Break in the Rain

 

Sunrise Skyline

The morning got off to a colorful start, and I almost missed it. The cat was meowing for breakfast, and as I went to feed her I forgot to keep an eye on the changing sky. When I noticed what was happening out the window I dropped everything to run upstairs and grab the FZ-80 to get a quick shot out the bedroom window. The cat was completely understanding, and I returned to find her waiting patiently next to her soon-to-be-filled food dish.

I left the door open so she could go out afterwards, then went back upstairs to make myself some oatmeal and coffee before heading up to Mt. Tam to have a look at what the storms have wrought. I'd called the Pantoll Ranger Station the day before to confirm that the upper mountain was really closed (as their web site indicated). The ranger said it would remain closed indefinitely, so I drove up and parked on the shoulder between Bootjack and Pantoll to avoid paying the parking fees at either one, which was eight bucks the last time I checked. 

I'm still getting over the flu bug, or whatever it is (still testing negative for Covid-19), so I didn't plan to hike far. I figured I'd head out the Matt Davis Trail a ways to see what I might find. First off, you notice there's a lot of water flowing. You can hear it even when you can't see it. Second thing you notice is that Mother Nature laid out the green carpet for us. Fallen Douglas fir branches were everywhere. Just little ones mostly. The trees that actually topple over, like the two I encountered on the trail, tend to be bay laurels.

Much of the fungi were seriously waterlogged, but I found a few subjects that caught my interest, starting with a blob of witch's butter that had a group of tiny mycena mushrooms (possibly Mycena capillaripes) sprouting in the background. I also found a few furry-stalked Lepiota magnispora, some little orange guys that I thought might be Xeromphalina campanella until I realized the gills didn't attach to the stalk as I expected and the caps lacked striations. The question is, could weathering change all that? Or are these some kind of Lactarius or who-knows-what?

The last mushroom I photographed was an Amanita gemmata that had lost most of its gemmata-ness (the "jewels" or warts of remnant universal veil tissue). A younger one nearby still had some of the veil tissue on its cap. I replaced the younger one in its original hole after taking the picture, and I only wish I could easily find out whether it has continued to grow.

After emerging from the forest I continued a short distance to take in the view along Bolinas Ridge, where the Matt Davis Trail continues toward Stinson Beach, before turning around to head back. Looking up the hill I could see that the Douglas fir whose iconic top fell off seven years ago during a heavy December storm continues to lose more of its limbs. 

My only disappointment of the hike was finding no slime molds, not even species I've seen before. I just finished reading The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee and learned that a guy named George Beadle was studying slime molds when he discovered that genes encode the proteins that make cells function. Unfortunately, I am unable to verify that. The information I find online all points to a fungus, Neurospora crassa, as the subject of Beadle's study, not a myxomycete. Oh well.

At around the same place in the book the author mentions that biologists first thought DNA was mere "cellular stuffing." A mentor of James Watson, Max Delbruck, even dubbed DNA a "stupid molecule," although according to The Atlantic, “Delbrück, Watson’s most important mentor, used such blunt skepticism to spur scientific rigor among his followers. The 'stupid molecule' remark, then, is best understood as prologue to the solution of the double helix in 1953, rather than as an obstacle to its having been solved sooner.”

Although the rain is sporadic today, it's not sporadic like it was the day before yesterday when we had those excellent thunderstorms come through. I walked over to Grandview Park to take in the storm and photograph any rainbows that might pop out. I got more than I bargained for with the storm when the temperature dropped and hail began pouring down. I didn't even see the bolt that probably hit Sutro Tower, but I sure heard the peeling CRRRRRAAAACK! of thunder whose thrilling surprise raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

Fungal Friends

The First of Several Waterfalls

Weathered Lepiota

A Fresher Lepiota

One of my favorite spots on this section of the Matt Davis Trail.

Falls Along Matt Davis Trail

White-Spored, Bland-Smelling Orange Mystery Fungus

Amanita gemmata

First of two trail interruptions due to fallen trees.

The Season's Last Blooming Coyote Brush

Partial Rainbow with Mt. Tam in the Distance

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On the Sense of Awe

 

Central Coast Cloudscape

I don't think I've ever recommended a radio program before, but I just listened to an episode of KQED's Forum on the subject of awe and couldn't resist. Hopefully this link goes to the recorded program. What a pleasant surprise to hear a radio show about how to find awe. In a world where it seems we are all becoming more jaded or ironic, where we take this incredible world for granted, the farther we recede from the source of awe that lives within us. May 2023 be the year we get in touch with awe and reconnect with the profound magic of being alive in this intrinsically mysterious, fascinating, and, yes, awe-inspiring world.

New Year's Bobcat

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Mushroom Walk

 

Amanita magniverrucata

I'm loving all the rain and only wish my body could rid itself of the flu bug that's been slowing me down the last couple of weeks. I'd like to put on my rain gear and experience the storm out around Mt. Tam the way I did during some heavy weather in February 2014, but we'll see. I took advantage of the mostly rain-free day yesterday to poke around the mountain and start trying to get my strength back while looking for interesting fungi to photograph.

Clavaria fragilis

Amanita vaginata

Tremella aurantia

Pseudohydnum gelatinosum

Lycoperdon perlatum

Wood Sprouters on Jan. 3

The same "wood sprouters" phone-snapped on Dec. 28.

Laccaria amethysteo-occidentalis

Omphalotus olivascens

Camera Trap Composite

Camera Trap Video

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Silvery Morning

Silvery Dawn, Ocean Beach

It was good to see the silvery light of morning today, instead of the orange-brown glow of air pollution we've experienced the last week or so. And with rain on the way, and snow coming to the mountains, it feels like a new beginning is at hand. Also, when I suddenly awoke in the wee hours last night I sensed that I'd finally turned the corner on my journey through an influenza infection which inspired me to pull Planet of Microbes by Ted Anton off our bookshelf. 

I've enjoyed encountering phrases highlighted in a previous reading, such as "most of the capabilities of plants and animals derived from bacteria. They make our oxygen and soil, recycle everything that dies, and create most of the processes, such as respiration and metabolism, on which life depends.... Other microbes in the human gut helped us to produce the vitamins we needed to survive."

"Identity is not an object, it is a process," says Lynn Margulis, whose groundbreaking idea that symbiosis is an integral part of the evolution of life was met with ridicule, and not all that long ago either. Even scientists hate to let go of a treasured dogma.

As for having the flu, it was also interesting to read that "our energy-producing mitochondria are descended from typhus-causing Rickettsia" (attributed to Michael Gray). 

I've come to see the influenza virus infecting my body as a fellow traveler in the process that is life on Earth—a guest in my body whose departure I hope to joyfully celebrate very soon.

Minutes After the Silvery Dawn

Lunar Eclipse of December 2011, Ocean Beach

Tube Ride, Ocean Beach

Luffenholtz Beach, Humboldt County

Nautilus on the Half Shell

King Tide, Big River, Mendocino, Dec. 21, 2022

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Winter Solstice

 

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Flowers & Fungi

 

Iris #1

I don't know why I still feel surprised to see flowers in December, when fungi should be reigning and the clouds raining too. The iris, Stropharia, and Hericium are from Pt. Reyes, while the Armillaria (honey mushrooms) growing next to a drain were found in front of someone's house along my city walking route. Just yesterday I noticed some currants flowering along Sunset Boulevard.

Iris #2

Stropharia ambigua

Hericium coralloides

Armillaria mellea

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Reef Walker

 

Exposed Reef at Drake's Beach, Pt. Reyes

Semipalmated Plover

Plover in Backlight

P.S. I looked out the back window this morning, facing east, and saw a really weird cloud that appeared to be glowing. I couldn't figure out where the light was coming from. It wasn't moonlight, and it wasn't city lights. Only later did I learn it was a "noctilucent cloud" created by a SpaceX launch at Vandenberg before dawn, as reported on SFGate. I thought about taking a picture of it, but too much of the neighbor's roof was obscuring a clean shot. Now I wish I'd photographed it anyway.

* * *

'Tis The Season

 

View of Mt. Tam from Coyote Creek

As the year winds down toward winter solstice with increasingly long and chilly nights, the mountain is already gearing up for its new-year revival of life. 

What's that strange sound in the woods? It's the sound of flowing creeks. 

Finally.

When I checked the trail cams last week I was determined to move them to a new location, but when I hiked out to the general area I had in mind, I couldn't find a specific spot that wouldn't be too exposed to off-trail hikers. I've been amazed several times in the past when the cams have caught people in unexpected places, and unless there are shoe or bike tracks it's not always easy to tell a game trail from an unofficial people trail. Not that it's a big deal if someone sees one of the cams, but part of the fun for me is finding places where only wild animals pass by.

Since I couldn't find a new spot I ended up taking the cams home. In reviewing some of my old footage I found a location that I'd forgotten about and wanted to stake out again, so yesterday I brought the cams back up.

After setting up the trail cams I poked around with the Panasonic FZ-80 and captured a nice fruiting of witch's butter (Tremella aurantia) that was busily parasitizing its usual host bracket fungus, Stereum hirsutum. As I ate the fruit and nuts I'd brought along for my lunch, I found a spot where I could hear lots of birds gathering their own lunch in the canopy of oaks, bay laurels, and Douglas firs. A beautiful townsend's warbler coaxed me into spending some time trying to photograph them.

One time I looked up and thought I saw a robin's red breast, but it was actually a red-breasted nuthatch which, like the townsend's warbler, probably spends its summers in the Sierra Nevada. I know we have year-round residents here on the coast, but it does seem like they are more abundant this time of year. Another "red-breasted" fake-out turned out to be a chestnut-backed chickadee. The FZ-80 was adequate for the job of capturing images, I guess, but only if you don't care too much about the details. The laws of physics probably prevent there being a small and light, easily portable camera that would deliver images to rival a good full-frame 35mm camera.

Besides frost on the boardwalk along Coyote Creek, the only other notable aspect of the bike ride was finding another road-killed squirrel in virtually the same place as the last one, but on the uphill side of the road. This one wasn't bleeding at all, or carrying a peppernut, but I did move it off the road for the safety of scavengers.

Frosty Boardwalk

A Little More Green

Witch's Butter & Bracket Fungus

Townsend's Warbler

Red-Breasted Nuthatch With Seed

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee

Black Phoebe at Rock Spring

A Gopher Sticks Its Neck Out

Buck on a Game Trail

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