Rain, Rain, Rain

We had a huge rainstorm hit the area yesterday afternoon and evening. These pictures were taken on the way to work this morning. This creek is called "Flynn Creek." The creek joins the Navarro River and winds its way to the Pacific Ocean a couple dozen miles away or so.

A Different Kind of Hike

I went for a different kind of hike today. It was more like a walk. A walk on a bike path. But, I consider it a hike because I did get "off path" a bit. I also probably walked a good five miles or so. I think its official, my legs have now atrophied.

The ocean looked quite rough today in Ft. Bragg. Huge waves crashing into the rocks. I have yet to see any surfers up here. When I drove down the coast many years ago, I remember seeing surfers everywhere, north and south. Maybe there just aren't enough people living in this area to produce a crop of surfers.

Logging Road

I went for a hike a couple of days ago up an old logging road near the town of Navarro. I'm still somewhat surprised that despite the thick forests that blanket the land near the coast, I can't find any trails that allow a person to walk through them. Perhaps I need to buy a book of local trails.

This particular day, I was looking for a trail, but all I could find was an old logging road. I probably was not supposed to be in this area, but I did not see any signs indicating that I was trespassing. So, I seized the opportunity to walk amongst some redwoods and other conifers, and travelled along an eyesore of a clearing that allowed loggers to find and haul out their booty.

Who was flying above the trees to offer another greeting? The raven of course!

California Snow/Water Content

Click for California Snow/Water Content.

Marmot

The Marmot. I bought a tent while living in Maryland many years ago designed by the company "Marmot." Back then, it was just a company name. I didn't bother asking, or attempt to figure out what the name actually meant, or what it referred to. It was a nice tent, that's all.

That is until I hiked the John Muir Trail in August 2009. My first encounter with the Marmot, I can't recall. They quickly became a fixture on the JMT however, and I never tired of seeing them around. I think I was quickly drawn to their inquisitive nature. Whether it was walking through a meadow, or over a high rocky pass, I always got a blast at seeing them run up onto some rock to see who was trespassing on its property. Sometimes they would just watch, sometimes they would retreat into their homes, (a medium sized hole in the ground, usually under a rock,) and sometimes they would let out a high pitched whistle, voicing their displeasure.
I could never help whistling back to them, although my whistle was more of an acknowledgement.

Marmots along the PCT in the North Cascades, Washington. This one is keeping watch over his domain, while soaking in some of the last warm sun rays of the season.

Their homes are built in the most scenic places on the planet. They tend to stick to the high altitudes. They hibernate during the winter. Often, I will see them basking in the sun, warming themselves on a rock. If Reincarnation is an option in the next life, I'd like to return to earth as a Marmot.

Raven

The Raven. Black. Song? I guess you can categorize a "caw" as a song. There doesn't seem to be anything special about them. To me they are the dandelion of birds. When I grew up in Maryland, I remember seeing them flying around the neighborhood, usually with a couple of smaller songbirds attacking them from above. I would wonder what the raven did to warrant such an attack. I remember seeing a raven, or maybe it was a crow, eating a baby bird that I assume he stole from a nest. I guess that's why his presence was despised. Often times in the city, I would see ravens gathered around a trash can, picking garbage out of an alley. I did not really have pleasant memories or associations with this bird.

When hiking around LA, every time I reached a peak and would look out over the city, or into the rugged mountains of the San Gabriel's, I would search the skies for birds. Usually I would see one from a distance and wonder, "Is it an eagle? Is it a hawk?" To my disappointment, 99% of the time I would discover that it was just a raven. "Oh, it's just a raven."

This routine seemed to unfold time and time again.

I don't recall when the switch in my mind occurred. Eventually, as I climbed the mountains, I would see a bird in the distance and wonder, "Is it an eagle? Is it a hawk?" Then exclaim, "Oh, it's the raven!"

While on the PCT, the routine changed a little more. While hiking along a high mountain ridge somewhere, the question became, "Is it the raven? Yes, it is the raven!!"

They have become constant companions in every mountain range my feet have stepped upon. Without fail, despite the weather, despite the elevation, the raven has been there to offer its greetings when hiking through and over the mountains. Now, no longer a pest, I am happy to offer my greetings as well. I still cringe however, when I see such magnificent beasts eating trash in a filthy ally. "Don't eat here," I want to say. "Head for the mountains!"