The great thing about being unemployed is that I get to be places other people aren’t because they’re at work. However, with more people working from home or not working at all, I needed to look a little deeper for some solitary hiking.
Sweeney Ridge seemed like a good choice. I mean, if you want to go where no one else is, an abandoned missile site is a decent option. There are three routes to get there. The first is paved. That didn’t seem fun. The second starts from behind a nursery off Highway 1, but boasts close to 1000 foot elevation gain in the first two miles--close to 700 feet in the first mile. The third route begins at a college, starting you at 700 foot elevation, meaning you only have to climb 300 feet. That seemed more my fitness level.
Sadly, though, the road to the trailhead was closed since the school itself was shuttered. If I had been alone, I probably would have gone back home. But Tucker is a like a kid: we’re on the road so there must be an exciting adventure about to happen so we can’t just turn around now. While he sat and whined, frustrated that we hadn’t even begun whatever super exciting journey we were going to embark on, I found directions to the nursery and steeled myself for the challenge.
It was surprising to see the official trail sign there at the back corner of a dirt lot that belongs to a nursery. But this is the Bay Area. They respect their open spaces and keep as much of them as they can no matter how odd the location.
Even the very first steps on the trail were straight up hill. It wasn’t a cakewalk for Tucker either.
Sweeney Ridge seemed like a good choice. I mean, if you want to go where no one else is, an abandoned missile site is a decent option. There are three routes to get there. The first is paved. That didn’t seem fun. The second starts from behind a nursery off Highway 1, but boasts close to 1000 foot elevation gain in the first two miles--close to 700 feet in the first mile. The third route begins at a college, starting you at 700 foot elevation, meaning you only have to climb 300 feet. That seemed more my fitness level.
Sadly, though, the road to the trailhead was closed since the school itself was shuttered. If I had been alone, I probably would have gone back home. But Tucker is a like a kid: we’re on the road so there must be an exciting adventure about to happen so we can’t just turn around now. While he sat and whined, frustrated that we hadn’t even begun whatever super exciting journey we were going to embark on, I found directions to the nursery and steeled myself for the challenge.
It was surprising to see the official trail sign there at the back corner of a dirt lot that belongs to a nursery. But this is the Bay Area. They respect their open spaces and keep as much of them as they can no matter how odd the location.
Even the very first steps on the trail were straight up hill. It wasn’t a cakewalk for Tucker either.
But the views were worth it.
Even stopping beneath a tree, we had spectacular views.
From atop this ridge we could choose to look at the city,
Or keep our eyes on the wild.
The missile site itself was unspectacular—slabs of concrete amongst the overgrown vegetation so high we couldn’t see the ocean. But if you’re a missile, you’re aimed for the sky, not the sea, so why bother with the view?
We continued walking south along the ridge to the “San Francisco Discovery Site.”
We continued walking south along the ridge to the “San Francisco Discovery Site.”
The placards are quick to point out that this is not where and when it was discovered for all of humanity, but rather, this spot commemorates the place and time non-indigenous people figured out the Bay was here—thanks to the indigenous people who had known about it for thousands of years, lived here, and pointed it out to them.
Southward, the mountains were undisturbed by human hands, and I imagined what it must have been like coming up over the mountain to see the bay and then the ocean.
There are no photographs of what communities looked like back then, or for the thousand years prior. But I’m pretty positive it was not a booming metropolis as it is now. The serenity must have been awe-inspiring.
Perhaps because of the manmade intrusions upon the landscape that exist now, I am drawn to turn around and face the ocean.
Perhaps because of the manmade intrusions upon the landscape that exist now, I am drawn to turn around and face the ocean.
I enjoy the convenience of the city, but being in the wilderness is far more appealing. For me, social distancing is a regular part of life. I can’t be around people all the time, or even a majority of the time. I need a healthy dose of human companionship, sure, but this is where I find peace and joy.
I don’t want to live in a city and come here to escape. I want to live here and take occasional field trips to the city for some human contact.
Sweeney Ridge is the epitome of what I need: a balance of cityscape and wilderness, ocean and bay…. But mostly the sea and the forest.
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