Smoked

Smoky View From Mt. Tam

I could tell that wildfire smoke had drifted in overnight by the blood-orange color of the rising sun, and I debated with myself for about two seconds as to whether I should ride up to Mt. Tam despite the poor air quality. On the way out of the city I couldn't tell what was smoke and what was fog. 

I stopped at the Good Earth grocery store in Tam Junction to pick up a bite to eat and noticed the temperature was a pleasant 70 degrees. Heading up the mountain, the smell of smoke finally broke through after I gained enough altitude to really be in the thick of it. By the time I reached Rock Spring and unwrapped my breakfast burrito at a picnic table there, the temperature was 89 degrees. It would be 91.2 by the time I left an hour or so later.

The first thing I noticed when I hiked out to the trail camera was a large blue dragonfly zipping back and forth directly in front of the camera. Sure enough, the camera had recorded two or three gazillion captures of blue streaks. I considered moving the camera to a new pool, but when I checked the card I saw that a bobcat had come by to drink that very morning, so I left the camera in place. While I was fiddling with the set-up I heard a red-breasted nuthatch whistling right behind me. The cute little fella gingerly made its way down for a drink just a few feet away, showing off its bravado to other nearby nuthatches that cheered from the branches far above.

Smoky San Francisco Skyline

Lines of Hills and Smoke

Red-breasted Nuthatch

Flicker Feather & Bay Leaves

Time, Temperature & Turkey Feather

Early Morning Bobcat

Coming In For A Drink

Tam Cam Clips in Chron Order
(Late Aug. to Early Sep.)

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Sweet Fog

 

Sun & Fog at Point Reyes

Back in high school I'd go over to a friend's house and we'd listen to his George Carlin records, and one of Carlin's bits was about phrases that no one has ever said before, like, "Hand me that piano." I think of Carlin's joke from time to time, like when I'm thinking about how much I'm looking forward to having the fog blow in. 

In my neighborhood, a sunny day is an almost magical thing. Who could want that nasty bone-chilling fog to blow in?! But there does come a point where enough is enough, and for me, so accustomed to San Francisco's narrow temperature range, that point comes well before the mercury reaches triple digits.

After my morning walk and bike ride yesterday I still felt frisky enough, despite sweating profusely, to plan a bike ride up to Mt. Tam today. It seemed like it might be interesting to test myself in the heat for five hours of biking and hiking. But later in the day I read a couple of news stories about people dying in the heat and figured I should show the heat more respect and wait until the fog returns, hopefully tomorrow. 

Half a lifetime ago I would do a twenty-mile bike ride after work on the flat, country roads around Davis, and when the temperature shot up to 115 degrees one day I decided to ride anyway, just for the adventure of it. I soaked a t-shirt in water and wrapped it around my head and took off with two full water bottles. The ride usually took about an hour, but even in that short time I got so hot that I stopped to re-soak my headband t-shirt in farm ditch-water, twice. And when I got back to Davis I went to the pool to cool off and recover.

I've had other experiences of learning respect for excessive heat, so even though I still feel that adventurous spirit, I'm worried about my mind writing checks my body can't cash. I'll tell myself that discretion is the better part of valor, even if it feels like I chickened out. 

When I began my walk today at around 8 a.m. I had second thoughts. It wasn't all that hot after all. But by the time I was climbing back up the hill about ninety minutes later I felt like I'd made the right decision. Maybe tomorrow San Francisco will experience the sweet spot of fog and sun like I found one September morning out at Pt. Reyes.

Pierce Ranch

Facing the Sun with Back to the Fog

Fog Jewelry

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Like Flies On Stink

 

Fly Feasting on Fungal Fruiting

Looks like I picked the wrong week to give up Klondike Bars. As Duran Duran sang last night at Chase Center, "Darken the city, night is a wire; Steam in the subway, earth is afire." Yes, indeed, the heat wave is on. Although, thankfully there was no steam in the subway, since we took the N-Judah home at about midnight. Which is why I almost didn't feel like riding down to Sunset Boulevard this morning to look for flies on the Latticed Stinkhorn. But I'm glad I did. I could smell the fruiting from ten feet away, and the scent was not coming from juices like wine. If I tell you that the flies, three species by my guess, were hungry like the wolf for that stinkhorn juice, I promise to make no further Duran Duran references.

Just to throw in a little hodgepodge, my wife and I took an educational plant walk on Mt. Davidson on Saturday with biodiversity champions Jake Sigg and Ruth Gravanis. I hadn't been to Mt. D in a very long time despite the fact that it takes less than ten minutes to drive over there. I learned of the hike through Jake's newsletter, a short and interesting read that he cranks out two or three times a week, for free, via email. Jake is my neighbor on the east side, and I often enjoy watching birds working through a large coast live oak in his back yard, which he planted as an acorn in the late 1960s.

As for my neighbor on the north side, ordinarily you wouldn't think there was any space at all between our two duplexes, but there are certain times of the year when the sun shines through the space between the buildings. It creates a really cool side-light on the side of the building, and my wife discovered yesterday an even cooler effect by putting your hand on the wall.

Finally, as I stepped out onto the stairway landing to our back yard this morning, I heard a chewing sound that I feared meant that the gophers had returned. I stealthily descended the stairs and picked up my gopher-poking stick at the bottom, only to see that the culprit was a squirrel. Now I knew who has recently been chewing on an antler in our garden, enjoying its fine mineral nutrition.

Another of the three species of flies partaking of nature's bounty.

The Fruiting This Morning, Sept. 5, 2022
(More fruiting has begun in the wood chips beneath the nearby strawberry madrone.)

Urban Biodiversity Hike on Mt. Davidson,
With San Francisco Skyline & Mt. Diablo in Background

Touching the Light

Antler-Munching Squirrel

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