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.