SANTA CRUZ MISSION STATE HISTORIC PARK: Trip #22 of 70

My sister Doreen and I followed the Mapquest directions right to the plaza on School Road. There - as promised - was Mission Santa Cruz. We parked on the street directly in front of the church. "But where," I wondered, "is the usual California State Park Emblem with the Grizzly Bear?" Hm. Curious.

Inside the museum/gift shop I made my usual inquiries about park closures. The lady be-hind the desk was confused. She knew nothing about closing Mission Santa Cruz. It quickly became apparent that this particular building is not the state park Mission. Rather, it is a replica of the original mission church that was destroyed in the 1857 earthquake. Mission Santa Cruz is not a state park. It belongs to the Catholic church.

However, Santa Cruz Mission State Historic Park was just a half block down the street. So, Mapquest had not steered us wrong after all. We decided to go ahead and tour the Mission Santa Cruz/Holy Cross Church since they had artifacts from the original mission.

This replica church was built in 1931 as a memorial to the original mission. It is half the size and is stucco rather than adobe. It sits about 200 feet southeast of the original site.



The funding for this project came from a wealthy Santa Cruz citizen named Gladys S. Doyle, While this memorial church resembles the original mission, it is understood that it is probably not a perfect replica, in that it had to be reconstructed from available pictures and stories.

An attached wing holds artifacts from the original Mission. Ornate, ceremonial vestments, crucifixes, chalices and decorations are displayed behind glass. A peaceful courtyard and garden inside the church walls has a fountain, a baptismal and of course, a statue of Junipero Serra, founder of the California Missions System.

Now, on to Santa Cruz Mission SHP, a two minute walk down the street. Sitting atop Mission Hill, it offers a patio, gardens, and excellent views of the city of Santa Cruz. The park features the only building - out of the original 32 buildings - left of the 12th California Mission. Founded by the Franciscans in 1791, it is an adobe building that was used for native family housing, called "The Home for New Citizens." (!) It is the oldest building in Santa Cruz County, built in 1824 by the Yokut natives. Exhibits inside tell the story of the mission through the lens of the experience of the Ohlone and Yokut people. Needless to say, it is not always a flattering picture of the early California Church.

The Mission history is de-picted differently now than when I was a fourth grader studying California history. Today many of the Missions tell of injustices toward Cali-fornia Native Americans. While the tone of the two organizations is different, both the State Parks and the Cath-olic Church acknowledge cruelty, slavery and forced conversions to the Indians.

Earnestly believing in their religion, Franciscan missionaries underwent severe hardships to bring Christianity to California natives. Food, clothing, shelter and religious instruction were given in exchange for labor and obedience. But all too often, the people the Spanish came to save suffered and died from European diseases for which they had no immunities. Unsanitary conditions, confinement and physical punishment further reduced the indigenous population. And although professing conversion to Christianity, many of the Ohlones would continue to practice their own religion in secret.

In 1821, Mexico won its eleven-year war for independence against Spain, which included California. In 1834, Mexico passed new laws that ended the Franciscan priests' control over the California missions. The missions were secularized. All of the land and animals that the missions had owned was to be divided up between the natives who had lived there and the nearby Californios. Unfortunately, very few of the natives ever received any of the property.



A local family named Rodriguez bought part of this adobe building in 1838, and began covering the adobe walls with wood. Although is wasn't their intention, their work helped to preserve the original adobe structure. A descendant of the Rodriguez family lived there until 1983, when she died at the age of 104.

Doreen and I ducked in and out of the various rooms in the long residential adobe, through doorways that were built at a time when people were less tall. Each room displayed living situations from various times during the adobe's existence. I was particular fascinated with a long sturdy ladder, held together with leather ties, that led to a loft in one of the rooms.

In 1850, California became The United States thirty-first state. A devastating earthquake in 1857 finished off the Mission Church. Roof beams and tiles, as well as foundation stones, were carried away for other uses and no trace of the original mission remained. President Buchanan returned Mission Santa Cruz to the Catholic Church in 1859.

Two hundred years after the founding of Mission Santa Cruz, this 175-year-old building became the head-quarters of Santa Cruz Mission State Historic Park. It took eight years to research, excavate, and restore the remaining seven rooms. The museum opened in 1991.

Outside in the garden, school children learn to make candles and cook handmade tortillas. I spotted a hummingbird on a vine that I thought looked a bit like one of the "El Camino Real" Missions bells along Highway 101. Flowers bloomed in the picnic area, and a Scrub Jay perched on a picnic table below an orange tree that overlooked the City of Santa Cruz.



Back at the car, the sun began to set behind the memorial church. For a fuller picture of this Mission, I recommend visiting both the State Park and the replica at Holy Cross Catholic Church. The prospects for this park remaining open are hopeful. Friends of Santa Cruz Parks are working to keep the four parks in their area open through a non-profit partnership.

Hope to see you at the parks.

Lucy

STANDISH-HICKEY STATE RECREATION AREA: Trip #21 of 70

Whoops! The Standish-Hickey State Recreation Area almost slipped through a crack in my blog. My friend Patty and I visited the park for a few hours on a hot August day last summer.

Standish-Hickey began as a campground acquired by the Save-the-Redwoods League in 1922. In the late 1950’s, the Standish family donated over five hundred acres, and additional acquisitions through the years has increased the park’s total acreage.

The park was named to honor Edward Ritter Hickey, son of a local lumberman who died of influenza while caring for the victims of the epidemic of 1918, and of course for Mayflower Pilgrim Miles Standish and his descen-dants.

I always wonder how the families of those who donated acreage to the state (country, city, county) feel when those lands come up for closure. I would think sadness, anger and betrayal might be part of the emotions involved, as well as a caution to others before considering doing the same. That's how I would feel, anyway.

The area offered three campgrounds, picnicking, hiking, fishing, and swimming on the South Fork of the Eel River which winds through the park for almost two miles. The Redwood Campground has been closed for a couple of years already, and as of last Labor Day the remaining campgrounds are closed as well, although it is unclear from their website if this is a seasonal or a permanent closure.

Patty and I had hoped to hike the The Lookout Trail, a three mile loop with great views of the Eel River. But mostly what we wanted to see was the Miles Standish Giant Redwood, 1200 years old, 225-foot tall and 13 feet in diameter. But the gates were already up and the way blocked to that portion of the park.

There were only a couple of RVs in the campground today. Patty and I had a chat with a camper named Genny. "I'm so disappointed," she said. "I've been coming here every summer with my family since I was a little girl. I'm here this week with my kids and my grandchildren." Standish-Hickey does not have a full-time ranger, nor anyone collecting fees at the gate. Our Day-Use fee was on the honor system. After bemoaning the plight of the parks, we joined Genny and her family at a fabulous little swimming hole. The Eel River floods often, so its banks, bottom and swimming holes change each year. The footbridges are removed during the winter (and were still down on our visit), making most hiking trails inaccessible.

While I trudged down the trail to the water hole, my dog Roxy chose the water route, walking in the now shallow Eel. It was still running clear, and as she walked she drank and drank and drank until I was sure she would pop! No doubt the water had a refreshing taste that had been missing from her chlorinated Motel 6 water bowls of the past few days.

We played in the swimming hole and walked around for awhile, cooling off before the long drive home. I went into the water fully clothed, knowing it would only take a few minutes to dry in this inland heat.

Once refreshed we walked up the steep trail back to our car. Genny had informed us they enjoy coming here in the second half of August, because in Northern California all the kids are already back in school and they practically have the place - and the swimming hole - to themselves.

Next year if the park campground is open, I think I may just have to plop my tent there for a few days to swim, read, swim, walk, swim, nap, swim...

Hope to see you at the parks.

Lucy

SADDLEBACK BUTTE STATE PARK: Trip #20 of 70

Although the hike to the peak of Saddleback Butte State Park is only 1.6 miles, the fact that I was 1) hiking alone and, 2) most of the 1,000 foot elevation gain was in the last half mile, had me a bit nervous. At the age of 57, I consider myself a moderately in shape hiker when it comes to stamina. But, when it comes to coordination and balance I find myself to be on the clumsy side.

When I arrived at the camp-ground, not a soul was in sight, not even the camp host. I parked my car under a lone Joshua Tree, the only shade in the entire campground.

Saddleback Butte is a granite mountaintop towering a thousand feet above the Antelope Valley floor at an elevation of 3,651, on the western edge of the Mojave Desert. The state park was created in 1960 to protect the butte (one of many similar land features in the Antelope Valley) and examples of Joshua Trees and other plants and animals that were once common throughout this high desert area.

I strolled around the campground, reading the information on the several available hikes. I decided to go for the three mile loop to the peak. What the heck. I gave myself permission to turn around if I felt the trail was exceeding my (solo) abilities.

I was relieved when after a few minutes another vehicle pulled in. Another "lone hiker" - a middle aged gentlemen - had arrived. And while he was courteous, his demeanor made it clear he didn't care to chat, and certainly didn't need an old lady hiking buddy (hah!). But, just knowing there was one more person in the park made me feel both safer and saner. He headed out 5-10 minutes in front of me, and for most of the hike he was in my view.


The trails begin on a mild slope through moderately loose sand among creosote bushes, Joshua trees, and tumbleweed. Brown posts with yellow tops marked the trail frequently, every 100 feet or so. I was given a beautiful day to hike. The skies were clear, and there was not even a hint of a breeze. Had I been a day later I would have had haze and Santa Ana winds.

A cottontail rabbit darted out of the creosote shrubs and disappeared into a hole. It was tempting to wait and see if I would be invited to a tea party, but as I did not see any "drink me" bottles lying around I accepted the fact that I was too large to follow. I stopped to empty the sand from my shoes and barely missed setting my stocking foot on a busy colony of red ants.


I reached the base of Saddleback Butte in about half an hour. So far twas a piece of cake, but then, I knew it would be up to this point. The climb now became significantly steeper, and boulders got in my way with increasing frequency.

While there may be hazards to hiking alone (...and yes, I DID see the movie 127 Hours...) there are also perks, such as going at my own pace and being able to do quirky things like stop every 64 steps and take 17 breaths. (Yes, I am a tad OCD, heh!)

The brown trail markers continued for awhile as the path became rockier. Eventually they were replaced by small stacks of stones that hikers use to mark confusing trails. And then they disappeared as well, just as the path became all boulders. I continued for a little bit, but quickly realized that I am not a good tracker. Combine that with a memory that's not as sharp as it once was and I decided to call it quits, even though I was only about 10-15 minutes from the peak. While age issues may have prevented me from reaching the top, maturity - and dare I say wisdom - left me content to have made it as far as I did, alone.

I stood now and enjoyed the 360 degree panoramic view of the Antelope Valley and Eastern Mojave Desert. A flock of Crows rejoiced with me, as well as some pesky desert flies. I swear the sky was bluer up near the top. Sadly, a grayish brown haze hovered on the horizon.


I began my way back down the mountain, making a couple of wrong turns and having to backtrack a bit before once again reaching the trail markers. Ah well, the gentleman hiker was now behind me in the event I still did something clumsy or stupid on the way down.

A colony of Black Ants demanded equal time from my camera, although their dark color made it difficult to distinguish them from their shadows.

Back at the parking lot, the camp host had returned and collected my day-use fee. She asked if I'd enjoyed my hike. I said I did, but that I could not imagine hiking here in the summer. The temperatures were in the high 60s today, and I'd gotten some good color on my skin, as well as working up a good sweat. She told me that almost no one came to this campground in the summer. I looked around. Since embarking on my hike, a single RV had pulled in, having their pick of any of the 50 spaces available. I wondered how it could possibly be less busy than it was on this perfect January day.


Saddleback Butte State Park does not currently have anyone preparing to step up to the plate to keep them open. There are donation jars at some of the other local parks to benefit Saddleback, but right now it looks like the gates will be going up at this park in six months.

In case you're wondering how close I got to the top, you can see a lesser peak in this photo, just to the right of the top. That's about where I ended up. I have no regrets.

Hope to see you at the parks.

Lucy

McGRATH STATE BEACH: Trip #19 of 70

McGrath State Beach in Ventura is having a tough time. Named for theMcGrath family which had extensive coastal land holdings in Ventura dating back to 1874, this beach received enough funding last September to remain open an extra few months while they applied for grants to repair the rusted sewer system in the park.

So, when my friend Rosey and I tried to visit McGrath last October, we were surprised to find they had the gates locked and the closed sign up. We drove a few miles down the road to Ventura State Beach and inquired at the ranger station. It seems that an early rain storm brought floods and broken sewer pipes, damaging the campsite’s facilities, roads and infrastructure.

We decided to drive back and walk into the campgrounds, but parking is not allowed on Harbor Blvd, so we abandoned our autumn excursion.

A few days ago (January 3) we returned. Rosey’s husband Ernie dropped us off at the park entrance and we walked in. We hopped over the tire damaging spikes and strolled down the lane. The plan was to try to find a way to the beach and walk south a few miles. When we were done, we’d phone Ernie to pick us up. We were fully aware though, that the beach may not be accessible, depending on how severe the flooding, and that Ernie may be driving back sooner than he planned.

We only had to walk a few minutes before coming across what one might think, at a glance, was a lovely pond where both local and migrating birds were enjoying this sunny winter day. On closer examination, the picnic tables, trash cans and burn barrels in the middle of the “pond” made it clear that these were normally campsites.

We followed the road as it quickly disappeared into a stream. A sign that pointed to campsites and dump stations was a full fledged river.

After a few minutes we found one road that was open. Hoping it would lead to the beach we followed it, but it merely brought us to an area that held beach vehicles, porta potties and a half dozen housing units for park employees. A sign said “Authorized Personnel Only,” so of course we entered, hoping to attract attention to ourselves and get some information.

It worked.

After being told we weren’t supposed to be in the park and saying “we know,” and then being told we’d get a ticket for parking out on the street and saying “we were dropped off,” the “authorized personnel” gave up, and told us how to get out of the park and to the beach. We were cautioned to be aware of transient folks living under the bridge, and of two coyotes living in the brush. Coyotes! Hah! One of my favorite creatures. They are seldom a danger to humans, and when I run across them back at home I usually follow them with my camera. But anyway...

There is normally a nature trail with numbered signposts, but it was not accessible today. As we tried to make our way out of the park, we encountered several more flood obstacles, causing us to back track a few times. I found a picnic table that was not underwater and stood on it to get the only available glimpse of McGrath Lake. Even at a distance I could see it was covered with shorebirds.


Eventually we found a sandy trail that followed the lush banks of the Santa Clara River with it’s thick duck blinds and water fowl. But, we could not reach the beach for about a mile until finally the creek narrowed enough to cross. Along the way the dunes were showing signs of springtime life, with early blooms from iceplants and other local wildflowers.

We stopped for a break, sitting on a log and enjoying freshly picked oranges from Rosey’s neighbor’s tree. The beach was completely deserted, with the exception of a young fellow and his bicycle. He also knew how to walk into McGrath and follow the path to the ocean. He carried his bike the mile to the beach. Like us, he did not know where he was headed, nor how far he had to go to get back to the road, but like us, he said he was “on an adventure.”

We walked on the hard, packed sand by the water for awhile. Here and there teepees and other “structures” made from driftwood still stood. Another mile brought us to the Edison Power Plant where... oh dear... we encountered another stream. This time the water was rushing out of the power plant and feeding into the ocean. The current was swift and the water rough. It didn’t seem safe to cross even at the narrowest points. We feared that we would have to turn back. It appeared the power plant had fenced off any further beach access, but we were happy to discover they left a break in the fence for us to continue on.

Our last mile of hiking brought us increasingly closer to civilization where we gradually began seeing other humans and dogs, until we reached Oxnard Beach. I have to say, I hope when I am 76 years old like Rosey, that I will still be able to enjoy a four mile beach walk!

We phoned Ernie. He picked us up and we went to The Lookout Bar at Channel Islands Harbor for Bloody Mary's made with pepper flavored vodka.

The good news: McGrath has been saved for a second time. $500,000 has been raised from public and private sources to fix the flooding situation, including a $250,000 federal grant. This month two projects will begin to remove and replace old sewer lines, pumps and lift stations. It is hoped that the park will be able to re-open by summer, right around the time other parks on the closure list will be putting up their gates.

As much as I enjoy having a beach to myself, I look forward to visiting McGrath State Beach again soon, without being a scofflaw. After all, it's there for all of us to enjoy.

Hope to see you at the parks.

Lucy