Nada Branchs

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I was nestled like a sea anemone among soft fronds of kelp and seaweed, sitting in my car in the parking lot at Fitzgerald Marine Reserve. It was still dark out, and I was waiting for the pre-dawn sunrise to cast a purple earth shadow on the western horizon. When the beautiful morning unfolded, I planned to be set up behind a tidepool to capture the sky's reflection in colorful splendor.

Unfortunately, the fog, which has been absent the last several mornings, had other plans. Eventually, despite the dismal light, it became bright enough to head out onto the reef in advance of the 7 a.m. minus tide. And it also became bright enough to read the sign saying the Reserve does not open until 8 a.m. I guess I forgot to check when I was at home making plans, but I was amazed to discover when I got back home and checked my photo files, that my last visit to Fitzgerald was ten years ago! It seemed funny that the Marine Reserve, famous for its tidepools, wouldn't open until an hour past low tide.

I walked back to the car and drove a little farther south, down to Pillar Point. I scoured that  magnificent reef hither and yon for interesting critters, but I could hardly believe the complete absence of nudibranchs (which I ear-worm as "noodle branchs"). Zip, zilch, nada, as they say. I wondered if I was looking on the wrong part of the reef, or if my eyesight wasn't acute enough, or if I'd simply lost my branch-o-vision. If King Neptune would just let me see one, I knew my brain could refresh its search image and suddenly reveal the tidepools to be teeming with 'branchs.

By and by, I had covered the reef pretty well and finally gave up and returned to the car, then drove back to Fitzgerald just for the heck of it since it was a little past 8 o'clock by then. This time I got past the gate, only to find out the whole entrance was closed to protect the harbor seals (none of which I could see) from being disturbed by tidepoolers. Signs said the reef could still be accessed at the Seal Cove entrance, so I trundled off in that direction and found a park ranger and a few other folks among the remaining tidepools. Just a bunch of nada-branchs again, but the find of the day was a flowery orange tubeworm with its tentacles extended.

Sea Sacs (a.k.a. dead-man's fingers) carpet the reef at Pillar Point.

Tetraclita rubescens, the red-thatched or pink volcano barnacle.

Sunburst Sea Anemone (Anthopleura sola) in Bed of Coralline Algae

Gull Feather & Seaweed

Mossy Chiton

Serpula columbiana, the red-trumpet tube worm (guessing).

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50mm or Bust

I thought I'd try something a little different on our usual hike on Saturday. Instead of snapping a few phone pix, I'd lug my trusty old Nikon D800E with a 50mm lens. 

Shortly after spooking up a jackrabbit near the beginning of our hike down the Old Mine Trail, we spotted a couple of deer lying in the grass. We kept waiting for them to get up and bound away, but they watched us pass with little sign of alarm.

Having the Nikon didn't really slow me down much, which is a shame in a way. Being out and about to do photography is one thing, and going for a hike is another. I don't see making a habit out of bringing the Nikon, but there might be a point-and-shoot in my future, a compromise between the DSLR and my phone camera.

One of these days I'm going to take a closer look at the possibilities for photographing this oak tree to better show off its beautiful shape. It's rare on Mt. Tam to see a single oak with so much space to itself.

The grassy hillsides are drying out, but the forest along the Matt Davis Trail is still getting a fair amount of moisture from fog drip. Whenever I pass this vine of poison oak on the Douglas fir next to my wife, I'm reminded of Tom Killion's woodblock print called Above Stinson Beach.

I don't know if it was because we were hiking so early in the morning, or if it's just that people are going elsewhere for the holiday, but we encountered very few other hikers and only a couple of trail-runners. 

After the Matt Davis Trail heads down to Stinson beach, the Coast Trail angles gently up along Bolinas Ridge where it plays cat-and-mouse with the rising and sinking fog. There was enough moisture in the forest to support a couple of helleborine orchids sprouting along the trail.

I wished I had a wide angle lens for the fog-bows. My wife's iPhone camera did a great job with them. Despite the very steep hillside, the sun was a little too high in the sky to make Brocken specters.

Saturday's hike was a first for me -- the first time I ever hiked as a retired person! Woohoo!

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Cat Nap

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When I stepped out back I saw that the cat was sleeping. She looked too cute to pass up, so I went back upstairs to get my camera. Of course, when I returned she was awake and looked up at me the moment I set foot on the stairs. 

I was determined to catch her napping, though, so I went for a 10-minute neighborhood walk and tried again. This time she was awake and watching a junco who was taking a bath in the water bowl (a drinking source for this and one other cat, and the occasional raccoon) maybe six feet away. She showed zero interest in stalking the bird.

I soon gave up trying to catch the cat napping and went down to hang out with her for a minute. The juncos were chirping an alarm the whole time, as they have recently been doing all day, including while bathing. There are two birds, and I'm as sure as I can be, without actually having found the nest, that they are nesting somewhere nearby. They took turns scolding the cat from a few feet away in a hazelnut bush that I planted years ago, when it was little more than a seedling I bought at Bay Natives Nursery.

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