The first time I visited San Francisco was 1999 on my first “long way around” the country from Massachusetts to Los Angeles to spend my last semester of college. I stayed with a friend for a few days and instantly fell in love with the city. Over the years, I applied for jobs there, but I never got in the running for Pixar.
Then in 2011, my luck changed. Twelve years after vowing to eventually live in the Bay area and not just be a visitor, I got my first distant gig here—living in the redwoods on Skyline Blvd, and working in San Mateo and Half Moon Bay. I didn’t need to be in the city itself. I discovered that living on the peninsula was better for me; I was in the woods, but only a short drive to civilization.
Then in 2011, my luck changed. Twelve years after vowing to eventually live in the Bay area and not just be a visitor, I got my first distant gig here—living in the redwoods on Skyline Blvd, and working in San Mateo and Half Moon Bay. I didn’t need to be in the city itself. I discovered that living on the peninsula was better for me; I was in the woods, but only a short drive to civilization.
It was during that job that I envisioned what I truly needed in a house: sliding doors in every room to a lush, green backyard; lots of trees, and the sense of the outdoors inside. This job provided the inspiration and the money to pay for such a house. To my surprise, it wasn’t in Northern California but in Burbank, California. That was okay, because I would bring the Bay back to Burbank, create a home here, and then continue to live in the Bay as often as possible.
I have been blessed to return often, not just for visits with friends but for jobs. I am so lucky to be spending my fourth winter in the Bay area, my third with my canine partner along side me. We’re living in the city proper this year, but have found an eclectic place with enough character to make us feel like when we step outside, we will be in a redwood forest.
It seems we have done almost all the trails around here, and yet I know that can’t be true. While there are a few tried and true places to return to, I still seek to find new places.
One such place is McNee Ranch. Half way between San Francisco and Half Moon Bay, just south of Pacifica is an open space east of the highway, overlooking Montara Beach.
Due to lack of parking at the trailhead, I parked at Montara Beach, and Tucker and I made the harrowing race across Highway 1. I felt as if I was playing Frogger and hoping I did better in real life than I did at the video game.
The beginning portion felt a little Los Angeles with its dusty trail and low sagebrush along the sides. Up the hill we went toward a blue sky.
I have been blessed to return often, not just for visits with friends but for jobs. I am so lucky to be spending my fourth winter in the Bay area, my third with my canine partner along side me. We’re living in the city proper this year, but have found an eclectic place with enough character to make us feel like when we step outside, we will be in a redwood forest.
It seems we have done almost all the trails around here, and yet I know that can’t be true. While there are a few tried and true places to return to, I still seek to find new places.
One such place is McNee Ranch. Half way between San Francisco and Half Moon Bay, just south of Pacifica is an open space east of the highway, overlooking Montara Beach.
Due to lack of parking at the trailhead, I parked at Montara Beach, and Tucker and I made the harrowing race across Highway 1. I felt as if I was playing Frogger and hoping I did better in real life than I did at the video game.
The beginning portion felt a little Los Angeles with its dusty trail and low sagebrush along the sides. Up the hill we went toward a blue sky.
The difference between this and Southern California is what’s at the top of the hill. Rather than a view of downtown Los Angeles, we found this:
There is just something about the brown cliffs, the green hills, the blue sky and the ocean that reaches into my chest and grabs a hold of my heart.
We stood a spell, not only to enjoy the view but to catch my breath before ascending further up the trail. We went eastward, up the hills, where no houses stood. When I paused and turned around, I saw the echo of Southern California’s Wisdom Tree.
While the Los Angeles tree sits atop a Hollywood Hill as the only survivor of a wildfire some decades ago, here stands this tree, seemingly the only survivor of some ancient storm, now holding sentinel over the ocean.
We stood a spell, not only to enjoy the view but to catch my breath before ascending further up the trail. We went eastward, up the hills, where no houses stood. When I paused and turned around, I saw the echo of Southern California’s Wisdom Tree.
While the Los Angeles tree sits atop a Hollywood Hill as the only survivor of a wildfire some decades ago, here stands this tree, seemingly the only survivor of some ancient storm, now holding sentinel over the ocean.
Further up the hills, we spotted some signs of humanity—a town to the south.
But looking north, there was only the wilds.
We continued up the dusty trail for more solitude and soon silence out-sang the ocean’s waves.
There was no end to this trail-only my desire to make it back to to the truck before nighttime and the entrance to the loop trail we had passed on the way up. And so we turned back to the setting sun, and descended.
Along the way, we found and followed a short trail to find a bench.
Along the way, we found and followed a short trail to find a bench.
We sat a moment to watch the sun over the ocean, and then took the trail that would lead us into the forest and back out to the sea.
Beneath the canopy of trees, the sun’s light faded faster. But there were still moments that we could reach out and touch the rays before they dipped beneath the horizon.
We finished our walk in the woods, and came back out to twilight. The ocean blushed a shade of purple, and the cliffs reflected the setting sun’s golden rays. Here on the edge of the bluff, we looked out over the beach, grateful for the trails we've taken, and blessed to find that throughout the years, they lead us here time and time again.
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