For Thanksgiving, I chose to drive northwest again, back to the bluffs (or "mesas" as we now know they are scientifically called). This one was aptly named More Mesa. Not sure where Less Mesa was, but I feel like this was Plenty Mesa for us.
There was no parking lot—just some dirt area along the shoulder of the road where one could park and a subtle metal bar gate at the curve of the road that was the entrance.
The beginning of the trail was no mesa, but just a trail through the shade. Trees on either side (I think some people warned of poison oak, but always wearing long pants and long sleeves, I never really worry about it). Checking my alltrails map, I chose one of the uphill dotted lines that would take us our of the low-elevation trail and up onto the mesa.
Once atop, it was all field. Not a tree dotted the skyline, and we still could only see field and sky for a good portion of our walkabout.
There was no parking lot—just some dirt area along the shoulder of the road where one could park and a subtle metal bar gate at the curve of the road that was the entrance.
The beginning of the trail was no mesa, but just a trail through the shade. Trees on either side (I think some people warned of poison oak, but always wearing long pants and long sleeves, I never really worry about it). Checking my alltrails map, I chose one of the uphill dotted lines that would take us our of the low-elevation trail and up onto the mesa.
Once atop, it was all field. Not a tree dotted the skyline, and we still could only see field and sky for a good portion of our walkabout.
While I can’t say exactly how many miles of trails there are, I do think it’s gotta be at least 10 miles or more if you wanted to tread every inch of trail in the system.
We chose to just get straight to the good parts—the cliff.
We placed our feet on just over 3 miles of earth as we walked across the mesa, and south along the bluff and back north again.
In the twenty years I’ve lived Southern California, this is the most time I’ve spent in Santa Barbara. I imagine that long before the city became over-crowded, such journeys were commonplace. Now with few people on the road for holidays and even fewer commuting, perhaps these 100 mile jaunts up the coast will become a new thing for those able to go.
I’ve been quite lucky and am grateful that I have been working since the end of July from home, despite how difficult it is to do the job from afar. Steady income lowers stress, and now knowing that I can indeed hop in the truck and whisk away to another land in less than two hours’ time adds a little bit more relaxation to my life.
California has 840 miles of coastline (or maybe 3427 miles**), and if we have to stay here in quarantine for much longer, Tucker and I are going to walk a whole lot of them, just three to five miles at a time.
Certainly there are worse places to be, so I can’t complain. Tucker seems to enjoy the walkabouts along the shore, and so do I. Once I’m not working anymore, we can take a true unemployment break and start trekking the coastline every day if we wish.
Certainly there are worse places to be, so I can’t complain. Tucker seems to enjoy the walkabouts along the shore, and so do I. Once I’m not working anymore, we can take a true unemployment break and start trekking the coastline every day if we wish.
Until then, it’ll be a holiday affair, which makes it all the more special.
**Watch the video. You'll learn that distance isn't as black and white as you may have believed. https://www.boston.com/news/local-news/2017/08/11/does-maine-really-have-more-shoreline-than-california
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