Where was I? I believe I started out by doing an "excuse me for not updating" tap dance that involved explaining why I've been trapped under something heavy (metaphorically speaking) for the last few months. Off The Beaten Path has managed to go on several hikes over the last two months, I was only able to manage go on the hike itself -- and not write about it afterwards.
Today the tides have turned in your favor, gentle virtual hiking readers. OTBP was supposed to have a hike today, but I didn't manage to suggest the idea until Friday night since I've been sick. My laziness and the fact that it is raining today means the hike has been postponed. I figured I might as well take the time originally slotted to *go* hiking and simply *write* about hiking instead.
Plus, there is a 49'ers game on and Mr. Hiker Jane is dominating our television set. He is down there dancing like an oversized toddler with each first down gained and so on. He looks particularly silly since he is wearing a 49'er ski hat that he's owned since he was about eight. When I told him that he looked like he just got off the short school bus I was shoo'ed from the room.
So. Hiking. Where were we...
September 4th: Redwood Regional Park
What I can hardly get over is the fact that I decided to go hiking less than two weeks before our moving day. I don't think I even had started packing in earnest, and looking back at how the end of September actually went down, this was a bad move indeed. Oh wait. Hello. Nothing to do with hiking, I know. But you see, ever since I've moved all I care about is the inside of my house and what I need to buy to make it prettier, so if I start on a tangent about window treatments I advise you to just go with it.
Okay, so this was a few months ago, but I'm pretty sure that it was a nice day and...ur...nice.. I'm sure there was the strong smell of California sage that makes my eyes roll back into my head with happiness and triggers this desire to rid myself of my worldly possessions and live off the land. Then I get hungry and this desire goes away when I remember that I can't forage for food and have a real fondness for burritos.
At least I have a couple of pictures to save this moment...
Here is Mike. Mike has a map. Read Mike read. Read the map and tell us where the &^%$ to go! Okay, so Mike has a special place in my heart since he is probably the most prepared hiker that has come out with us on our hikes. I thought I was savvy since I'd download the trail notes to my Treo, but Mike brings actual maps and studies things like "elevation" and "good routes" and stuff like that which can make a hike so much more pleasant.
The added bonus is that Mike is both a teacher and a masseur, so that he can rub your shoulders when you collapse in agony into a mess of Adiantum pedatum. Excellent.
Here is Therese. Therese wears pants. Strut Therese strut. Therese went shopping before our last expedition and purchased some nifty hiking pants that let you zip off the pant legs when you get too warm. She is modeling the "tweener" look, for that person on the trail that can't decide if they are too hot or too cold. She was also bitching about the fact that children sized hiking clothes (which is what she has to buy) come in only powder blue or pink. I shed a single tear for her wee-ness and told her to deal -- that and that she looked cute in powder blue.
I don't remember much that happened until lunch. We hiked. Uphill, probably. I'm sure we talked about all sorts of amazing things, and even possibly solved the mysteries of the universe, and then promptly forgot to write them down on a napkin. We did eventually reach the summit and I have a few shots:
Aww. How cute in the powder blue. How mighty his map.
This is the view. Again, I will apologize (only a little) for the crappy resolution of these pictures. I've given up on thinking I will actually bring a real digital camera, but since I always have my Treo on hand, this ensure that at least I have something.
Ah. Hiker Jane. So funny. Actually I was bored since everyone else had gone to find the Little Girl's Room and Little Boy's Room tree and I was stuck waiting...having found my own tree earlier.
After lunch we hiked back down the canyon and then back up it again to the parking lot. The only thing I remember from this stretch was that at one point we were walking along, three abreast, chatting on and on, when suddenly....I jumped and screamed (while leaping, mind you) over a big blackish snake sunning itself in the middle of the trail. The other two laughed at me and I was forced to beat them with sticks. No. But I have to give myself some mad props for having quick reflexes.
I'm not really afraid of snakes, though I remain somewhat scarred to this day with the memory of sitting on our back porch in Maryland, watching my mother doing some gardening around a flower bed around a tall oak tree, when there was crack and snap and all of the sudden this large black snake (and a branch) fell out of the tree and around my mother's *neck*. Ugh. I mean, AGH! Gah. Fft. I *shudder* each time I think of it.
The last thing I remember from our hike is that some inner tendon of mine started freaking out on the last leg of the trip, and that Mike graciously shared his Goldfish crackers on the ride back to San Francisco. Good times.
October 16th: Mount Tam
Well, this hike didn't happen that long ago, but I'm still sketchy on the blow by blow details. Unfortunately I also don't have many (crappy) pictures since Therese brought her Treo -- the 650 series which laughs at my 600 series -- and the camera is just leagues better. However, she sent all of the pictures to Mr. Hiker Jane, and since Mr. Hiker Jane is still downstairs doing the 49'er shuffle, those pictures will remain buried in his e-mail for quite some time. Once I do get my little greasy paws on them, however, I will update this *facinating* entry with them.
To start I know that all of us were car sick. And by all of us I mean Therese, Mr. Hiker Jane (who made a guest appearance), and myself. Getting to Mount Tam means driving on the very curvy Highway 1 to Stinson Beach and simply typing those words makes me feel a little queasy.
The night before the hike we were at a birthday party with a bunch of people we thought we could lure out with us in the morning. However, that was also the night of the de Young Museum's grand re-opening party and thousands of our hippie Burning Man brethren went in throngs to dance in the parking lot and chat about art and baby bok choy. Upon hearing that there was three hour line to get in, Rich and I decided to head on home after the birthday party. Stupid hippies. Kidding. Well, kinda.
We began hiking and I knew it was going to be a doozy of hike because my knees started yelping before we'd even gone the first mile. It was steep and very warm. There was just switch-back after switch-back, and while you could occasionally glance over your shoulder and see glimmers of Stinson beach below, it was mostly a great deal of walking and grunting. I do have one picture of myself and Mr. Hiker Jane, and we look like two piles of sweaty gym socks.
Given that Therese and Mr. Hiker Jane and myself have known each other for a while, I'm sure that the conversation ran the gamut. Perhaps we even offended the local wildlife with our off-color remarks, since I'm pretty sure we offended one set of hikers when they heard me loudly arguing why it should be okay for women to use the expression, "rub one out." Mr. Hiker Jane insists that it is very wrong indeed. I'd recap our discussion in more detail, but Hiker Jane's Mom does occasionally read this site.
When we got to the top (and halfway point) of Steep Ravine Trail, we collapsed. It was an amazing view since you could see all the way to Twin Peaks in San Francisco, over thirty miles away. Or something. It looks very far off and impressive and I love it when the Bay Area sheds its foggy coat for a moment and allows you to see all of her shimmering here and there. Therese and I were to tired to lift our Treos to take a picture, so just imagine a glorious 360 degree view of the Bay Area and you get the picture.
When we looked at our trail notes and realized that we'd only gone three miles of a 7.5 mile trek, we opted to simply turn around and walk down hill to our starting point. On the way we discouraged everyone who looked equally exhausted. Especially this one group of kids who looked like they were sharing a single 8-ounce water bottle between 8 people. We'd each polished off close to 64-ounces each and told them in no uncertain terms that sudden death would take them if they continued. Actually, our exact words were closer to it is really far away and it is hot and don't your friends look tired? They nodded and I'm not sure if they turned around. Thinking back we should have invited them down the hill for some ice cream, since that was where we were headed.
After we made it back to the car we started looking for a place to get some delicious cold sweetness. We found this one place who wisely just had a huge ice cream cone sign outside. I stopped the car so fast we almost got whiplash. While it is sad that I remember my ice cream (vanilla with peanut butter and chocolate double scoop in a waffle cone) more vividly than the hike itself, sorry to say that is simply how I am wired. Therese had a root beer float. Fine. Years of food lust have done this to me, people.
The drive home was extra silent. I think there was one feisty discussion about native vs. non-native plants in California and I geeked out in the car talking about these frogs that have taken over a pond in Golden Gate park, and Therese wisely fell asleep.
Winter is coming to the Bay Area and with it a slight weather change. It will go from cold and foggy, to colder and foggier with rain. The rain will start to keep most of us slovenly types indoors, but we are hoping to get at least one more hike in before the holidays. There will be a timely write-up. I hope.
Until then, happy trails...
