It's a Pittie-full Life
  • Home
  • Travels with Tucker
  • Is it Tucker-Tough?
  • Precious Cargo
  • Renovating Rover
  • Tucker's Favorite Folks

Travels with Tucker

I'm not John Steinbeck and Tucker is certainly no Charley. But after our first year together travelling over 14,000 miles, criss-crossing America, hitting 17 states, I thought it was about time we started documenting our adventures.

Home for the Holidays

12/30/2017

0 Comments

 
After leaving Asheville, Tucker and I headed north for a Thanksgiving adventure. First, a stop in Pennsylvania with a friend where Tucker discovered that a child’s trampoline makes a fine dog bed,
Picture
to Massachusetts where Tucker enjoyed the view from my childhood bedroom.
Picture
​Then back in the truck again to cross the nation. In just under four days, we made it to California where oddly, Autumn was still in full swing on my back deck:
Picture
Luckily for us, “Friendsgiving” was delayed to December this year, giving Tucker and me the perfect excuse for a weekend getaway to San Francisco.  There Tucker endured a few holiday accessories.
Picture
​He clearly likes the Fargo style more than the elf-look.
Picture
And if he gets kisses, what’s the harm?
Picture
With so little time before the holidays, I didn’t get to arrange for a Christmas Tree (I don’t believe in chopping one down; I rent one from Living Christmas Trees), but we still had a Christmas adventure.

Like much of New Mexico, Southern California is a desert. So finding woodsy, shady trails with water can be challenging.  With a little searching, I found Sturtevant Falls 25 miles from home. The falls itself was only about 3.5 miles round trip, but Tucker and I could do a whole loop that included Mount Wilson and the falls that nearly doubled the mileage. A six mile hike was much more what I had in mind for Christmas. Nature is my church, and I was looking for the equivalent of a Christmas mass, not just a Sunday service.

It's an adage among many that "The best thing about LA is getting out of it." I agree--day trips up the coast are beautiful, and skiing in the mountains when it's 80 degrees in the city is a pretty nice perk of where I live. But sometimes you need only go twenty miles in any direction to be in a whole different universe. I don't think anyone would see this in their mind when they think of Los Angeles:
Picture
One thing that reminds you that you are close to the city is that no trail can begin as nature intended: with soft dirt beneath your feet. They all begin as paved paths as if man just had to graffiti over a perfectly lovely piece of art made by Mother Nature.

Not only is it unsightly, but it's dangerous. At the edge of the pavement, a sign warns dog owners to check the temperature of the pavement by placing the back of their hand on it. Burned pads and heat exhaustion are common for Los Angeles dogs whose owners don’t consider that their canines aren’t wearing trackshoes and shirts made of UV protectant that wick away sweat.

This particular stretch of pavement lasted for three quarters of a mile downhill. The pavement was cool to the touch as it was only 9am. The trail I had picked out had an option to avoid the paved ascent on the way back, so I didn’t need to worry once we hit natural earth at the bottom of the canyon.

Near the bottom, man's made trail cracked and splintered off, revealing Nature's original walkway.  A bridge, one of man's more useful interventions into nature, spanned across a tiny brook.
Picture
Once across, it was clear we had arrived: to faerie land. We were worlds away from the city, and now in another plane of existence entirely.

The wide path wove through groves of tall trees, under the canopy of giant ferns and alongside a bubbling brook. Cabins with no seeable driveway or pathway out except on foot were here and there in the woods on either side. They were constructed of old redwood and stones that had been mortared together with hands not machines.  The cabins looked like a natural part of the woods, as if they had just blossomed and grown right there on the spot.

They probably had. Los Angeles has a history of people escaping the city by buying land in the middle of forests or in the deep ends of canyons, constructing edifices and calling them their weekend getaways. Even in the 1930's, the best part of LA was getting out of it. But you needn't get that far away to really get out. You did, though, have to hike to get where you wanted to go. There were no roads in or out, and still aren't. That three quarters of a mile of pavement was all Nature and her loyal and faithful subjects, allowed.
Picture
Tucker took a quick journey across the brook on a fallen log, and was thrilled we didn't have to drive 3000 miles to do such a thing. It really was like we were in another world:
Picture
We meandered along the trail, taking our time to enjoy the energy of this faerie land. 

At the end of wide dirt “road,” I had three choices on where to go. I had wanted to hit the falls first and then loop upwards to the summit of Mt Wilson, and then back around. On my first attempt, I did not choose wisely. We struck up the hill, and when I reached the top, out of breath, I checked my map to see I was headed in the opposite direction. One could say the creature of the fae are a tricky bunch. Or one could say I have a horrible sense of direction. The latter is most likely true.

We double-backed and headed for my second choice. We definitely got closer to the falls, but evidently missed the turn to get to the bottom of the falls. ​From here, we viewed the 50 foot falls with ease—fifty feet down and many more feet away.
Picture
The path Tucker and I stood on was a sandy, gravel ledge about six inches wide, with one side being the sandy mountain wall and the other being a sheer drop to the cascading rocky slope below that. If I planned it right, we could dive off the ledge, bounce all the way down and land in the water—we just might not be alive at that point. Faerie folk have an amusing way of protecting their land.

Much to Tucker’s disappointment, I calculated the risk, deemed it too high, and turned ourselves around on the six inch wide ledge to head back the way we came.

Just before the trail turned away from the view of the falls, there appeared to be a small trail leading down the slope. Precarious and unstable, but a trail nonetheless. I can only assume it had been forged by hikers before me with the same idea: this was so not worth it.

​Using Tucker as my solid four-wheel drive partner, I mostly scooched on my butt the entire way down, as rocks and gravel and sand fell apart around us and rolled downhill. It might not have been the right path, but it was the right answer to how to get closer to the falls.
Picture
Ten long minutes later, we arrived at the sign facing the waterfall that stated, “PREVENT EROSION - DO NOT CLIMB UP.” There’s wasn’t a sign about us climbing down, so technically we hadn't violated any written rules. And anyway, I imagine falling down would have been a lot worse for myself and the ground beneath us than navigating our way down on purpose. Intent is everything.

​As I sat and dusted myself off, I heard and then saw three hikers above in the same place Tucker and I had just been. I heard the young man falter. “Um, guys, I don’t have a good feeling about this. I think we should turn around.” And he didn’t have a dog on a leash—he was only concerned for his own safety. I no longer felt like an old fuddy-duddy for turning back.

Pride intact, I turned my attention to the falls in front of us. Although certainly no match for North Carolina or Georgia, it was pretty impressive for the City of Angeles.
Picture
​Tucker was less impressed, and more interested in the people and dogs who were arriving. 
Picture
Since we had wandered around on the upper falls and then come down, many more hikers who started after us were just arriving. When it was no longer a serene waterfall church-like setting and more of a public park, Tucker and I headed back. Within moments we were back in the faerie-woods away from the crowd. 
Picture
Experiencing this little plot of peacefulness, 
Picture
​and then coming upon expansive views of the wilderness that surrounded us,
Picture
I was thankful for my California Christmas. It wasn’t the Oregon Coast, but it was still a place of discovery for Tucker and me.  Just as my own backyard does not feel like one imagines a desert backyard to be, southern California has many secret places to explore and surprise me.
Picture
At the trailhead, it was clear that the people from the City of Angeles had finished their homebound Christmas morning rituals. The road was lined with cars, and people waited for parking spots. As Tucker and I drove down the mountain, we saw people parking their cars more than a mile away, and trekking up to the top of the trailhead.
​
I was thankful for our early arrival. And thankful for this life I have with a loyal canine partner that I love more than life itself. Tucker is thankful for his gifts—and for the life he has here even if he didn’t get wrapped presents next the the non-working fireplace once a year. He only wishes he didn’t have to wear silly hats.
Picture
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and most of all, may you celebrate and appreciate the light returning to the world in this season of darkness. It is a day of hope and a time of love.

May all your wishes come true.
0 Comments

    Archives

    January 2021
    April 2020
    March 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    March 2016
    January 2016
    May 2015
    February 2015
    December 2014

    Posts

    All
    2016.01.03 Home For The Holidays
    2016.01.04 A Hike On Another Planet
    2016.03.25 Equality Is For Everyone
    2016.03.27 Our Easter Weekend Services
    2016.04.15 Just Des(s)erts
    2016.05.29 Max Patch
    2016.05.29 Rising To The Peak
    2016.05.29 Spring Adventures
    2016.06.11 The Best Of The Unexpected
    2016.06.25 The Ghostly Tale Of Greybeard Trail
    2016.07.03 Escape...to Storyteller Rock
    2016.07.05 A Salute To Asheville From Chimney Rock
    2016.08.15 Up
    2016.10.01 Since You've Been Gone
    2016.12.09 How We Spent Our Summer Vacation
    2016.12.10 Let The Sun Shine In
    2016.12.11 Eyes To The Skies
    2016.12.11 Where The Rainy Day Takes You
    2016.12.18 Waiting For Whistler
    2016.12.31 Only In Canada
    2017.01.10 Christmas On The Coast
    2017.01.11 Christmas On The Coast
    2017.04.22 Out Of The Desert And Into The Land Of Enchantment
    2017.05.05 Someplace To Be; Not Somewhere To Go
    2017.05.20 New Canada
    2017.05.28 Rise To The Challenge
    2017.06.18 Exploring The 'Hood
    2017.06.24 Bishop's Lodge: Anything But Heavenly
    2017.07.01 Finding Your Church
    2017.07.08 Mother Nature's Springs
    2017.07.22 Beside Every Great Woman
    2017.10.15 Finding (Water)Fall(s)
    2017.10.28 This Is 40... Part I
    2017.10.29 This Is 40... Part II
    2017.11.18 Battle Amidst Beauty
    2017.11.25 To The Looking Glass
    2018.02.25 Where The Dog Takes You
    2018.03.31 After The Rains
    2018.04.14 Truly Home Again
    2018.06.02 Just A Walk On The Beach
    2018.07.21 Ready? On Set!
    2018.08.04 Return To The Redwoods
    2018.08.11 Return To The Redwoods
    2018.10.27 The Forty-First
    2018.12.15 The End Of The Tour
    2018.12.30 Santa Cruz
    2019.01.05 Chasing Mavericks
    2019.01.20 Finding Your Soulspace
    2019.02.09 Muir Magic
    2019.02.23 The Point Of Point Reyes
    2019.02.25 From Muir To Mori
    2019.03.02 Our Own Monterey
    2019.03.09 An Irish Escape
    2019.03.16 Hidden Vistas
    2019.04.06 Our Life: The Carnival
    2019.04.20 One Man's Trash Is Another Dog's Art
    2019.05.04 Black Rock And Blue Skies
    2019.06.08 Water
    2019.06.15 In Conversation... With Nature
    2019.06.29 Go Tell It On The Mountain
    2019.07.06 Not So Yosemite
    2019.07.07 Magic Chimneys
    2019.07.20 The Long Way Around
    2019.11.23 All Trails Lead Here
    2019.11.30 Seeking Solitude In All Directions
    2019.12.14 Forest Friends And Soul-Places
    2019.12.21 The San Franciscan Canine
    2019.12.26 An Unexpected Christmas
    2020.01.11 Kicking Off The New Year On The Coast: Part I
    2020.01.12 Kicking Off The New Year On The Coast: Part II
    2020.01.12 Kicking Off The New Year On The Coast: Part III
    2020.01.19 From The Beach To The Bay... Almost
    2020.03.01 Livin' La Vida Local (SF Style)
    2020.03.20 A Place In Which To Shelter
    2020.03.23 Socially Distant
    2020.03.26 Shelter Of Majestic Beauty
    2020.03.28 Follow Your Heart
    2020.04.04 South For The Spring
    2020.04.21 Finding The Way Back
    2020.05.11 First Rate Second Choice
    2020.05.30 Trails Worth Taking
    2020.07.15 A Reflection Of The Bay
    2020.07.22 A Quarter Of The Way To Half Moon Bay
    2020.10.10 Mountain Air
    2020.11.21 The Great Donut Drive
    2020.11.26 Holiday Special
    2020.12.21 The Great Conjunction
    And Away
    But Not Far Away
    Comes The (Water)Fall
    Everywhere
    Maximum Wind Speed
    Nose To The Wind
    Not The Map
    Part I
    Part II
    Santa Clause
    Santa Paws
    The Look Of Discrimination
    The South's Answer To The Southwest
    Tucker Wescott: Interior Designer
    Up
    Water

    RSS Feed

About    Contact   
c 2014 August Nights Press