Critters & King Tides

 

King Tide at Stinson Beach (1/20/23)

I stood perplexed, buffeted by a cold wind in the pre-dawn darkness at the Golden Gate Viewpoint along Conzelman Road. Where was the moon? It was supposed to rise at 6:41 a.m., and now it was past 7 a.m. I looked everywhere for that shining crescent but couldn't find it. I changed position several times to check behind the towers of the bridge. I scanned the sky from north to south. Nada. I eventually saw something shiny, way off in the distance, that might have been the moon, or merely the wisp of an airplane's contrail.

I knew I'd blown the moonshot, but since it was now getting close to the 7:22 a.m. sunrise I stuck around with a few other folks who were waiting to photograph it. At one point, four young women poured out of a rental Jeep to ogle the bridge and wait for the magic moment. One of them, who must have been from Maine or Minnesota or something, was in short-sleeves and didn't seem bothered by the cold. I kept expecting her to rush back into the warm Jeep, but she played it cool. I think it was her friends wearing jackets who finally begged to get out of there.

From there I headed up to Mt. Tam. As I exited the freeway I could see that Richardson Bay was getting very close to inundating the Mill Valley-Sausalito Pathway. High tide was going to be 7.1 feet in a couple of hours, and the Mill Valley offramp would soon be closed due to flooding. 

Just as I was about to turn up Pantoll Road from Panoramic Highway I had to drive around some sticks in the road. One of the sticks looked suspicious, so I pulled over and checked it out, finding a very nice, recently shed deer antler. As I continued up Pantoll Road I spotted a buck, antlers intact, near the edge of the road. I parked at the next available pull-out to see if I could photograph him, and when I got out of my car and turned around, I saw a half-dozen bucks grazing and sporting on a steep hillside. I don't think I've seen more than two bucks together before on Mt. Tam. 

A couple other bucks were in the woods below me. When I walked down the road a ways see where the deer cross it, I spotted a few wild turkeys in the woods on the uphill side. It looked like a good place to put a trail camera one of these days.

Despite all the rain, I found very little fungal action in the woods when I went to check on the trail cams that had been out there during all the stormy weather. Likewise, I'd noticed on my city walk that the mushroom locations I'd last seen showed no sign of ever having had fungal activity. Where the Amanita muscaria had been, a daffodil was in bloom. Along Sunset Boulevard the only mushrooms I saw were little crowds of orange-capped Leratiomyces ceres (formerly Stropharia aurantiaca) sprouting in the wood chips. 

With nothing in the woods to keep me up there I drove down to Stinson Beach to photograph the king tide. This morning I submitted my photos to the California King Tides Project. Waves were washing way up the beach, and there was a pretty decent swell with an offshore wind. The only problem was, the offshore wind was blowing so hard that the handful of surfers out there seemed to find it a little too much of a good thing.

Six Bucks on a Hillside

Blacktail Bucks Going Antler-to-Antler

Turkeys in the Dappled Woods

Morning Light on Bolinas Ridge
(with Farallon Islands in center distance)

Stinson Beach and Bolinas Lagoon at King Tide

Rooster Tails at Stinson Beach

Color in the Spindrift

Toppled Trees Across Cataract Trail

Coyote Latrine Stop

Coyote Passing Through

Fox & Deer Composite

Deer Encounter Rushing Stream During Stormy Weather

A Fox Takes the Bridge

Tam Cam

* * *

Breaking the Law

 

Warm Sky, Cold Dawn

One way to look at it is, the universe broke the laws of physics. After the Big Bang, matter and antimatter should have been created in equal measure and cancelled each other out, but instead the symmetry between them was broken. Lucky for us, there was more matter than antimatter. One of the scientific terms for that matter-antimatter asymmetry illustrates the universe's law-breaking ways. That term is "charge-parity violation." 

Although Nobel Prizes have been won by scientists for discovering small-scale charge and parity violations, we still don't understand the large-scale violation that resulted in a universe that matters. Given the vast amount of energy that would be required to find out how it works experimentally, we might never be able to find the answer.

What I wondered, though, as I gazed into the pre-dawn sky while waiting for the crescent moon to rise (it came up too thin and too far south to photograph, alas), is what the universe would be like if there had been no violation. Suppose matter and antimatter did cancel each other out. Obviously, we would not be here to wonder about it, but if matter comprises only five percent of the universe, would the other ninety-five percent--the "dark matter"--still exist?

Would only a non-scientist such as myself ask such an impertinent question? I tried to google the answer with no luck. At least, not exactly. The most promising answer, to my mind, is that dark matter doesn't exist. Instead, we just need a new theory of gravity such as Milgromian dynamics (or Mond) which actually predicts the galactic shenanigans that dark matter was conjured up to try to explain.

I guess you can't really break the laws of physics. Matter-antimatter asymmetry happened, whether or not we ever figure out how. And Newton's law of gravitation, being a law written by a human, might need some tweaks to better explain our observations of galactic behavior.

I am in awe every day when I think about how deeply we have investigated the laws of nature, and the knowledge we have gained, even in my own lifetime. From the vastness of the cosmos to the intricacies of the subatomic realm, the more we learn, the more profound we find the mystery that remains. And that's even before we start talking about the greatest mystery of all, the mystery of life.

Peekaboo

* * *

Radar Games

 

Downtown Downpour

It had hardly rained at all since early this morning, but as soon as I decided to go out for a walk, the sky darkened around me. I had consulted a weather radar app on my phone, and it looked like the mass of rain would drift to the south, so I continued on my way to Grandview Park. A brief shower chased me under an eave over someone's driveway where I tried to ignore the security cameras pointed at me. As the rain let up I continued to the park and climbed the stairs against the flow of people heading back down to escape the coming rain.

From the top of the park it was plain to see that the rain was not going to pass to the south and miss me. When it reached me I took refuge under a tree and checked the radar to see if the rain would soon pass. No such luck. The yellow stuff on the radar looked pretty far off, though, so I stuck around to enjoy the view and the simple pleasure of being outdoors in some interesting weather. It was a little chilly to be standing around very long in shorts, though, so I reluctantly headed home.

This morning I was looking back at some blog posts from January 2014, which was a very dry month. I had set up my trail camera next to Redwood Creek, in a spot that I'm sure is completely underwater right now. But back then I had found a very picked-over deer carcass and set up the trail cam to see if anything was still coming by. I only wish I'd had video and audio on that camera, which was my first trail cam.

Storm Over Frisco

Nope, I'm not going to wait it out.

* * *

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

* * *

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

* * *

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

* * *

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

* * *

Winter Solstice

 

* * *