Not every hike is a “hike”… sometimes it’s just a walkabout.

I had been looking for a new collar from a hard-to-find brand for Tucker and the nearest store that sold it was in Ventura. It’s a bit of a drive, but without a job and it being rather warm in the valley, getting closer to the ocean seemed like a good idea.

We came up empty on the exact collar I had wanted, but I made an impulse buy at a little local pet supply shop that was even better. Having driven 45 miles to spend $40, we headed to Ventura Beach where dogs are allowed to tread sand.

Of course Tucker needed to stand a bench first to get the lay of the land and sea.

And then stand on a rock to find the best place to walk on the beach wherein his feet would not end up wet. Tucker believes water is only for drinking, not for standing in.

And a rock a little closer to the beach…

And finally feet touch sand!

It took a moment, but Tucker finally got into his Tucker trot on the wet sands.

Okay, so it’ll never be hot enough to be completely in water, but a little cool damp sand under the belly is actually kind of nice.

While I enjoyed the ocean view, with my eyes, Tucker took in the scents with eyes closed, not even facing the Pacific. That’s the joy of dogs: they can experience the beauty of a place without even looking.

We had gone northeast (and up) to escape the grey.

Tuck didn't seem too into it due to the heat, so this time we went northwest (and down) to see if the ocean breeze would give him some relief from the heat--and the grey. 

We returned to out favorite bluff and beach walkabout in Carpenteria.

Everything was in full bloom.

The grey extended far over the ocean, we couldn't outwalk it. It didn’t make it less magical, just less hot.

Which meant we could do a little farther than usual.

And we had the beach to ourselves.

Except for one bird.

... who thought we were lonely so he returned with his friends to keep us company on the bluff. 

Despite the still slightly overcast conditions, Tucker still needed a break from our extended walk about half way back to the truck.

We’re not in any rush these days, so I let him nap for a bit while I stood there awkwardly waiting. Tucker is comfortable anywhere, even in the middle of traffic. At least this was slightly off the trail and in the shade.

I imagine he’s trying to teach me to relax, not care what others think, and just enjoy the present moment.

​Afterall, it’s all we got—no matter where we are.

It was another grey day in the San Fernando Valley, and being solar powered, I needed to see that big beautiful ball of light in the clear blue skies before I crashed. So I packed our bags and we headed up...

Not north. Just up.

My recent experience at Crystal Lake led me to believe that if I could get to about 5000 feet in elevation, I may transcend the cloud cover. I didn’t see another hike up near Crystal Lake I was interested in, but there were two options via the Angels Crest Highway.

The San Gabriel Peak looked promising, but looking at photos and the map, I had a suspicion we had done it before. A quick check back on this blog (because let’s face it: this is the external hard drive for my memory), I saw we had done part of it on our way to Mt. Lowe. And much of that trail was rocky and uncomfortable for Tuck.

So I chose the second option which was jut up the road from that trailhead. Not so much a hike as just a place to enjoy the sunshine: Mt. Wilson Observatory.

I find it astonishing that people trekked up these mountains long ago without car or paved road and built these places. Cabins are hard enough; this is an entire scientific basecamp with multiple telescopes, buildings, roads, electricity, plumbing, and now even a cafe, all started over a century ago!

It was surprisingly not busy, compared to the various picnic areas and trailheads we had seen along the way, with automobiles lining the side of the highway. But like I said, this isn’t really a hike; just a place to wander about. They even have music concerts under the dome with the 100 foot telescope. Tucker isn’t allowed into the telescope rooms (and really, I don’t think he’d enjoy it anyway), so this was more about being in the nature surrounding the science.

The ride up got brighter the higher we climbed, and I was almost convinced that maybe blue skies had returned back in Burbank. But then we arrived and looked out over the mountains, we found that the clouds still lingered.

It was a stunning view: this ocean of clouds, covering the civilizations below.

And that was what we saw from just the edge of the parking lot.

In the terrace area with Cosmic Cafe, a docent was explaining to another guest how to get to Echo Rock, a short walk at the back of the property. I had seen it online and listened in for directions.
​
Tucker and I walked the paved pathways around the property, checking out the view along the way.

This wasn’t our usual nature walk. We weren’t in civilization, but we were very near human constructs. So much so, I even had cell phone service... which shouldn't be surprising given the towers. Probably could have gotten wifi too.

We walked the short path to Echo Rock. Much like Bee Rock in Griffith Park, it’s the edge of a rock cliff with protections from falling down the mountainside.
​
It was nice enough to not be chainlink so Tucker had unobstructed views.

And so did I.

So. Much. Nature. So. Much. Sky.

Tucker didn’t seem to want to hang out in the tiny area at the edge of the cliff so we turned around, and were reminded just how close we were to humanity.

Tucker just wanted to blend in with the earth. He was achieving his goal.

We walked back, and I was still struck by how and when people built this place, here, in the mountains. I’m not even fully at ease driving here. It’s only about 30 miles, but 20 of those are on steep, winding, twisting roads through the mountains.

​I got a snack at the Cosmic Cafe, and Tucker and I sat on the deck, looking out over the parking lot where our trusty steed rested beneath the pines before our steep descent down those winding, twisting mountain roads.

The parking lot views were most impressive to me. I wondered if people skipped those and just went toward the buildings. Before heading back down the mountain, we took another spin around the edge of the lot where a few others had setup camping chairs and picnic blankets to take in the views.

It took us an hour to get there, and we only stayed about an hour and a half, treading a little over just one mile. But we had gotten out from beneath the grey. Sunshine, blue skies, and amazing views. I was recharged. The purpose of this outing wasn’t as much about the land as it was about the skies, and the beauty earth and sky make together. Even on the foothills of science.

If you want a sneak peek of what the view is like from Mt. Wilson right this second, check out their telescopes broadcasting 24 hours a day: Views From Mt. Wilson

​“Sixty-five and sunny”: Our favorite weather forecast. Unfortunately, here in the City of Angels, “sixty-five and cloudy” has been the mainstay and it’s getting old. May Gray and June Gloom are in full force. And while this is certainly better than "a hundred-and-five and sunny", the clouds bring both the temperature and my mood down.

A friend had recently posted blue sky photos of Crystal Lake up in the Angeles Forest and I got a little jealous. So with the weather forecast there showing a cloud with a peak of sun, Tucker and I hopped into our trusty steed and headed eastward and upward.
​
One hour later, we were off the grid and in the wilderness.

At an elevation of 5000 feet, we were no longer under the blanket of clouds. The sun shone brightly while the temps still hovered in the low seventies.

Unlike trails that are flatter on maps than in real life, this lake was far smaller than it appeared on the map.

I’m not complaining. I knew it was just a 1.7 mile hike around the lake… although the Alltrails map showed us going INTO the lake to complete it.

It wasn’t wrong. In order to do the full loop--to even get the trail uphill to avoid really getting wet, one would have to plod through the water or make a vertical climb up the side of the hill.

But that didn't stop us from going where we could without getting wet.

The view was delightful from every edge of the lake.

Saddened that we couldn't see what the world looked like from the that one portion of the lake, we returned the way we came and went around in the other direction for different views.

That too, became impassable. So we turned around. I saw what appeared to be a trail further upland from the lake, but Tucker seemed to want to return to the truck. I was sweatier than I suspected I would get and assumed it was because I am out of shape. But Tucker was panting heavily as well, far too much give the temperature. But then I realized the real issue: we were at 5000 feet of elevation.

​When we do Griffith Park, it may be a 1500 foot elevation gain, but we’re starting at 200 feet about sea level. We are never near 5000 feet into the sky. We’ve been shorebound far too long; we needed to acclimate, even for this short little jaunt around a mountain lake.

I let Tucker lead and we headed back to the truck. There is one major rule in our lives: if it isn’t fun anymore, then we stop.  He didn’t know I had still had a couple stops planned before getting back down to sea level, but I thought his fun meter would reset from a short drive.

The first stop was Crystal Lake Cafe. The property had cabin rentals and a store/cafe for full-on real hikers to replenish their packs and get a hot meal. Unfortunately, no one came to the window when we went inside, so I didn’t get try a hot meal. But we did get a photo op: a rare capture of the two of us in the same frame.

With no lunch, we headed back down the mountain, where I could see the blanket of grey a thousand feet below the mountain peaks. We’d be dipping back into that soon enough. But first, a stop which I meant to have on the ride up, but missed it: Lewis Falls.

With no real parking lot and just an extended turn off on a curve, I had come up on it too quickly on the way up. I almost missed it on the way down as well. Luckily, being a Wednesday, traffic wasn’t terrible so I was able to do a neat little three point turn and get a spot.
​
Even at the bottom of the trail, there was rushing water.

The trail bordered the rushing downhill stream, giving us visual and auditory joy.

I don’t let Tucker drink from standing water, so he had been doubly disappointed with Crystal Lake since I wouldn’t let him stick his tongue in it. But this, I had no issue with. The water was rushing so quickly, I didn’t think any micro-anything could survive.

Tucker gave the water a rave review.

We went as far as the trail would go before it crossed into the stream. I spied two people up by the falls which I could make out through branches, but I didn’t see a way up from our our side of the raging river. There were two small logs about four inches wide which appeared to be the way across to a trail on the other side. I knew Tucker and I would not make it there and back without getting wet. Very wet. Possibly even falling in. Had the water been still, I might have had taken the chance.

I could see a small portion of the gushing waterfall, but had to admit defeat on this one. Tucker and I turned around, and decided to just take joy in our short .7 mile round trip walk through the woods where it was shady and delightful.

Seeing a familiar bark patten in front of me, I looked up, then stepped back, being sure to not end up in the river, and gazed up with awe. A sequoia stood proud and tall. Right here. In the Angeles Forest.

Redwoods are coastal and Sequoias are found in the Sierra Nevadas, so I was not expecting to see such majesty here. I can’t even find proof (other than seeing it in person) and I wondered if anyone knew about it or if I had mis-identified it. The branches with leaves were too high up to see clearly, but they didn’t look to belong to a Douglas fir. This was just one tree, not a full grove: the Lone Sequoia. I felt a pinch of sadness. These communal trees need one another.

I acknowledged the tree and gave it my respect, grateful to have encountered it. Then we headed back down, and I felt as if we were walking through the forests of the east coast. 

The downed trees (wait... is that another Sequoia?), and the rocks on the trails, and the rushing water beside us made me think of North Carolina.

I took one more video just to have if I need a moment of east coast stream action.

Driving back down the mountains, we dipped back under the blanket of grey. And there, off to the left was the reservoir I had sort of seen coming up, but now I decided to stop and really take a look. This is what I thought Crystal Lake would be.

The San Gabriel Reservoir appeared to be, in some parts, as wide as the Chattahoochee River in Georgia.

In one trip to the mountains, I felt as if I had been at a mountain lake in Mammoth, in a redwood grove in Northern California, down a trail in North Carolina, and now next to a river in Georgia. California really does have it all.

We’ve been home for over two years now, not called out on a tour of film duty since Portland in Fall of 2021. We’re itching to get on the road, to set up basecamp somewhere new and then venture out to see how others live and what great wilds we can explore and enjoy. But for now, we’ll keep reaching out from our little suburban homebase, and I imagine we’ll still keep being surprised by what magic is hidden deep within the Forests of Angels.

Still hung up on wanting to see the superblooms, I took note of a few places listeners called in to report to NPR as their favorite spring time walks through wildflowers. Most gardens and plant sanctuaries do not allow my canine partner inside. However, one place a woman raved about made specific note that dogs, too, are welcome to come and enjoy the wildflowers, trees, and general beauty of the land: The Santa Barbara Botanic* Garden.

Yes, it’s a drive, but located near our Ojai wine stop: Old Creek Ranch Winery. So with no work in sight, I made a weekday trip of it.

Reservations are required unless you’re a member so I actually had to commit to a day and time. I made sure that weren’t forced to leave within two hours and was assured that while most people spend about an hour and a half, we were welcome to stay as long as we’d like.

The Botanic Garden (which I still want to call BontanicAL, but have since learned both are grammatically correct) sits on 78 acres and boasts five miles of trails. But the trails aren’t designed to get from point A to B on a hike; some are wholly disconnected and other are loops within loops, all meant for you to be somewhere rather than get you somewhere. Little offshoots of trails end with a bench under a sprawling oak tree, or you can choose one of two trails or walk around a small garden. I knew we wouldn’t be doing the full five miles, but I wanted our feet to tread as  much earth as possible.

The opening scene was so stunning, I had a hard time uprooting myself to move along.

I really didn’t think they could top this.

The trails ran through the meadows rather than just around them, which made the experience even better.

And I could get better photos with Tucker actually in the with the wildflowers.

But my favorite part was of course: the redwood forest.

I didn’t haven’t to travel 300 miles to stand beneath these majestic trees that warm my heart. Granted, there weren’t a lot of them, but this mini-grove gave me joy anyway.

A stream ran through the forest and the bridge across to the other sections was sturdy and allowed for a full view of the creek.

Below the bridge, you could get up close and personal with the creek.

Once over the bridge and up a small hill and back down again, we entered “The Backcountry”.

While the first area of meadows and forest were living museums in which one could sit and enjoy visually, hands-off; the Backcountry was designed with interaction in mind: things to climb on, discover, and play with.

The library bird seating area was impressive.

The tunnels were fun.

And we got to do some more uphill walking.

Back down near the entrance, we found a cutting of fallen sequoia, and Tucker’s smile is a true reflection of how my heart feels just being near these trees.

Then we crossed the street, making sure we wouldn't re-enact this sign...

...To an entirely different trail system. There were no forests; everything was bush, shrub, and flower here.

But off in the distance, there was the ocean and the Channel Islands

Tucker didn’t seem to be enjoying this side as much, and with the gravel paths, I understood. Packed earth sans stones is a much more comfortable ride for him.

But he let me enjoy the view before heading back.

Of the five miles, we traversed 2.8 of them. We still hit all eleven eco-systems that the garden displays. It was hard to leave, though, with that entryway being so beautiful. I could stand there all day. 

But eventually we decided to go, and by the time we reached our vineyard hideaway, Tucker was ready to nap.

It was a bit of a drive, but well worth it. If I lived nearby, I would become a member and spend many afternoons sitting in the meadows reading, or writing stories beneath the canopy of trees. I’m always supportive of places that respect the need of our canine companions to bask in the beauty of Nature with us. Nature is, after all, for everyone of every species.