Since we spent last Christmas south of the bay for a surfin’ Santa Cruz holiday, this year I chose to head north into Marin to visit the redwood forest. My faithful companion will never be able to visit Muir Wood due to restrictions as a national park, but I found a roundabout way of being able to allow him into the forest area without harming wildlife or skirting laws.
The trail began at Muir Beach, where only a year prior we had tried our feet at Pirate’s Cove only to be turned away before the muddy eroded cliff that led down to the beach. Instead of heading westward on that trail, we’d cross the road and head north and upward, into the forest that bordered Muir Woods. Humans make borders—nature doesn’t. So it was quite possible there’d be the same redwoods on this side of the line as that one.
It was a grey, overcast day, but when you’re under a canopy of ancient redwoods, the color of the sky isn’t too important. It’s just a different experience than a sunny day when rays of light dance about the leaves. The trail was a loop. I had read one review that stated that part of it wasn’t dog friendly. I stood at the trailhead and found confirmation that my companion was not allowed passage. A big dog with a line through it meant it was a no go. However, this trail was actually a combination of two different trails, so we headed down the road to meet up with the back end of the trail to see if we would be allowed to walk back some ways up the mountain.
It took some searching across the road and down a private driveway and back up again and then down another road to find the hidden trailhead. But alas, there it clearly was... and our fate sealed: No Dogs Allowed.
I had driven close to an hour on Christmas morning and could not figure out how the one reviewer managed to salvage a hike out of the dead ends for dogs. I gave up, unable to see another trail we could take and headed back to Muir Beach.
It wasn’t a complete loss. We still had the rocks on the beach to climb on.
It was a grey, overcast day, but when you’re under a canopy of ancient redwoods, the color of the sky isn’t too important. It’s just a different experience than a sunny day when rays of light dance about the leaves. The trail was a loop. I had read one review that stated that part of it wasn’t dog friendly. I stood at the trailhead and found confirmation that my companion was not allowed passage. A big dog with a line through it meant it was a no go. However, this trail was actually a combination of two different trails, so we headed down the road to meet up with the back end of the trail to see if we would be allowed to walk back some ways up the mountain.
It took some searching across the road and down a private driveway and back up again and then down another road to find the hidden trailhead. But alas, there it clearly was... and our fate sealed: No Dogs Allowed.
I had driven close to an hour on Christmas morning and could not figure out how the one reviewer managed to salvage a hike out of the dead ends for dogs. I gave up, unable to see another trail we could take and headed back to Muir Beach.
It wasn’t a complete loss. We still had the rocks on the beach to climb on.
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And there was still the hill to climb to look out over the ocean.
I knew Pirate’s Cove would still be a muddy mess due to the recent rains and with the sky looking like it was about to dump another few million gallons onto the earth, we only did an abbreviated walk and headed back to our faithful steed.
Returning earlier in the day then planned and not exhausted enough for a post-hike snuggle nap with my boy (one of my favorite things about hiking), I opted to allow the present-opening to begin.
Tucker politely bowed in front of all the gifts.
Tucker politely bowed in front of all the gifts.
Then lowered his head in thanks.
And then the undoing began.
I have concluded that pit bulls are the de-constructors of the universe. If anything has been made, they need to unmake it. And not like a precocious ten year old who takes apart the toaster to see how it works. Pit bulls want to break everything down to their elemental parts.
While this delightful caterpillar did last a few days, its head became much more festive and explosive within a matter of minutes.
While this delightful caterpillar did last a few days, its head became much more festive and explosive within a matter of minutes.
This ball became less ball and more points moments after Tucker first touched it.
There is no explaining that a ball is for fetching or a rope or for chewing. All gifts for a pit bull are made to be deconstructed to their singular parts.
Less than an hour later, Tucker needed a nap. Clearly this whole business is hard work.
After Tucker’s nap and my attempt at baking, we headed over to my friend Carolina’s house where she was finishing up her baby’s first Christmas. Dinner, bath time and bed time were all that was left on the agenda, so Tucker and I joined them.
While the trail yielded no grand journey, the day was an adventure. A drive over the Bay Bridge, some time with nature, a moment of thanks for the plenty our lives have, and ending it with friends—a bounty that is immeasurable.
While the trail yielded no grand journey, the day was an adventure. A drive over the Bay Bridge, some time with nature, a moment of thanks for the plenty our lives have, and ending it with friends—a bounty that is immeasurable.
Tucker and I wish you all the same for this day and all year round: days of adventures in which regardless of obstacles and sabotaged plans, you recognize the bounty of goodness in your life.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night…”
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