Mt. Madonna

Today I finally visited Mt. Madonna County Park for the first time. I loved it! It has the majesty of Big Basin, but it's not as crowded and is a little closer to home. I will definitely be returning to camp there in the near future!

I found the park with relative ease, though Dino had some trouble climbing up the steep hill once I entered the park. I could practically hear him wheezing as the SUV behind me glided effortlessly up the incline. I'm almost ashamed to ask, but if anyone has a recommendation for an SUV that isn't a huge gas-guzzler, I'd like to hear about it. I feel like I really need a vehicle that I won't have to worry about in remote areas. Are there any "green" SUVs in existence?

I had a lovely hike in the redwoods and did not encounter another human being for over an hour. I got scolded by squirrels and I talked back to crows. (My cawing shut them up right away. I think they didn't know what to make of me.)

And I never get tired of banana slugs! I couldn't resist taking the above photo. They're just so... yellow. And slimy. And BIG. Banana slugs rock!

Here's some fungi for good measure:


I think Mt. Madonna may be the quietest park I've ever hiked in. As I walked, I realized that I was the one making most of the noise with my Gatorade sloshing, my feet crunching on old leaves, and the muted "thud" of my camera bouncing against my hip. When I'd pause for a moment, there was... nothing. But when I stood still for several moments, I started to notice the sounds of branches cracking under the weight of some creature, and the scurrying of tiny feet in the brush. Occasionally a plane would fly overhead. The sound seemed almost out of place there. It seems trite to say this, but in the silence and absence of fellow humans, I did not feel alone. I felt more surrounded by life than ever, knowing that the forest was teeming with all sorts of creatures I couldn't see. Who knows who may have been watching my noisy walk, perched high in a redwood tree?

And there I am, gazing up into the canopy of trees. I liked what the light did in this picture.

I think I haven't enjoyed such a peaceful walk since my days at Bennington, when I used to forego homework in favor of hiking on the Blue Trail. For some reason, today's experience reminded me very much of those magical days at Bennington. I feel that there is some holy presence in those tall old trees.

When I got back to the car, I found a "courtesy reminder" to pay my $6 park entrance fee on the windshield. I had counted out exactly $6 and put it in my pocket before I left home, but when I arrived at the park there was no one at the booth collecting money. Turns out you're supposed to put the money in one of the boxes around the park. That $6 fee is one thing I don't mind paying- to me, it feels like a privilege to use our beautiful parks and I feel good about contributing towards their upkeep (assuming that's where the money goes). And since California parks were threatened with closure a few months ago, I surely don't mind coughing up $6 if it means the parks will be kept open.

The drive back to San Jose at sunset was beautiful. I'm consistently amazed by how much variety in landscape you can find in California (and even in the Bay Area alone). The hills of Gilroy were awash in golden sunlight and looked like something out of a postcard. I saw horses, cows, and sheep grazing. So different from the "silicon valley" where I live, yet so close! I feel lucky to live in such a diverse area.

Dino Rides Again

My car is old. I recently swore that I would not invest a single penny more into fixing it, since I plan to buy a new car before long. However, a car with a dead battery is pretty much useless, and replacing the dead battery is pretty much unavoidable if you ever hope to drive the car again.

And so it happened that around midday on Sunday, I set off for Rancho San Antonio in ye olde Sable, hoping to squeeze in a short hike before going to watch a friend's dance performance. Really, I don't know what I was thinking- you need to arrive at Rancho practically before the crack of dawn to get parking, and I was one of many circling the parking lots waiting for someone to leave. After nearly half an hour of this I finally got fed up and left.

As I was getting onto the freeway, I felt the engine shudder and struggle to get up to 45 MPH. The engine felt "weak," if an engine can be said to feel like anything at all. The battery light was on. Oh, goody.

Luckily I was near the De Anza College exit and I am familiar with the area, so I got off there and dragged my lame butt into the parking garage near the Flint Center. I parked and proceeded to turn the engine off and on several times, hoping it might "clear" the problem (that's worked sometimes before when the "check engine" light came on). It didn't help.

I really didn't want to call roadside assistance because I was afraid they'd send a tow truck and I wasn't sure how much that would cost. But I also didn't want to break down on my way home, so I finally decided to stay put and give them a call. Initially they were going to send a tow truck, but I asked them to send someone to jump me instead. They said it would be about a 45-minute wait.

Being stuck in the De Anza parking garage alone on a Sunday afternoon is really not very interesting. I bided my time watching pigeons and squirrels ambling about. I probably imagined it, but I thought I saw a pigeon walk up to my car, stop, eye my car for a moment and then turn around and walk away with a look of annoyance on its birdy face. Maybe I was in its way.

Finally I got a call from Bay Area Roadrunner, saying they were on the way. To my surprise it was a woman's voice on the phone! When I hung up I thought maybe she was the secretary at their office, but a few minutes later a white car pulled up and two older women got out. How cool is that? I always assume anyone working with cars would be male, but here were two awesome ladies sent to my rescue. The driver of the car, who had beautiful long, grey hair, hooked up a battery to mine and found that my battery would not hold a charge. She said the alternator was not the problem, which apparently was a good thing because they cost more than a new battery. She advised me not to get back on the freeway and to take it to the nearest auto parts store.

So I slowly puttered down Stevens Creek and came upon a Jiffy Lube. I asked if they did batteries, and the guy replied no, but would I like an oil change? I guess oil changes are just about all Jiffy Lube does. They directed me to Pep Boys down the street. The guys in there were super friendly and helpful (cute, too). It was a long wait because there were so many cars being serviced, but finally they did run a test, determined that the battery was no longer capable of holding a charge, and installed a new one. I decided to get my oil changed too while I was at it.

Sitting in the waiting area at Pep Boys is also not very interesting. I read my way through all the "women's" magazines in about fifteen minutes. They were far outnumbered by the number of automotive magazines. Then I wandered around the store and looked at GPS units, floor mats, and iPod chargers. Whee. All in all, I was there at least two hours, way longer than it would have taken if I'd gone to Tom (the mechanic I usually go to who sold me the car). Tom probably would've charged less, too, but he doesn't work on Sundays. I felt slightly guilty about getting an oil change from someone else, but I didn't want to make a separate trip to get that done. All in all, I had a good experience at Pep Boys and I would go back there in a pinch, but only if Tom wasn't available.

The new battery is awesome. I hadn't realized it, but I guess the old one was getting ready to give up the ghost for a while. Dino rides much more smoothly now, without hesitation. I think the heat feels warmer than it used to be, too, although I'm not sure if the battery has anything to do with that. I'm not happy about putting more money into the car, but it kind of had to be done. And I am pleased with the results.

I can't believe how attached to this car I've become. I can't believe I gave him a name. I know I'm going to need a new car before long, but it will be really hard to part with Dino.