In all the time I’ve spent here in San Francisco, I had never thoroughly explored Golden Gate Park. It’s like going to New York City and only walking on the sidewalk around Central Park. Granted, Golden Gate Park is over 1.5 square miles, so there’s a lot of ground to cover, but it seemed rather silly that I never walked it end to end right down the middle.
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So that’s just what Tucker and I intended to do.

Starting at Ocean Beach, we crossed the highway and entered the park near a windmill. We didn’t have access to inside of it, and I couldn’t capture the entire thing in one photo: we were directly under it and surrounded by trees. There were many paths to take. I wasn’t interested in soccer fields or tennis courts, so I aimed for the paths that wound their way through trees and shrubbery—not quite straight down the middle.
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Usually the non-direct route is where you find the magic--like these amazing trees that look to have spontaneously appeared out of a storybook.

​There are also some pretty cool human-made features as well.

I had wanted to walk end to end, but by the time we reached Stow Lake, only two-thirds across the park, Tucker and I had already walked over three miles. I was concerned if we walked any farther, Tuck might decide he needed a long nap on a grassy knoll before returning. So I made our new turning around point the top of Strawberry Hill—the island in the middle of Stow Lake.

With an island in the middle, though, the lake was more of moat than a proper lake. People in paddle boats rode around the waterway that encircled the hill while geese and ducks swam about and waddled along the sidewalks. I found a bridge to take us onto the island, and then we headed up to see the view.
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​There are trees everywhere—even on an island in the middle of a lake in the middle of the city. So views aren’t its primary purpose. It’s purpose is for you could be on an island in the middle of a lake in the middle of a city.

Tucker and I rested for a bit from our meandering exploration of the park. We caught our breath, and finding no new places to look about, started the journey back while not quite backtracking.

With so many trails to try, I didn’t want to just take the same route back—not even off this tiny hill. While our ascent had been up a dirt path that wound up the hill, our way down was much more steep, involving stairs, bridges, and even… a waterfall. 

The waterfall was surprise enough, but walking across the stepping stones of the waterfall’s pond, we came across a Chinese pagoda.

Golden Gate Park is a microcosm of the city itself. It seems small and compact, but if you really take the time to explore, you’ll find so many different, unique places to experience. Each area of the park has its own feel, from fairy tale forest to massive sporting arenas to calming lakes and waterfalls; just as the city has its unique neighborhoods of urban nightlife, sleepy suburbias, and beach town personalities.

That’s why I love this city—and the entire Bay area. It doesn’t try to be anything it’s not and it lives in harmony in its own diversity. If one block isn’t your thing, just walk a few more streets over. If you’re not a forest person, go to the beach. If you’re not big on the ocean, drive over and check out the bay instead. If you’re in social mood, and want to check out some eclectic stores, check out the Haight; if you want to be alone, head over the bridge and wander about the Marin Headlands.

By the time Tucker and I made it back to our trusty steed, our feet had padded around for 6.5 miles. Had we walked in a straight line from Ocean Beach across the city, we would have been half a mile from Oracle Park, right on the Bay. But when we hike, it’s not about getting to the farthest destination possible; our journey is the destination. And there’s a whole lot more to experience between the beach and bay.

​So I guess we’ll just have to keep coming back.

There were two ways back to the 101. The first was the way we came—a trip through Anderson Valley. Since we had “been there; done that,” I chose the northern route—which would take us straight through the Jackson Demonstration Forest. Although Chamberlain Falls was still two hours too far in my opinion, I looked for trailheads that were along the way.

After packing up the car, I re-entered our cabin to discover that my canine companion was not particularly impressed with the diner service.  Evidently the wait for coffee was just too long.

Leaving at our 10am check-out time, we headed north and then east, into the forest.
Although it was not Chamberlain Falls, we stopped at Chamberlain Creek Conservation Camp. It was only a mile and half of trail, but my feet were happy to tread the forest floor again.

​Being beneath the green canopy, walking across the a blanket of redwood leaves is were I feel most at home. While the sea is exciting, dramatic, and I love it as well, here is where I feel truly embraced by Mother Nature.

We spent an hour in the woods, climbing up the trail, looking through the trees, and then walking down slowly, taking in every moment of the forest life.

I didn’t see any more trailheads easily accessible, but I had had my fix. The ocean and the mountains; the bluffs and the forests: these are what I need to recharge. These places fuel my soul. Grateful for the few days of escape, I was also thankful for a job that brings me to locations like this, just on the edge of Nature’s realm, where I can easily cross the border and leave civilization entirely.

On the road home, I pulled over for one more view. I had to return to society, go to work, make money, pay my bills, and do all those human things needed to survive. But here was my reminder: that Nature’s got a whole lot more places for Tucker and me to explore, experience, and enjoy. There is no doubt: we’ll be back as soon as possible. It’s a big world and we’re going to walk as much as of it as we can within our lifetime.

Having toured most of the Fort Bragg seaside area, day two was one destination only: Mendocino.
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Mendocino was settled by some New Englanders who had come out with a logging company. With a population of less than 1000 even today, it certainly could have been a New England town—except for the vast Pacific Ocean bordering two sides of it.

It may have seemed familiar to me not just because it is reminiscent of New England but the opening of Murder, She Wrote is right here. The theme song still plays in my head, some thirty five years later.

Tucker and I walked up and down the road (one of five east-west streets in the entire town proper), referencing my alltrails map, trying to find the start of the Mendocino Headlands trail. I walked down a dirt driveway to a parking lot and found two people carrying supplies from their car to the meeting room of a church (lots of churches—just like New England.) I asked if they could direct me where to go, and the man said he’d show me after he put down his supplies. His gregarious Anatolian Shepherd was lumbering about, and Tucker made fast friends with her—as he does with all the canine locals. She seemed excited to show Tucker the trail she herself often spent her days on.

The gentleman and his dog walked us through the back field, and there, sure enough, was a narrow trail that I never would have found for fear of trespassing.
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The trail led out to the cliff’s edge where through trees, we could see the beaches below. 

​Further down the trail, the trees fell away and we got a more open view of the cove.

​Open or from within a cliff's small forest, the view was beautiful.

​We walked down onto the rocks to be closer to the sea.

Then came back up to view the stunning artwork the ocean had made in the earth.

​I can see why it’s photographed so much. Every angle was beauty.

​Stumbling upon a trail that led down to a grassy knoll, I sat down with Tucker, feeling as if I was in Ireland--or what I imagine Ireland to be like, never having been. 

​This hidden oasis with our two raven friends seemed worlds away.

​The sea had once covered this little plateau, as was evident from the wall’s chambers.

​Water washed away the earth, creating tunnels. I wondered what sea life must have been like when once this was all under water.

​I then wondered what life was like now, growing up here in a town whose population didn’t even top 900 people. The sea’s edge right here, on the cliff, a border that could not be crossed.

​The few shops and restaurants catered to the tourists, like many new England towns, and but I couldn’t see myself enjoying a life here. Tucker and I traversed the entire town in less than a day. Although touted as dog friendly, I only found two shops that Tucker was welcome. I couldn’t find enough to do to fill a day, let alone a lifetime.

Don't get me wrong: this place is stunning--some of Mother Nature's finest artwork. But since art is always about personal taste, I have to come clean and say that Fort Bragg’s dramatic rocks and cliffsides appealed to me more. It is more rugged, unpolished; it is a place to not only enjoy looking at nature, but engage in it. Here, I could look out at the sea all day. But in Fort Bragg, I could get up close, walk through it, dance in it, and find the little bit of unkempt nature that is beauty in itself.

But I am still grateful to have had a chance to explore this particular coastal work of art. Nature is diverse in her genres, and I appreciate all the medias she works in. It's just that some of her pieces I feel more connected to than others.

Tucker and I bid farewell to the Californian New England town and headed back north For our final night, we watched the sunset from our little beach and then sat beside the fire again.

Day one was bustling and active; day two was like walking through an art museum. Day three would be whatever adventures we could find along our route. We would leave the sea behind, thankful for getting to experience its beauty, and head east, back to Nature's art gallery where I feel most at home: the redwood forest. 

My job gave me an unexpected winter hiatus, so I thought it’d be a great time to do a weekend getaway that’s a little too away from Los Angeles but the perfect distance from San Francisco: Fort Bragg and Mendocino.

There is a plethora of dog friendly places, but the lodging business was kicking off the new year with extraordinary prices. The most dog friendly place was $400 for just one night. Seeing as we’d be spending most of the time on the trails, that was a waste of money. I was already out a week of pay due to the hiatus; I didn’t want to go further into the hole.

Luckily Shoreline Cottages, a cute little motel/cottage establishment, seemed right up my alley. Not deserted enough to be creepy (as other low price venues were), but not bustling enough to make me feel like too many people were around. Not only did they have individual cabin/cottages, they had a fire pit and a private beach.

So on the first day of the year 2020, Tucker and I packed up and our trusty steed whisked us away on a three night, three day getaway to the Northern California Coast.
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The day was rather rainy, and the journey across the valley to the coast up north took its toll on me. By the time we reached the shoreline, we could see no sea nor no shore. There would be no use trying to watch the sunset at the beach, but that’s okay. Tucker evidently was already worn out and wanted to prepare for a good adventure in the morning, so he made himself at home.

(Now where am I supposed to sleep?)

The next morning, I had my grand plan to hike to Chamberlain Falls in the Jackson Demonstration Forest. I drove over to the fire station that gave out maps for such a task. Standing behind a couple who were getting their permit to go mushrooming, I heard all about the forest and closures—and how long it takes to get places. After speaking with the ranger who said their beach rivaled Mendicino, and her tip of, “Well the beach is right there if you wanted to check it out first,” I threw my plans out the window.

With the redwood waterfalls hike being at least a two hour drive away, I instead got back into my truck and drove 300 feet to MacKerricher State Park. The ranger was right: it was stunning.

Tucker and I climbed on rocks, and listened to the waves crash against the shore.

​We took in the view from various angles.

​And delighted in the bluest ocean waves I’ve ever seen, capped with frosty white edges.

​When our beach wandering took us back to where we began, we meandered down Ka Kahleh Trail—the walking path along the bluff.

While the beach was an up close and personal view, the bluffside was a broad, far-range vista.

​At the end of the trail was a compass. Here Tucker decided our fate on where to go next.

And after many attempts, we got a somewhat decent family photo in.

We walked the mile and half back to our steed, and headed south to the next place I wanted to tread: Caspar Headlands and Cabrillo Lighthouse.

Caspar Headlands wasn’t much headlands. It was a short jaunt through the woods along a road...

... up through a field...

... and behind someone’s property. It seemed like we could have walked down the road to the lighthouse, but I wasn’t sure we’d make it back before dark to get through the forest. So we walked back to our starting point, and drove further south to…

Cabrillo Lighthouse.

​There is no parking next to the lighthouse; it’s a good mile walk from the parking lot down to the lighthouse, so let's call that our second hike of the day. There was a shortcut… but really, was it a viable shortcut?

We chose wisely and took the long way around, taking in the sea breeze and clear skies.

​I admit I’ve never been this close to a lighthouse before—or rather, this close to the light of a lighthouse. Since it’s only one story up, I could see very clearly the weight and depth of the glass. It looks like a giant Christmas tree ornament.

​Tucker seemed unimpressed.

Inside there was information abut the lighthouse, and of course people for Tucker to endear himself to for a few pets and attention.
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Once outside, we ventured south along the bluff.

The trail seemed to end here at the rocky outcroppings, where the sea splashed up onto the cliffs.

By the time we got back to the parking lot (via some tree climbing), the sun was low in the sky.

And so we had one more stop—the private beach to watch the sunset.

We hurried back up the two lane road to the cottages and got walking directions to the beach. A rather precarious journey involving going over a narrow bridge with traffic made me uneasy, but once to the trailhead of the beach, all was well.
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There was one couple, and then there was Tucker and me.

​We gave the couple as much privacy as possible, setting up some ways away, while still getting a good view of the giant ball of fire making its descent toward the horizon.

After chewing on some tasty seaweed sticks, Tucker settled in and together we watched the sun set.

We walked back to the cottages, and while I made dinner, Tucker took a nap. My faithful companion may have weeks of inactivity, but when it’s go time, he grabs his shut-eye when he can so he’s always ready for the next adventure.

(Again, where am I supposed to sleep?)

Dinner, wine, and Tucker fed, we went out to the fire pit to enjoy some warmth and community. A day with alone with Nature is always topped off nicely with a return to civilization.

Tucker got in some people attention, ate some treats, and enjoyed the fire.

​It seems I, too, go from inactivity to everything-activity in a moment’s notice. We could have spread out our vacation a little bit, but why not fill our days? Time management on vacation is not my strong suit, but it leads to some pretty fun adventures with spectacular sights. And that was just day one.