Vista Point

California Quail, Tennessee Valley

I need to adopt the stoicism of a California quail. The wind ruffles his feathers? So what. It's just the laws of physics, so how could it lower your spirits. On my morning walk I noticed the wind was coming up already, which means I'm going to have to plow into it on my mid-day bike ride. It's not even a big deal, though, and in fact it's just a slight diminution of the pure excellence of riding with little or no wind. Since the psychological laws of nature are every bit as real as the physical laws, there's some truth to the saying that it's all in how you look at it.

Quail Calling

I was listening to a report on the marvel of the Mt. Diablo viewshed this morning on KQED radio when the reporter expressed her joy that, looking through binoculars, she could see the Golden Gate Bridge, sixty miles away. As it happens, I had recently measured the distance between Mt. Tam and Mt. Diablo, so I had a pretty good idea how the reporter mistakenly doubled the actual distance.

Anyone who uses Google Maps knows you can plot a route from, say, Mt. Diablo to the Golden Gate Bridge, and get not just the directions but also the distance to be traveled. But that's road distance. Obviously, when you look through binoculars, your vision does not follow that same route! (I was thanked by KQED for pointing out the error in time for them to fix it before the next airing.)

Of course you can also use Google Maps to plot a straight-line distance. Simply right-click on your departure point, then choose "Measure distance" from the pop-up menu. Then right-click on your destination point and choose "Distance to here" on the pop-up menu. Now you can read the distance on the ruler.

* * *

Head in the Clouds

I was enjoying the cloudscape out the back window yesterday afternoon and decided to run a timelapse to get a better feel for the movement of the passing clouds. The video runs for 54 seconds and is kind of a nice meditation on the passing of time (in this case, an hour-and-a-half).

View at YouTube

* * *

Bikeabout

Waking up yesterday to a foggy morning with a bit of wind coming up, I decided the conditions weren't perfect enough to risk trying to e-bike up to Mt. Tam and back. I still wanted to go for a ride, though, so I figured I'd ride a route through the Haight down to Union Square, then to Chinatown and North Beach, then SoMa and the Mission, and end up atop Twin Peaks before circling home. I was en route to the Haight when I saw this excellent heavy-duty offroad mobile home. (Click on any image to see it full-size.)

It wasn't quite 11 a.m. yet, but even though the Haight does like to sleep late, it was still surprisingly dead, with almost everything closed and/or boarded up. The old Haight Ashbury Music Center had already closed before the pandemic struck. I'd bought a tobacco sunburst Gibson ES-347 there in the mid-1980s, but sold it for gas money to get back to California after being stuck in Florida for a while. That beautiful instrument was way above my pay grade as a guitarist anyway, but it sure was sweet while it lasted.

Union Square sort of died to me when the Borders Books closed in 2011, even though it remained a good place to hang out and people-watch. Back in the day when there were people to watch, that is.

I pedaled through the Stockton Tunnel, which thankfully had a bike lane, and was surprised by all the shoppers in Chinatown, the busiest part of San Francisco I'd see all day.

North Beach was pretty sad, with its combination of interesting streets devoid of people, and all the boarded-up storefronts that were there even before the pandemic struck. SFMOMA was eerily quiet, with no lines, no queues of people chattering on the sidewalk. 

Before the pandemic, my wife would walk over to Rainbow after work on Friday, do her shopping, then take a Lyft home, but the main attraction was the great selection of foods in bulk bins, so when the bulk bins were closed, that was it. Although we've been doing our shopping much closer to home ever since, it was still a busy place, with a line of cars waiting to park and two social-distanced lines of shoppers waiting to get in.

Heading through the Mission up toward Market Street, I wasn't quite hungry enough to stop at Pancho Villa Taqueria (and I didn't have a bike lock either), but I had to stop for this mural I'm going to call "The Goddess of 16th Street."

I could have stayed on Market until it turned into Portola, but I decided to take a commodius vicus of recirculation up among the Upper Market castles and environs along Corbett Street. 

You gotta love being on an e-bike at climbs like this.

The last skate ramp you'll ever need?

"Selfie with Concrete Jungle"

This was not really a nature outing, certainly nothing like going up to Mt. Tam, but it sure was great, after a week of working from home, to get out of the house on a warm and sunny day, and for more than just a few minutes enjoy moving freely about the city.

City view on Saturday, May 16, 2020.

I could just pick out our Golden Gate Heights apartment from Twin Peaks, but when my wife texted me that she was waving, I couldn't tell she was joking.... If she'd gotten the binoculars we keep by the window she could have seen me waving back, but she was busy doing life drawing with an online group of artists--an innovation that could still be a good thing even when the pandemic is over.

* * *

Black Point Trail

Golden Fairy Lantern in Flower

Golden Fairy Lantern in Fruit

Yerba Santa on Black Point Trail, Mt. Diablo (May 2010)

Horned Lizard

Wind Poppies

Chaparral Broomrape

Baby Rattlesnake

Mosaic Darner

Whiptail Lizard

Gray Pine Nuts & Leaf Bundle

Separated by just 37 miles, the landscape of Mt. Diablo is as different from the landscape of Mt. Tamalpais as our inland climate is from our coastal climate. The difference in these landscapes puts me in mind of the differences among various internal landscapes, the inner worlds inhabited by individual people. 

The inner landscapes we inhabit may have objective properties, but the way we see them, the way we react to them, and the stories we tell ourselves about them, are quite varied. Some people are content to remain within a very limited sphere of their inner landscape, and even believe that limited sphere is all there is. It would be comical if it wasn't so sad.

* * *

Town Critters

It's drizzling as I write this, but the clouds were only just cruising in when I did my walk through Grandview Park earlier this morning. And a lovely morning it was, with the bonus of experiencing my second neighborhood coyote encounter since the shelter-in-place began. And the first was just a couple of days ago, so this week is looking pretty good so far.

The neighborhood cat on Monday, standing on a mossy concrete block strewn with wild cucumber, miner's lettuce, sorrel, and lilly-pilly berries.

In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, a raccoon ambled through my garden, knocking down a few miner's lettuce plants as it foraged for insects and whatnot.

Ten minutes after the raccoon visited, the neighborhood cat came through to reassert her domain.

On my Monday walk I had been slightly amazed to have crossed paths with no other walkers. That was a first for the duration of the lockdown. Also a first was seeing this coyote which had probably just ambled down from Golden Gate Heights Park. He took a detour up these stairs when he saw me, and I snapped a picture with my phone.

This morning I saw another coyote at the base of Golden Gate Heights Park, but she skedaddled back the way she came when I approached to take a picture. I wish I had more time to watch and follow them around. If it's a pair, I'd like to see if they're denned-up in the area. 

* * *