When one thinks of Pinnacles National Park, three special features come to mind: the park’s namesake rocky pinnacles, the unique talus caves, and the...
After five years of drought, winter rains doused the southern California deserts this past winter. The result has been a desert wildflower super bloom...
Russian Ridge is a crown jewel among the open space preserves strung along Skyline Boulevard atop the San Francisco Peninsula hills. From the preserve...
On a recent weekday morning, two friends and I set out on what we called a guys field trip. For years, we have met weekly to do what old men do: drink coffee and talk about nothing. And we love it. We decided it was time for a road trip, a term that has a dramatically different meaning than it did forty years ago. After a fabulous meal at the Breakfast House, an inconspicuous but terrific cafe in San Carlos, we set out for Huddart County Park and a walk in the woods to burn off some of the Hollandaise sauce.
There is more to a natural landscape than meets the eye. We stand in awed reverence beneath Yosemite Falls or on the rim of the Grand Canyon. Who wouldn't? The grandeur is overwhelming. But what about those ho-hum areas that we pass without notice? Are those places empty wasteland, or do they hold some importance beyond our ken?
Years ago, when I was a young boy growing up in the Bay Area, the rain always came each winter. As sure as the arrival of winter rain, one story would eventually appear on the evening news: a rock slide at Devil’s Slide had closed Highway 1 between Pacifica and Half Moon Bay. It was as if this event, like the rain, was an integral part of the changing seasons.
In the world of writing, paths often overlap. People start careers in other professions then stumble into writing, either from a hardship, a hobby or an inner calling that surfaces later in life.
Last winter, I challenged you to join me on a climb up Mt. Tallac this summer. Judging from the attendance at our various prep hikes and the email and Facebook buzz I am getting, many of you have accepted the challenge. Last week, I took a detour on my return from Modoc County and climbed the mountain to refresh my memory.
Skyline Boulevard traces the crest of the Santa Cruz Mountains down the peninsula from San Francisco to Highway 17. Rain that falls on the southwest side of the road collects underneath Douglas firs and redwoods on its way to the Pacific Ocean. Just across the road, runoff goes the other direction, down through the various peninsula communities and into San Francisco Bay.
The holidays are at hand. The joy and festivities of the season reach a fever pitch as family and friends begin to arrive for their annual visit. If you recall, it was about day two or three of their visits last year before the walls of your house appeared to be closing in. Remember? At the same time, you felt a slight rush of anxiety and an unusually rapid heart rate.