Point Reyes Lighthouse, January 1, 2013

Whale watching at Point Reyes Lighthouse, elephant seals at Chimney Rock: January 1, 2013

Down 308 stairs to the historic Point Reyes Lighthouse

Whale watching at the lighthouse has been our New Year's Day tradition for more than twenty years. During the 1990s, this practice became so popular that the road to the lighthouse was closed to general traffic on weekends and holidays in migration season. You now drive down to Drakes Beach and catch a $5 shuttle bus that drives in a triangle from Drakes Beach to the lighthouse to Chimney Rock.

Bus stop: Looking north to Great Beach

Around January, grey whales migrate from Alaska to Baja for calving. The high point is said to be mid-January, but we've found that if we put the trip off till then, we may not get around to it. The northward return migration is around April, and this is supposed to make even better watching, since the mothers and babies swim closer to shore. We'll go, sometime.

grey whale jawbone at Lighthouse Visitor Center

We almost always see whales -- that is, if you include the glimpse of a distant spout as a sighting. One year it was raining torrentially and you couldn't see far past your own nose. We did not see any whales that day, but we didn't mind--we felt we were in the water with them. However, the next time it was raining on New Year's Day, we gave it a miss: already did that.

One thing about the lighthouse trip that's not a great fit with New Year's Day is if you stayed out late to see the year in. The trip from the East Bay, including the shuttle, takes at least two hours, and ideally you'd be there in the earlier part of the day so you're not squinting into the sun. In the old days, we went folkdancing at Ashkenaz New Year's Eve and then did our best to get up in the morning. The last couple of years we've changed to a San Francisco Chamber Orchestra concert. We were in bed at midnight, but we still got a slow start. We didn't reach the lighthouse till nearly 2:30.

We were startled to see that Limantour Road was "closed indefinitely" due to a collapsed culvert. How could the whole of Limantour Road be closed indefinitely? That's the only access to the Youth Hostel and several major trailheadsd, not to mention Limantour Beach. (The road was re-opened on January 4 with a temporary fix.)

Where Bear Valley Road meets Sir Francis Drake, we pulled over for two emergency vehicles. Later we learned that a man had drowned at North Beach trying to rescue his dog from the waves.

The day was bright and clear. The whiteboard at the lighthouse visitor center noted "10 whales seen [so far] today, 31 seen yesterday." The observation deck at the top of the stairs was crowded with viewers, and they were seeing whales. It's not even clear that descending the 308 stairs to the lighthouse gives a better chance of a sighting: though the high observation deck is farther from the water, it commands a wider view.

Whale watchers on the high observation deck

Be that as it may, we're never satisfied with the top of the stairs. We had to try the bottom, too.

Down to the lighthouse

Down at the lighthouse

This was a successful viewing day for us: we saw flukes as well as spouts, both from above and from the lighthouse platform.

Inside the lighthouse, looking up

The unexpected bonus of the day was that, being extra late in arriving, we found we'd hit the daily interpretive tour of the lighthouse interior, which we hadn't seen before. The historic lighthouse was in use from 1870 to 1975, when the oil lamp and the first-order Fresnel lens from Paris were replaced by an automated electronic light. We learned that each lighthouse has a distinctive flash pattern so that mariners can know where they are.





 By the time we climbed back up the 308 stairs and caught the bus to Chimney Rock, the shadows were getting long. We added the Chimney Rock leg for elephant seal viewing to our New Year ritual some time toward 2000, I guess. According to the Park Service, elephant seals began to return to Point Reyes in the 1970s as their population rebounded, but we didn't know about it until much more recently.

A good number of seals haul out on a sheltered beach facing into Drakes Bay. On an overhang, the Park Service has provided spotting scopes and docents. There was plenty to see--a number of pups, some challenging among the males with that pebbles-in-a-can thing that they do--but the light was too dim for good photos, and I'd brought the little camera that only has 3x zoom.

Red-vested docents assist elephant seal viewers

Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. It is rarely the case that all is lost. (Coming late turned out to be a good thing.)
2. Bring the bigger camera.

Birding 101, December 9, 2012

Point Reyes Field Seminar: Birding 101 with David Wimpfheimer, Sunday, December 9, 2012

David Wimpfheimer leads birders near the Visitor Center

Now that we've completed our fifty miles of "challenge" hikes, we can turn to other modes of exploration... such as Point Reyes National Seashore Association Field Seminars. So many classes are offered each season, and we sign up for so few! In December we took "Birding 101."

Anyone who's followed the Marmots blog will have noticed frequent references to birds that we wish we could have identified. After writing a number of descriptions like "little grey-brown birds that went tit, tidit, tididididididit," we thought it was time we brushed up our birding.

The class was postponed from December 2 because of rain. The new day was gorgeous-bright. We just about killed ourselves getting out of the house and across the bay to arrive at the Visitor Center at nine. Once we were at Point Reyes at nine in the morning -- actually nine in the morning, 9:00 A.M. on a glorious sunny Sunday -- it was a little hard to go indoors for a class. But that was the plan, after all. Happily, not that much of the class took place inside.

For "Birding 101," I'd sort of been expecting stuff like bird topography and taxonomy. Like finally getting straight what tail coverts are, and what makes a passeriform bird, and why do so many common names cover many different genera, and -- well, on mature reflection, for that stuff I'd really have needed Birding 101, as in a semester-long college course. This was a hands-on orientation to birding. We learned basics of methods and materials--what you need to go out into the field and find birds and maybe identify them: look at the bird, not at the book (we knew that); find the bird with the naked eye, then bring up the binocs (we knew that, but don't always do it); birding binocs should have at least a 4:1 ratio of objective lens size to magnification (didn't know that); get the best binoculars you can afford (no comment).... Soon enough,. we moved on to the real way to learn birds: go out with a real birder.

It had been a long time since we'd gone out with a real birder -- and that's precisely why we still don't know much. In this day-long class we went out twice. After introductory discussion, we walked around near the Red Barn where the class took place, staying probably within a quarter mile, and seeing and hearing an amazing number of different birds. (List below.) We were reminded that, if you pay attention, and if you know what to look for and where to look, the area of the park near the Visitor Center, which we tend to think of as a mere staging ground for our real nature explorations, is full of excitement.

After lunch and a slide show, we packed into cars and headed for Birder City: Abbott's Lagoon. There we walked out to the beach and back again and saw what we could see. Once again, this was a whole lot more than we would have seen by ourselves. Many of our fellow-students were pretty knowledgeable, so someone was always pointing out something. In fact, the day was so eventful and information-packed that I ended up feeling over-stimulated--not what I usually look for in a nature outing, but so worth it!

Our only gripe is that the sequel, Birding 202, is scheduled for a Saturday, which our religious observance precludes our attending. We're always so happy when the trip we want falls on a Sunday.

Species seen, heard or otherwise inferred in the Red Barn area:

White-tailed Kite
Red-shouldered Hawk
California quail
I forget which resident owl species was held responsible for the vole bones
Acorn Woodpecker
Nuttall's Woodpecker
Northern Flicker
Red-breasted Sapsucker (inferred from drillings on sweetgum trunks)
Black Phoebe
Say's Phoebe
Hutton's Vireo
Steller's Jay

small rodent bones rain-washed from owl pellets

Western Scrub Jay
American Crow
Common Raven
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
Swainson's Thrush
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Townsend's Warbler
Fox Sparrow
Golden-crowned Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
Dark-eyed Junco
Pine Siskin

 Species seen, heard or otherwise inferred by at least one class participant at Abbott's:

coyote

Looking across the lagoon

black-tailed deer, including a stag with a rack
Brown Pelican
Pied-billed Grebe
Coot
White-crowned Sparrow
American Bluebird
Yellow-rumped Warbler (pals around with bluebirds in "guild")
Snowy Egret
Great Blue Heron
Pacific Loon
Horned Grebe
Common Merganser
Bufflehead (male)
Greater Scaup
Burrowing Owl
Savannah Sparrow
Golden-crowned Sparrow
Red-tailed Hawk
Kestrel (harrassing the red-tail)
Common Raven
American Crow
opossum (tracks seen in wet sand near the far bridge)

Practical lessons for road and trail: 
Go birding with a birder.
 

Abbott's Lagoon: opossum tracks (hind foot ahead)

Abbott's: Class members returning from outer beaches

Abbott's: Class members returning by the far bridge

Trails Challenge Wrapup, November 30, 2012

For six glorious months in 2012, we had a solemn duty to run off to Point Reyes at every opportunity. We did that eleven times. We sampled at least one trail in each of the designated "Five Habitats" while also racking up 51 trail miles: In the process, we learned a little both about the territory and about our own current physical abilities and limits.

What stands out:
-Taking a familiar trail up Mount Wittenberg and coming down on a new one to us, the extra-lush Meadow Trail;
-The complex estuarine shorelines on upper Estero Trail;
-Finally getting past Bass Lake to the Alamere Falls overlook;
-The deep-woodsy stillness of south-end Ridge Trail;
-Maybe most of all, a quiet half-hour or so spent just sitting on a bench at the top of Bucklin Trail, taking in our surroundings. We've resolved to make "just sitting" a regular practice, whether out "in nature" or at home with Hanukkah or Shabbat candles.

After all this, we still may not be able to tell a crow from a raven, but at least we finally know our way around Point Reyes. At least Alice, the map maven (see October 21 "Bull Bleep" hike), does. I never used to be able to remember where Abbott's Lagoon was, or how to reach the Limantour Road, or the difference between the two roads that go northish from the Visitors' Center. Now I have all that in my head. And I even know which side of Creamery Bay Bull Point Trail is on.

We've also learned about some other parts of the park we want to see in future:
-We want to visit the burial place of Representative Clem Miller, the park's legislative sponsor, somewhere near Arch Rock.
-We found out there are actually some redwood trees within park limits--but apparently they're in the off-trail wilds south of Pablo Point.
-We learned the safe way to reach the Alamere Falls beach, via Wildcat Camp, and we want to do that.
-We want to climb Teixeira Trail, the one that we failed to get to twice. It starts out with a ford, so we'll plan to do it in the dry season.
-When the tide tables are favorable, we want to visit Sculptured Beach. If the tide tables are really favorable, we could see tidepools.

What we really want is to cover all 150 trail miles. No deadline, just an intention. On the face of it, we can't do it. There are places in the park we just can't get to, since our limit now is about eight miles a day and our backpacking days are over. But maybe we could still do ten miles on a summer day, with careful planning and pacing. And maybe we could still pack in for a campout if we didn't bother with a tent. We'll see.

Our trail summary, by habitat:

Ocean Shoreline: Limantour Spit Trail, Coast Trail (Palomarin to Alamere Falls)
Coastal Scrub: Abbott's Lagoon Trail
Estuarine Wetlands and Waterways: Estero Trail / Sunset Beach Trail; Estero Trail (loop including Muddy Hollow Trail / Glenbrook / Muddy Hollow Road)
Grasslands / Pastoral Zone: Tomales Point Trail, Bull Point Trail (two attempts before we found the actual trail)
Coniferous Woodland: Inverness Ridge Trail, Mount Wittenberg Trail / Meadow Trail, Ridge Trail from Palomarin.

Muddy Hollow loop, November 22, 2012

Hike 11, November 22, 2012 (Thanksgiving Day). Habitat: Estuarine Wetlands and Waterways. Trails:  Muddy Hollow Trail from Muddy Hollow Trailhead to Estero, Estero to Glenbrook, returning on Muddy Hollow Road. Distance: 7 miles.

Looking toward Limantour Spit from Estero Trail

For our final official Trails Challenge hike, we chose a route that brought us within hailing distance of our inaugural hike on Limantour Spit Trail, back in June. Scheduling a hike in November had been dicey because of an unusual amount of rain for this early in the season -- not complaining, not complaining! -- but both national holidays turned out to be fair. We'd missed the chance to go hiking on Veterans Day, which was possibly the most gorgeous day of the whole season, but Thanksgiving was still available. Still, we were wondering how the aftermath of the recent rains would affect trail conditions.

Youth Hostel

In order to get an early start on a short daylight period, and because we've long wanted to try it, we stayed over Wednesday night at the Point Reyes Youth Hostel, which is located just across Limantour Road from Muddy Hollow Trailhead.





The familiar drive through San Rafael and along Sir Francis Drake Boulevard and Limantour Road felt strange and mysterious in the dark. We arrived at the Hostel about 9:30, just short of the deadline for check-in. The main room was gracious and comfy; two people were playing Scrabble. We were given a spot in one of the new super-green outbuildings up the hill from the main house. It was quite spiffy: electronic locks, automatic lights, dual-flush toilets, a nice kitchen with sinks set up for three-step dishwashing. Our private ("family") room contained two bunks, one with a double-bed lower story. The mattress seemed ominously squishy (very bad for Stephen's back), but proved to be some kind of memory foam that offered good, comfortable support. Alice liked it so much that she wanted to get some for home. Before bed we went out to look at the stars--not many with first-quarter moon and overcast sky, but better than the city. We could make out Orion and the Pleiades, at least. The sharp, fresh chill made me feel like I was in the mountains.

flowerpots on Youth Hostel porch

We were up promptly at 7:15 next morning, but it still took us till just about 10:00 to get on the trail--an hour later than we'd hoped. Meanwhile, over breakfast, we'd met a family (mom and dad and two daughters) who have made the hostel a Thanksgiving tradition.








Alice, still a little concerned about her month-old toe injury, had brought three pairs of shoes on this trip: regular walking shoes, sport sandals for relief in case the regular shoes rubbed too much, and a pair of slightly dressier sandals in the car for going out to dinner, in case both the other pairs got too muddy on the trail. Stephen, however, had brought only one pair for all purposes, and, as we pulled up and peeled out at Muddy Hollow Trailhead and discussed whether to start with Muddy Hollow Trail or Muddy Hollow Road, he began to worry: "Why are we doing this Muddy hike, just after a week of rain?" -- "Well, because we're here now, and which trail in the park do you think will be less muddy?"

Muddy Hollow Trail is a road.

At the head of Muddy Hollow Trail was a sign warning us to be careful because "This is elk calving season." Hmmmm... in November?

As for mud, Muddy Hollow Trail has recently been resurfaced and was not muddy a bit. We were on it for only 0.3 mile, but at least that portion of it is a broad thoroughfare that would be quite at home as an unpaved small-town street. 


At 0.3 mile, we turned right onto Estero Trail, crossing a wooden bridge over a creek with no name shown on the map and beginning a short climb among the young bishop pines that have flourished in the wake of the 1995 Mount Vision Fire. Near the creek, the trail had some wet spots, but nothing serious. After that it was perfectly dry. We heard a frog ribbeting. We saw and heard numbers of birds, mostly too elusive to identify; we figured lesser goldfinches, marsh hawks....

climbing in the pines

At the crest of this ridge, about 45 minutes from the trailhead, was a bench with a good view of the sweep of the Drakes Bay shoreline out to Chimney Rock. A red-tailed hawk flew past below us.

We continued down, up around a gully and and down again to an alder-and-elder woodland at the Glenbrook Creek crossing. Here there were some actual mudholes--awkward, but dodgeable. Coming out of the woods, we caught a sneak preview of Drakes Bay and Limantour Spit, then began a gentle climb up the last ridge. The two little white dots on the opposite slope proved to be tule elk, some of a small herd introduced into this area from the Tomales Point population in 1998. Stopping for lunch under pine trees just short of the crest, we saw either the same two or two others grazing a deep green patch in the wetlands below.

Predator scat with park service map for scale

At the crest, we had reached the southern end of our loop and our closest view of Limantour Spit (shown above). The trail follows the line of Limantour Estero, turning back northward well short of shoreline. All along the trail, we'd been noticing predator scat. Here we photographed an especially large sample, positively bristling with fur. Who could this possibly be?

Estero Trail going north toward Glenbrook

The trail heading north was wide and green. Four miles from the junction with Muddy Hollow Trail, Estero Trail turns left to wander another 2.7 miles to the point where we left it on our second Trails Challenge hike, when we started at its other end. This time, we parted with Estero and continued on Glenbrook to Muddy Hollow Road. Somewhere along this stretch, we stalked a middle-sized shorebird with a white tail and a striped face that kept scurrying along the trail ahead of us.


Glenbrook Trail covers just the 0.7 to Muddy Hollow Road, where we turned right and started back toward our trailhead.

mushroom on Muddy Hollow Road

Just as Muddy Hollow Trail is a road, Muddy Hollow Road is a trail. It starts eastish, then turns to parallel Glenbrook Creek (evident in the form of a willow thicket on the right) for something more than half a mile before crossing it and continuing over a slow rise. Muddy Hollow Road was not muddy. However, it did have a stretch wet enough to harbor mushrooms; later, on a higher and drier section,  Alice surprised a stray newt.



Shortly after 4:00, the gate at the parking lot came into view. We'd been out a bit more than six hours, it was still daylight, and our feet were clean and dry. Coming closer, we saw that the trail led straight across a free-flowing creek, maybe twenty feet short of trail's end. The two possible stepping stones were jaggedy-looking and would still have required a potentially disastrous leap to a muddy far bank. We'd have to wade.

Well, it was for that that I brought the Chacos, I guessed (my toe had been fine, and I was still wearing the regular shoes). Stephen just waded barefoot. While we sat down and changed our footgear, we were overtaken by the only other party of hikers we met all day. (They'd done the same loop we had, starting two and a half hours later.)

We had just enough daylight left to reach our dinner destination in Fairfax. Driving back, we had another opportunity to realize how long and how wild Limantour Road actually is. Winding over Inverness Ridge feels like a little trip to the mountains.


Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. The Youth Hostel is a viable option
2. One hour per mile of trail can be more than enough for us, even for a "longer" hike. (Though Stephen keeps saying, "We didn't know what the conditions were going to be like. We were lucky.")
3. Sometimes you get lucky.


Total habitats visited: 5. Total miles hiked: 51.

Our fundraising page accepts donations through February 2013: Foothill Marmots in Point Reyes Trails Challenge

November 12, 2012, Veterans Day: No Hike

As of November 1, the planned five months of the Trails Challenge had run. We'd explored at least one trail in each of the Five Habitats, and so had completed the challenge we signed up for, but had fallen six miles short of the fifty miles we'd privately intended to complete. Well, time to wrap it up and.... wait, this just in! The National Seashore Association is extending the challenge period through November! Surely we could do another six miles sometime during the next month.

The rains started early this year, both complicating our plans and helping to make Veterans Day Monday, when the sun came gloriously out, into probably the most beautiful day of this entire autumn. It was a wildly, flawlessly blue-and-crisp, russet-sweetgum-and-golden-ginkgo, oh-world-I-cannot-get-thee-close-enough day. And I was just sick that we'd decided to do chores instead of go to Point Reyes. By the time we realized what a beautiful day we had on our hands, it was too late to change our plans. So I got a little yard work done, and put in a few useful hours at the office, and had a nice lunch with a friend that it would be churlish to complain of--and that day will never come back. Never, never.

You know what, I used to think I was that "nobody" who was in danger of saying on my deathbed, "I should have spent more time at the office." Changed my mind about that.

The other thing: I completely fell into the contemporary vice of viewing civic holidays as mere days off work. I will, I will get serious about honoring those who have served on my behalf. I also love the old name Armistice Day, evoking the deep, wide joy of ending a long and horrible war. Both aspects deserve not to be blown off.


 Practical lessons for road and trail:

1. Today will never come again.
2. Take a veteran to lunch.

Bull Point Trail, October 30, 2012

Hike 10, October 30, 2012. Habitat: Grasslands / Pastoral zone. Trail: Bull Point Trail.

Trailhead, looking eastward, the way the trail bends

The Trails Challenge hiking period was to end on Thursday, November 1. We'd thought of squeezing in a last hike on the last day, but the weather forecast prompted us to move our play-day up to Tuesday. We decided to go back to Bull Point, the hike we'd flubbed on our last outing, and do it right. It's barely four miles altogether, so maybe we'd have time for a second hike. We wouldn't meet our secret goal of completing the Fifty-Mile Challenge as well as the Five Habitats Challenge, but we'd come closer to it.

Unidemtified gray-brown waterfowl

But we got off to a fairly slow start and declared it lunchtime already when we reached the wildlife viewing turnout at the head of Schooner Bay. Near shore was a large flock of unidentified brown ducks. No, not ducks, but waterfowl with thin, straight bills. The other couple who stopped behind us looked like real birders, but it turned out they were tourists and only knew New England.




After lunch we went on to the Bull Point trailhead It's on the way to the lighthouse, on the left, just after Historic F Ranch. If you get to the North Beach Road you've gone too far. We set out to hike this trail and hike it right. We promptly got lost, but at last we found our way.

So here's what you need to know about Bull Point Trail: As the wide trail going down toward Creamery Bay turns faint, you bear left. At some distance you'll see a fence that runs down toward the water and angles off up the hill. You want to be on the other side of that fence. To get to the gate, take a fairly sharp left and follow the fence back up the hill till you reach the gate. Go through the gate. Don't mind the cows, they're pretty oblivious. 

This is the gate.

You'll pick up the trail on the other side of the gate, and it remains pretty clear. Anyhow, from here on you can't really get lost. The bay is on your right; you're paralleling it down to the estero. There's a stretch where you're climbing a gentle hill and the view of the bay is blocked; then it comes back into view. The trail descends toward Drakes Estero and kind of peters out near a stock trough. Off to the right, atop the slope down to the estero beach, is an object that looked to us like some kind of military detritus, but proved to be an overturned derelict bathtub, forming an excellent bench. Past this point there's no recognizable trail, but we found our way to a spot overlooking the beach. The way back is straightforward until you get to that no-man's-land section after the gate. Eventually we just sighted on the trailhead sign and lit out cross country.

Back at the car, we decided to call it a day. We'd gone maybe four miles, but evening was coming on and we felt like we'd hiked enough.

Creamery Bay on the right, Drakes Estero on the left, opening to Drakes Bay at center

l





The scenery on this trail has a certain stark grandeur, but its main pleasure is wildlife sightings and/or hearings. My most exciting one happened while I was bumbling around the wrong side of the fence, during the first part of our hike: while checking for a way through above a clump of willows, I came upon a big, tomato-red orb weaver spider with two white spots (can they have been eyes?) and black-and-white striped legs. I'd never seen nor heard of a big red spider. I thought it would be easy to identify, but it wasn't. And the pictures (even with the bigger camera) didn't come out.

As we came over the crest of the hill, we saw, far down over the water, flocks of birds looking like clouds of gnats, swirling and wheeling in close formation. Consulting reference books, we learned that this behavior is characteristic of dunlin. The small birds on the beach could have been dunlin, as well. There were a few larger white shorebirds on the beach that we never identified. Field notes: gray wings, black shoulder straight thick gray bill, black legs, black eye area.

We think these were dunlin

Other sightings: on the fenceposts near the cattle gate, a bird that reminded us of a bluebird, but black not blue, and with maybe too long a tail. Marsh hawks. Black phoebes, one solo and a pair doing what certainly looked like a courtship dance. Unidentified streaky-breasted sparrows. And those larks that we heard on the first hike, once again heard but not seen, going "teedle-oodle-ee, oodle-ee."


Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. A four-mile hike can take up your whole day, if you let it.
2. There are worse things than having a four-mile hike take up your whole day.


Total habitats visited: 5. Total miles hiked: 44.

Our fundraising page accepts donations through February 2013: Foothill Marmots in Point Reyes Trails Challenge

"Bull Bleep" Trail, October 21, 2012

Hike 9, October 21, 2012. Habitat: Grasslands/Pastoral zone. Trail: Bull Point Trail (sort of). Distance hiked: 1.5 miles (estimated).

After spending the morning poking around at Abbott's Lagoon, we headed down Sir Francis Drake Blvd. to Bull Point Trail. This would help round out our "five habitats" scorecard: in the "grassland / pastoral zone" category, all we'd done was walk just far enough out Tomales Point Trail to see some tule elk. 

The attractions of Bull Point were that it was completely new to us and that, alone among the "grasslands" trails, it was short enough (1.9 miles one way) that we could do the whole thing. Though maybe not today: Alice had stubbed her toe pretty badly two weeks ago on something in her study, and it was still tender. She was feeling mild pain after the morning's walk, and Stephen's back was getting stiff. Still, we'd come all this way, and the day was young. We didn't feel ready to go home.

We found the The Bull Point trailhead easily. It's on Sir Francis Drake as you head toward Point Reyes Lighthouse, between Historic F Ranch and North Beach Road; the trail runs south alongside Creamery Bay to Drakes Estero. Looking southward from the parking lot, you see a barren-looking prospect: dry grass and brush, low hills, grazing cows, and, in the middle distance, the bay. The trailhead sign has little specific information about the area, but one bulletin in large letters caught our eyes:

"Please note that various cattle trails and tracks can obscure the Bull Point Trail."

Cattleproof gate: you need to be slim.

Forewarned, we squeezed through a cunningly angled cattleproof gate and proceeded downward on a broad double-rutted path through a spacious pasture full of cows. Several killdeer flapped up from among them, uttering their distinctive piercing cries.

Indeed, it wasn't long before the wide path vanished into hoofmarked dirt. Fortunately, Alice is good at reading maps upside down and transposing right and left, and she had consulted the map, and she remembered that the trail jogs right, then proceeds straight ahead with Creamery Bay on the left. Unfortunately, she had it backward.

Confidently, we turned right. We picked our way among the cowpats, giving a wide berth to a placid black cow. Bull Point Trail was obscured, all right. Kind of a stretch to call this a trail at all. "They should call this Bullshit Trail," Stephen suggested amiably. But before long, the ground became grassy, and a well-worn rut led southward, parallel to the bay. Mollified, we followed it, single file.

In the near end of the bay, a large flock of black and white ducks floated in strangely orderly lines. We like to think we know our ducks, but we couldn't make these out. Alice was supposed to be carrying the 10x binoculars, but had left them in the car, so we had only the 8x and they weren't enough at the distance, and besides, the ducks were all napping with their heads tucked under their wings.

Distant ducks

From somewhere nearby we heard birdsong that reminded us of meadowlarks, but not exactly. This song was simpler, but had that same liquid sweetness. Some kind of larks, surely? David Lukas in Bay Area Birds mentions only meadowlark and horned lark. We haven't been able to match the song we remember to horned lark recordings, but Lukas' description of its habits and habitat fits: "...a delightful presence in desolate wastelands such as heavily grazed areas where grass has been clipped short and there are many patches of exposed ground. They are surprisingly well camouflaged in these areas, but give themselves away with high-pitched sputtering calls...."

After maybe half a mile of this not unpleasant little path, we encountered a damp spot. In fact, a creek. We'd have needed tall boots to go through that. If at all. Huh. They give you permission to walk in somebody's cow pasture and call it a trail. Well, Alice's toe and Stephen's back were ready for a rest, anyhow. So we turned back, and eventually realized our mistake. We hadn't been on the trail at all. The trail was on the other side of Creamery Bay.

The end of the "trail"

Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. Read the map. For crying out loud.
2. Even a kind of crappy hike has its rewards. It is rarely the case that all is lost.


Total habitats visited: 5. Total miles hiked: 40.

Our fundraising page accepts donations through February 2013: Foothill Marmots in Point Reyes Trails Challenge