLU6mPlcm-jrX0rvdMJ6dt2EWfDpewZFTKYFcP8GJwzZbahNih5f9LzVosNkc1BnJGtq/s1600/IMG_5485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="273" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02cYml-K-s1kbjtgXBsOGfk-pmuvJLWQ2v_rl91BZldmCN3dVPGAF0fX0gYqz6VCe0IuaBbGOnLU6mPlcm-jrX0rvdMJ6dt2EWfDpewZFTKYFcP8GJwzZbahNih5f9LzVosNkc1BnJGtq/s320/IMG_5485.JPG" /></a>
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A ship approached from the opposite direction. I suddenly had the urge to follow the hiker and just keep walking. But, the first signs of dusk were appearing in the early winter sky and we still had to walk back to the car.
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I'm intrigued by the Bay Trail though. Maybe that is what I'll do next.
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The Red Winged Blackbirds were out in force now, providing a loud and animated soundtrack for our walk back.
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A number of art galleries on First Street in Benicia are still raising money in hopes of saving the Recreation Area. The <a href="http://events.sfgate.com/benicia_ca/events/show/264505245-art-for-parks-at-benicia-plein-air-gallery">Benicia Plein Air Gallery</a> has a whole wall with wilderness inspired art. 40% of the profits go to support the Association's efforts. The oil refiner Vallero gave $3,000. But for now the gate is up at Benicia SRA.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks, especially now that sixty-five of them have an ever so short reprieve.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIdNfqFukcyrVO6WC_A-ombWsIJpb6gjvYZDh0yIOPUMB7ztmFaoo4UeqDSzgomwS7Be4rfyMSqnl4Bp_uyIJYWOwyMLrc3rhViq3hb7FBOybZpwObL1UxsaMPx4RSYbxtfGM29pAUsDE/s1600/IMG_5377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="350" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIdNfqFukcyrVO6WC_A-ombWsIJpb6gjvYZDh0yIOPUMB7ztmFaoo4UeqDSzgomwS7Be4rfyMSqnl4Bp_uyIJYWOwyMLrc3rhViq3hb7FBOybZpwObL1UxsaMPx4RSYbxtfGM29pAUsDE/s320/IMG_5377.JPG" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-44143773506800054692012-06-28T11:15:00.001-07:002012-06-28T12:11:45.206-07:00ANNADEL STATE PARK: Trip #58 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYy-0bZ7Ke9HbNe61rSKETMoPSbmgVq2mj1MaDUy0KMFcMskHdBA-1plwbPH39ufooms7Pedv37dKkQqFPbNC7vnQyAQDS7LsiI5F10pi1ZR2L5Yck7Z1K3i6dC44nqgmyVsHyZ-d5mK7a/s1600/DSC07323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYy-0bZ7Ke9HbNe61rSKETMoPSbmgVq2mj1MaDUy0KMFcMskHdBA-1plwbPH39ufooms7Pedv37dKkQqFPbNC7vnQyAQDS7LsiI5F10pi1ZR2L5Yck7Z1K3i6dC44nqgmyVsHyZ-d5mK7a/s320/DSC07323.JPG" /></a>
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The last Sonoma Valley park on the closure list has been saved after the county’s Board of Supervisors unani-mously approved a contract to allow Sonoma County Regional Parks to manage <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=480">Annadel State Park</a>, begin-ning July 1. <a href="http://www.sonomanews.com/News-2012/Supes-OK-Annadel-deal/">Sonoma News</a> reports that funding is in place to manage the park for one year!
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Thirty-five miles of hiking trails plus good black bass and bluegill fishing are the high-lights of Annadel. Hiking and biking to Lake Ilsanjo, is a popular day hike and this was my plan for the day.
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Unfortunately I had to limit my hike to about three miles. Day use hours for many of the parks I've visited are "sunrise to sunset." Annadel, however, was locking the gate at 4:30 pm, making a 2:00pm start a little tight for the round-trip hike, especially since wildlife kept distracting me and my camera.
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Oak forests, lakes, grass-lands and meadows are the main geographic features of Annadel, with 5,000 plus acres offering over forty miles of hiker/biker trails. It boasts one of Northern California’s most undisturbed oak woodlands, with abundant bird and animal life, flowing streams, and a spectrum of wildflowers in late spring. With its location right in town, it offers woodsy outdoor opportunities for Santa Rosa area residents with an easy few minutes drive.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaELkVHvmHAm7IYzkl32AqU44TCTkUsTGc7TU4sQdwnHEjblDCI5YHH8C0YJRb8OVnuQ1CBAN6bJvIFzncuBXjOg_0AGfwHKVxngtKcMvyBtTnwERs44bkgncuizg__8v123FQuryOKj2i/s1600/DSC07322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaELkVHvmHAm7IYzkl32AqU44TCTkUsTGc7TU4sQdwnHEjblDCI5YHH8C0YJRb8OVnuQ1CBAN6bJvIFzncuBXjOg_0AGfwHKVxngtKcMvyBtTnwERs44bkgncuizg__8v123FQuryOKj2i/s320/DSC07322.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB858kxY1A08snqpeNbJQUL_iS-guhyU28nc8fEFjGnNCB3CrYEeBKTe-aKYuWtSDEzP0PHJJjJr3zrz2u7LZ1NJwKqJ7tftrp-R8pVdXlh0axv4GZG9DbFjPVd12la_gQp3c15qDwXBjC/s1600/DSC07371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="228" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB858kxY1A08snqpeNbJQUL_iS-guhyU28nc8fEFjGnNCB3CrYEeBKTe-aKYuWtSDEzP0PHJJjJr3zrz2u7LZ1NJwKqJ7tftrp-R8pVdXlh0axv4GZG9DbFjPVd12la_gQp3c15qDwXBjC/s320/DSC07371.JPG" /></a>
The Pomo and Wappo Indians were the first people attracted to the area, gather-ing the shiny black obsidian rock to carve knife blades and arrowheads.
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Basalt was quarried here at the turn of the century. It was used to rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake.
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Lake Ilsanjo - my hiking destination - was actually built by two former landowners in 1956 - Ilsa and Joe Coney - for whom the lake is named. In 1971, Annadel became a state park.
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For the first mile or so of my hike, I was treated to silence and aloneness, an aspect of hiking I am coming to treasure with increasing enthusiasm. I was rewarded by an abundance of visitors - mostly small herds of deer and several flocks of turkeys - who seemed to understand that my still and quiet stance posed no threat to them. They actually seemed to be posing for me.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBgHxD2NPDtShLof-TAIjpxpoHYbvMkzajtgfwhF2AggWr9AjTQ3a-Yc8fLdZREwsftx_iCeKhMv3G_8kPXi-j5WWXHJ9ujUG7IpBgEUi7UTBXEuJxOEepXCUi0o8LYpeGXspxjO1vOS9/s1600/DSC07388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="202" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBgHxD2NPDtShLof-TAIjpxpoHYbvMkzajtgfwhF2AggWr9AjTQ3a-Yc8fLdZREwsftx_iCeKhMv3G_8kPXi-j5WWXHJ9ujUG7IpBgEUi7UTBXEuJxOEepXCUi0o8LYpeGXspxjO1vOS9/s320/DSC07388.JPG" /></a>
A Junko darted back and forth across my path. A polite bicyclist - seeing that I was trying to get a photo of the bird - stopped a ways back and held still. I didn't even notice him until I came up from my camera. I thanked him for his courtesy of course.
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It takes about $350,000 to run Annadel for a year. To keep it open for this first, trial-basis year, the state has agreed to staff a fulltime ranger for an in-kind contribution of $100,000. Another $100,000 came from Santa Rosa based philanthropist <a href="http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20111106/ARTICLES/111061007">Henry Trione</a>.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wgMkCqcHZm6lMZ6pjP1AqZm2XN1BpLT1aLLCRzAQaOUAfDGQJHanKHunCLeZE6GTv_yVKgrhyphenhyphenAEDF218CHVTQLE_aydgR3ziwcJLk3QUJdLsCzW6-TeaIAfvhmFYIILuJb7dY-tB2-6v/s1600/DSC07326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wgMkCqcHZm6lMZ6pjP1AqZm2XN1BpLT1aLLCRzAQaOUAfDGQJHanKHunCLeZE6GTv_yVKgrhyphenhyphenAEDF218CHVTQLE_aydgR3ziwcJLk3QUJdLsCzW6-TeaIAfvhmFYIILuJb7dY-tB2-6v/s320/DSC07326.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnayRws_tnsYyLFPjry_uH3v0A3FH3zxHq1Hq_hnxiiU0z5o2VvrX3Ef18sp31kg_RRFgao8nVwXRHcWEi-1mE7GVEkYqp33Bre6dcfJx30XLjr23S2XFiRokNaz24Tt59JMq9fPLrp3A/s1600/DSC07327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnayRws_tnsYyLFPjry_uH3v0A3FH3zxHq1Hq_hnxiiU0z5o2VvrX3Ef18sp31kg_RRFgao8nVwXRHcWEi-1mE7GVEkYqp33Bre6dcfJx30XLjr23S2XFiRokNaz24Tt59JMq9fPLrp3A/s320/DSC07327.JPG" /></a>
Two major local races raise additional capital. The <a href="http://www.annadelhalf.com/">Annadel Half Marathon</a>, raised $40,000 for the park this year, and is set to come back in 2013. The Santa Rosa based company <a href="http://www.bikemonkey.net/events/annadel/">Bike Monkey</a> will be donating the proceeds of its cross-country bike race through Annadel, set for Aug. 18, which last year netted $27,000 for the park.
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Hm. I recently acquired a bicycle. Maybe by the 2013 event I'll be ready to ride!
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<a href="http://www.friendofannadel.org/">Friends of Annadel</a> continues to be a focal point for com-munity conversation, and a way for the entire Annadel community to get involved with and support the park.
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Suddenly the deer seemed jumpy and began heading deeper into the woods. The turkeys began meandering away. Then I heard it too.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MGKWZy5AjEymW4aiO65oG5HB2WRSMjE3f_jPIQUErBncX4KSebUl_8RRIpcybjoZozBKT16uZ_NQ8QNJ043r7SEnbHeq7t9387jsVn-HdaXVznfAtDcS8MrzGfX_T-D4pzcmBO5hrTtK/s1600/DSC07355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="306" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MGKWZy5AjEymW4aiO65oG5HB2WRSMjE3f_jPIQUErBncX4KSebUl_8RRIpcybjoZozBKT16uZ_NQ8QNJ043r7SEnbHeq7t9387jsVn-HdaXVznfAtDcS8MrzGfX_T-D4pzcmBO5hrTtK/s320/DSC07355.JPG" /></a>
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No, not a mountain lion. Rather, it was the sound of loud, adolescent, female voices discussing hair, jewelry and make-up. Within a few seconds, two teenage girls on their bicycles zoomed by. Ah well. I'd had my turn in the forest and now it was theirs.
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The wildlife disappeared. I wasn't going to make it all the way to Lake Ilsanjo. I decided to head back to the car. There was enough time left for me to enjoy my return trip without having to constantly check the clock. I made it through the park gate with twenty minutes to spare.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-74102748244332119542012-06-24T11:48:00.000-07:002012-06-24T11:48:00.189-07:00LIME KILN STATE PARK: Trip #57 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tFNGuw_OZ6-cskBk4UqmuXWObH1CIM96gRJSHFH6fYSeppkGrd01eMLLN79qtlNKDvPX6WlLyxDZUr39RI9P0g98m9SIRt1JA5j09XS4AHCxuly3U5JGZ0KEHWw1UkSaAxrYoIgMjp-f/s1600/DSC07064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tFNGuw_OZ6-cskBk4UqmuXWObH1CIM96gRJSHFH6fYSeppkGrd01eMLLN79qtlNKDvPX6WlLyxDZUr39RI9P0g98m9SIRt1JA5j09XS4AHCxuly3U5JGZ0KEHWw1UkSaAxrYoIgMjp-f/s320/DSC07064.JPG" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3B342z5xAqY3vNKSnN7UcBzgX705QSfBlEwMAylt8PjmQYesefuAl3iGLzdPoV-S54sG1Dk9lvwAspj20tfcE8LYN1kD9fiXZ7YALuslnFi6yOJkCyW78spLZRo-HEYBYUH9GNj5lebJd/s1600/DSC07110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3B342z5xAqY3vNKSnN7UcBzgX705QSfBlEwMAylt8PjmQYesefuAl3iGLzdPoV-S54sG1Dk9lvwAspj20tfcE8LYN1kD9fiXZ7YALuslnFi6yOJkCyW78spLZRo-HEYBYUH9GNj5lebJd/s320/DSC07110.JPG" /></a>
A drive through the Big Sur area would not be complete without either a closure on Highway 1, a detour, or road construction to repair pre-vious landslides. And so it was on the day I visited <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=577">Lime Kiln State Park</a>. I had attempt-ed to visit this park three months earlier, but a mudslide had completely blocked the road. Today I was able to see the repair work under way.
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The park is named for the actual kilns that were used to produce lime in the 19th cen-tury. It opened to the public in September of 1995 after the state ac-quired a privately held camp-ground and 716 acres of land in southernmost Big Sur.
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The park has two very sepa-rate environments. From the parking lot you can walk straight into a Redwood forest to the East, or take about a three minute stroll to the rocky beach in the West. The hike through the Coastal Red-woods is an easy one mile round trip trail, with the only tricky part being crossing the creek on wobbly rocks and logs two or three times each way. There is a fork in the trail about halfway down. One way goes to the waterfall and the other to the kilns.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuocOR_HUkaUVep6rr2CgpaoIT1eqMzOgbDTZwhycRk7tb9LQftwXy2t7mMbtCBB9KjhAhYAi_yTP1xvarD831gTNjHq9wTo5gmB68EBEcSfwzAoXrLfodsAQULz8Q_wzTOGUq8Zm6FX7/s1600/DSC07044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuocOR_HUkaUVep6rr2CgpaoIT1eqMzOgbDTZwhycRk7tb9LQftwXy2t7mMbtCBB9KjhAhYAi_yTP1xvarD831gTNjHq9wTo5gmB68EBEcSfwzAoXrLfodsAQULz8Q_wzTOGUq8Zm6FX7/s320/DSC07044.JPG" /></a>
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I love the fact that within a few steps of the parking lot and highway, you can be plunged into the grand, peaceful environment of the Redwood forest. I find that the instant transformation in the landscape transforms my weariness and anxieties in an equally dramatic and short amount time.
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Quarried limestone was “kilned” (smelted) in four huge wood-fired kilns in the 1870s and 1880s. When I first stumbled onto these giant kilns, I had to fight the urge to also look for a gingerbread house, so odd did he seem to see huge ovens in the middle of the woods.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCdI_dLFtWZ6YKQJmnpBj1uPS7CTRz7Euuhm8Jv0yUNBkUBAj95lVNJnxp2j25S-C6dTNXvNu6GuPw5f1ZqEicd9fI9QKZgSY_zNVDvsGCTIJg0e6ZtGrmaccDTHznJPCzWrZ-6BB_-8p/s1600/DSC07058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCdI_dLFtWZ6YKQJmnpBj1uPS7CTRz7Euuhm8Jv0yUNBkUBAj95lVNJnxp2j25S-C6dTNXvNu6GuPw5f1ZqEicd9fI9QKZgSY_zNVDvsGCTIJg0e6ZtGrmaccDTHznJPCzWrZ-6BB_-8p/s320/DSC07058.jpg" /></a>
Powdered lime was packed into barrels which were then attached to cable that was strung from the canyon wall down to the beach and some 50 yards out into the Pacific Ocean.
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Schooners slipped into tiny Rockland Cove, as the landing was known, and loaded the lime. The lime, a primary ingredient in cement, was used to construct buildings in Monterey and San Francisco. I wondered if any of the lime was being used for the road construction uproad from the beach, or for the tall highway overpass separating the beach from the parking lot.
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The industry was hard on Redwoods as they were chopped down to fuel the kilns and to make barrels to store the lime. After a quiet century, nature has healed most of Limekiln Canyon’s wounds and today it shelters some of the oldest, healthiest, largest trees in Monterey County.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEUPvPKTee0hzEcM_03Is4BbciifktfGePhDPs6YmfMcU_85nmp00j-ceMhheWhIvaAMLy1KsVivgAlTW33RmO9QDF35SSZ51bVw6qzvdV_8oLjrFlEskY_bTBKisKdvv6c2kYVKbX0M2/s1600/DSC07069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="219" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEUPvPKTee0hzEcM_03Is4BbciifktfGePhDPs6YmfMcU_85nmp00j-ceMhheWhIvaAMLy1KsVivgAlTW33RmO9QDF35SSZ51bVw6qzvdV_8oLjrFlEskY_bTBKisKdvv6c2kYVKbX0M2/s320/DSC07069.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2kfogpsycaG4B7sEi1TkuvpYgtfO7bCjCjRYOL_-UXHl69TRImBcvMoVNdpSjP72h4FpjR7mG_CUUXh8htpVXBVblb85thqAeu1E-LLPS6acSmf2tEDUx-sGbV_Sh4yhrLz9Hlujri8y/s1600/DSC07093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2kfogpsycaG4B7sEi1TkuvpYgtfO7bCjCjRYOL_-UXHl69TRImBcvMoVNdpSjP72h4FpjR7mG_CUUXh8htpVXBVblb85thqAeu1E-LLPS6acSmf2tEDUx-sGbV_Sh4yhrLz9Hlujri8y/s320/DSC07093.JPG" /></a>
Some scientists speculate that these redwoods, along with those in other nearby steep canyons, may prove to be a special subspecies or variety of redwood that differs slightly from more northerly stands.
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Nonetheless, in 1984 a pri-vate landowner wanted to log these redwoods. Thanks to conservationists from around the state and the local <a href="http://www.bigsurlandtrust.org/">Big Sur Land Trust,</a> the trees were spared, and their habitat pre-served in the public domain.
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A family-owned campground was operated by the Esalen Institute for a number of years. It is now run by the state of California. When the state acquired Limekiln Can-yon, it made some facilities improvements, but not many. The park’s plumbing system remains problematic. Campsites are "Big Sur funky," definitely not of the quality of those grand northern redwood park campgrounds designed by landscape architects.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPBgFvt673WnMiUDeu22G9hcNGZSBSsaVkTTcSDgGCSUT1PBRMbD3rks-ZuQbNwI3ooW-5JfbIq1DLlC0Ar2lgKqOyQ98bO7N_Bg91fGrFRoQITJxND4WOZYfQuihje6SopQGwG5VXQMv/s1600/DSC07083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="288" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPBgFvt673WnMiUDeu22G9hcNGZSBSsaVkTTcSDgGCSUT1PBRMbD3rks-ZuQbNwI3ooW-5JfbIq1DLlC0Ar2lgKqOyQ98bO7N_Bg91fGrFRoQITJxND4WOZYfQuihje6SopQGwG5VXQMv/s320/DSC07083.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuhyVq7R7lj-sjCxmmSv6yCWR7bnFUnbeDN8NOnyBhNfqOKdTiOtfpcxJlaaOEVHEjzFffh0wdjEwRnGyLfT0WW-yUOMMhrVM54wtHNl5bTXAu6e0za54TkmMiSMdw4vo6gGjhCNxzuVV/s1600/DSC07084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="280" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuhyVq7R7lj-sjCxmmSv6yCWR7bnFUnbeDN8NOnyBhNfqOKdTiOtfpcxJlaaOEVHEjzFffh0wdjEwRnGyLfT0WW-yUOMMhrVM54wtHNl5bTXAu6e0za54TkmMiSMdw4vo6gGjhCNxzuVV/s320/DSC07084.JPG" /></a>
I had spent some quiet time in the Redwoods, sitting by the creek in silence, with only the occasional sound of a human voice or footstep. Now on the other side of the park, at the Beach, I did the same. A small bench sat at the base of the highway overpass, look-ing out toward the ocean. A nearby campsite indicated a possible long term resident had put it their for their own special view of the sea. Nice!
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At this writing I cannot find any news of Lime Kiln State Park being rescued from closure. What a shame. It is such a jewel with the beach and forest within a five minute walk of each other. Perhaps there will be a last minute reprieve. I hope so.
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In the meantime, I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-45250351436986282352012-06-23T00:31:00.001-07:002012-06-23T00:31:17.720-07:00TOMALES BAY STATE PARK: Trip #56 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt-xg1EVGyqJfj8Ne22kqLqoy1D3mdvquxx7K6TKwgDkz64tZNcDapo0eHlyHRpPPXMWB8YR5hxOUk0s0ZKKx1hXG5gchDrKHJG8uQgHff2iMZ0tDf52qGc04p965EsaKYZXK4p2u0pMs/s1600/DSC07227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt-xg1EVGyqJfj8Ne22kqLqoy1D3mdvquxx7K6TKwgDkz64tZNcDapo0eHlyHRpPPXMWB8YR5hxOUk0s0ZKKx1hXG5gchDrKHJG8uQgHff2iMZ0tDf52qGc04p965EsaKYZXK4p2u0pMs/s400/DSC07227.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDnAtg90ZB8ee9Haj8KDVbrMdv6AySPTbB3GaW1HiWhGyF1HXTd_u_tIpfVxRLNLK_elSq6wL1ajrkmlq9WsXC9goi4UKN82vhe9EHctNaSIcALouPMxTtGxGVmlq1qTsa7xth3eZG0En/s1600/DSC07193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="168" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDnAtg90ZB8ee9Haj8KDVbrMdv6AySPTbB3GaW1HiWhGyF1HXTd_u_tIpfVxRLNLK_elSq6wL1ajrkmlq9WsXC9goi4UKN82vhe9EHctNaSIcALouPMxTtGxGVmlq1qTsa7xth3eZG0En/s320/DSC07193.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuhZxUrV-Sdu2CB56A01FNfCUuKJEM5D1MHblhla_Wqqu3c-eXo6XszSbFDo-jwF5IE_NqGCjfbXS3eDfJ3dPdZ6vQ5adJRM5u17j4vITZo4p-jbwtSQ_Mu_uTqF5iAR6mRlCh4QdJd1W/s1600/DSC07226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuhZxUrV-Sdu2CB56A01FNfCUuKJEM5D1MHblhla_Wqqu3c-eXo6XszSbFDo-jwF5IE_NqGCjfbXS3eDfJ3dPdZ6vQ5adJRM5u17j4vITZo4p-jbwtSQ_Mu_uTqF5iAR6mRlCh4QdJd1W/s400/DSC07226.JPG" /></a>
The first Sunday of June found the <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/hearts-desire-beach-picnic-area-inverness">Heart's Desire Beach</a> at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=470">Tomales Bay State Park </a>filled with families enjoy-ing all of the usual beach acti-vities. The park has hiking trails and is a popular place for picnicking, swimming, clamming and boating. The weather was too brisk for a swim, but the under 18 crowd didn't seem to mind. Heck, when I was a kid, I too was always up for a dip regard-less of the temperature.
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Tomales Bay State Park will be kept open through agree-ments signed by the National Park Service (NPS) and California State Parks. The two agencies have cooper-ated for years in the manage-ment of public lands in Marin County. These recent agree-ments reflect what has be-come a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watershed_management">watershed approach</a> to management of the parks.
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Forty miles north of San Fran-cisco's Golden Gate Bridge, Tomales Bay includes lands within both <a href="http://www.nps.gov/pore/index.htm">Point Reyes National Seashore</a> and <a href="http://www.nps.gov/goga/index.htm">Golden Gate National Recreation Area.</a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmXqu458Fv9pUa1IqxdnOkBt_UyfuhgGR55JKrN2JmJWvRnQ2CB2-3ZTaFfwIXm8itOPGDYpbDJiVO98G-aBH5mdaiMGhHWSikb5zycHXqgZ_KGYNuIjf_e9nucy-2eVL1DAm-qFqh4wm/s1600/DSC07251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmXqu458Fv9pUa1IqxdnOkBt_UyfuhgGR55JKrN2JmJWvRnQ2CB2-3ZTaFfwIXm8itOPGDYpbDJiVO98G-aBH5mdaiMGhHWSikb5zycHXqgZ_KGYNuIjf_e9nucy-2eVL1DAm-qFqh4wm/s400/DSC07251.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTyaRBB6SrQcf3Pv2KlYDSlwzw_BmplVa729fZjhiWKI232kgqXO3GwdPS1hv3aw7qbaB2Jq2U8reFR9kQSklOnq83JM6DrF4GfeicS-NXAKmBzTlGCpZVbA58zh6GhD61Yy1M__kMlT1/s1600/DSC07204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTyaRBB6SrQcf3Pv2KlYDSlwzw_BmplVa729fZjhiWKI232kgqXO3GwdPS1hv3aw7qbaB2Jq2U8reFR9kQSklOnq83JM6DrF4GfeicS-NXAKmBzTlGCpZVbA58zh6GhD61Yy1M__kMlT1/s320/DSC07204.JPG" /></a>
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One of the finest remaining virgin groves of Bishop pine in California is in the park's Jepson Memorial Grove, reached by way of a one mile long trail. I paid my respects to the long-necked wooden creature guarding the path, who then granted me permission to explore the forest.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQgUy0hDj_dqbJhXlDVMqiDGp_gfIoxDVkuPedkoGdBp6G_Nxooa7gL_ZvH_A2wPYDxFWwKszwqmDN4UvZRK2Hh0oEoB8Jwxg7ne_3lSgjmcfIE2dhNxG_baAJFIkwnV07u5n16GGgY1Z/s1600/DSC07203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="260" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQgUy0hDj_dqbJhXlDVMqiDGp_gfIoxDVkuPedkoGdBp6G_Nxooa7gL_ZvH_A2wPYDxFWwKszwqmDN4UvZRK2Hh0oEoB8Jwxg7ne_3lSgjmcfIE2dhNxG_baAJFIkwnV07u5n16GGgY1Z/s320/DSC07203.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj-sVzJUl_Nc6nuF2qoAmYD-0IrGmHM6ySrelaslw4ZiyTDv1sz0jIHLNcIZZCiaSQ3O2Ki8gGgbjTdXtBXCAEfldgUemoE8q4XolwqlDsfgr9cXZeeT8T50ZIi8zw6oAtidmQVfYO7w9/s1600/DSC07206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="260" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj-sVzJUl_Nc6nuF2qoAmYD-0IrGmHM6ySrelaslw4ZiyTDv1sz0jIHLNcIZZCiaSQ3O2Ki8gGgbjTdXtBXCAEfldgUemoE8q4XolwqlDsfgr9cXZeeT8T50ZIi8zw6oAtidmQVfYO7w9/s320/DSC07206.JPG" /></a>
The first inhabitants of this coastal area were the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/pore/historyculture/people_coastmiwok.htm">Coast Miwok</a> people, living in Tomales Bay's sheltered coves, beaches, tidal marshes, and Pine forests.
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In 1579 Sir Francis Drake was the first explorer to land in this area, followed by a host of Spanish, Russian and German explorers over the next couple of centuries.
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In the 1940s real estate deve-lopers began purchasing beach front land, prompting residents and conservation groups to save this area as a park. In 1952, Tomales Bay State Park was formally dedi-cated and opened to the public, and happily remains open for at least one more year under the new arrangements with NPS.
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On this day, the Seagulls seemed pretty happy with the new arrangement as well. Mischievously swooping down onto the sand, they perused the momentarily unattended beach blankets and picnic lunches, making off with a morsel or two before the owners could rescue their food from the birds.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNN0dDGGbYNxg_4n0e3GuyG4EpPD2rsoAto5nd0C044BnJjjqbfXU1ugYdikH5XPGwbG76r8cMJ48XvPMbw-SNeML8rXt2tBMpZeJpyBlLzZoLQRC0BDNNwsz6lPIDw4GPmHfG3PL_srOP/s1600/DSC07230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNN0dDGGbYNxg_4n0e3GuyG4EpPD2rsoAto5nd0C044BnJjjqbfXU1ugYdikH5XPGwbG76r8cMJ48XvPMbw-SNeML8rXt2tBMpZeJpyBlLzZoLQRC0BDNNwsz6lPIDw4GPmHfG3PL_srOP/s400/DSC07230.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxVbTbQcv655T3xeQb16OI1ZwmcahKmUAFysIph6GQdBiifR92ED-nBxOlz9HVt-LmuusGqLPFvdopLLV-DsuOisTQ2BIMasbMduaZGmMaHPJnwqbgW7zw_10K2RyXZnO95QC584zCZG5/s1600/DSC07232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxVbTbQcv655T3xeQb16OI1ZwmcahKmUAFysIph6GQdBiifR92ED-nBxOlz9HVt-LmuusGqLPFvdopLLV-DsuOisTQ2BIMasbMduaZGmMaHPJnwqbgW7zw_10K2RyXZnO95QC584zCZG5/s400/DSC07232.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl9Za0SY593sx8UzMr_W7OVVnQCvqPkZnD1M4iPKscTMQ_JbdWby1wNMleryEPxHIyiCcJ-wor3aiM41cUMCETlt7AJhlkCeCw0IUom0fjhG1iT551FiuV-aBae5cnDHvwJQdzIyaVOKj/s1600/DSC07233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="255" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl9Za0SY593sx8UzMr_W7OVVnQCvqPkZnD1M4iPKscTMQ_JbdWby1wNMleryEPxHIyiCcJ-wor3aiM41cUMCETlt7AJhlkCeCw0IUom0fjhG1iT551FiuV-aBae5cnDHvwJQdzIyaVOKj/s400/DSC07233.JPG" /></a>
The famous San Andreas Fault lies directly beneath the twelve mile length of Tomales Bay. In the 1906 San Fran-cisco earthquake, the greatest mea-sured displacement along the entire fault was at Tomales Bay, when the area to the west moved an amazing twenty feet!
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A walk around the cliffs revealed beautiful rock covered in moss, kelp and other ocean loving plant life.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93aC4rxaqWMvGrmEmQhWLqHpu1YMIvXYAawXVTO1Cxn8lihGQXGQ4D_VuwRUGh6UIqafuAcnnfcL9ixgI0Xh1mw9DQrFpYOcY7n2wM-ow4CGc04LRYxkF2KrvdiNhbwecRGLHBgtNtdud/s1600/DSC07244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="270" width="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93aC4rxaqWMvGrmEmQhWLqHpu1YMIvXYAawXVTO1Cxn8lihGQXGQ4D_VuwRUGh6UIqafuAcnnfcL9ixgI0Xh1mw9DQrFpYOcY7n2wM-ow4CGc04LRYxkF2KrvdiNhbwecRGLHBgtNtdud/s400/DSC07244.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeT0fpSEduYYWdId-gF88qjdh-ChP_wVdOMSwWFscvrOqTpWlE9HNLP84_3hcpmNMm2unsWFhw1mgV1A4kiPxLIY3sbCw9c4S9ncFW_swto2w6yfAz_4eIDg4LF2m0iFDIRocOdMMwtGk/s1600/DSC07246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="270" width="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeT0fpSEduYYWdId-gF88qjdh-ChP_wVdOMSwWFscvrOqTpWlE9HNLP84_3hcpmNMm2unsWFhw1mgV1A4kiPxLIY3sbCw9c4S9ncFW_swto2w6yfAz_4eIDg4LF2m0iFDIRocOdMMwtGk/s400/DSC07246.JPG" /></a>
A gentleman and his young son encouraged me to go around the next bend as well for a truly breathtaking view of the cliffs, but the tide was coming in and I was already ankle deep against the bluffs, so I chose to head back to the beach.
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I have to say I am finding it genuinely heartening to see the many creative ways some of the parks are utilizing in order to remain open, even if only on a trail basis. And of late, it's also been nice to see the parks well attended.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNczOWWGc4_587LmOryjKhnmV7dwtINl3QIxAJ9zVEUtkr6w_RnFfWETtzHJO9Bf3J6wH4LmBwPoSf0onm9Cs7Ya0iq9PDj_lHwakbP-kx4cNsWDunCMZpKw_wv7_-gVciRtNcqa8djnT1/s1600/DSC07250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="390" width="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNczOWWGc4_587LmOryjKhnmV7dwtINl3QIxAJ9zVEUtkr6w_RnFfWETtzHJO9Bf3J6wH4LmBwPoSf0onm9Cs7Ya0iq9PDj_lHwakbP-kx4cNsWDunCMZpKw_wv7_-gVciRtNcqa8djnT1/s400/DSC07250.JPG" /></a>
<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-51635121922502392992012-06-20T10:47:00.001-07:002012-06-20T10:47:52.769-07:00BOTHE-NAPA VALLEY STATE PARK: Trip #55 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbljHXXkWj4sF5EkVTIa-zYFphNk-vpRtHWff6O6j_FibH2vxb51iYsRNUPgjUyU2C-4vS0CnHYt0Ve5Tkry9n0-XFKpuPs_Q-MNngU4lcnxcHokZJKBzpLTRRprqCh8rgePfRHi1vNwJW/s1600/DSC06108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="311" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbljHXXkWj4sF5EkVTIa-zYFphNk-vpRtHWff6O6j_FibH2vxb51iYsRNUPgjUyU2C-4vS0CnHYt0Ve5Tkry9n0-XFKpuPs_Q-MNngU4lcnxcHokZJKBzpLTRRprqCh8rgePfRHi1vNwJW/s320/DSC06108.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV59C9f075eNuLqs_43M5hyoVoKFp_nCz2IkRxZFtI0couy0TRPKH2vYJeSRoXBS620IqTS2TVbQj0YxUv-ozGpuLW_iqmeF6FL4lNK-cFiR2s9FfNpViUFJ1QxZjmiTYOvee1YXYmHq5v/s1600/DSC06085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV59C9f075eNuLqs_43M5hyoVoKFp_nCz2IkRxZFtI0couy0TRPKH2vYJeSRoXBS620IqTS2TVbQj0YxUv-ozGpuLW_iqmeF6FL4lNK-cFiR2s9FfNpViUFJ1QxZjmiTYOvee1YXYmHq5v/s320/DSC06085.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDxLNWpX0bq_wCWItaC7M3cVobk4lRShEPMq_IF7K3WRVqIGYqg3gSojI__zDQRu33Pf03KMZ8-8bDkjuxHYn5mS9zOiV7mYn4Z8oDQxIy9yimXvxH7Kw_zhgOvkKs5y1qK1pmQg3rdD6/s1600/DSC06086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="203" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDxLNWpX0bq_wCWItaC7M3cVobk4lRShEPMq_IF7K3WRVqIGYqg3gSojI__zDQRu33Pf03KMZ8-8bDkjuxHYn5mS9zOiV7mYn4Z8oDQxIy9yimXvxH7Kw_zhgOvkKs5y1qK1pmQg3rdD6/s320/DSC06086.JPG" /></a>
"There is an entire family of Rattlesnakes at the base of the final ascent on Coyote Peak Trail," said the volunteer behind the desk at the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=477">Bothe-Napa Valley State Park</a> Visitor Center. "You'll recog-nize it because that part of the trail is like a staircase," she continued. Taking my silence to mean I was horri-fied she added defensively, "They live here too you know. This is <i>their</i> home too."
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In truth my silence was not due to terror over the pros-pect of running into a family of rattlers. My first thought was, "Wow. What great photos that would make." Plus, I am always drawn to anything named after a Coyote.
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My second thought was, "Gosh I'm glad to have this information so that I can make an informed decision about my hike." Several times in the past year I have re-ceived advance information from rangers about the wildlife situation at a park, mainly about Bears - Mama Bears in particular - and snakes.
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But of late, many of the parks I've visited have had no one at the information booth. Visitor Centers have been closed, and paying your day-use fee has been on the honor system. It is this type of semi-vital information that won't be available to day-users when they show up at parks with reduced services in the future.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mvJ7Zk6k6Gh8biUdopDj0URegYkbCdHvhJYUiYiUILxyU2-XmPYIwnNjIHjt5IzWpvxC19piDS_CIvXQ0CSTnijNF-kMCL5FkcHxTF4GVcvb-lc2iv4rF6Zr3FGo0wa9n5FXeD2pDRzW/s1600/DSC06097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mvJ7Zk6k6Gh8biUdopDj0URegYkbCdHvhJYUiYiUILxyU2-XmPYIwnNjIHjt5IzWpvxC19piDS_CIvXQ0CSTnijNF-kMCL5FkcHxTF4GVcvb-lc2iv4rF6Zr3FGo0wa9n5FXeD2pDRzW/s320/DSC06097.jpg" /></a>
I drove to the parking area where most of the trails began. A couple of gals were just finishing their hike. I asked whether or not they'd seen the Rattler Family.
<br/><br/> No, they had not taken Coyote Peak Trail, but expressed regret at not seeing the snakes as they would have liked to photograph them! Hah! I felt a hint less crazy hearing that others had the same ideas as me. They informed me that I would have to cross the creek a couple of times if I wanted to hike any distance. That turned out to be true, but not a problem. Rocks, logs and shallow water made it simple.
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Located in the heart of the beautiful Napa Valley wine country, Bothe-Napa offers camping, picnicking, swimming, and hiking trails that go through stands of coastal redwoods as well as forests of Douglas-fir, tanoak, and madrone.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv5r1GaUSqjhyNhxuD4sT7fNw_l1XcIXhaRmSpozw3dDZF90bHdNKmJVkeoiK6RYRBSdDWpcNg5ygJIAVrZpJB9av2hascurYqI30auZfm6YCSFPlMvVLj3PseRwIKivCgwXsdtO5y-j3/s1600/DSC06091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv5r1GaUSqjhyNhxuD4sT7fNw_l1XcIXhaRmSpozw3dDZF90bHdNKmJVkeoiK6RYRBSdDWpcNg5ygJIAVrZpJB9av2hascurYqI30auZfm6YCSFPlMvVLj3PseRwIKivCgwXsdtO5y-j3/s320/DSC06091.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWoyPnktxX2LVNK51wI6cwEcGzlJEaX2BMrvmAx_lH55_jBHB9GeFR5unOiKWx4qHIVQ0h3vZuFYdVtXJ6G2-G02Ji23phPxnz3Vds2fWkLlZtCLSn4EfzS0vjyHPdejVrAsvVuQJA8Oo-/s1600/DSC06168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="154" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWoyPnktxX2LVNK51wI6cwEcGzlJEaX2BMrvmAx_lH55_jBHB9GeFR5unOiKWx4qHIVQ0h3vZuFYdVtXJ6G2-G02Ji23phPxnz3Vds2fWkLlZtCLSn4EfzS0vjyHPdejVrAsvVuQJA8Oo-/s320/DSC06168.JPG" /></a>
I began my hike by following Ritchey Canyon Trail which parallels the creek to the sound of water splashing down the rocky bed. Ferns and shade loving wildflowers edged my path.
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Still debating whether or not to take the Coyote Peak Loop, I passed some folks who were local, and hiked at Bothe-Napa on a regular basis. They encouraged me to stay on Ritchey Canyon, as Coyote Peak was very dry, with a lot of obstacles and downed trees to nego-tiate. I took their advice, feel-ing relieved that my decision about facing the Rattlesnakes had been made for me.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuVWvUqFmilS97qBQY8HoN41QnKlRCDjUK0HUkDq7ksElK01qcqjF2G42g_Cnh1e-koewZZkASWirtHonPOYKBkkjW1m88grm0RaHSLdR6T81Ki2wSL5Y9m0gjr3Pf_-nNb4An2-gQxbH/s1600/DSC06161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="230" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuVWvUqFmilS97qBQY8HoN41QnKlRCDjUK0HUkDq7ksElK01qcqjF2G42g_Cnh1e-koewZZkASWirtHonPOYKBkkjW1m88grm0RaHSLdR6T81Ki2wSL5Y9m0gjr3Pf_-nNb4An2-gQxbH/s320/DSC06161.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR18BR7xyLZAErGEYH2TQcFn9qxvMx17VswQnf7TigZQtoiR44x5ceoKC8pUbs5eiyAK0DUShFkAQDfz31IbsvP9g855HrmTKiltaXnb7JR4F6m-Ev4QACjun7zwVU_t7zfPPbnMvycsd7/s1600/DSC06111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="290" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR18BR7xyLZAErGEYH2TQcFn9qxvMx17VswQnf7TigZQtoiR44x5ceoKC8pUbs5eiyAK0DUShFkAQDfz31IbsvP9g855HrmTKiltaXnb7JR4F6m-Ev4QACjun7zwVU_t7zfPPbnMvycsd7/s320/DSC06111.JPG" /></a>
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Once out of the forest at lower elevations, Oaks and Madrones replaced Redwoods and Firs.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsetmCbyRHEo5Oo-tg3IHajZ9j8IYh9c6zLXMuY-iKWEn1jSetXBnhIPgaTwvYdcVxdacL54WYSwUIo3xdaVihhVQ9lpcbK24fwDMbN6JdKhmDI9IWQeRrajopE-oagbsyWa-_ECb2GgT/s1600/DSC06182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="282" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsetmCbyRHEo5Oo-tg3IHajZ9j8IYh9c6zLXMuY-iKWEn1jSetXBnhIPgaTwvYdcVxdacL54WYSwUIo3xdaVihhVQ9lpcbK24fwDMbN6JdKhmDI9IWQeRrajopE-oagbsyWa-_ECb2GgT/s320/DSC06182.JPG" /></a>
Now out in the sunshine, Butterflies and Dragonflies swarmed around me making me feel welcome, and a bit like Disney's Cinderella with all of her helpful animal friends.
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Cicadas had plugged in their amplifiers, making the sunny part of the path quite a noisy place as they hummed their electric songs.
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Back at the Visitor Center I took the short walk around the native garden. Metal plaques were mounted on small rocks to identify the plants.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbyXA3WkRdz8CSMe1ytMHFKVOtbeypnugoGtM__eKqqbPgMOdMQAsngX96Pe3RsxmcRieHeaNJJxMEYUyr9mktOO57cLlnkQ9QkbDSx3FPlocyEoIuio66F7VDGZc-g6fVUVBSzZBNi4G/s1600/DSC06169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="177" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbyXA3WkRdz8CSMe1ytMHFKVOtbeypnugoGtM__eKqqbPgMOdMQAsngX96Pe3RsxmcRieHeaNJJxMEYUyr9mktOO57cLlnkQ9QkbDSx3FPlocyEoIuio66F7VDGZc-g6fVUVBSzZBNi4G/s320/DSC06169.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhC7xJiOdx_y3pvgQdWFA62_KDCT_7e9TolwA9AmVd2TtBgfppRlVqJkJU4EVLULJoFrkTpBOPEL3aaMh4RBLQab1IBLHeioAdG3vCS2CFEE_nfYHzdFd3EH82AJfSMyNF3zEeW9DoJwV/s1600/DSC06173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="272" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhC7xJiOdx_y3pvgQdWFA62_KDCT_7e9TolwA9AmVd2TtBgfppRlVqJkJU4EVLULJoFrkTpBOPEL3aaMh4RBLQab1IBLHeioAdG3vCS2CFEE_nfYHzdFd3EH82AJfSMyNF3zEeW9DoJwV/s320/DSC06173.JPG" /></a>
On the porch of the Visitor Center a sign urged folks to come in and "meet Tucker," the taxidermied Mountain Lion. I was encouraged to pet him, so I did. Normally in a museum I adhere to the "don't touch" rule. I was pleasantly surprised how soft he was.
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Other examples of local animal and plant life were on display in the exhibit, as well as history and artifacts of both the Native Americans who originally inhabited the land, and the early pioneers.
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As of April 1, 2012, Bothe-Napa Valley State Park and the <a href="http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2011/11/bale-grist-mill-state-historic-park.html">Bale Grist Mill State Historic Park</a> will be managed locally by the <a href="http://www.napaoutdoors.org/">Napa County Regional Park and Open Space District</a> and the non-profit <a href="http://www.napavalleystateparks.org/page9.php">Napa Valley State Parks Association</a>. The campground has reopened. The District is contracting with State Park Ranger Sandy Jones to stay on and become park manager.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs8-aUXg-Fa1KYvYo9iUXEoSqChT5sYz2ENTBAqkom2Gn14wVQVGGQc4HpThyphenhyphen1eA0a76XYosUa84wnPLif0QKCOrIqIlXno-LUVfp6B9RbnQ5rHmHgK_KW9SEms5lw_VkrePBk9c-9Z_C/s1600/DSC06109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="191" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs8-aUXg-Fa1KYvYo9iUXEoSqChT5sYz2ENTBAqkom2Gn14wVQVGGQc4HpThyphenhyphen1eA0a76XYosUa84wnPLif0QKCOrIqIlXno-LUVfp6B9RbnQ5rHmHgK_KW9SEms5lw_VkrePBk9c-9Z_C/s320/DSC06109.JPG" /></a>
It's great seeing these parks being ticked off the closure list one by one.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-38961462348751595262012-06-18T10:17:00.000-07:002012-06-18T10:31:28.495-07:00PALOMAR MOUNTAIN STATE PARK: Trip #54 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDs8c4-lVV1vagokjrb7Y0chrcJqnZEOKMKfwF8-Qy2Z2RmcgEHI9hPccHE6TEigfQpV9ksrU2GAuMk8E4EBmXbz_406DcnzTckpH1pmvnkWlMbmKNVjZUdaxsgkb2L4XSpO9yg_u9sXi/s1600/IMG_4747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDs8c4-lVV1vagokjrb7Y0chrcJqnZEOKMKfwF8-Qy2Z2RmcgEHI9hPccHE6TEigfQpV9ksrU2GAuMk8E4EBmXbz_406DcnzTckpH1pmvnkWlMbmKNVjZUdaxsgkb2L4XSpO9yg_u9sXi/s320/IMG_4747.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sCGMQCAE4VgDRRytUbeYAk1x4WxAsUW3qdH4_9QG0J1CWmtnBb86lkUQo2LRA5NyDW0qLHBKFsCZZnrehunA-HvLOZhzsdIkn6yLM26Dq_hD89Dq94aeZ07kdwS465gYvmXaqkIQtzzD/s1600/IMG_4728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sCGMQCAE4VgDRRytUbeYAk1x4WxAsUW3qdH4_9QG0J1CWmtnBb86lkUQo2LRA5NyDW0qLHBKFsCZZnrehunA-HvLOZhzsdIkn6yLM26Dq_hD89Dq94aeZ07kdwS465gYvmXaqkIQtzzD/s320/IMG_4728.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFZMytTq3J21g0mIb3dlUeWT4QudLp6XMeF4hQ2M-wzluPJWNv9nLc62u-aC5WqVFlq56oPVEygx2uEQasi2355G1A0GvXufAzQZuQ0wPzVXWTPZgYnDye6acAUXT78UiJDCEiyIupj0_/s1600/IMG_4730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="179" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFZMytTq3J21g0mIb3dlUeWT4QudLp6XMeF4hQ2M-wzluPJWNv9nLc62u-aC5WqVFlq56oPVEygx2uEQasi2355G1A0GvXufAzQZuQ0wPzVXWTPZgYnDye6acAUXT78UiJDCEiyIupj0_/s320/IMG_4730.JPG" /></a>
With an elevation over 5,000 feet, with its large pine, fir and cedar trees, <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_ID=637">Palomar Moun-tain State Park</a> is said to have the most "Sierra Nevada-like" atmosphere of any southern California park. As someone who lives on the western slope of the Sierras, I was curious.
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The park features camping, picnicking, hiking, and Trout fishing in Doane Pond. And yes - camping reservations can now be made again - because Palomar Mountain SP has been saved for at least the next three years!
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<a href="http://www.utsandiego.com/news/2012/may/30/tp-palomar-mountain-state-park-saved-from-being/">UT San Diego News</a> reported on May 30, 2012, that the non-profit group <a href="http://friendsofpalomarsp.org/">Friends of Palomar Mountain State Park</a>
have raised $150,000 through private donations and grants. The state will continue to maintain and operate the park. The association will raise money to help cover costs. Both parties agree that the intent is to keep the park running at full operation, contingent on the Friends of Palomar raising enough stop-gap funds.
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Palomar Mountain has been a fire look-out since 1921. The last of <a href="http://www.socalfirelookouts.org/page2.html">three towers on Boucher Hill</a> still stands. It was put into service in 1948 and retired in 1983. At an elevation of over 5400 feet, it was the perfect place for detecting wild fires over Southern California.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05qvwYe6W6u98rTOT-m5cgnLwVrztET8fSStkXX090JvU93qiLQdHYeSlzX41GScL5yY15P4tEqKeTkGRgv3UYhfy4zm6MHa_RInsjAkixOTuC-_joSk73zVTtIB1_MM5pN7UvPN0Wbza/s1600/IMG_4795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05qvwYe6W6u98rTOT-m5cgnLwVrztET8fSStkXX090JvU93qiLQdHYeSlzX41GScL5yY15P4tEqKeTkGRgv3UYhfy4zm6MHa_RInsjAkixOTuC-_joSk73zVTtIB1_MM5pN7UvPN0Wbza/s320/IMG_4795.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-EMo7bZw6fZZG_aSmpO4AWB9EIkGMeDgvtOknKFBGKjcPbZl13SWw8RgFTTIYu5-tnKyXffjV-tBsamBYn43EwFzYewdNDUSB5Ds-OqnO7fUkUOVlDctMJnQpw2qX3a2IZIS-lvqleNA/s1600/IMG_4797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-EMo7bZw6fZZG_aSmpO4AWB9EIkGMeDgvtOknKFBGKjcPbZl13SWw8RgFTTIYu5-tnKyXffjV-tBsamBYn43EwFzYewdNDUSB5Ds-OqnO7fUkUOVlDctMJnQpw2qX3a2IZIS-lvqleNA/s320/IMG_4797.jpg" /></a>
On clear days visitors to Palomar Mountain used to report being able to see all the way to Catalina Island. By the mid 1980s the tower was no longer needed.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9IunQMotFznK1bd1NqBrs1yGj14LBv4CqBj80ZUDQUWb3z6AKxQb1YyEe__rig16tnyxu3CYlOHEXhkSinZRHoHtMjBYvgRTcQ3EjckHFaaEw-LDfwdV7ssBt0lA4Gi_RE5HM1yZ3il7/s1600/IMG_4799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9IunQMotFznK1bd1NqBrs1yGj14LBv4CqBj80ZUDQUWb3z6AKxQb1YyEe__rig16tnyxu3CYlOHEXhkSinZRHoHtMjBYvgRTcQ3EjckHFaaEw-LDfwdV7ssBt0lA4Gi_RE5HM1yZ3il7/s320/IMG_4799.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnEIawgwRgeaLEFd2E5kcgPnZTxtgDyeF2DESMqjqs67PicJ06ZBs5LpGTLwMb1pY0DSFVJXKOB6VzxA3Wh82L1fbCju5oYWdIkZKlYPH0FQNiOJf7EoU-0NFUvB8ECTNwUKCbaVbL6lR/s1600/IMG_4811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="210" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnEIawgwRgeaLEFd2E5kcgPnZTxtgDyeF2DESMqjqs67PicJ06ZBs5LpGTLwMb1pY0DSFVJXKOB6VzxA3Wh82L1fbCju5oYWdIkZKlYPH0FQNiOJf7EoU-0NFUvB8ECTNwUKCbaVbL6lR/s320/IMG_4811.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAikRIbshEh06CXWuhtaRPNQTw7is2BA1Ffl31-0rq5R8AOz5u_WouSCEcuZk9PzBNlFj9VOeA1uAxrlZJSw_baiGhpvrukOlvN_tBGGC2NNxePylrB5wDhcLW3fY5Wp1h3t28SQ7hJhuN/s1600/IMG_4806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAikRIbshEh06CXWuhtaRPNQTw7is2BA1Ffl31-0rq5R8AOz5u_WouSCEcuZk9PzBNlFj9VOeA1uAxrlZJSw_baiGhpvrukOlvN_tBGGC2NNxePylrB5wDhcLW3fY5Wp1h3t28SQ7hJhuN/s320/IMG_4806.JPG" /></a>
The smog below was so thick that on many days a lookout couldn’t see the ground where the fires started. Not even through the telescopes on the observation deck was Catalina visible today.
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Over the years, lookouts recorded data on visibility. As early as the 1940s, they reported a general haze that obscured the view of distant mountain peaks.
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During World War II, fire lookouts did double-duty watching for enemy aircraft, such as the one that <a href="http://www.eugeneleeslover.com/Japanese_bomb_Oregon.html">dropped a bomb in Oregon</a> in 1942 in an attempt to start a forest fire. Two or more “watchers” staffed the tower 24 hours a day during the war.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq77c6XSZszt3BiiP5rl1uKDx3EWL74XWInsRdqM3Q1QGPwcG0U1Xbzir5ooRI6HPSkqQAH2AEUAQZSHYuqVWnzDhsH5B38nH4V8ine0Fbe324osUrLgWzqgzumVqH80GF5YnfgZrt9-B/s1600/IMG_4801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq77c6XSZszt3BiiP5rl1uKDx3EWL74XWInsRdqM3Q1QGPwcG0U1Xbzir5ooRI6HPSkqQAH2AEUAQZSHYuqVWnzDhsH5B38nH4V8ine0Fbe324osUrLgWzqgzumVqH80GF5YnfgZrt9-B/s320/IMG_4801.jpg" /></a>
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A short, one mile hike at the park entrance shows the very real affects of forest fire. By suppressing fire for the better part of a century, humans have interrupted natural fire cycles, causing modern wildfires to burn hotter and more destructively than ever before. Extra hot fires can kill entire forests and can change a forest ecosystem to scrub and grassland.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzNSuzabLGWva2-ddKwh96MvtbmlHvHmAq6EdukQOAbnelr4EGT_6n1o83wUa9qSVIBTdTZL9Uy-R_mj0vPguQnwYdZBVYzrsIh2AEc0u0y9JfskM_-x2NyI44fwLBIl7qtW1JjI5GerD/s1600/IMG_4703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="260" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzNSuzabLGWva2-ddKwh96MvtbmlHvHmAq6EdukQOAbnelr4EGT_6n1o83wUa9qSVIBTdTZL9Uy-R_mj0vPguQnwYdZBVYzrsIh2AEc0u0y9JfskM_-x2NyI44fwLBIl7qtW1JjI5GerD/s320/IMG_4703.JPG" /></a>
Fire has always been an inte-gral part of the landscape, cre-ating a cycle of destruction and rebirth, clearing dead wood and stimulating plant growth. Now the question is not, "How do we prevent wildfires?", but rather, "How do we best prepare for fire?" Returning environments to a healthy mix of native plants and animals, complete with natural fire cycles, keeps communities safe and allows biodiversity to thrive.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tmiUKaOCMXHo0N23SYSf9GJGFLTmNzBVz3ZBN_WhRcoDbOMr32p4rXBdp951zJ0dXaF351Iq5vfvkx8YlcBjxxaYi3u1mLgXVqt5LqlOyRo3PdwV5Cv-U4eJcfSi-TkSrqopz1OmcSTL/s1600/IMG_4739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tmiUKaOCMXHo0N23SYSf9GJGFLTmNzBVz3ZBN_WhRcoDbOMr32p4rXBdp951zJ0dXaF351Iq5vfvkx8YlcBjxxaYi3u1mLgXVqt5LqlOyRo3PdwV5Cv-U4eJcfSi-TkSrqopz1OmcSTL/s320/IMG_4739.JPG" /></a>
After my short fire hike, I drove further into the park toward the closed (but now open) campgrounds, and parked at Doane Pond where many of the hiking trails begin.
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The park had presented "fire" in a rather poetic manner. Now at the Pond, it called up Thoreau's description of ponds as "<a href="http://thoreau.eserver.org/walden9b.html">earth's eye</a>," reminding us that it is a miniature world with all of the elements supporting a wealth of life. Doane Pond obtains its water from winter storms, its oxygen from the plants and the air, and its enery from the sun.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslcT5nQTdk0sYSi1bgmt2FtvxYwhS_exg8zj9UiBlre0pT1VoycM0t1S3sCBk2pnytXFSb2KPxZaDIj_hGXbkijU14z7gdRXTlwqdQJXwciYpPRpyCu9aQwbF3Bo0YmQNofu9JouAT5Bx/s1600/IMG_4749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslcT5nQTdk0sYSi1bgmt2FtvxYwhS_exg8zj9UiBlre0pT1VoycM0t1S3sCBk2pnytXFSb2KPxZaDIj_hGXbkijU14z7gdRXTlwqdQJXwciYpPRpyCu9aQwbF3Bo0YmQNofu9JouAT5Bx/s320/IMG_4749.JPG" /></a>
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Cattails fringe the shore; insects dart about the surface; worms and crustaceans dwell in the darkness of the muddy bottom. The pond’s open waters are home to a variety of animals from foot-long fish to one-celled organisms too small to see.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhneskfHSsjRfggNVqkge3OXAcPpmDX6ljt5Cg48uN41kwn9KFXJG57iprLEmGr59xcIXuqX0z2lXw4BDkdu-jRTOZ50qvHtXYLMzxPCAeJONmqt4Ito53zqTDTbzNxBeRmP9NuJlXp8xm/s1600/IMG_4772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhneskfHSsjRfggNVqkge3OXAcPpmDX6ljt5Cg48uN41kwn9KFXJG57iprLEmGr59xcIXuqX0z2lXw4BDkdu-jRTOZ50qvHtXYLMzxPCAeJONmqt4Ito53zqTDTbzNxBeRmP9NuJlXp8xm/s320/IMG_4772.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQezQxn68xC_ykx8AgMC65U7O-s5Av453_zvkPb-tjK4kMWnd_O23Iso4B7iqqm8dKt7nI3IC_dQCoM4yBuKvRTiRvTwaqRrR35Xgxb3hQ9lugrZAuINYi9DKTcKTo2nJCkZ_jLpHLGAjR/s1600/IMG_4768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="220" width="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQezQxn68xC_ykx8AgMC65U7O-s5Av453_zvkPb-tjK4kMWnd_O23Iso4B7iqqm8dKt7nI3IC_dQCoM4yBuKvRTiRvTwaqRrR35Xgxb3hQ9lugrZAuINYi9DKTcKTo2nJCkZ_jLpHLGAjR/s320/IMG_4768.JPG" /></a>
Four different trails intertwine, offering the full spectrum of scenery - meadows, ponds, forests - available at Palomar Mountain. I struck out randomly, with the assurance that I was never far the paved road. Some decent ascents got the heart pumping. Acorn Woodpeckers orchestrated my walk the entire way, with evidence of past Woodpecker feasts strewn about the forest.
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A Great Horned Owl hooted. I answered, knowing that sometimes they respond to human calls. It did. And lest I thought our dialogue was just my imagination, on several occasions when I hooted, flocks of smaller birds in the treetops above me flew away in a panic when they heard my call, fearful of becoming Owl lunch.
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The discovery of bedrock mortars and artifacts in Doane Valley indicate that native peoples lived in the Palomar area for many hundreds of years.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdh_33nz_ylxy7Ali5rACMW_pHC1dV4vWWZc716_B_EsivuXqQ9t5k282cY1Cca87dEijKMT-PWQV7JT4Onp5NyFB6XdTrUHcDJgKzAIwrJ5pTNAL1MGVAXron5w0Vn2kTGxMYhpWhgAc/s1600/IMG_4758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdh_33nz_ylxy7Ali5rACMW_pHC1dV4vWWZc716_B_EsivuXqQ9t5k282cY1Cca87dEijKMT-PWQV7JT4Onp5NyFB6XdTrUHcDJgKzAIwrJ5pTNAL1MGVAXron5w0Vn2kTGxMYhpWhgAc/s320/IMG_4758.JPG" /></a>
The pine and fir trees were cut for the construction of Mission San Luis Rey. Remote meadows were a favorite hiding place for cattle and horse thieves.
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Some interesting looking old outbuildings were roped off for safety reasons, so I was unable to discovery their previous or current use.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJDBuqkyRnwo9gV5iCU_U5k5N1KqZRo1QRkvuXxK-DgVowKKSFXhsxiG6CStZOPu_fc7pWSjLMpRzx6y5DVo0_4cDePQCMQrvR78l1P0XxuheX2I0r-m8UJ3ukgQOBTWyEVAUYqCkZFMC/s1600/IMG_4823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJDBuqkyRnwo9gV5iCU_U5k5N1KqZRo1QRkvuXxK-DgVowKKSFXhsxiG6CStZOPu_fc7pWSjLMpRzx6y5DVo0_4cDePQCMQrvR78l1P0XxuheX2I0r-m8UJ3ukgQOBTWyEVAUYqCkZFMC/s320/IMG_4823.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOzvTmLXST8tj6XK569tMyI_ji-qwpEu9zOkFAVlDqQcFGbue6l-Bz9qC5jEhQ5aA4pbWO4qY5eK6A6xgDth8x0f-v8rOcnCgnS-P9uYQ_0xa736jPlAVL0dGwYu8Ktke4LU34YQe75Xl/s1600/IMG_4763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOzvTmLXST8tj6XK569tMyI_ji-qwpEu9zOkFAVlDqQcFGbue6l-Bz9qC5jEhQ5aA4pbWO4qY5eK6A6xgDth8x0f-v8rOcnCgnS-P9uYQ_0xa736jPlAVL0dGwYu8Ktke4LU34YQe75Xl/s320/IMG_4763.JPG" /></a>
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Although not actually a part of the state park, the world class <a href="http://www.astro.caltech.edu/palomar/">Palomar Mountain Observatory</a> is just a couple of miles up the road, with it's own hiking trails and spectacular mountain top views.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFpAVrD3zAQex4IrkAMEOTXg_E4c3esNdTuVWrMBVQ56JX_gQsdRJl2qVGkVUEZ-D45qrPCPDtR81Fa2YTHVcxB0S3ifxet9D60dy5PKigAwfRa0GrSyHTneb6NxkLnMZ0jVgPorcgUhs/s1600/IMG_4699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFpAVrD3zAQex4IrkAMEOTXg_E4c3esNdTuVWrMBVQ56JX_gQsdRJl2qVGkVUEZ-D45qrPCPDtR81Fa2YTHVcxB0S3ifxet9D60dy5PKigAwfRa0GrSyHTneb6NxkLnMZ0jVgPorcgUhs/s320/IMG_4699.JPG" /></a>
I'm happy to hear this park has a reprieve. I especially like the way they tie all of the elements together and remind us that nothing exists in isolation. And yes, this mountain does have a lot in common with the Sierra Nevadas.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-35313787042435577272012-06-15T10:31:00.001-07:002012-06-15T10:31:49.953-07:00GREENWOOD STATE BEACH: Trip #53 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOVpBClsv3nyQEd3Hp8Kd3ic5QKNoyKRL4E3xKDa_XoaUjEERze0FKeLhYOJRb-E_HYwDg4qUv9pc9v75HBIGU7g6TCgZPXwcABfWGUWg-N4v0VmllZW8owdphhiUJ9AbGe6VVCK4Tl8X/s1600/DSC06926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="260" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOVpBClsv3nyQEd3Hp8Kd3ic5QKNoyKRL4E3xKDa_XoaUjEERze0FKeLhYOJRb-E_HYwDg4qUv9pc9v75HBIGU7g6TCgZPXwcABfWGUWg-N4v0VmllZW8owdphhiUJ9AbGe6VVCK4Tl8X/s320/DSC06926.JPG" /></a>
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Ho hum. Yet another breath taking, gorgeous Northern California beach. Just the usual rock formations, crashing waves, blue sky, seagulls, driftwood and brightly colored succulents. Oh yes, and a few caves tossed in for good measure.
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It's a tough job I know, but somebody has to visit these state parks.
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Patty and I drove past the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=447">Greenwood State Beach</a> parking lot three times before finding it. It was hidden in plain sight, a small parking lot right on Highway 1 in the tiny town of Elk, about twenty miles south of Mendocino. The lot was not much bigger than a roadside turn-out, and it was only the familiar shape of the information stand, set back from the road a bit, that finally caught my eye. There was no state beach sign anywhere on the highway.
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With closure date approach-ing, the race is on to get a reprieve for Greenwood State Beach. News on this should be soon. <a href="http://www.mendoparks.org/">Mendocino Area Parks Association</a> has committed to operating the museum (which was closed when we visited.) The community and parks are working together to encourage partners to step forward to help keep this beach open. Money is also being received from the <a href="http://calparks.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/cspf-announces-grants-to-help-keep-state-parks-open/">California State Parks Foundation</a> and the <a href="http://www.olmstedparkfund.org/">Olmsted Park Fund</a>.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh74Cv_6gBVKtTV-brSI3Bb6F8J953a2iu6Ch77TelJTsI78dtIpB8YR38OMQvCD6go0hmvyZ3lt6Ni1Wrh_mSaoMw99KcQ207Rmt3yGWsiAdnFMZlVQlP0P-GcsA5ciY2OuV7esuKcotNe/s1600/DSC07006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="235" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh74Cv_6gBVKtTV-brSI3Bb6F8J953a2iu6Ch77TelJTsI78dtIpB8YR38OMQvCD6go0hmvyZ3lt6Ni1Wrh_mSaoMw99KcQ207Rmt3yGWsiAdnFMZlVQlP0P-GcsA5ciY2OuV7esuKcotNe/s320/DSC07006.JPG" /></a>
Perhaps folks took seriously a plea written last September on Greenwood's outhouse wall, urging folks to write to their legislative represent-atives about keeping the beach open.
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Here's keeping our fingers crossed with fifteen days and counting.
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A walkway that is about a quarter mile long leads down to the beach from the parking lot. On this walkway is every shade plant I have every tried to grow (with modest to no success) at my hotter, more inland home in the mountains.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9jVt6HGoYYasFzzia85Lsx9KV0IvRsD5yD9Yfw7FWbKkRCg6q0CycoB9UGOMNqcz8tspgiRKi50EG_ij75E45srPtF1sWzgVGSMCqJE0l43iccAQtywD_dDYz8iqMCk3SjluOynZij_9/s1600/DSC06944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="337" width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9jVt6HGoYYasFzzia85Lsx9KV0IvRsD5yD9Yfw7FWbKkRCg6q0CycoB9UGOMNqcz8tspgiRKi50EG_ij75E45srPtF1sWzgVGSMCqJE0l43iccAQtywD_dDYz8iqMCk3SjluOynZij_9/s320/DSC06944.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAUcmigNMxDiJZdJEsQJ07_vdGLggPkzfsQs8dGRR_gK9uTrO3OpjoGxI1MgqIX3gzVwUFdraMZ5N92I1AwTxXzHubRvsuPBPPmYglqP08150BD_I1KyJLP-5Odub1MJ0ANV9-Mnc_bwd/s1600/DSC06935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="176" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAUcmigNMxDiJZdJEsQJ07_vdGLggPkzfsQs8dGRR_gK9uTrO3OpjoGxI1MgqIX3gzVwUFdraMZ5N92I1AwTxXzHubRvsuPBPPmYglqP08150BD_I1KyJLP-5Odub1MJ0ANV9-Mnc_bwd/s320/DSC06935.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ulVAp7EEEAtkYz8mw_mMvshLV4CLrOv5QvYpMkjNHGeF1B19Puqw30EjcauSYPXNigwHz6yxTcW9pRmmwP9Fgl1LzFFANY88lMK_LDMyVMLDV4S0IXCD0uFI_WYV5u1SN3tc8iMjuhCe/s1600/DSC07000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="142" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ulVAp7EEEAtkYz8mw_mMvshLV4CLrOv5QvYpMkjNHGeF1B19Puqw30EjcauSYPXNigwHz6yxTcW9pRmmwP9Fgl1LzFFANY88lMK_LDMyVMLDV4S0IXCD0uFI_WYV5u1SN3tc8iMjuhCe/s320/DSC07000.JPG" /></a>
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Fuschias, ground morning glories, bleeding hearts, asters, forget-me-nots, columbine and a host of wildflowers accompanied me down to the beach.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ySS-7jaqVR0AgAViqqAyKdBZ3dsPauAExLexlfA4ulByhXdLcWspH41-CYr2TtwPYe5fk618WFDwzmn2OHnWWZtFUpTZtMjoWJYH-ZojJti7fByN-SyqCg5u8d4Y2wSy_boCf2wFHA0a/s1600/DSC06956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ySS-7jaqVR0AgAViqqAyKdBZ3dsPauAExLexlfA4ulByhXdLcWspH41-CYr2TtwPYe5fk618WFDwzmn2OHnWWZtFUpTZtMjoWJYH-ZojJti7fByN-SyqCg5u8d4Y2wSy_boCf2wFHA0a/s320/DSC06956.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ab_FCFLRiTR5pGHVp3NafcMNjhfQYjLey3uhe7iPvGHtckwTvrunA5q8AcVrIWlIhrlxzFMXI3pUvLkigLH-o_Jx7mgzjEpY_gHBmJdkX529o4VVxaZFNRwz1ymw9eIesEgrwiC-jiOk/s1600/DSC06950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="260" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ab_FCFLRiTR5pGHVp3NafcMNjhfQYjLey3uhe7iPvGHtckwTvrunA5q8AcVrIWlIhrlxzFMXI3pUvLkigLH-o_Jx7mgzjEpY_gHBmJdkX529o4VVxaZFNRwz1ymw9eIesEgrwiC-jiOk/s320/DSC06950.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pGyIpjOtGmx0OYWNPoW29IoNyyJHLaBIRYs3Jrpnl6XnIdnQfEmpdNF57xeK1CfvcKF5bZmOk2Capix96jSm5Lz_D4uN8GvGeegHroWkgL-vWagecwv1aVaKCWRqz-p4JGselhyphenhyphenM8hwH/s1600/DSC06940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pGyIpjOtGmx0OYWNPoW29IoNyyJHLaBIRYs3Jrpnl6XnIdnQfEmpdNF57xeK1CfvcKF5bZmOk2Capix96jSm5Lz_D4uN8GvGeegHroWkgL-vWagecwv1aVaKCWRqz-p4JGselhyphenhyphenM8hwH/s320/DSC06940.JPG" /></a>
Nasturtium leaves were bigger than my hand! Sigh. I always have "flower envy" whenever I visit the California coast.
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Once down at the beach, the plant life wasn't too shabby either. What an eyeful of color! The foliage at this park easily gets equal billing with the ocean and her inhabitants.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehTwcP_jleGBpe3ey6aY1cyFyKOeONH32chIVZWtXaJggKM2ylXdkGyqXR38UbW3lPT5kui8hOTGboTbJSuMl2maKN3Xy65rh7kaIcp5jnHA1UG5QFLZBNHIf8SKNL7ijjRMF1AvtD8C0/s1600/DSC06998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="215" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehTwcP_jleGBpe3ey6aY1cyFyKOeONH32chIVZWtXaJggKM2ylXdkGyqXR38UbW3lPT5kui8hOTGboTbJSuMl2maKN3Xy65rh7kaIcp5jnHA1UG5QFLZBNHIf8SKNL7ijjRMF1AvtD8C0/s320/DSC06998.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijSsCx6GdOwrDfZlKhQbQEVT5jJ4lWfKmC45YXlvLuquvjJ_Nemh1kHFIWl2iXmUtuKhvXyp1EV86yTg3IAz8Cv1bephl9xbTrFK7Xtdc7kIKUFejEF67NMUuazzzLyBtPNVjX36gXOQns/s1600/DSC06999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="215" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijSsCx6GdOwrDfZlKhQbQEVT5jJ4lWfKmC45YXlvLuquvjJ_Nemh1kHFIWl2iXmUtuKhvXyp1EV86yTg3IAz8Cv1bephl9xbTrFK7Xtdc7kIKUFejEF67NMUuazzzLyBtPNVjX36gXOQns/s320/DSC06999.JPG" /></a>
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There was driftwood aplenty on this small stretch of sand, probably not more than a quarter mile in length. Most of the wood was messily strewn about.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpv9gKkXPqXKNcf270PrOTbFLKj8WoDBTQBbu7n_mdIEOXTfe6uawaT0ITcOPrXSwx9lEzkylY1aqPiSBKHaQUwWVglqxe2pHMWFU9Da2pYy1710WDZ7m1Ppa8tUmyjKKTxmoz323xrPxM/s1600/DSC06963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpv9gKkXPqXKNcf270PrOTbFLKj8WoDBTQBbu7n_mdIEOXTfe6uawaT0ITcOPrXSwx9lEzkylY1aqPiSBKHaQUwWVglqxe2pHMWFU9Da2pYy1710WDZ7m1Ppa8tUmyjKKTxmoz323xrPxM/s320/DSC06963.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC60VGGWT7IO-X-3HcEooVAEa9jjxSkqDwNid_NtC38VFih2dL4bBVB8VZNbefKIKYgQk6JqMV_sMrCNKBHOd2Nw0FLZUcqVarnNMGPiR6C2e8BuanuDiGXTYzoYv1BYFITX9vPAmgQM7p/s1600/DSC06967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC60VGGWT7IO-X-3HcEooVAEa9jjxSkqDwNid_NtC38VFih2dL4bBVB8VZNbefKIKYgQk6JqMV_sMrCNKBHOd2Nw0FLZUcqVarnNMGPiR6C2e8BuanuDiGXTYzoYv1BYFITX9vPAmgQM7p/s320/DSC06967.JPG" /></a>
Perhaps Neptune uses this beach for his scrap-wood pile. Here and there more organized and industrious human types had gathered some of the wood for an impromptu shelter and protection from the wind.
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I plopped onto the sand behind one such structure, and allowed the wind and waves to lull me into thing about absolutely nothing.
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A stroll to the northern end of the beach revealed a number of small caves in the cliff rocks, although one would be wise to keep an eye on the changing tide when exploring this area.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZVrl3ueUrC0Hjhbgp8ofjsad4jPPIRN8KyfJcJeKZWeGUK1sI3N470QxCeDKrtkK4fT3zPGtT_2SDgcIJEhsmZGuMvgz7HiEiFaOt8KI9O7n55953DFdzfKH6aQqqYSrEMI2NyVt4CTx/s1600/DSC06985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZVrl3ueUrC0Hjhbgp8ofjsad4jPPIRN8KyfJcJeKZWeGUK1sI3N470QxCeDKrtkK4fT3zPGtT_2SDgcIJEhsmZGuMvgz7HiEiFaOt8KI9O7n55953DFdzfKH6aQqqYSrEMI2NyVt4CTx/s320/DSC06985.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZMfV6lyPFBGv5ljlacKJ9xrQ2PRiYFz7-L8DOeRnPEAtKfoWGH1Kcm9h6rofniS8CU7NpbeA9qEaL2FZbBgp752aEk_LsF7r4jMeFO6t1FE0zhs94LXgObWAEmqEq3ApFiILmrIpps48/s1600/DSC06994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZMfV6lyPFBGv5ljlacKJ9xrQ2PRiYFz7-L8DOeRnPEAtKfoWGH1Kcm9h6rofniS8CU7NpbeA9qEaL2FZbBgp752aEk_LsF7r4jMeFO6t1FE0zhs94LXgObWAEmqEq3ApFiILmrIpps48/s320/DSC06994.JPG" /></a>
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A side bonus of this excursion was discovering the town of Elk. It is only a few blocks long, yet has a half dozen or so lodging facilities.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDyopk9yX2wnvluHkwMMVCGaZxl-KxYZ7k48NKa-NayME3KhD5yejMtN1bG_ezIGYtJhPdkSP2ncQn1kfwXWiK2pEcKng2V5xRC-HCkAo-MufECbdopNzhMk47I4x7KtyMLQIdNknUUla/s1600/DSC06925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="218" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDyopk9yX2wnvluHkwMMVCGaZxl-KxYZ7k48NKa-NayME3KhD5yejMtN1bG_ezIGYtJhPdkSP2ncQn1kfwXWiK2pEcKng2V5xRC-HCkAo-MufECbdopNzhMk47I4x7KtyMLQIdNknUUla/s320/DSC06925.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaE2ZnKnd4GKyyBMM1PrU3awvyMmbVt8VKweemaKpb7QFqxpap0BH2NTZkUvLnXzXFXziD1yhwJS8iyKk2C4wEDPLLMDi1fWpoWKQqjdVRsiuoIQuMKa-2cMuHU47dF71F_z4LJllrRaZ/s1600/DSC07005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaE2ZnKnd4GKyyBMM1PrU3awvyMmbVt8VKweemaKpb7QFqxpap0BH2NTZkUvLnXzXFXziD1yhwJS8iyKk2C4wEDPLLMDi1fWpoWKQqjdVRsiuoIQuMKa-2cMuHU47dF71F_z4LJllrRaZ/s320/DSC07005.JPG" /></a>
It felt quieter and less industrious than Fort Bragg, and less pretentious than Mendocino. I think I might like to spend a week in Elk the next time I visit the area.
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And lest you have any doubts, the buildings across the street from the beach assure you that you are indeed still in California.
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The clock is ticking for this beach to stay open, so please feel free to visit the above websites if you are so inclined.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-1428948601016649622012-06-14T17:22:00.002-07:002012-06-14T17:22:52.033-07:00PIO PICO STATE HISTORIC PARK: Trip #52 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ERQX150aibl55pX9bD5pBjTIqCMbVebUu7yjaEC6RxqEcTtVQpX95aPwGPdxyfYCTvx2IDM4kZ6oh3pnjM4t0_oVKJ4Z3FdWr5WeYW2KtX0Cjjypcai12DWSv815EdBWWSDXdlyUGXdP/s1600/IMG_4929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ERQX150aibl55pX9bD5pBjTIqCMbVebUu7yjaEC6RxqEcTtVQpX95aPwGPdxyfYCTvx2IDM4kZ6oh3pnjM4t0_oVKJ4Z3FdWr5WeYW2KtX0Cjjypcai12DWSv815EdBWWSDXdlyUGXdP/s320/IMG_4929.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_aCH6fSzVIx65JDXa8y9wsj_6g3FTgeIQuL6O95E6s92gPepL8OPo41eFRSo7gwhSHmHnAR15rAxvkvG28iXAOZivwQJnKB9AHdrhM8Jg9GAVLjYM55qgY2akuvOT5Lg4bxypBtI6MFv/s1600/IMG_4938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="134" width="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_aCH6fSzVIx65JDXa8y9wsj_6g3FTgeIQuL6O95E6s92gPepL8OPo41eFRSo7gwhSHmHnAR15rAxvkvG28iXAOZivwQJnKB9AHdrhM8Jg9GAVLjYM55qgY2akuvOT5Lg4bxypBtI6MFv/s320/IMG_4938.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu_ofOoJ3YWYPl5bj4WMLfaVpJUYLTvwD3FNltJxZqVaPpnpSJA7TbaCwUfFldyTgc3Urx2BbkXqueT-f4OJ3bux86wTYVMgbf9ryJ0fmBOS7mATgMbtRVOml2hcRSQsLgNL3g9WJBeyJ/s1600/IMG_4830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu_ofOoJ3YWYPl5bj4WMLfaVpJUYLTvwD3FNltJxZqVaPpnpSJA7TbaCwUfFldyTgc3Urx2BbkXqueT-f4OJ3bux86wTYVMgbf9ryJ0fmBOS7mATgMbtRVOml2hcRSQsLgNL3g9WJBeyJ/s320/IMG_4830.JPG" /></a>
The weather was gray and over-cast the day I visited <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=621">Pio Pico State Historic Park</a>, yet from the moment I set foot on the property I could almost hear the Mariachi trumpets, see the colorful ballgowns and hear the laughter and gaiety of the grand fiestas of the past.
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As it turns out there is reason to once again celebrate. Just two days ago, June 12, 2012, the City of Whittier came forward to help save this park. The city will be signing an agreement with the state and contributing $30,000 to keep Pio Pico open for the next year, giving them another six months to raise the additional $40,000 to keep the park from closing. Contributions can be made at the <a href="http://piopico.org">Save Pio Pico website.</a>
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Pío Pico was the governor of California in 1832 and again in 1846, before and during the Mexican-American War. Born at the San Gabriel Mission in 1801, he lived in a time when the Spanish, Mexican and American flags consecutively flew over California. He began to build his ranchito here in about 1853. Today it is surround-ed by the towns of Whittier and Pico Rivera east of Los Angeles.
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I roamed the outdoors of the estate first. Only five of the original 9000 acres of the ranch remain. Governor Pico once owned more land than any other individual in Southern California, being in possession of over half a million acres in the 1850s.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8z8LOFYF44ITWWno-jrVw1apUTyO_XRnsOBbHNRXBgjNjaZn8mwhxr929WzBXOdtlQWXe6QPuMelI_QODmeVZnZrlB6BZD0Hs9t_4gmN6dt68ZVbJ23A55Ym8CxBaD96fVDGyvepQgqi/s1600/IMG_4873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="218" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8z8LOFYF44ITWWno-jrVw1apUTyO_XRnsOBbHNRXBgjNjaZn8mwhxr929WzBXOdtlQWXe6QPuMelI_QODmeVZnZrlB6BZD0Hs9t_4gmN6dt68ZVbJ23A55Ym8CxBaD96fVDGyvepQgqi/s320/IMG_4873.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQYeTHRuWJQOCeFdhTUUIShUBuiYu2jxCHkGcbTZqTLZDCtwTZm2eAKereLgdZ0eyZZz56TQukiBhWOyDSuS-D9YPDg6vBd0JRQOs0CVn5hV6Un3cS7F5L9ynyxw8k0Uiyg-NUqXz49l_/s1600/IMG_4871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="154" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQYeTHRuWJQOCeFdhTUUIShUBuiYu2jxCHkGcbTZqTLZDCtwTZm2eAKereLgdZ0eyZZz56TQukiBhWOyDSuS-D9YPDg6vBd0JRQOs0CVn5hV6Un3cS7F5L9ynyxw8k0Uiyg-NUqXz49l_/s320/IMG_4871.JPG" /></a>
I was drawn to a large open lawn with a stage-like terrace at one end. I was certain this area accommodated many lively parties in its prime time, and I could almost envision dancers on the lawn for the starlight balls, with the musi-cians playing their tunes on the terrace. And indeed that's how it was.
The parties, customs and hospitality of Old California were legend-ary throughout the 19th Century.
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Governor Pico lived larger than life. He was renowned for his extravagant lifestyle, as well as for his gambling. He spent lavishly although he was often land rich but cash poor. Entertaining in a grand style, funerals, wedding s and religious festivals were opportunities to invite family and friends for week long celebrations complete with music, dancing, feasts and the wearing of elaborate gowns and other finery.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4uE_UfwmpCTFzlWCNikrq0U-JNOWnPqZ0QauZFuL9dHiJpcRMW-_S_qAg_atsnU3lUuqeMYfu3LLlN9ZXK8AfiwY1mdqAXxLug3FKitWjG5wPtKqyp-11zKuPbfZWORYZucYxm1dfuLS/s1600/IMG_4932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="207" width="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4uE_UfwmpCTFzlWCNikrq0U-JNOWnPqZ0QauZFuL9dHiJpcRMW-_S_qAg_atsnU3lUuqeMYfu3LLlN9ZXK8AfiwY1mdqAXxLug3FKitWjG5wPtKqyp-11zKuPbfZWORYZucYxm1dfuLS/s320/IMG_4932.jpg" /></a>
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Guests often stayed for weeks, with their every need provided, including coins throughout the house so they would not have to spend their own money.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyY24-MIL1UwTCEeTgttUS9Kde-hQB9tMoT0N9FMxumFViriPcX-vZPdj7qL6dKwNoqYq5s-K8GOqCSWGemQaGxLm6ja2gqTGKPUeKpbkeKOzdI8gdKbJ4R7llnZZTL7p8plvXsmX2ZZz/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyY24-MIL1UwTCEeTgttUS9Kde-hQB9tMoT0N9FMxumFViriPcX-vZPdj7qL6dKwNoqYq5s-K8GOqCSWGemQaGxLm6ja2gqTGKPUeKpbkeKOzdI8gdKbJ4R7llnZZTL7p8plvXsmX2ZZz/s320/IMG_4856.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjC_OSJUoa6QC-toVVjMG_yjWppbVAR88rZKaZEEMeDm_25Ow7NuB1uDmaZsuLfa3w_1q1LhkzIBFe9HyIzU1cVVIMotYgkY9mBzm9IBgTTCaYQNdUx1z2tqNRip26r3fzGkoM0KXXzgR/s1600/IMG_4868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjC_OSJUoa6QC-toVVjMG_yjWppbVAR88rZKaZEEMeDm_25Ow7NuB1uDmaZsuLfa3w_1q1LhkzIBFe9HyIzU1cVVIMotYgkY9mBzm9IBgTTCaYQNdUx1z2tqNRip26r3fzGkoM0KXXzgR/s320/IMG_4868.jpg" /></a>
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From his home, Pio Pico could look westward across the plain to the old San Gabriel River one mile away. The adobe was surrounded by beautiful gardens with rare and imported flowering plants. Citrus groves, a vineyard and a kitchen garden were within steps of the mansion
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifh-gep04ZJ-aEN8OsII64exTUS5ZYGyyzeApqfT9REgstsZjPPsiwZf-Ulwpm3dG913SBF-6XWp_O9iyIssfuwdhUxLluWw2o-ob9ODlwJCdRx4pxpFPTuZBBPDIGACwBMwqKN_JbJH2/s1600/IMG_4859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifh-gep04ZJ-aEN8OsII64exTUS5ZYGyyzeApqfT9REgstsZjPPsiwZf-Ulwpm3dG913SBF-6XWp_O9iyIssfuwdhUxLluWw2o-ob9ODlwJCdRx4pxpFPTuZBBPDIGACwBMwqKN_JbJH2/s320/IMG_4859.JPG" /></a>
Or he could sit on his north veranda, where a historic bell marker indicates the original El Camino Real, and watch horses and buggies pass by on the old road.
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His grain fields and the mountains were his western view when he dined on the patio.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmMBw6NLvEpTfatt6dWMSLO9uYQa9dN4Ex4c5WKIE3wkgkoVB_IxusVa4X5Id6g6tMguFDT00uWB-84S-pLcH1Kq5VgTwvKNcVzrvQej6pnzMlfG_j0ETtOG5wS3LVmaVD7AEtEwcfi-G/s1600/IMG_4877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmMBw6NLvEpTfatt6dWMSLO9uYQa9dN4Ex4c5WKIE3wkgkoVB_IxusVa4X5Id6g6tMguFDT00uWB-84S-pLcH1Kq5VgTwvKNcVzrvQej6pnzMlfG_j0ETtOG5wS3LVmaVD7AEtEwcfi-G/s320/IMG_4877.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaK1IGYjtLMaA2SdCNZshsQR9wHXlOwonjg0zcYCNhLDSvEV2LBVPDkft0EsUDWQtoIcaaI4B3H1e1ndoaax7KYM7knFJb8zBdOiaig3oD6gtBQ39YsW3-YNb38Bkgg5i4l6No_954Ssq/s1600/IMG_4880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaK1IGYjtLMaA2SdCNZshsQR9wHXlOwonjg0zcYCNhLDSvEV2LBVPDkft0EsUDWQtoIcaaI4B3H1e1ndoaax7KYM7knFJb8zBdOiaig3oD6gtBQ39YsW3-YNb38Bkgg5i4l6No_954Ssq/s320/IMG_4880.jpg" /></a>
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The mansion is typical of the type of adobes that wealthy <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Californio">Californios </a>built for themselves. Originally twice as large, it was considered to be quite impressive for the 1850s - 1860s.
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Festivities at the Pico Adobe centered around the parlor, and the adjoining patio. Pico Americanized his parlor by way of furnishings, wall coverings and modern conveniences but the hospitality was purely Californio.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgqJQjzUfYT1kqIcIHe2JRtaLQ4Z1Foboc7SGXUBu0YWNmJVymGS4YXSF3LoxzdDvSQ67qzk40zSyHgJ2ejzkgn4pguG2RSk5ejoFnePqbv9NlBGq6MjdOzt3x9cqKUZCicXN-CYugHAx/s1600/IMG_4896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgqJQjzUfYT1kqIcIHe2JRtaLQ4Z1Foboc7SGXUBu0YWNmJVymGS4YXSF3LoxzdDvSQ67qzk40zSyHgJ2ejzkgn4pguG2RSk5ejoFnePqbv9NlBGq6MjdOzt3x9cqKUZCicXN-CYugHAx/s320/IMG_4896.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tHobhwTjPdEFCTyNHvXYJpQu3px7tuMlIxlJOQwi8RohcPeethpm7sPLr1K1bo3F5AyU5fOf7U8uXVbhrHV4wpat_Q-pkhlcufU-v-Lk3nucmUpTfYSKaupv58G2IDpwbXebnmD-UxU9/s1600/IMG_4887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tHobhwTjPdEFCTyNHvXYJpQu3px7tuMlIxlJOQwi8RohcPeethpm7sPLr1K1bo3F5AyU5fOf7U8uXVbhrHV4wpat_Q-pkhlcufU-v-Lk3nucmUpTfYSKaupv58G2IDpwbXebnmD-UxU9/s320/IMG_4887.JPG" /></a>
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Like most Californios, Pio Pico had much difficulty proving legal title to his land once California became part of the United States. Court cases were expensive and lengthy. After decades of legal battles, he eventually lost everything and was forced off of his property in 1892. He died in his daughter's home in 1894.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXOWjNLAcZn-RunM4ubSLrnr_1I7lgBCv3G4RbgubytfiP9qnMRONOaSgCE8Duc65EwzZ1AYWZ_CQfR9hfnmGDD8phI5BpWXVHi6CZ0EGAbf3zy3J9iGqfMvZBy21DOTXmg3VE1HwDugm/s1600/IMG_4881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXOWjNLAcZn-RunM4ubSLrnr_1I7lgBCv3G4RbgubytfiP9qnMRONOaSgCE8Duc65EwzZ1AYWZ_CQfR9hfnmGDD8phI5BpWXVHi6CZ0EGAbf3zy3J9iGqfMvZBy21DOTXmg3VE1HwDugm/s320/IMG_4881.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgZJNjsv5fsRBSGgdjwqXB4iQz3BaQb5566TON26lKckyXL7gFghCkkInCqzylfeEHbdzuFW7ogQQt9eYBhXzOWAqFQchTeVCjsOE2-HG1NHM7fl6v0A1TEl2iuBkOSCXr2TmZmN5A6sk/s1600/IMG_4916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgZJNjsv5fsRBSGgdjwqXB4iQz3BaQb5566TON26lKckyXL7gFghCkkInCqzylfeEHbdzuFW7ogQQt9eYBhXzOWAqFQchTeVCjsOE2-HG1NHM7fl6v0A1TEl2iuBkOSCXr2TmZmN5A6sk/s320/IMG_4916.JPG" /></a>
The city of Whittier bought the land for water wells in 1905. The building was in ruins.
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Williams_Russell_Strong">Mrs. Harriet Russell Strong</a> - a friend of Pio Pico since 1867 - purchased the adobe and began restoration under the newly formed Governor Pico Mansion Society and Museum Association. The building was stabilized and repaired. Unfortunately many inauthentic changes were made to the original structure in the process. Mrs. Strong donated the property to State for safekeeping in 1927.
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Like many historic California structures, it was damaged by the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. Repairs are still in process.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPl5h4kVbTkHxaZ2kTIuncn4mkBvwXmCu40qLdk0dGHDuUs-725g6PTYhCPzEVjTA4HuELoR03Q0t2_Gdn8OnBIPOwuclQ36_Z_R0zsY3JJBJwA0X-ivRcvO5jG7ej1mQ6AKO4p3jBsMe/s1600/IMG_4843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="224" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPl5h4kVbTkHxaZ2kTIuncn4mkBvwXmCu40qLdk0dGHDuUs-725g6PTYhCPzEVjTA4HuELoR03Q0t2_Gdn8OnBIPOwuclQ36_Z_R0zsY3JJBJwA0X-ivRcvO5jG7ej1mQ6AKO4p3jBsMe/s320/IMG_4843.JPG" /></a>
But today - thanks to the City of Whittier - we can celebrate that there is still life left in this grand old adobe where once the wine flowed freely from its vineyards.
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Perhaps I'll have a glass myself in celebration. I'm certain Governor Pico would approve.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-78054361596623306162012-06-13T10:59:00.001-07:002012-06-13T10:59:49.194-07:00GRIZZLY CREEK REDWOODS STATE PARK: Trip # 51 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2M6dwhM1nI9qnWFH40VCajePDPKGVaACxSFcBRnFjlhASncm2U6HVkrP9MjadP-48Z646uTUjkpW9huzVcRksRRM62mWq2wsvrtQSFGCw9UrigW4_xCMHnBq0tT3abFsfI6mBUzEObKCI/s1600/DSC06570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2M6dwhM1nI9qnWFH40VCajePDPKGVaACxSFcBRnFjlhASncm2U6HVkrP9MjadP-48Z646uTUjkpW9huzVcRksRRM62mWq2wsvrtQSFGCw9UrigW4_xCMHnBq0tT3abFsfI6mBUzEObKCI/s320/DSC06570.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1M2IDeVy0f3XvtGGowoeyEE_xgmanRg5t-hADky_gWYJ_fs9f2x4xg48w3IKYBC8ARQ3qCLExBZwcmBtCRy1kQ7KpvxciorjMkQ5YR6ZO_A6ns7gy_fWjZMHj6GY0RdJm39aR_ixTzWV/s1600/DSC06575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="208" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1M2IDeVy0f3XvtGGowoeyEE_xgmanRg5t-hADky_gWYJ_fs9f2x4xg48w3IKYBC8ARQ3qCLExBZwcmBtCRy1kQ7KpvxciorjMkQ5YR6ZO_A6ns7gy_fWjZMHj6GY0RdJm39aR_ixTzWV/s320/DSC06575.JPG" /></a>
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For the first time in my state park travels, I was caught off guard by a park being closed upon my arrival. The gates were locked, the orange cones up and the closed signs were clearly displayed at the campground of <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=421">Grizzly Creek Redwoods State Park.</a>
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The hiking trail across the street was still accessible, so it was just a matter of finding a place to park. We found a turnout about a quarter mile up the road, parked and walked onto the campground.
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As it turns out, on May 23 - the day after Patty and I visited Grizzly Creek Red-woods - the <a href="http://blogs.kqed.org/newsfix/2012/05/23/grizzly-creek-redwoods-state-park-saved-from-closure-others-close-to-it/">Humboldt County Board of Supervisors</a> voted to take on this State Park for at least one year. The county's public works department has a plan to operate the park in partnership with the California Department of Parks and Recreation and the <a href="www.savetheredwoods.org/">Save the Redwoods League.</a>
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State parks' staff will retain some responsibilities, but county staff will conduct day-to-day operations like trail maintenance and fee collection. The county will chip in an estimated $95,000. Save the Redwoods is tossing in $20,000, plus $40,000 in settlement funds with the county to develop a plan for keeping the park open beyond 12 months.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Zje8j6pFd4_w2Kzp7JH1MxXJ_cuBhDsP7qTH3n6CCSyNSjBhlUGQYw9KzX7tL_yXA9o0I2QRG7Huhsp0Zjtx17PHNIIIPKtuGKa6AxiSLn1PTdrmXYUCR4uOANXHNqUnhOKgYK97sbKH/s1600/DSC06598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Zje8j6pFd4_w2Kzp7JH1MxXJ_cuBhDsP7qTH3n6CCSyNSjBhlUGQYw9KzX7tL_yXA9o0I2QRG7Huhsp0Zjtx17PHNIIIPKtuGKa6AxiSLn1PTdrmXYUCR4uOANXHNqUnhOKgYK97sbKH/s320/DSC06598.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmuEXQtSs-e_x8VbX803oBbKZB0Mi7WWAMm_avydGMY07xDS-XpEqY6H4shcLmsZ2AjEn7BiNIgiJzLuv7TM5Xo_MXb5NO8JH0IvBi0l_haHdjfNVWFT1q4oFFZBDCWygPQ6iMzbtR7cF/s1600/DSC06611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmuEXQtSs-e_x8VbX803oBbKZB0Mi7WWAMm_avydGMY07xDS-XpEqY6H4shcLmsZ2AjEn7BiNIgiJzLuv7TM5Xo_MXb5NO8JH0IvBi0l_haHdjfNVWFT1q4oFFZBDCWygPQ6iMzbtR7cF/s320/DSC06611.JPG" /></a>
There are several short trails. We took the one and a half mile nature walk directly across the highway from the campgrounds. Signposts describe the various plant life along the path. On this day I chose to photograph the informa-tion rather than read it on site. With increasing frequency I sometimes find that too much "information" distracts from my enjoyment of the environment, especially at the outdoor parks. Photo-graphing allows me to go back and read at a later time if I so choose.
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Aside from the enjoyment of my sur-roundings, two things caught my atten-tion about this hike. First, while many Redwood trails are soft and easy on the feet, this one was particularly like walk-ing on nature's most plush carpeting. It was heavenly.
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Second, although a short trail, benches and stairways throughout made the walk even easier, making it family friendly for both the little ones and the elderly. Wherever there was a bit of an elevation gain, a stairway was offered. At least half a dozen benches were placed under these gentle Redwood giants to rest - or on a quiet day like this one - to sit and listen to their secrets.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWP8QTER-cohip7TyGAja_Vx9G4KpTIQ4cCHBfMW8jnR-qGiwE_keA0c2s6dPy8U_qkvjdQxsQuikha4FEGVozO-wEBsd033NAF0Nf71twYnOCyLdRBZeYNQ_UAlF_3XAr4-gYMJUKQsM/s1600/DSC06610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="175" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWP8QTER-cohip7TyGAja_Vx9G4KpTIQ4cCHBfMW8jnR-qGiwE_keA0c2s6dPy8U_qkvjdQxsQuikha4FEGVozO-wEBsd033NAF0Nf71twYnOCyLdRBZeYNQ_UAlF_3XAr4-gYMJUKQsM/s320/DSC06610.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmftDHvRMmyFleuA-SYySX9A5kwXOHLsCjhP9AhTUdMkicQVwh7Z3Tpi52tJmuBcVNIJTqkY0U477q8PzMptUhXAHjpE_9-2aMm1V9Ikg1-4mCBGm9-U9oJDtocHT_G0FdHW9mr4auIoc/s1600/DSC06600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="175" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmftDHvRMmyFleuA-SYySX9A5kwXOHLsCjhP9AhTUdMkicQVwh7Z3Tpi52tJmuBcVNIJTqkY0U477q8PzMptUhXAHjpE_9-2aMm1V9Ikg1-4mCBGm9-U9oJDtocHT_G0FdHW9mr4auIoc/s320/DSC06600.JPG" /></a>
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It is a bit off the beaten path and furthest inland (30 miles) of California’s Coastal Redwood parks. Grizzly Creek may be a bit remote, but filmmaker George Lucas found the park’s 460 acres of virgin redwood groves so appealing he used the location in his film <i>Return of the Jedi. </i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tLsDNKaDTElRCNL2SfqpMRiHdyRGXZzofd-C3874PBY1w4wb7thyHEVRTgytSP2RLSHL3xh7_VDr5jP5TP_8invQMRD62MO-hz5YbZa5FLDYFmdqENJZKlHx5ibGIQ9TX8jngQ2gQb2t/s1600/DSC06586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tLsDNKaDTElRCNL2SfqpMRiHdyRGXZzofd-C3874PBY1w4wb7thyHEVRTgytSP2RLSHL3xh7_VDr5jP5TP_8invQMRD62MO-hz5YbZa5FLDYFmdqENJZKlHx5ibGIQ9TX8jngQ2gQb2t/s320/DSC06586.JPG" /></a>
During summer, the low water level permits installation of a footbridge across the Van Duzen River, giving access to 1.25 mile long Memorial Trail which loops through the forest. It's a drought year in California and to my eyes it looked like the river was already quite low.
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Back at the campgrounds, the Visitor Center was closed, but the picnic tables and a few small educational displays of local minerals and history were available to view once we walked onto the site.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkMC7EcEQD7IL1_45xm1eQGseParnnA29K5K1bKIUUi9DTZ27Mq0kuAVkTPjGUAgaNyr0c4OxSGawcoDeanaNJpY99Pjb16oPUd6iOgQVq1HgyZlA27h5oId_im_zfcVJb_1fdci19VSk/s1600/DSC06579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkMC7EcEQD7IL1_45xm1eQGseParnnA29K5K1bKIUUi9DTZ27Mq0kuAVkTPjGUAgaNyr0c4OxSGawcoDeanaNJpY99Pjb16oPUd6iOgQVq1HgyZlA27h5oId_im_zfcVJb_1fdci19VSk/s320/DSC06579.JPG" /></a>
Being inland, the plant life, such as Redwood Sorrel and Sword Fern, was a little dryer and not quite as abundant as it would be in a true coastal environment. Nonetheless, a few small clumps of the colorful Horsetail Fern Stalks were displaying them-selves for our close-up photograph-ing pleasure.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiB4OhEZHDIbPJkfrarWV1i2cO8xNYWRUxbQlf95S17AS82cYRPgV9rEfQ1Uh7KMsojKYygSbYlZrwAArR6r4BLI922rlKLrHZepHxg8rNY2S3vs4l8LzSdA3AENgCQ-Z-cJFHxJIZP-8/s1600/DSC06588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiB4OhEZHDIbPJkfrarWV1i2cO8xNYWRUxbQlf95S17AS82cYRPgV9rEfQ1Uh7KMsojKYygSbYlZrwAArR6r4BLI922rlKLrHZepHxg8rNY2S3vs4l8LzSdA3AENgCQ-Z-cJFHxJIZP-8/s320/DSC06588.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_HIX4riQC9nDo7nPN8lqTWj6SmKikeccbrDm5UBWHIdH8_9I-cW2q6oNH2nRcPgw_Xk15HW0_xqsIh6QtzAXh4Kzmbw1PnniAqcm-23dTYwUXJKChjDGWRB0p9yJ9vzHeR1QBh9zKFgW/s1600/DSC06583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_HIX4riQC9nDo7nPN8lqTWj6SmKikeccbrDm5UBWHIdH8_9I-cW2q6oNH2nRcPgw_Xk15HW0_xqsIh6QtzAXh4Kzmbw1PnniAqcm-23dTYwUXJKChjDGWRB0p9yJ9vzHeR1QBh9zKFgW/s320/DSC06583.JPG" /></a>
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I took the obligatory overhead shot of the Redwoods. Every Redwood grove demands it! I love the way that even dead Redwood stumps offer a place where other new life forms can begin.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpYan-Eiiput8W3ZZOcSXheIKEJXHl7LVay14z0V4fb1XdD1kfaaaC-JtRcwta2JTB13QxbFT4SInfCazCMPNQMucAF_PazUzdg3-X8RehE0V2zAjEcccIIyn2nPxG8-NxFN7B44SqCsZ/s1600/DSC06622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpYan-Eiiput8W3ZZOcSXheIKEJXHl7LVay14z0V4fb1XdD1kfaaaC-JtRcwta2JTB13QxbFT4SInfCazCMPNQMucAF_PazUzdg3-X8RehE0V2zAjEcccIIyn2nPxG8-NxFN7B44SqCsZ/s320/DSC06622.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-KqNXV9xHe8JcwU0lj5n9l9SSZiCThNzPXosHly0NX1MzoMTxSj44pGWopE8GrP7rvXwKR6mkdf0Ikil0jn53BMmk-hCjY48TfBSqmZVt7-Sv_DjW_pN79ho-UmlcaZ55PWqmYLSPnNS/s1600/DSC06629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-KqNXV9xHe8JcwU0lj5n9l9SSZiCThNzPXosHly0NX1MzoMTxSj44pGWopE8GrP7rvXwKR6mkdf0Ikil0jn53BMmk-hCjY48TfBSqmZVt7-Sv_DjW_pN79ho-UmlcaZ55PWqmYLSPnNS/s320/DSC06629.jpg" /></a>
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The redwoods in the Grizzly Creek area were what inspired <a href="http://www.gp.com/aboutus/history/index.html">Owen R. Cheatham</a>, founder of Georgia-Pacific Corporation - a lumber, pulp and paper company - to preserve this site in perpetuity. As someone who prospered from products made from the trees, he too found something intangibly grand about the old Redwoods. The virgin Cheatham Grove is three miles up the road from the camp.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQef3w7CIGZw0uC8cNPqjzKReVdx2AunTEDX2eqV3ZeBfgT6p7jBecSTaR7ab9whUXz8lLzJnrfq-uCeEF7092kDR_JwK1mDHSMuaeuE_TBZM7OmDBTz6ka1_CvJ7z6k1Fy9CbIXm39P2o/s1600/DSC06580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQef3w7CIGZw0uC8cNPqjzKReVdx2AunTEDX2eqV3ZeBfgT6p7jBecSTaR7ab9whUXz8lLzJnrfq-uCeEF7092kDR_JwK1mDHSMuaeuE_TBZM7OmDBTz6ka1_CvJ7z6k1Fy9CbIXm39P2o/s320/DSC06580.JPG" /></a>
The expression "a day late and a dollar short" didn't apply on the day of our visit.
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Rather, we were a day early and as always, willing to deposit our day-use money into the self-registration box. Soon the empty "Camp-ground Host" chair will be filled again.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgcodCwxS7AN69XcoWZDTObsYY6BTlGsqMtuMT1uRD0QqDqwLygKOQ-mh59aJ8yW5TuRxVyD-BkgEtQUyUdCkqwowaZUoMH53RYJXd95BQPx4zqFyTMe66LfDvFa36YToAekUHg7YPog-/s1600/DSC06624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgcodCwxS7AN69XcoWZDTObsYY6BTlGsqMtuMT1uRD0QqDqwLygKOQ-mh59aJ8yW5TuRxVyD-BkgEtQUyUdCkqwowaZUoMH53RYJXd95BQPx4zqFyTMe66LfDvFa36YToAekUHg7YPog-/s320/DSC06624.jpg" /></a>
It's fun to imagine that maybe our magical presence the day before Humboldt County voted to keep the park open, affected the positive outcome.
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Just as likely though, it was the spirit of the silhouetted man in a hat, living in the burned out trunk of a giant Redwood, that is the forest's guardian, keeping his precious home safe.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<i>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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Alvin David Dick, April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-65175470348857719632012-06-12T15:31:00.000-07:002012-06-12T15:31:48.493-07:00OLOMPALI STATE HISTORIC PARK: Trip #50 of 70<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFh40QxV8zeiKJJT-pwR4prLPne66VHmFzH4vPrMRkA51x64kyynbW22d61s4Ug4-l_kBtGfKYAa2C_H0TVaTcC-rVRH-fykqtRPNCHIYruLHRUUWXqRxuZwZkJkEbyrigLtG1pxZ6YyR/s1600/IMG_5756.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFh40QxV8zeiKJJT-pwR4prLPne66VHmFzH4vPrMRkA51x64kyynbW22d61s4Ug4-l_kBtGfKYAa2C_H0TVaTcC-rVRH-fykqtRPNCHIYruLHRUUWXqRxuZwZkJkEbyrigLtG1pxZ6YyR/s320/IMG_5756.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710687138072575074" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6UACx2yMCK-zqevu_qd8uemm8YHJcYQqB0HAfi0ARjhyphenhyphenP1cJagUf_IhsvLv6ZPRCb3JyWrhLQQ-K27z9SOzFRfMf3rKUZz9RaSFSaYsr3S7IJjlrdoldG9BVyaEjoPI_Pwxj1WZU8V1r/s1600/IMG_5735.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6UACx2yMCK-zqevu_qd8uemm8YHJcYQqB0HAfi0ARjhyphenhyphenP1cJagUf_IhsvLv6ZPRCb3JyWrhLQQ-K27z9SOzFRfMf3rKUZz9RaSFSaYsr3S7IJjlrdoldG9BVyaEjoPI_Pwxj1WZU8V1r/s320/IMG_5735.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710683347456202626" /></a>
If you're up for a nice day hike to the top of a mountain, but like me aren't crazy about elevation gains in short distances, then <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=465">Olompali State Historic Park</a> to the top of <a href="http://novato.patch.com/listings/mount-burdell">Mount Burdell</a> is the park for you. The ten mile round trip hike has so many switch backs that the approximately 1,500 foot elevation gain is barely noticeable.
<br/><br/>There is also a hike half the length to the top, with of course, a more challenging vertical climb. I took the long road. Because the trail is such a gentle grade, it is very family friendly, and I passed several families with children under the age of ten who had no trouble hiking to the top.
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The 700 acre Olompali SHP is right off of Highway 101, just three miles north of Novato. For those who prefer a historic stroll over climbing a moun-tain, the park features the remains of several buildings, including the adobe house of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camilo_Ynitia">Camilo Ynitia</a>, the last indi-genous leader living at Olompali, and the only Native American at the northern frontier to confirm his grant land in the beginning of the American period. He often served as a liaison between Mexicans, Americans and Indians.
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A two and a half mile history and nature walk includes a small replica of a Miwok Village, with a well labeled herb garden and examples of two living structures, one made from redwood bark and the other from tule reeds.
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwK-XzVCraYfMCcv1aAs3SwrQdV66aZylgo9UUHvq9kXcFLKhc5dzVtMmZ4lb_eJx09Kc6rJEyF7XFBvLZAaZwR9dvtthdwGF8zmPIgUWOnX5sLe2HtdwLAP3L3DcA5M_T6MXigkD8Wuj/s1600/IMG_5699.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwK-XzVCraYfMCcv1aAs3SwrQdV66aZylgo9UUHvq9kXcFLKhc5dzVtMmZ4lb_eJx09Kc6rJEyF7XFBvLZAaZwR9dvtthdwGF8zmPIgUWOnX5sLe2HtdwLAP3L3DcA5M_T6MXigkD8Wuj/s320/IMG_5699.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710682187734841986" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZiwjZXCcBMxySC-jiVZl3AtHyHLOZHjXyiCA-ySOyudcjOb0cpqOkWdelxS6gFEcadFVk5NyMBYx_fMefSb7lc3fHUTrk89Jdn71MIw9LjMOdlVzqF7D52hcUfkrH4uf1Tpnm0zN1wYD/s1600/IMG_5696.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZiwjZXCcBMxySC-jiVZl3AtHyHLOZHjXyiCA-ySOyudcjOb0cpqOkWdelxS6gFEcadFVk5NyMBYx_fMefSb7lc3fHUTrk89Jdn71MIw9LjMOdlVzqF7D52hcUfkrH4uf1Tpnm0zN1wYD/s320/IMG_5696.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710682181052641554" /></a>
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The name "Olompali" comes from the Miwok language and means "Southern village" or "Southern people". This Miwok settlement has been inhabited contin-uously since about 500 A.D. One of the more exciting artifacts discovered here was an Elizabethan silver sixpence dated 1567, the time of Sir Francis Drake's landing in Marin County.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UuVH1AUSroB2Qe_rG9yBQfosvG0jSTEopsktOviBARBNQOrhtLLNE8nhsvvMnsuTIPPuqwcNEFUE9Px4GAzfmiNUDBKEjAslwQr1tZYSr_X7ZvuC2B3jrGj6Zq9qys8ynUdpjZNtfczl/s1600/IMG_5663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UuVH1AUSroB2Qe_rG9yBQfosvG0jSTEopsktOviBARBNQOrhtLLNE8nhsvvMnsuTIPPuqwcNEFUE9Px4GAzfmiNUDBKEjAslwQr1tZYSr_X7ZvuC2B3jrGj6Zq9qys8ynUdpjZNtfczl/s320/IMG_5663.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FVtEqjfD4WGEThAzTGqiPNukM8Yj2sSXc048nkdtI7WhP8Mcgmkpm45gKqOGNXvGOkVpbsZXMgMj0oLe5Frvb_GC60jkPVgzo18UY1o3tjsIpBm9TGduK5HOgJN1LHuyBhHaUCN9boTT/s1600/IMG_5799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="174" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FVtEqjfD4WGEThAzTGqiPNukM8Yj2sSXc048nkdtI7WhP8Mcgmkpm45gKqOGNXvGOkVpbsZXMgMj0oLe5Frvb_GC60jkPVgzo18UY1o3tjsIpBm9TGduK5HOgJN1LHuyBhHaUCN9boTT/s320/IMG_5799.JPG" /></a>
In 1852 Ynitia sold his land to James Black, who in turn gave it to his daughter Mary Burdell. I found it ironic that one of the few Native people to take advantage of land grants, ending up selling it only a few years later. It is the remains of Mary Burdell's mansion and out buildings that can still be seen at the front of Olompali SHP as well as her garden where 100 year old daffodils still bloom every spring.
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A "kitchen rock" - a large boulder used as a mortar for grinding seeds and acorns into flour - sits prominently on the grounds.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5wk32udW6om9RSlWE3vYpbVP4AAxSizy02tXRsyDcxSz9GsNgt7y1CM4BEpWEdvpStMdtKnjzWkcECuSqLiB13J49w4dU75qV_j-xZuoLVzlp63sqAM5IzDe_i_qfv77ZyKEwXKkbycK/s1600/IMG_5681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5wk32udW6om9RSlWE3vYpbVP4AAxSizy02tXRsyDcxSz9GsNgt7y1CM4BEpWEdvpStMdtKnjzWkcECuSqLiB13J49w4dU75qV_j-xZuoLVzlp63sqAM5IzDe_i_qfv77ZyKEwXKkbycK/s320/IMG_5681.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3AO48kQ6M1yK92LioT1OgvXKNynlyAYSy_pHnmm99SVp6lqUBssrlKFMKgiPK6yGiJWF6oD3vUFChuIuPtdzTnnrJDSN1BzrxJqPxbNZ3A3GFMX1ckc1q6sYEGR1qXndCyNI43NfMAnRD/s1600/IMG_5676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3AO48kQ6M1yK92LioT1OgvXKNynlyAYSy_pHnmm99SVp6lqUBssrlKFMKgiPK6yGiJWF6oD3vUFChuIuPtdzTnnrJDSN1BzrxJqPxbNZ3A3GFMX1ckc1q6sYEGR1qXndCyNI43NfMAnRD/s320/IMG_5676.JPG" /></a>
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With each sharp turn of the switchbacked trail, a higher and more spectacular view to the east of the San Pablo Bay and Petaluma River came into view.
<br/><br/><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNzBgXqGDLVlgSguIoOfnuR0lcABtd9nIPPACXc7WC4vmyZrrvZ_lX1ilF7wHRWOajhCqXKzJyID4H6Iq-xQU-JF3KKUbCGBEGreUFM0kFT4al4chxmEDKnWFIxTrgaZobOVAHJ5igBG0/s1600/IMG_5737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNzBgXqGDLVlgSguIoOfnuR0lcABtd9nIPPACXc7WC4vmyZrrvZ_lX1ilF7wHRWOajhCqXKzJyID4H6Iq-xQU-JF3KKUbCGBEGreUFM0kFT4al4chxmEDKnWFIxTrgaZobOVAHJ5igBG0/s320/IMG_5737.JPG" /></a>
My hike was accompanied by those things I have become accustomed to on my walks through California forests. Tree stumps and logs took on the shapes of mythical, magical woodland creatures. There were birdsongs and Morning Cloak Butterflies. Wild flowers and mushrooms lined my pathway.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9rX72HP0EklSabVKG8fkbylg2qoHsUkfUHJsCaQubpvKfzMBfXpw4xAWLn6mDnmY9Jt6iw4Z_VrrOLTdX3vQ7a6CzbKgvqt5O9d0qKnWL-DYP5J7xen3rsKgIL4KkcFXkLaYJkbtEFyi/s1600/IMG_5704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9rX72HP0EklSabVKG8fkbylg2qoHsUkfUHJsCaQubpvKfzMBfXpw4xAWLn6mDnmY9Jt6iw4Z_VrrOLTdX3vQ7a6CzbKgvqt5O9d0qKnWL-DYP5J7xen3rsKgIL4KkcFXkLaYJkbtEFyi/s320/IMG_5704.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh716hZNgIC9xblZ-pAiPAxSbegJwBNpv6vHYZ5EdsiGqX9yBCvDWayu3C_rbiRYr0P_awIw2jo3vdm4jMIFwHpQsOdCUBiPQC7UkT9RSgo4pXg5UKmRbuO8eE9gSPz6ZQk9wM68VVRb2xq/s1600/IMG_5703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh716hZNgIC9xblZ-pAiPAxSbegJwBNpv6vHYZ5EdsiGqX9yBCvDWayu3C_rbiRYr0P_awIw2jo3vdm4jMIFwHpQsOdCUBiPQC7UkT9RSgo4pXg5UKmRbuO8eE9gSPz6ZQk9wM68VVRb2xq/s320/IMG_5703.JPG" /></a>
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Much like California itself, the Olompali lands have had a variety of colorful owners and tenants. It remained in the Burdell family until 1943, when it was sold to Count Harrington, and then to the University of San Francisco. USF used it as a Jesuit religious retreat in the 1950s.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRf2k9MTHj6hQoPxqCbbTrC_vtNKgNCrVMa0JzwA2M1cNFYrF8RnYFlLcTZgLzsp_evKZOgCKrKNu9593GV2M-gkzTjdPIbpqN7gfraQUcIj6Yg219kCpJrPYXpxXGVHMKRyyji1xTa8TI/s1600/IMG_5784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRf2k9MTHj6hQoPxqCbbTrC_vtNKgNCrVMa0JzwA2M1cNFYrF8RnYFlLcTZgLzsp_evKZOgCKrKNu9593GV2M-gkzTjdPIbpqN7gfraQUcIj6Yg219kCpJrPYXpxXGVHMKRyyji1xTa8TI/s320/IMG_5784.jpg" /></a>
During the 1960s, they leased the property to some of the bay area's counter-culture personalities. In 1966 the Grateful Dead lived there, and used the park for one of their album covers. In 1967 a commune called <a href="http://sixties-l.blogspot.com/2009/09/behind-sun-family-affair.html"><i>The Chosen Family</i></a> rented the property. National notoriety was achieved when they held a well publicized nude wedding. The commune disbanded after a forest fire that partially burned the Burdell Mansion.
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Finally, the State of California, together with Marin County, purchased the property in 1977, making it a state historic park in 1990.
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At the top of Mount Burdell are a few scattered picnic tables offering a restful spot for gazing at the bay. A long, moss covered rock wall creates a boundary for another section of state property on the mountain.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTrjRw26CcdNTl9yIRV2aIlxE3nl7l53nC0Vh6aJagsXOn23Hip5edtdhxnKwcLdvyo3DZfVDwFoF7NhoVmHaVUIwSCChHlHM3QioOM13C6tHuA3Up8DljgjDrJf7OSJM-UBzCT5ucz9M/s1600/IMG_5765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTrjRw26CcdNTl9yIRV2aIlxE3nl7l53nC0Vh6aJagsXOn23Hip5edtdhxnKwcLdvyo3DZfVDwFoF7NhoVmHaVUIwSCChHlHM3QioOM13C6tHuA3Up8DljgjDrJf7OSJM-UBzCT5ucz9M/s320/IMG_5765.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFDNhoIowGprSCaob8FPc3ceASi1JjL95v8vU5rWsTVwA1lpeDsyWghpVelJo4Af9tKnTKQ1sD1UBE_T7thOVFXDxcfrQbs47eHawnZy0JX9GZUYj9FmjPKXVYRp3Fy8FWhZvv2nval7w/s1600/IMG_5723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFDNhoIowGprSCaob8FPc3ceASi1JjL95v8vU5rWsTVwA1lpeDsyWghpVelJo4Af9tKnTKQ1sD1UBE_T7thOVFXDxcfrQbs47eHawnZy0JX9GZUYj9FmjPKXVYRp3Fy8FWhZvv2nval7w/s320/IMG_5723.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYByh-9cOJxYtWzCuYe_9hVbrtg6XnbrBq8HIQILzUfO-aE-DRuEcASLG-b9Yi_iS5VXllaJrQZXpL8O8pZfcopEKd1jN11ND51k4dKrVO1OWDQ3u9aSWWq0qf0AH7uMrzk96X9Q84DCks/s1600/IMG_5705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYByh-9cOJxYtWzCuYe_9hVbrtg6XnbrBq8HIQILzUfO-aE-DRuEcASLG-b9Yi_iS5VXllaJrQZXpL8O8pZfcopEKd1jN11ND51k4dKrVO1OWDQ3u9aSWWq0qf0AH7uMrzk96X9Q84DCks/s320/IMG_5705.JPG" /></a>
The hike back down took me past arch shaped tree trunks, and giant green-footed tree feet that made thunderous, booming sounds with every step they took. Or maybe those sounds are just left over reverberations of past Dead Concerts... or Native American Drumming... or the heartbeat of Mother Earth.
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<a href="http://olompali.org/">The Olompali People</a>, a committee of the nonprofit Marin State Parks Association, is working to keep Olompali State Historic Park open. However at this writing, I am unable to find any information as to their success.
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So for now, as the <a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/g/grateful+dead/uncle+johns+band_20062544.html">song says </a>:
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<i>It's the same story the Crow told me,
it's the only one he knows.
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Like the morning sun he comes and like the wind he goes.</i>
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8-M_FiM03WCcbCMnTuwi7pu1ZmVwIbXQAYsnTc3wk7_4CfjkYrj4j7RAElj_uim1klbM-y_GPwmn7svm1I73j-om7kr4SgyJRbK2Donma_dPxfx4XvEa7SpLcBS-VMf98Z2yHdn_mKP1/s1600/IMG_5738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="390" width="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8-M_FiM03WCcbCMnTuwi7pu1ZmVwIbXQAYsnTc3wk7_4CfjkYrj4j7RAElj_uim1klbM-y_GPwmn7svm1I73j-om7kr4SgyJRbK2Donma_dPxfx4XvEa7SpLcBS-VMf98Z2yHdn_mKP1/s400/IMG_5738.JPG" /></a>
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<i><b>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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<b>Alvin David Dick
<br/>
April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>
</b>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-14962799547871724012012-06-07T08:25:00.000-07:002012-06-07T12:27:00.487-07:00CASTLE ROCK STATE PARK: Trip #49 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPjo0wW7Y6piT9nwvVamvxk-jDNlB0dP613rMhgPkswovmTruDqBdc6bckE-oDLyGFai2hwy668a38KZ3hyphenhyphenwZ_EtUmmlBVx9bny2wkz7lXvwH6m4iUo9-VhSW1oOHuSKWpHr1VgFEWLWk/s1600/IMG_6254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="303" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPjo0wW7Y6piT9nwvVamvxk-jDNlB0dP613rMhgPkswovmTruDqBdc6bckE-oDLyGFai2hwy668a38KZ3hyphenhyphenwZ_EtUmmlBVx9bny2wkz7lXvwH6m4iUo9-VhSW1oOHuSKWpHr1VgFEWLWk/s320/IMG_6254.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN2UWgXG5yurHi82RygaTaVVH-XayxDnq1SoPmTmnp8uwGPFa3092l9ROqXz7ex3u0UrT-dzypjBB8zCIebsIHkrG3sjjf69HOFS04jJTJPEm_FAlUhQSzcG-O_FbbzhcVMCot6T6gVGi/s1600/IMG_6260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="206" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN2UWgXG5yurHi82RygaTaVVH-XayxDnq1SoPmTmnp8uwGPFa3092l9ROqXz7ex3u0UrT-dzypjBB8zCIebsIHkrG3sjjf69HOFS04jJTJPEm_FAlUhQSzcG-O_FbbzhcVMCot6T6gVGi/s320/IMG_6260.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgPq4nvXMvzDtyG4WAPOH7zCs6RmRQgJWmljYqvFNT4Wlr4oL2xa_ca1HZWnUrFsqDXK8d45v2LYwwaF1mWehaTR9TR8dqk1wtolFJ_5r-s0TPPXLcRJU7d1Jj_jsiRT7FpC17MZuWKrA/s1600/IMG_6230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgPq4nvXMvzDtyG4WAPOH7zCs6RmRQgJWmljYqvFNT4Wlr4oL2xa_ca1HZWnUrFsqDXK8d45v2LYwwaF1mWehaTR9TR8dqk1wtolFJ_5r-s0TPPXLcRJU7d1Jj_jsiRT7FpC17MZuWKrA/s320/IMG_6230.JPG" /></a>
Although I'm not a fan of crowds, it was heartening to see a fairly full parking lot and lots of day hikers on a Friday at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=538">Castle Rock State Park</a>. I've been to many parks where attendance was sparse, and on a few occasions encountered no one on my tours.
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The woods at Castle Rock are lush and mossy, with Madrones, Coastal Red-woods and Douglas Firs being the predominant forest species. Most of the park's thirty-two miles of hiking and horseback riding trails are in their wild and natural state. Dramatic canyon views are around many a turn.
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The trails run along the crest of the Santa Cruz Mountains and are part of an extensive system that links up with Big Basin Redwoods State Park, and the Pacific Coast.
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I took a couple of the short hikes. In the front portion of the park are many unusual rock formations. If there is an interesting boulder, there is probably a rock climber - or student rock climber - honing their skills with an instructor, with the safety of not being too far off the ground.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIeUmlp_5N_S9AgZuyL8vzGWSlFyk7pBXCEZMOiHvfqn_HJ55z0SdcYsTwYcakKwtb-oF-1pT55gRzs-XGntFfPNgIHSG_n8x8BlyRlMmrKHdfZSWt_8WjvA4mEUN_Y1OH2HAwTjlc3yIJ/s1600/IMG_6241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIeUmlp_5N_S9AgZuyL8vzGWSlFyk7pBXCEZMOiHvfqn_HJ55z0SdcYsTwYcakKwtb-oF-1pT55gRzs-XGntFfPNgIHSG_n8x8BlyRlMmrKHdfZSWt_8WjvA4mEUN_Y1OH2HAwTjlc3yIJ/s320/IMG_6241.JPG" /></a>
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The good news is that Castle Rock will be staying open. A nonprofit conservation group from Los Altos is donating $250,000 to keep the park running. The <a href="http://www.sempervirens.org/">Semper-virens Fund</a> protects and permanently preserves redwood forests, wildlife habitat, watersheds, and other important natural features of California’s Santa Cruz Mountains, and encourages people to appreciate and enjoy this environment.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikSuZi7_cCHYI3O3IIbi9sSQK0DzeRwY90bh4IKrjZfSSEjgic7iwKAnN5nGmPvhzuR1G-Q3MkxqrAy4NSaFipGzsYtoYLfl4XPRFfTEZQKxIsquON4pFGvKkQdDdLbZtTSKNp1SasRfF/s1600/IMG_6229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikSuZi7_cCHYI3O3IIbi9sSQK0DzeRwY90bh4IKrjZfSSEjgic7iwKAnN5nGmPvhzuR1G-Q3MkxqrAy4NSaFipGzsYtoYLfl4XPRFfTEZQKxIsquON4pFGvKkQdDdLbZtTSKNp1SasRfF/s320/IMG_6229.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EXoHlaII3QcsbEL9ZDxlebyWuJGCkD0KPVPhAa4wkXA2hw6xftYIqTBorNnvuNVA-9nMA4UMxWl3JpEFIpxYmKOB5C984R3VxRBCZMTw3-thOyRSvIu6PGcgVknKzXwIXfpDp85RL6dp/s1600/IMG_6238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EXoHlaII3QcsbEL9ZDxlebyWuJGCkD0KPVPhAa4wkXA2hw6xftYIqTBorNnvuNVA-9nMA4UMxWl3JpEFIpxYmKOB5C984R3VxRBCZMTw3-thOyRSvIu6PGcgVknKzXwIXfpDp85RL6dp/s320/IMG_6238.JPG" /></a>
That is enough money to hire a full-time ranger, a mainten-ance worker, and seasonal workers. And! The donation will open up more than <i>1,300 acres of land</i> which have been closed for over a decade. The group is also planning to build a much more elegant entrance to the park to replace its current dirt lot.
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I am not a rock climber, but there are nonetheless rocks to be scrambled over even on the shorter trails. The photo on the left became common terrain only a mile into my hike. Not feeling over ambi-tious on this day, and more in the mood to simply enjoy my surroundings, I headed back, and strolled through the rocks I could walk under or through rather than over.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghk5KLb9eNmYJVM6AfOQ-SIa-GWTTqFLs81CQOp4jPjpBk3eQCKfCtBV9fxfILORdB5i1y1MORzD_YZIfRHl6zFvXEcAM9sjBvjqhuOCIHZDOHBNJyarRzd5nAVeQwFSjpin-5tHHZHTLE/s1600/IMG_6248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghk5KLb9eNmYJVM6AfOQ-SIa-GWTTqFLs81CQOp4jPjpBk3eQCKfCtBV9fxfILORdB5i1y1MORzD_YZIfRHl6zFvXEcAM9sjBvjqhuOCIHZDOHBNJyarRzd5nAVeQwFSjpin-5tHHZHTLE/s320/IMG_6248.JPG" /></a>
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Over the last year on my state park adventures, I have become increasingly fond of hiking, long walks, etc. It is greatly satisfying to reach the top of a mountain or explore a lengthy trail. But, there are times when the long hike is not necessary.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgXV2Va7QS21_-6bKgBPk-V1jsUvw-mAxnZwwpPOUGvG1MbsEtmFGjswnV8xrdEOwjw9QWcf79YUmVfb5JJNuE6weHOYF7KamsnF3hO2S_DPnPYemUgnmj_zGM1h4JnNMTK3cUsBjN_0T/s1600/IMG_6212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgXV2Va7QS21_-6bKgBPk-V1jsUvw-mAxnZwwpPOUGvG1MbsEtmFGjswnV8xrdEOwjw9QWcf79YUmVfb5JJNuE6weHOYF7KamsnF3hO2S_DPnPYemUgnmj_zGM1h4JnNMTK3cUsBjN_0T/s320/IMG_6212.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUKfDv8prFCkn7vXxDFc4jDkWNskS0Jg5nh9SGb6NlIbmCcSAx3aY94cXYD0teD9stjFEWmW04DwJJ0j_L_lnYzL_tB92PdIJTKFnpqq4HSzivi67pcgzhsJb2W2Em2UfMjOfXvCDGSg6/s1600/IMG_6187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="265" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUKfDv8prFCkn7vXxDFc4jDkWNskS0Jg5nh9SGb6NlIbmCcSAx3aY94cXYD0teD9stjFEWmW04DwJJ0j_L_lnYzL_tB92PdIJTKFnpqq4HSzivi67pcgzhsJb2W2Em2UfMjOfXvCDGSg6/s320/IMG_6187.JPG" /></a>
Sometimes I get just as much, if not more, out of finding a quiet place - a bench, a log, a rock, a patch of sand - where I can sit in stillness for half an hour and listen to the wind, the birds, the creaking of the trees or the pounding of surf. It is then that the intangible things become known, and my spirit is quieted.
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I am especially pleased when a park like Castle Rock - in a heavily populated part of the state (Silicon Valley) - remains open. Judging by the number of weekday hikers, they too recognize their need for a little open space. Kudos to Sempervirens Fund!
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
<br/><br/>
<i><b>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
<b>Alvin David Dick
<br/>
April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>
</b>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-139119125270807022012-06-05T23:36:00.001-07:002012-06-06T06:43:25.483-07:00WESTPORT UNION LANDING STATE BEACH: Trip # 48 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2gfXfMXEfhiSHNI3Ryouj19qe52ejz2WHVYkKLxkUN6e9KiwW7VPpFyqWZxmY3ZcFBL0r6tlcIMcorxb4nYdXOOHflJiyc7XUIkHYIYG5bmR6Fw8iSfSZ0Y1gJDMYS3SCYvAOspg3OI6/s1600/DSC06673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="283" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2gfXfMXEfhiSHNI3Ryouj19qe52ejz2WHVYkKLxkUN6e9KiwW7VPpFyqWZxmY3ZcFBL0r6tlcIMcorxb4nYdXOOHflJiyc7XUIkHYIYG5bmR6Fw8iSfSZ0Y1gJDMYS3SCYvAOspg3OI6/s320/DSC06673.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8dvQcHhhQ4iewULVaqvv8MAeakUHki-2hkKxdoeTkYnoj1Xb6Xjty3s3SL57UA0Um36pkO-VD9eVORcYVtg41jwmfJUtB6-nsOi2_FOz35Q3RQfVGnUQIWsyh9wzUSIE9HYeP5ETUyR8/s1600/DSC06768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="232" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8dvQcHhhQ4iewULVaqvv8MAeakUHki-2hkKxdoeTkYnoj1Xb6Xjty3s3SL57UA0Um36pkO-VD9eVORcYVtg41jwmfJUtB6-nsOi2_FOz35Q3RQfVGnUQIWsyh9wzUSIE9HYeP5ETUyR8/s320/DSC06768.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbt4mLxd4gC0U_BE0MfzJWrTFSR68t4aw981qvDiqUluinFR-BWgooJWqc53R4DxT7N9JhtiF61L-w63axtVv_be-K4TZBRTwtMxyfeXLrq9_4xikkKf7AhP1wXwPliXvymujs5Nx_IGX/s1600/DSC06679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbt4mLxd4gC0U_BE0MfzJWrTFSR68t4aw981qvDiqUluinFR-BWgooJWqc53R4DxT7N9JhtiF61L-w63axtVv_be-K4TZBRTwtMxyfeXLrq9_4xikkKf7AhP1wXwPliXvymujs5Nx_IGX/s320/DSC06679.JPG" /></a>
A solitary seagull perched atop the highest rock, watch-ing the waves at <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=440">Westport Union Landing State Beach.</a> The gull and I were on the same wave-length. After three days of solid hiking, I too was happy to sit on a rock and be transfixed by the pounding surf.
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Located twenty miles north of Fort Bragg, the park features two beaches, separated by a one and a half mile road in-side the campground. The park website states that many of the facilities and campsites are closed due to California's fiscal crisis. I have a different theory though. I think the reason big chunks of the park are no longer vehicle accessible is because big chunks of the park's road have fallen back into the ocean!
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Westport Union Landing is still slated to close on July 1. However, the State is work-ing on an interagency agree-ment with the <a href="http://www.cahto.org/">Cahto Tribe</a>, an indigenous nation with strong ties to the local lands. This would be the first time Cali-fornia State Parks would enter into a an arrangement with an independent nation. On June 2, a <a href="http://www.rvit.org/2012-06_Save_Westport_Event.pdf">Native Gathering</a> was held at the beach, a free event with sweat lodges and dancers, in an effort to raise awareness about the park closure.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PNitJLJXSP_nzcEiBb0As_BzK-vZysusmjh9iSIBV6mu7kJZ3_6UIgf1Q840WawUHSQ5RNL1B6wADrX1e6Y3abUfjWSob3YUVkAKQHCrqziPKhzITjHx_xqPoTYSAv4h2gcYUcKc4YLZ/s1600/DSC06698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="292" width="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PNitJLJXSP_nzcEiBb0As_BzK-vZysusmjh9iSIBV6mu7kJZ3_6UIgf1Q840WawUHSQ5RNL1B6wADrX1e6Y3abUfjWSob3YUVkAKQHCrqziPKhzITjHx_xqPoTYSAv4h2gcYUcKc4YLZ/s320/DSC06698.JPG" /></a>
The southern entrance was closed and locked. So we entered through the north end of the beach, where I now sat watching the seagull flit back and forth from his rock to the shore. A couple of camera shy sea-lions popped up in the waves from time to time, and a single Cormorant shared the water with my gullfriend.
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Just as a primo wave was rolling in, the Gull gave a loud cry from the shore as if to say "Surf's Up!" He took off over the water, making several dives but not coming up with any dinner as far as I could tell.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjlu6Zy1WziKTtv1oPhue7iE8_wONuLQU1lVxT7MHKvY4JOJi2r6Gi8CUFhlUOjU_NzLsvcIWxNn758s-qL1xRiLy7wg6adp8gJiDwhWfpABBxbIn9G55C4kXhSC-b-ne8IvaD_Z0l3FQ/s1600/DSC06689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="186" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjlu6Zy1WziKTtv1oPhue7iE8_wONuLQU1lVxT7MHKvY4JOJi2r6Gi8CUFhlUOjU_NzLsvcIWxNn758s-qL1xRiLy7wg6adp8gJiDwhWfpABBxbIn9G55C4kXhSC-b-ne8IvaD_Z0l3FQ/s320/DSC06689.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfrPOfaqar1wShn4FgtB3b-B56O4Nf-EcOkS2IYnvq3Fz1Cz1EuhV0bz9_4Rl3tRoSprRrwbFkqsB_BKqCiCsNm61_q7Gluff-ZjFJN4xefFtZsCejRMu5UVIQcyWN_RcEsFb351tbLQX/s1600/DSC06685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="186" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfrPOfaqar1wShn4FgtB3b-B56O4Nf-EcOkS2IYnvq3Fz1Cz1EuhV0bz9_4Rl3tRoSprRrwbFkqsB_BKqCiCsNm61_q7Gluff-ZjFJN4xefFtZsCejRMu5UVIQcyWN_RcEsFb351tbLQX/s320/DSC06685.JPG" /></a>
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Patty and I climbed the stairway to the road that connected the two beaches. The crumbling road was almost as dramatic as the rocky coastline. Signs warned to stay back from the edge of the eroding cliffs and deteriorating road. I have to think that the cost of fixing the road was a factor in selecting this beach for closure.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRA_YxVgm37WQ6BYeRmHfA0tnGj4QJ_cuVOheXGiMMSHRoHDXC8_A5cieV5q5LJaEVPX1jXxo9QdWhSPc1eir0EH9rz2V7tSGkZKxrPjXqy5Q5O79w6PWAogo6Ex5Q-fx0DAPNElbG9f-/s1600/DSC06721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="217" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRA_YxVgm37WQ6BYeRmHfA0tnGj4QJ_cuVOheXGiMMSHRoHDXC8_A5cieV5q5LJaEVPX1jXxo9QdWhSPc1eir0EH9rz2V7tSGkZKxrPjXqy5Q5O79w6PWAogo6Ex5Q-fx0DAPNElbG9f-/s320/DSC06721.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOFTalkdZ_Cb_ytKoXA3LdEgl_A9zTzirk6xhg60IncoqkiCd-lhBbnsFj6cavFvJIcCDExgqOmFB6_xJatk3GgNNA8vI7I_5_XBOyCuMIMhb9gQVrMvRW9sZnrnS4RKpM6ur-xt20ZnZ/s1600/DSC06724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="217" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOFTalkdZ_Cb_ytKoXA3LdEgl_A9zTzirk6xhg60IncoqkiCd-lhBbnsFj6cavFvJIcCDExgqOmFB6_xJatk3GgNNA8vI7I_5_XBOyCuMIMhb9gQVrMvRW9sZnrnS4RKpM6ur-xt20ZnZ/s320/DSC06724.JPG" /></a>
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Here and there a chunk of asphalt from the road could be seen lying halfway down a cliff. At one point the yellow line that marked what was once the middle of the road, ended and then picked up again a few yards later.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rL-8VrSuNIICMAttIufLZtpWBJojvykLsOZXXp2lgR9V20DElnITDEj60yGm4rOmz0UcJksqXczcGW5JtAm48256qiT-0NokywWS8hLD7NqlmTvM1djPVQQxT84kyRcB7qu6oplKwyIR/s1600/DSC06722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="175" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rL-8VrSuNIICMAttIufLZtpWBJojvykLsOZXXp2lgR9V20DElnITDEj60yGm4rOmz0UcJksqXczcGW5JtAm48256qiT-0NokywWS8hLD7NqlmTvM1djPVQQxT84kyRcB7qu6oplKwyIR/s320/DSC06722.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WlSFxqHeYj672-rrjd0ladi_IJxn8y4o3YJmXzsdvBXji1E1Zh15lzx3pwcsmBtQUUuUuR3R7YteIg9naK8Lg_PHOVcQ24GYns4bMIDmxK9Rpo2aWTLH71HUfQeXSSOiDbNDP_6htfSC/s1600/DSC06761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="175" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WlSFxqHeYj672-rrjd0ladi_IJxn8y4o3YJmXzsdvBXji1E1Zh15lzx3pwcsmBtQUUuUuR3R7YteIg9naK8Lg_PHOVcQ24GYns4bMIDmxK9Rpo2aWTLH71HUfQeXSSOiDbNDP_6htfSC/s320/DSC06761.JPG" /></a>
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No cars were allowed on the road and parking on the narrow Highway 1 was not an option. Walking was the only way to get to the second beach. Now we understood why the southern gate was locked.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoNFHCABdjwxXnsxD1MJNa8t-kl9HT_gnqwkvb2Th-_G-2MfNyCoXFHtwKEcr8mu_hIQIVMYEnKHlAJgN0lKhIZqq8oooF6Mn1iXfcLlq4zvjhHBsEyj-nS-oMFH2rE3tCP4CyI6If5Si/s1600/DSC06734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoNFHCABdjwxXnsxD1MJNa8t-kl9HT_gnqwkvb2Th-_G-2MfNyCoXFHtwKEcr8mu_hIQIVMYEnKHlAJgN0lKhIZqq8oooF6Mn1iXfcLlq4zvjhHBsEyj-nS-oMFH2rE3tCP4CyI6If5Si/s320/DSC06734.JPG" /></a></div>
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So,ho-hum. We were forced to walk the mile and a half of gorgeous Mendocino Coastline, with it's typical rocky shore and lush plant life. Poor us. Somehow we made due!
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Westport Union Landing was named for two early day communities. Westport, a sawmill town, is still in existence and Union Landing now consists of only a few buildings. Both of these settlements were famous for supplying lumber and railroad ties, and Tan Oak bark to the schooners which anchored offshore. The schooners were loaded with forest products by means of intricate cable tramways and chutes from the bluffs.
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In no time at all, we reached the second beach, as pristine as the first, and not a soul on it. We saw a few cars pull up to the locked gate, then turn away.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SA4op_b72Z-FT3QdlZyq5Eq7G-vrORsUcDNqanpKSzUmBaFzzfw4enEKf-5MuBmEdGHH3ot2M8sD29qz9t4-LuRHev5mn8dZHw0aGiTo2GepG5rO2wsx-wASx4bVXCkE9Ppt6sTKrHUd/s1600/DSC06747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SA4op_b72Z-FT3QdlZyq5Eq7G-vrORsUcDNqanpKSzUmBaFzzfw4enEKf-5MuBmEdGHH3ot2M8sD29qz9t4-LuRHev5mn8dZHw0aGiTo2GepG5rO2wsx-wASx4bVXCkE9Ppt6sTKrHUd/s320/DSC06747.JPG" /></a>
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The walk back was accom-panied by Ravens and the beginning of sunset. Many picnic tables were strewn about a large open field of dry grass where there used to be campsites.
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I am both curious and hopeful about the proposed partner-ship with the Cahto Tribe. With any luck, the Raven's infamous quote of "Never-more" won't apply to Westport Union Landing State Beach.
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I hope to see you at the state parks.
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Lucy
<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>
<i><b>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
<br/><br/>
<b>Alvin David Dick
<br/>
April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
</i>
</b>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6893664571409605486.post-35630417333359213632012-05-31T17:26:00.001-07:002012-05-31T17:26:55.863-07:00GEORGE J. HATFIELD STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #47 of 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ba6tGFSX_G4QaOftNB-plLHtO1zCLbHQhLRIl2gQEsOtpMSoSFRj5ymXJaNld-dVxU81-mp4DFAFwQa-9mMyyoOawHAsuLb9YXy6ENBOqjnuyxFWPh9vP69cD19M7N2ZSkl4zObtNoWc/s1600/DSC06222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="242" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ba6tGFSX_G4QaOftNB-plLHtO1zCLbHQhLRIl2gQEsOtpMSoSFRj5ymXJaNld-dVxU81-mp4DFAFwQa-9mMyyoOawHAsuLb9YXy6ENBOqjnuyxFWPh9vP69cD19M7N2ZSkl4zObtNoWc/s320/DSC06222.JPG" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rr261YuZY8kqKXrnh782XhUqO5twAbGDbNVXHP03l6NxufBMYQYacCgbV1KCSu2hLnj3gjAyqBGJPCErBjEif4kdk0izEzHgzrQ8AflMHw0tEUUbq7cJJABSwZHtJaHImofSWfRL_Edf/s1600/DSC06226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rr261YuZY8kqKXrnh782XhUqO5twAbGDbNVXHP03l6NxufBMYQYacCgbV1KCSu2hLnj3gjAyqBGJPCErBjEif4kdk0izEzHgzrQ8AflMHw0tEUUbq7cJJABSwZHtJaHImofSWfRL_Edf/s320/DSC06226.JPG" /></a>
I drove southwest for twenty miles down country back roads lined with almond orchards from McConnell SRA to <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=556">George Hatfield State Recreation Area.</a> Hatfield is the last of the four San Joa-quin valley state recreation areas on the closure list, and like McConnell, will be remaining open.
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Like McConnell, Hatfield SRA is on the Merced River and provides picnicking, fishing and swimming. It does not have camping facilities, but appears to more readily able to accommodate large picnic groups.
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A Raven greeted me at the park entrance. The twenty mile change in geography had brought me to a slightly marshier environment, although the water fowl were completely absent on this early April afternoon.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9QGeKfDJpJWi373s0GPqx4SJ6bZ4N3BkcYlzHjqYb2cxeOvarykLidPq4p0GwtQSO0vRsQ65EFiM9qZuWhgwdFKn9LBNW3h_WlPf3MvZNOsFA30thXl0g8QwF1S7Df3F9Ot-VS8394ws/s1600/DSC06227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="189" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9QGeKfDJpJWi373s0GPqx4SJ6bZ4N3BkcYlzHjqYb2cxeOvarykLidPq4p0GwtQSO0vRsQ65EFiM9qZuWhgwdFKn9LBNW3h_WlPf3MvZNOsFA30thXl0g8QwF1S7Df3F9Ot-VS8394ws/s320/DSC06227.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfGRhgDsDFeAq11d2qvV38LGnYf6BlnMZ2JIQGInqPCItk3dJxQkSlCZHkObs9NjeVSv_AR6igMSFhjG2TCGLfdPoK_N0dkhSj0Ic_yhxiSWJjaBMySTa4eGuNgK1EqqownDtPkfI_Mn8/s1600/DSC06228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="189" width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfGRhgDsDFeAq11d2qvV38LGnYf6BlnMZ2JIQGInqPCItk3dJxQkSlCZHkObs9NjeVSv_AR6igMSFhjG2TCGLfdPoK_N0dkhSj0Ic_yhxiSWJjaBMySTa4eGuNgK1EqqownDtPkfI_Mn8/s320/DSC06228.JPG" /></a>
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From a financial, "save the parks" standpoint, Hatfield and <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=554">McConnell</a> recreation areas have essentially been handled as a single entity. Last week it was announced that enough money from a variety of sources was raised to temporarily keep both parks open.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dRiSwcKvU1gKJbqtR4W8xDfIRV4eU2cOHS7q6EnIAPijdRRCuP_ZM7vgUE7CcUKw8esJFz2MueeekFCy-0CjESJgh_siKxff8_5Rv4F0hxEbVZZD1kdlrlBZz37J6qKZ3rwxbntjfnxD/s1600/DSC06225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dRiSwcKvU1gKJbqtR4W8xDfIRV4eU2cOHS7q6EnIAPijdRRCuP_ZM7vgUE7CcUKw8esJFz2MueeekFCy-0CjESJgh_siKxff8_5Rv4F0hxEbVZZD1kdlrlBZz37J6qKZ3rwxbntjfnxD/s320/DSC06225.JPG" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2khTMwpc_cQ471LRIPIB37c57JWVmcj5QR29wFfN0GrNMJe-B2yadbp9cpkfGPqr8dP0LZcMNFcJ_IGKXrytDC-ZhP_9lsIxX7ZwU083kjzI7Kx9nFjKIPD-fdSVEj5ZLGXwrS8WORRj/s1600/DSC06236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="232" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2khTMwpc_cQ471LRIPIB37c57JWVmcj5QR29wFfN0GrNMJe-B2yadbp9cpkfGPqr8dP0LZcMNFcJ_IGKXrytDC-ZhP_9lsIxX7ZwU083kjzI7Kx9nFjKIPD-fdSVEj5ZLGXwrS8WORRj/s320/DSC06236.JPG" /></a>
In February Deidre Kelsey, District 4 Supervisor for Merced County, gave $2,500 of her special district funds as seed money for the <a href="https://www.wepay.com/donations/157587">Save Our River Parks</a> group. Additional funds include $5,000 from the city of Newman, a $10,000 special district fund loan from Merced County and $20,000 from the State Parks Founda-tion. Several small donations from $20 to $100 also helped the group reach its goal.
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But, this is just for the next twelve months. There is still uncertainty as to the fate of Hatfield a year from now. Merced County has kept open two favorite family recreation areas for another year, so get out there and enjoy them.
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I hope to see you at the State Parks.
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Lucy
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<i><b>This blog is dedicated to the memory of my Father, who loved reading maps, exploring alternate routes, and taking the road less traveled.
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<b>Alvin David Dick
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April 28, 1926 - May 20, 2012
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