"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.

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