Matt Davis-Dipsea-Steep Ravine Loop

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I've been wanting to get around to this ever since a friend at work told me this is her favorite hike. I'd never hiked it before today, and in fact had never hiked down from Bolinas Ridge to Stinson Beach. It seemed insane, really -- too far and too steep. But I left the Jeep near Pantoll Campground at 7:30 in the morning and was back by 11:50 even though I stopped for a few photo ops. It didn't take much longer than a hike to High Marsh. 

If I was going to do this hike, I figured I'd better get to it while there was still some water running in the canyons. I found this little cascade not too far down the trail. While I worked I was passed by the first of several groups of trail runners I'd encounter.

After about a mile of fairly dark forest, the trail emerges into the open along Bolinas Ridge. I doubt it will get more beautiful than this until maybe next year. Everything is green and fresh, the grass is still short enough that the California poppies and other wildflowers aren't overpowered, and the ugly, spiky bull thistle that will soon cover much of the hillsides is only just getting started. It had been a chilly 44 degrees in the forest when I started, but it warmed up to 50 as soon as I reached the sunshine.

I recently tried jogging again but quit before a year was out. My route took me along the Embarcadero in San Francisco, out past Pac Bell Park to Mission Bay and back. It wasn't a bad route, but it was all on concrete and surrounded by motor vehicle traffic. I'll bet I could have lasted longer if my route had been more like this.

Eventually, the Matt Davis Trail makes good on its promise to get you on your way down to Stinson Beach. It leaves the open ridge and switchbacks like crazy down the hill, passing through some interesting parts of the mountain. I enjoyed the park-like feel of this area where the Douglas firs were spread out, with some gnarled old grandfather firs mixed in.

Forget-Me-Not.

In another spot along the steep trail down, the vista opened up across a stream canyon. I just love the way the woods look here. If I ever get a lightweight large-format camera, I'll make a point of returning to this spot to photograph these woods in a way to capture the incredible detail.

There were several nice patches of Slim Solomon along the trail.

I finally reached Table Rock, which was being guarded by a superb California buckeye that was freshly leafed out. I know some hikers pass right by this spot, unaware of the nearby vista point.

Once you duck through the vegetation and come out the other side, you're taking in the views from Table Rock. This is the top of the huge rock formation that's cut by the stream canyon. Off to the right is a vertiginous drop-off to the stream far below.

I found this nice little waterfall just below the vista point. I hadn't run into anyone on the way down the trail until I reached Table Rock. I think a lot of people hike up from Stinson Beach, but a couple of ladies who'd done so were unaware of Table Rock's existence. I hiked the rest of the way down to the small town of Stinson Beach and easily found my way onto the Dipsea Trail after a very short walk along the Shoreline Highway. The trail crossed the bottom of Panoramic Highway and rose through an open area of coyote brush chaparral with nice views back along the coast and up the steep flanks of Mt. Tam.

As I hiked up the Dipsea Trail I thought about the incredible runners who race from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach every year. I knew a guy at work who runs it, and when he gets to Stinson Beach, he often turns around and runs back to Mill Valley -- a Double Dipsea. 

In any event, that little stretch of the Dipsea Trail was okay, but it wasn't until I reached Steep Ravine that I fully understood why this loop was someone's favorite route. You enter the redwood forest with the sweet little creek and all the fresh wildflowers, from fairy bells to Clintonia to redwood violets, plus five-finger ferns, coast elderberry, you name it. It's like Shangri-La.

The name "Steep Ravine" is not a misnomer, but I don't believe it's as steep as the steepest parts of the Matt Davis Trail. My knees were glad to finally be heading uphill after that long descent.

Yesterday's rain probably didn't add much to the flow of Mt. Tam's creeks, but there's still enough water to make for some pretty falls.

There'd been a sign at the bottom of the trail warning of this ladder eight-tenths of a mile farther up. This family was just coming down from Pantoll. The little girl was completely fearless, but she wasn't rushing anything either, as you can tell by this eight-second exposure.

P.S. A nice alternative would be to hike the Matt Davis to Stinson Beach, do some exploring in town and at the beach, have a picnic or get some late lunch at a local eatery, then take the $2 shuttle back up to Pantoll.

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Scaredee-Cat

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On the way to checking my camera trap today I noticed a new bobcat scat on the trail. When I checked the camera I got the good news that I'd caught a bobcat on the first day of the set.

The bad news, unfortunately, was that the cat was my only catch all week (aside from a few wind-blown tanoak branches).

I suspect the camera trap frightened the bobcat. The three images you see here are the three-in-a-row that the camera fires off whenever it's triggered.

I'm sympathetic with the frightened cat. Here it comes around the bend, minding its own business and probably having passed this way numerous times in its life, when it encounters something uncanny and probably unique in its experience -- a small box-shaped creature with flashing red eyes. I only hope I haven't tainted the cat's route forever.

But how about an alternative explanation for the quick turnaround. Maybe the cat spotted a squirrel up in a tree and was simply slinking back the way it came to better stalk its quarry.

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Touring Bon Tempe

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Pam hadn't been able to join me for a hike in quite a while, so I figured a relatively mellow trip around Bon Tempe Lake would be a nice way to ease back into things. We were struck by the beauty of this little meadow full of ground iris (Iris macrosiphon) before we'd gone a quarter of a mile along the Sunnyside Trail.

I knew I wouldn't have to rush my photography in this spot when Pam took out her sketch pad.

This old grandfather oak (black oak?) was absolutely coated with lichens, bursting with new leaves, and singing with bird life.

I had time for one last shot before sketching was done and it was time to get back on the trail. I'd brought my whole camera bag, but this meadow, our first stop, turned out to be our only photo stop. Hiking and photography don't really mix, and even though I knew that, it seems like I need a reminder from time to time. The find of the day was a single small patch of striped coral root, one of our native orchids. I didn't photograph it, but I kind of wish I had. That's how it goes sometimes. It was a nice hike, but I don't think I got my ya-ya's out, photography-wise. Might have to return tomorrow.

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Return to High Marsh

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Sitting in the Jeep across the street from the Pantoll Gate in the dark at 6:30 a.m., I wondered if I'd get a lucky break and see the ranger pull up to unlock the gate before the official opening time of 7 a.m. I knew from experience that I could drive to the East Peak parking area and climb the hill in time for a 7:21 a.m. sunrise -- if the ranger opened the gate early. But 7 a.m. came and went. Every time a new set of headlights approached, I mentally crossed my fingers. Pick-up truck ... nope. SUV ... nope. BMW ... no way -- but wait! The ranger drives a Beemer! Is that an only-in-California thing, or what?

The sun had just crested the horizon when I got up there, but that was fine since this time I pretty much knew the lay of the land and had an idea where I wanted to shoot from. After it was over and I was hiking back down the trail I couldn't resist taking a snap of the north side of the mountain including Lake Lagunitas and the larger Bon Tempe Lake and all the green hills and forest. I wish I could show the photo as big as a living room wall to give you a better feel for it.

After photographing the exploding ball of hydrogen and helium some 93 million miles beyond the Earth's horizon, I drove back to Rock Spring to begin my hike down to High Marsh. When I visited last November I should have been able to find it full of water, but it was bone dry. 

So I set out this morning around 8 o'clock and made a point of taking time to smell the roses as it were, starting with this mushroom sprouting from a fallen tanoak. I thought this would be an easy mushroom to look up when I got home, but I was mistaken, as I so often am when I think a mushroom will be easy to identify. 

Chaparral Indian Paintbrush along the Simmons Trail.

Mt. Tamalpais Manzanita, a little farther along.

And just above Barth's Retreat I finally stopped to photograph a pair of Calypso Orchids. I'd seen many of them already, but most were growing in relatively un-photogenic spots.

I'd had to avoid stepping on a few California Newts here and there, and at Potrero Meadow I found this guy trying to keep his head down.

Okay, so I finally made it to High Marsh.

What a difference a bit of rain makes.

There were several Chorus Frog egg masses along the edge of the pond, so I took off my shoes and waded out into the surprisingly chilly water. It wasn't Sierra snowmelt-cold, but it was quite bracing nevertheless. The crescent-shaped "eggs" are slightly more mature tadpoles; the white stuff is nourishing yolk.

Right next to the marsh I was surprised to see Giant Trillium. I'm not sure I'd ever seen this species on Mt. Tam before.

On the way back -- very near the place where I'd photographed the Chaparral Indian Paintbrush on the way up, I was surprised to see a Chipmunk foraging around the forest floor. It's so rare that I see a chipmunk on Mt. Tam. I was just able to get my camera pack off and fire off a frame (in very low light, alas) before he took off.

This time last year the Sky Lupines were going gangbusters, but this year not so much. However, even though the California Poppies aren't laying down carpets like Antelope Valley does in a good year, I was surprised to see so many in bloom along Bolinas Ridge. Better get it while you can.

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March Cam

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After adjusting the camera more to ground level, I found the spot to be half-way decently productive, starting with this coyote. The coyote obviously checked out the cam. Maybe even marked it, though I didn't notice any unusual odors when I picked it up around noon today.

Lens got fogged a bit, but you can just make out the raccoon.

Funny that the deer took a detour off the trail to walk behind the trees.

The squirrel made a couple of appearances. The hiker I picked up in the last set also appeared a few times over the last couple of weeks. Got a nice shot of his golden retriever this time also, not just the top of its back. The dog, unlike the coyote, did not check out the camera.

The bobcat walked through Tuesday evening. I hadn't set the camera to DST yet, so it was "really" 7:52 p.m. The cat did not dawdle in the camera zone or even look at the camera. I got the three quick shots and that was it.

A gray fox also passed through. I still think it's interesting that whole days go by when no critter passes through this spot at all. It's near Cataract Creek and a smaller ravine with a little creek, the woods, and a couple of nice meadows. Still, it was a decent spot considering there is no bait, scent or water hole to attract animals.

P.S. I'd been wishing I could buy some sort of SD card-viewer so I could check to see if a set was catching anything before taking the card all the way home to download the pictures. I found that the trail cam people do make such a viewer, but more importantly, I realized that I already own two "viewers" -- my Nikon P7100 point-n-shoot, and my D800E! The P7100 reads the pictures automatically, but I had to change a setting on the D800 so it would read non-D800 images. Now that it does, I can always check the camera trap in the field. This is helpful when I return a week later to see if I want to keep the camera in place or move it somewhere else. But it also means I can test a new location's set-up on the spot to make sure I've got the camera angled the way I want.

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Little Carson Falls

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"I had gathered together shells, bones, eggs, wood, dried kelp, whatnot, as I often do, to see what these things . . . will do to me: I am the adventurer on a voyage of discovery, ready to receive fresh impressions, eager for fresh horizons . . . to identify myself in, and unify with, whatever I am able to recognize as significantly part of me: the 'me' of universal rhythms."

--Edward Weston (from The Daybooks of Edward Weston)

Who knew Weston had a mystical side?! I actually didn't know a thing about the guy until I peeked at his diaries, published in two volumes as The Daybooks of Edward Weston. There's definitely a dated aspect to his mysticism, if such a thing as mysticism can be said to be dated. The thing is, scientific knowledge keeps making a mockery of claims made by mystics about reality (as well as claims made by earlier scientists, for that matter). However, there's the baby, and there's the bathwater, and when the last of the latter has been tossed out, the former's enigmatic smile still remains.

I just finished the California daybooks, which comprise the second volume. The first volume was written while Weston was in Mexico, and I'll get on that next. 

This photo was made from a vantage point above the Meadow Club Golf Course. Coyotes yipped and wild turkeys gobbled in the middle distance as the sun prepared to rise.

I'm not sure when I decided where to go this morning. It definitely wasn't before I went to sleep last night. I knew I wanted to be on the north side of Mt. Tam for sunrise because we switch to Daylight Saving Time this weekend, and I doubt I'll be getting out early enough for sunrise again for the remainder of this project. 

I had a couple of northside hikes in mind, both of which I will soon get to, but I was glad to hit upon the idea to head up to Carson Falls. The main alternative -- going to High Marsh -- would have been a much longer hike, and I wasn't too excited about such a major undertaking. I'd rather tackle High Marsh from Rock Spring than from Alpine Lake.

Another photographer and blogger, Donald Kinney, was recently at Carson Falls, and his photos reminded me that I needed to get out there.

The somewhat rare Foothill Yellow-legged Frogs were in their usual haunts. Look twice and you'll see the second frog.

First frog, nicely camouflaged.

Little Carson Falls is really a set of several waterfalls. I think of them as the upper, middle and lower falls. The Marin Municipal Water District built a nice trail down here (barely a hint of the old trail remains), built sturdy bridges and put up interpretive signs about the frogs. The district also assigns volunteer docents to help interpret the area for visitors during peak frog-breeding season.

The California buckeye is leafing out.

This is a bunch of moss, lichen -- and maybe selaginella. The possibility of the dark green structures being spikemoss is really the only reason I photographed this little patch of green.

Graceful little polypody ferns were also growing nearby.

My eyes were drawn to a white mushroom growing in the moss, and I didn't see this lovely little Leptonia until I put my glasses on to get a better look.

Surprise! My first blue-eyed grass of the season.

The hikers (plural) are a guy with his daughter on his shoulders. I heard him tell her they were on the Old Sled Trail, but this is actually a no-name trail one canyon up from the Old Sled Trail.

Another surprise was finding this Fuchsia Flowered Gooseberry on the trail back to the Jeep.

The trail had still been pretty dark on my way up. It was all I could do to keep my eyes peeled to keep from stepping on California newts, so I missed pretty much everything else on the way up, including this somewhat tortured yet beautiful Entoloma.

A Giant Chain Fern frond unfolds.

Another tiny Mycena in the moss....

Slim Solomon.

I got back to the Jeep and drove up to Bolinas Ridge, passing numerous cars parked at the base of Cataract Canyon. I'm sure it was a great day to check out the waterfalls.

I watched a Red-tailed Hawk for a while as I glassed the hillsides for bobcats. I can't believe I haven't spotted a bobcat during the last nine months. The camera trap has caught a few, but I have yet to spot one otherwise. It's a good reminder of how rare it can be to have a good bobcat encounter. California poppies, on the other hand, are almost always guaranteed.

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