The Day After, and the Day After...

​We might have overdone it on my birthday. Looking at my AllTrails, we ended up clocking about seven miles in our explorations. I didn’t have an alcohol-induced hangover; it was more like the day after Thanksgiving except rather than our stomachs being overfull, our day had been overfull and we were still digesting our explorations.
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But life is short, and while I wanted to rest, I couldn’t justify sleeping away the day. Tucker, however, could nap while I (slowly) got ready for the day’s adventures. 

​Mount Madonna, another crowd-sourced suggestion, was our destination for the day. It’s a county park, and Tuck is allowed pretty much everywhere.

I chose a hike with as little elevation gain as possible while still getting my redwood fix since my legs were recovering from the day before.
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Evidently not just my legs, but my eyes, were still tired, because I started on the wrong trail. I didn’t mind much, and in fact, by the time we reached the connector trail at the top and came down, I was happy that I hadn't followed the planned route. Our walk wasn’t as expected, but I think it was even better as we ended up in the deepest redwood grove on the way back down where I could truly enjoy it.

​And our trusty steed got to rest among the towering giants while she awaited our return.

It was our only hike of the day, but I had chosen our place due to its deck and view, so I wanted time to enjoy it.

Tucker needed time to sleep on it (still digesting the day before).

​Our final night under the stars was relaxing and beautiful, and certainly not a waste of time. We turned in a little early so we would be ready for the the train ride: the catalyst that had brought us here.

The Monday time slot was perfect. I was relieved to see only half a dozen cars in the parking lot an hour before boarding. 
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Tucker was well-rested and ready for adventure.

He was happy to explore the grounds and check out the trains.

But was a little perplexed once we got on. “Wait, what’s happening?”

I think he might have been over my enthusiasm—or me—as his face in our selfie looks like every teen’s face when their mom tries to get a picture with them.

​We nabbed a seat on the middle car, but up front so he could look out without being in someone else’s face. The benches faced inward, so this was the easiest way to see.

​The conductor’s stories of the redwoods and the land was a beautiful end cap to our extended weekend in the place I love so dearly. 

Tucker changed his vantage point from seat to floor for some of the trip up Bear Mountain.

​And he enjoyed the quick walkabout at the top. It was like being on a cruise ship that had landed at port—you were given a few hours to wander about and make it back before it shipped off again. Since the port was just a picnic area and we were on a train not a ship, we had fifteen minutes, not hours.

​As people milled about, checking out Cathedral Grove where they hold weddings, the team of railroad employees checked the equipment. Dixiana, the steam engine, just turned 100 on October 12th. I thought my Toyota was going strong at 24. This steam engine, now fueled with recycled oil (not coal or wood), burned cleanly, but still needed to be maintained and brakes needed to be checked before heading back down the mountain.

​We drove through the remains of the original double-decker trestle bridge that was like a spiral staircase for the train. In the 1970’s, some people who did not do their research, thought this was a logging train, and so blew up the bridge in protest, as they had nine others that week. Had they done their research, they would know that this land had never been logged; the railroad is a tourist attraction to bring people to the forest to see how beautiful it is to NOT be logged. 

While the spiral trestle hasn't been rebuilt yet, there are plenty others, made to wind around the trees so no tree loses its life to the railroad.

​The bridges, the trees, the narration, all of it was just what I wanted. And while Tucker wasn’t as excited about it as I thought he would be, he seemed to enjoy it well enough. Even the conductor said he did better than most dogs. I think it’s fantastic they allow dogs; like the Buddha retreat center that knows harmony with nature is good for dogs, this place know that being in the woods is good for dogs too. 

​But Tucker is more of a coastal dog. So after I got my final fix of redwoods, we headed down the mountain for Tucker to get some Santa Cruz sea breeze before heading back to Southern California.

​It was only West Cliff Drive, not a beach or even a trail. But Tucker showed his joy in the big smile that only comes out when we are near the ocean.

​We walked a mile up and back to the lighthouse, taking in the views and the ocean air,

​And then we bid Santa Cruz and its mountains good bye... for now. In five hours, we’d be back in our home who I’m sure appreciated the break from us. But I have no doubt we will return. I just won’t wait four months to respond to its call. Life is short, but if we truly invest in every moment, committing to adventure, then how short it is doesn’t matter; only how full we make it.