The Clear Light

 

Mt. Tamalpais Reflection at High Tide, Richardson Bay

I kind of felt like hanging out around home yesterday, but it was too nice a day to skip my Thursday ride up to Mt. Tam. 

I was surprised how high the tide was (six feet) when I reached the bay along the north end of Sausalito. The water was almost up to the bike path. A couple of killdeer were foraging between the path and the bay, relatively new arrivals. The greater yellowlegs and black-necked stilts were still around too. Three guys were casting their fishing poles onto the mirrored surface of the water. On the way home I stopped when I saw the water become disturbed near the shore, wondering if a tiburon had chased its prey into the shallows, but eventually a sea lion popped its head up.

I used to bring snacks from home on these rides. I'd usually eat them beneath the big oaks at Rock Spring or out along West Ridgecrest to take in the expansive view. But last week I didn't have anything to bring, so I stopped at The Good Earth for a cheese croissant, which turned out to be such a delicious and filling treat that I did it again this week.

It was windy and a little chilly up on the mountain, so I took a short hike, ate my croissant, placed the trail cams in a new location, then turned around to head home. It was warm again by the time I got back down to Tam Junction.

Reflections Near Coyote Creek

Clear view to the Farallons, with turkey vultures soaring in the wind.

Things don't usually change much in a week, but this time a large area around Rock Spring had been burned. It's been a while since I last saw signs of prescribed burns out there, and I've never seen such a large swath of grassland get treated.

I'm looking forward to seeing what this fungal mass matures into.

A red admiral soaks up the sun while perched on the lichen-crusted bark of a Douglas fir.

A killdeer forages along Richardson Bay.

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Devil's Coach-Horse Beetle

 

Devil's Coach-Horse Beetle
(Ocypus olens)

I've been noticing a new neighbor the last few weeks and just learned the sinister-sounding name given to these little black critters (thanks, Bug Guide!). I've seen several of them scuttling across the sidewalk along 36th Avenue and Sunset Boulevard, but nowhere else. The first couple of times I tried to get a phone snap of one of these handsome devils, the beetles made it to cover before I could get the phone out of my knapsack, turn it on, and start the photo app.

Descriptions of this beetle seem to be written mainly by folks on the other side of the Atlantic, where the beetle is common. I was interested in this distribution map showing it throughout Europe and North Africa. Their Wikipedia entry says they've been introduced from British Columbia to California. I suspect they are recent arrivals along Sunset Boulevard in San Francisco because they are so noticeable that I couldn't have missed them if they'd been around last year.

The phone snaps I shot for Bug Guide weren't very detailed, so I took the FZ80 out on yesterday's bike ride, figuring I'd make a little detour to Sunset Boulevard. On the way down through Golden Gate Park, just past Spreckels Lake, an odd sight caught my eye. A woman was walking along the paved path toward the bathrooms when a dog with a chew-toy ambled past her in the opposite direction. It took a second to realize the dog was a coyote, and when it stopped to stare at me its chew-toy turned out to be a fox squirrel hanging limp in its mouth.

I scrambled for my camera and snapped a couple of grab shots while the coyote continued on its way toward the Park Stables. I followed it up the hill but didn't want to leave my bike unattended for long and quickly gave up the search. My consolation prize was a monarch butterfly that flitted past my head and took a brief rest break on a survey flag.

[UPDATE] Whatever was getting them out and about seems to have passed. I didn't see a single one on my walk yesterday (10/31). Such a great Halloween insect, too. The other update is that I finally checked iNaturalist and was surprised to see that they've been reported as far south as Escondido and El Cajon, and as far east as Riverside and Redlands. Within San Francisco they've been reported where I found them, but even more so in Golden Gate Park and the Presidio, and they have been found throughout the year, not just in fall.

The beetle has some kind of prey here, maybe a grub worm.

Here it is in its threat pose. It's said to emit a bad smell to ward off predators, and I did smell something unusual. However, given my urban location's popularity with dog-walkers, I couldn't be sure if it was coming from the beetle.

Passing coyote with fox squirrel.

The coyote lost me at the Park Stables. A horse just on the other side of that fence didn't even look up from its feed bag when the coyote passed.

Monarch season begins in October in San Francisco.

Just thought I'd toss this one in, a new sign/sculpture along JFK Drive in Golden Gate Park.

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Sierra Fall Color

The Rock That Needs No Introduction

A quick trip, but so many sublime moments, starting with my arrival at Yosemite's Olmsted Point just in time to catch the sunrise. A world of glaciated granite and vanilla-scented pines; the top of Half Dome catching the first rays of the day; the dry air a bracing 29 degrees and free of smoke. I'd be taken by surprise when I returned home the next day via Sonora Pass and encountered a great deal of smoke, possibly from the lightning-caused Quarry Fire that's been burning in the Stanislaus National Forest for more than a month.

I'd left home at 3 a.m. with no plan for where to be at sunrise. My only thought was to see the sights along Tioga Pass -- to make sure I didn't leave so early that I'd cross in the dark -- then hope for good pika weather on the far side of the pass, among the talus surrounding the Nunatak Nature Trail. 

I staked out a position at the base of the scree slope where the jumble of rocks was mostly a dark-hued rusty color (the white rocks were too bright). Nothing to do but wait for a pika to show up and move within range of my lens. In the meantime I just enjoyed the beautiful but silent morning. After standing still for a few minutes I noticed that the silence began to lift: the chickaree was scolding something in the distance once again; the robins and Clark's nutcrackers were singing and getting back to work; nature's baseline was restored. Just a little longer and I was soon observing a lone pika as it plucked its fresh breakfast greens while also observing me.

Next stop was Lee Vining Canyon, where I hoped to find the location of a shot I took in October 2011. The aspens along the creek were lovely, but despite all my poking around I was unable to find the spot until I was about to leave. "Well, I'll just bushwhack a little down this embankment and see what's down there." Voila. I realized it was the place (lots of horsetail and aspens) and went back to the car to get my camera. The aspens had lost most of their leaves, so it's no wonder I failed to spot the location right off. I fired off a few frames anyway since I'd spent so much time looking for it. 

Lundy Canyon was my next stop, and I experienced one of my favorite fall-color moments of the trip while looking for a shady campsite to park and eat some lunch. I stopped at a beautiful stand of aspen, and while I was looking through my viewfinder a gust of wind sent dozens of aspen leaves fluttering through the air like golden snowflakes.

My next stop was going to be Sagehen Summit, which I've never been to before. On the way out SR120 south of Mono Lake, and well past Mono Mills, the highway takes a left and begins a long straight section. Even from far off, it looked like maybe a cop car was coming in the opposite direction. I looked at my speedometer and saw I had lead-footed myself up to 71 mph, and I hoped that was okay. As the patrol officer drove past me he made a vehement "slow down!" motion with his left hand, and my heart sank as I watched the rearview mirror, certain that he was going to turn around and cite me. I also checked my navigation screen and saw that I was in a 60 mph zone. Dang. I kept driving and soon went around a bend while I kept looking for the approaching lightbar of doom, but I soon turned onto the dirt road to Sagehen Summit feeling like I'd dodged a bullet.

I never got all the way to the aspen area. What I could see from a distance didn't look that promising, and the unpaved road wasn't that great in the Mazda. Just past a ranch where I was going to turn around, a coyote with a beautiful full coat trotted toward me, coming right down the middle of the road. It dodged into the weeds as I passed, then returned to the road, only to have to hit the weeds once again when I turned around to head back out.

On the way back toward Mono Lake I stopped near the base of the Mono Craters and parked in the shade of a big pine to have a little bite to eat from my cooler, along with an ice-cold drink of water. As the sun dropped ever closer to the Sierra crest I drove down to Navy Beach to photograph the formations of sand tufa. I'd recently read about horses hanging around Mono Lake, but most of the landscape was so denuded by fire that it seemed impossible that horses could survive. 

As I hiked out toward the tufa towers I was surprised I couldn't find them. It's been a while since I was out there, and I wondered if the horses had demolished the elegant structures. Piles of old horse pucky were all over. Thankfully, I finally reached the main event, where I noticed two trail cameras that had been set up, presumably to monitor horses, not human visitors.

After photographing the tufas in the last direct light of the sinking sun's rays, I took a seat to wait for sunset. Alone with the strange sand-tufa formations, I listened to the water lapping against the lakeshore and the occasional bird call from out on the lake. A couple of coyotes sang out a few melodious notes to each other. A wasp investigated a small tufa tower, possibly hunting insects or sizing up a future nest site. A promising deck of cloud cover had moved in during the afternoon, but you never know if you're going to get any color.

While I was waiting I ruminated on a couple of books I've been reading, one an argument that cells are the real heroes of life, not DNA (which the author likens to the tools used by a builder, namely the cell), the other an argument that calculus is "the language of God." Centered in that wide-open landscape I felt the awesome beauty of life's journey from an exploding singularity to all the chemical elements that shaped this planet and gave birth to life itself. Somewhere deeper than the cell, and deeper than calculus, lies the tantalizing mystery of how it has all come together to shape the present moment.

My reverie broke when the sunset colors began, and I tried to make a few photographs in the quickly changing light. First there were strokes of red over the Sierra crest, then way out past Black Point, and then -- what the heck? -- over here above Mono Craters.

Back at the car I ate some more pasta salad while taking in the view of the darkening lake, then drove up to park for the night along Virginia Lakes Road so I'd be in position to photograph the aspens in Dunderberg Meadow first thing in the morning. I was all done by around 9:30 a.m. the following day and drove up to Sonora Pass, wondering if there would be any more color up that way, and thinking I would just head home if it had already passed. Except for a little bit of color in the creek canyons, most of the aspens appeared to have lost their leaves some time ago. Above the pass, the mountains and meadows looked as closed for the season as several of the shops in Bridgeport.

Dawn at Olmsted Point

Creekside, Tioga Road

Frosty Meadow

Golden Willows

Lakeside Grasses

Morning Light Along Tioga Road

A group of deer crossed the road in front of me as I approached the park exit, so I pulled into a small, handy parking lot, grabbed my camera, and waited for the deer to come into view. I only got two frames before they lost themselves in the shadows.

Nanook of the Nunatak

What's Up, Doc?
(The pika would eat whole stalks without using its hands.)

Pika on the Move

American Pika
(Ochotona princeps)

This is a general view of the pika habitat along the Nunatak Nature Trail. Note the pika's "haystacks" pouring out from below the central rock.

Rabbitbrush & Aspens, Lee Vining Canyon

Roadside Forest

Falls on Lee Vining Creek

Forest Bathing, With Notes of Vanilla

Horsetail and Aspen Grove

Lundy Lake Cottonwood

Aspen leaves cover the road like fallen snow.

Golden Forest

Mono Craters view from near the County Park. The yellow line of riparian aspens drifts down Lee Vining Creek to Mono Lake.

Much of the landscape surrounding Mono Lake's South Tufa area was laid bare by the Beach Fire three years ago.

Sundog Over the Sierra

Sand Tufa at Navy Beach

Last Light on Mono Lake's Sand Tufa Formations

Sunset in the Tufa Garden

Sand Tufa Topped With Limestone Icing

Night Sky Along Virginia Lakes Road

The elemental iron at the center of each of the 35 trillion red blood cells now coursing through your veins and pumping through your heart was born billions of years ago when it was created by an exploding star and sprayed into the vastness of outer space.

Dawn View from Mono Lake Overlook

Sunrise from Mono Lake Overlook

I drove over Conway Summit after taking in the sunrise to photograph the aspens in Dunderberg Meadow, probably my favorite fall color stop.

Fall Aspens in Dunderberg Meadow

Aspen Layers

After my stop along I-395 I drove up Virginia Lakes Road to view the aspens with the sun shining through them from behind.

All Is Yellow

Backlit Aspens and Pines

Morning at Dunderberg Meadow

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