The weather changed overnight, and we woke on Monday morning to cool fog with the tang of sea salt in the air. I immediately thought of a walk on the beach, and so made my way down the highway to Capitola and New Brighton State Beach.

It was perfect. The fog clung to the tops of the trees, and save for a few loitering teenagers and a couple of fishermen, I had the beach to myself.

New Brighton is one of the state’s most popular beaches, with 95 acres and a campground. It abuts Seacliff State Beach, so it’s possible to take a nice long walk along the shore. The beach at New Brighton is also known as China Cove, after a long-gone fishing village that used to exist there.

I was surprised to see a group of expensive houses sitting right on the sand. I imagine they were once beach cottages, but have been upgraded in the years since they were first built. I also wonder what it’s like to live in one of them during a winter storm, and whether they can get insurance. I hummed “The foolish man built his house upon the sand” for the rest of the morning.

The beach is nice hard-packed sand, with islands of shingle perfect for beachcombing. I found some lovely lavender Purple Dwarf Olives, and a piece of abalone shell, all iridescent.

Seacliff State Beach is most famous for the Palo Alto, familiarly known as The Concrete Ship. It was towed to Aptos and used for several years as an amusement center, complete with cafes and a dance hall. The company that ran it went out of business, and the ship soon fell into disrepair. For a long time it was used as a fishing pier, but it’s now completely closed to the public. It still makes a scenic backdrop.

The beach became busier down by Aptos, with families setting up umbrellas and picnic lunches, and tiers of hotels above the sand.

I reached the cut in the sand where Aptos Creek crosses the beach, and stood for a moment debating whether I wanted to take off my shoes and socks to cross it, or just turn around and explore other sections of the park. I was about to turn around when I scanned the horizon one more time, and saw Something Interesting. I quickly whipped off the footwear, and crossed the creek.

I walked as fast as I could, but was afraid that my clumsy bipedalism would be no match for the dolphins’ aquatic sleekness as they leapt and cut through the waves. And I did lose ground to them — until they turned around and came back my way. Dolphins! Right off the beach!

These photos are stills from the video I took (which I will post here in a day or two) and don’t do justice to what I saw. (They remind me of the famous fuzzy photos of the Loch Ness Monster.) The pod of dolphins was playing just past the breaking waves, and there must have been at least eight of them. I watched them for a long time as they dove and resurfaced. Most of the other people on the beach seemed to be oblivious to the dolphins’ presence, except for a group of teenagers.

I suppose there is a fine line between fantasy and reality, and we’ve all see way too many Disney movies to believe that nature really is red in tooth and claw. For whatever reason, two of the teens decided they wanted to swim with the dolphins, and made their way past the breakers to deep water. Luckily, the dolphins were smarter than the humans, and just swam away. I haven’t heard any reports of drownings or dolphin attacks, so I imagine the story ended benignly enough.

On the way back I also witnessed an avian feeding frenzy, with hundreds of birds suddenly flying to one particular spot –I imagine a school of fish just below the surface– and began dive-bombing. The water was whipped into a froth by their wings, and this went on for some minutes. I took a video of the feast, which I’ll also post later this week.

The thing that struck me all day was the beautiful relationship between sea and sky. The colors would vary depending on wind direction and thickness of fog, and ranged from a deep blue to a wonderful viridian green. Sometimes the only delineation between sky and ocean was a thin streak of light at the horizon, and at other times they were contrasting yet harmonious combinations of green and gray. The photos in today’s blog give a hint of what I’m talking about, but still don’t approach the beauty of the real thing.

New Brighton State Beach:
Day use parking $8.00 (and please do pay your day use fee! State parks need our help!)
Camping fees range from $11 to $35; cabins are also available.
For more information, click here.

On Monday I was finally able to get out on the hiking trails, this time my long-planned outing from Highway 9 at the Rincon trailhead of Henry Cowell park, mid-way between Santa Cruz and Felton, to Highway 1 at Wilder Ranch State Park, and then home. It was a great hike, but with one major flaw, which I will get to at the end.

Here is the ever-popular map of my route:

Sarah-Hope drove me to the trailhead early in the morning and dropped me off. The advantage to starting at the Rincon trailhead is that you don’t have to cross the San Lorenzo River (see my blog entry of April 16). You do start out following the train tracks, which seems to be a standard motif to my hikes around here.

But soon I crossed Highway 9 –looking carefully both ways!– and into Pogonip Park with its towering redwoods.

The path meandered through the forest, climbing steadily. I enjoyed the cool of the morning, and the dappled sunlight on the trail.

And since I was heading towards the University, it seemed appropriate to run across a banana slug enjoying its breakfast.

(For those who don’t know, UC Santa Cruz’s mascot is the banana slug.)

A quick stop at the lovely University to see if Sarah-Hope was in her office yet, and to use the facilities. (Note to Kimlin: yes, I do sometimes need to.)

More redwoods, more dappled trails, and some graffitied water tanks. I actually rather like the paint job; I suspect a glaring silver or white tank would be more jarring in this setting than the varied colors that have been used. And I am thankful that any destructive tendencies have been used on man-made objects, and not the woods themselves.

I found a lot of flowers on this hike, thanks in part to the recent rain. Soon enough these trails will be brown and dry. Here is a lovely wild iris, nestled in the midst of a fine crop of poison oak.

At this point the trail changed dramatically, going from dense redwood forest to open meadow in the space of just a few hundred yards. Another chance to enjoy the wildflowers:

I crossed Empire Grade Road, out of the University property and into Wilder Ranch State Park (which is one of my all-time favorite parks to hike in.) First, there is the obligatory mountain lion warning.

I am always a little tittillated by these signs. I would love to see a mountain lion –just not at close range. I know that if I see one, I should not run, but instead make myself as large and unappetizing looking as possible. (Unlike most Americans, mountain lions do not think a larger helping of food is always better.) And as a last resort, I imagine using my hiking sticks like a picador, driving off any attacking lion with a well-aimed jab. In reality, I’d probably scream like a girl and faint, knowing that I was lending a hand in the great cycle of life. Anyway…

After the warning signs, and more flowers, lupins this time:

I came across an area that had been burned in the recent past. New growth was shooting up around the charred remains of trees and shrubs. The most fascinating to me were the burned manzanita trees. Fabulous shapes, color, and texture!

I saw more evidence of old fires all the way along my hike, a reminder of the constant threat posed by California’s high winds and dry weather. But mostly, I fell into an easy rhythm of walking and settled in to enjoy the long downhill walk to the sea. I took the Long Meadow Trail, aptly named!

The trail flowed over the gently rolling terrain. Massive oaks offered spots of shade, and the sea glimmered in the distance.

There are the remains of lime kilns at one point, where several trails meet. This area was once dotted with lime kilns. The vast redwood forests made handy fuel for the cooking of limestone, and helped create one of the major industries of Santa Cruz’s past. After the 1906 earthquake, the proximity of Santa Cruz was crucial to rebuilding San Francisco; the cement made from Santa Cruz lime was what enabled San Francisco to rise again.

And apparently somebody is doing some archeaological digging:

Or disposing of a body very, very neatly.

As you may have inferred by now, this was a long hike.

More flowers, this time lupins mixed with poppies:

And a butterfly –I think a Buckeye– obligingly posed for a portrait.

Eventually the trail reached the visitor’s center and farm buildings at the Wilder Ranch.

Ah! you say. And the end of the hike, right? No, my friends. If I was sane, or thoughtful, or even a person who planned ahead, I would have first driven to the Wilder Ranch parking lot, left my van there, and then had Sarah-Hope drop me off at the beginning of the hike. But no. Sometimes I have an exaggerated idea of my own abilities, and think things like “Oh, it’s already in city limits, or practically. It’ll be easy to walk home!”

Have I mentioned that is had gotten really hot and sunny by this point? And that I was hungry, and my trail mix and carrots and radishes were just not cutting it? And that, being a weekday, most people I know would be at work and unable to drop everything to pick me up? And that the bus that runs past the park does so only a few times a day, and this was not one of them?

Oh well. More walking! More photos!

One thing I like about Santa Cruz is that it is not surrounded by a ring of industrial parks or suburban McMansions. Farms and ranches reach right to the city borders, and even into the city.

(The black spots are cows, marching single-file over the top of the hill.)

I had a moment of hope when I saw this sign. Would it really be cooler around the corner?

I finally reached home, took a shower, and plopped down to take a well-deserved nap. And I will try to remember the lesson learned on this outing: plan ahead!

***
A tip of the hat to Kimlin, who has passed Burgos and is out on the meseta on the Camino de Santiago. Ultreya!