Why not in SBC?
Several hundred people came to the area for a festival last
weekend, and unless you’re one of the eccentrics who often walk
around with binoculars draped around your neck, you probably did
not know about it.
There were no roaring engines, no wet T-shirt contests, and even
the neighbors might have been unaware of the event, but for a
cluster of tents outside of the Red Roof Inn in Watsonville.
Why not in SBC?
Several hundred people came to the area for a festival last weekend, and unless you’re one of the eccentrics who often walk around with binoculars draped around your neck, you probably did not know about it.
There were no roaring engines, no wet T-shirt contests, and even the neighbors might have been unaware of the event, but for a cluster of tents outside of the Red Roof Inn in Watsonville.
The crowd was a bit more bookish, less rotund and quieter than the average biker festival attendee.
The occasion was the Monterey Bay Birding Festival. About 400 people participated in one way or another. Attendees came from across the country, packing several hotels and restaurants. Lectures were delivered in the long-closed Fox Theater in Watsonville.
The event brought thousands of dollars to the local economy. Since Saturday, when I squired 13 people around San Benito County for nearly 12 hours, I’ve been thinking about why it shouldn’t happen right here.
We’ve got great golf, a wine trail leading to some of the state’s most prestigious vineyards, and a few festivals, most notably the Independence Day biker event that may or may not happen.
But I would argue that the natural splendor around us trumps all.
The Monterey Bay festival included trips on the Bay, to the U.C. Santa Cruz Arboretum, Big Sur and, of course, San Benito County.
Even the visitors from the area were unfamiliar with what would unfold before them Saturday.
After caravanning from Watsonville, we made a quick stop at Paicines Reservoir. There, golden and bald eagles soared. Osprey hunted for fish. The participants oooohhed and aaaaahed and in turn asked what, exactly, the name of this place was. One even produced a map, so she could be certain she could return to the spot.
We rolled down to Pinnacles National Monument, where Easterners were delighted with California-only birds like the Yellow-billed Magpie and Chestnut-backed Chickadee.
With participants ranging from college age to those comfortably into their Social Security years, a hike might have been a questionable endeavor. But with enthusiastic, trail-hardened participants, a proper trek was mandatory. We walked beside a stream, leapfrogging with deer as coyotes dogged us. After doubling back, we passed some of the Pinnacles’ brilliantly colored rock walls, passing two gushing springs before ducking through a corner of one of the park’s caves.
As the group climbed a long set of narrow stairs, there was some puffing, but no complaining. The group had spread out, so one by one, as they arrived at the top of the stairs and gasped, exclaiming at the beauty of Bear Gulch Reservoir sparkling in a bowl of red and orange cliffs.
As we rested in the heat of the day, two garter snakes slithered at our feet. One lay on a mat of algae, looking disinterested until it made a lightning quick play for a red-legged frog (it missed). Indeed, since non-native fish were eliminated, the reservoir is filled with the rare California amphibians.
The walk back was quieter, as we strolled downhill in the shade. Near the parking lot, a Canyon Wren posed and sang. The trip back included a loop through Santa Ana Valley, where at one point, six Golden Eagles showed themselves.
Again, why can’t it happen here?
Think of people coming from far outside of San Benito County, filling local inns and motels, gathering for lectures, say, at Ridgemark and San Juan Oaks, and walking local trails.
There is no shortage of destinations. Besides Pinnacles, Panoche Valley is nationally recognized among birders as a destination. There’s Fremont Peak, local ponds, side trips to Monterey Bay and Elkhorn Slough. The list could fill several festival rosters.
It’s not so far-fetched. There are already events in the Central Valley, Arcata, Morro Bay, Vallejo (Vallejo?) and elsewhere. Equipment vendors set up shop, and sales tax from $1,500 sets of binoculars and spotting scopes stays in the community.
In the end, the group can be expected to pack up and leave, leaving behind little more than their footprints.
That’s my kind of tourist.
