The Trail Less Taken

Tucker and I have haunted the Marin Headlands a number of times. I thought I knew the trails and had step foot on all the dog friendly trails. But late last night, clicking on trailheads on alltrails and following the red lines to see if they appeared familiar, I found a trail we hadn’t yet trod.

The starting point was the same usual: the barracks and beach. But rather than follow the people upwards to the hilltop, we went northwest, along a path no one else was taking, Tucker balked at first. He didn’t see why we would go that way. So I let him a lead us back for a bit, then told him that I needed to see what was down this path. He followed me begrudgingly at first, but then realized maybe it wasn’t so bad.

The winds were fierce, as if testing if we had the drive to continue along the ragged cliff’s edge. Perhaps it was this force of nature that was giving Tucker pause.
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I told the winds I welcomed their voice, and was hear to listen to their sage advice. They calmed a bit, and allowed us to trespass, to take in the spectacular view with no human intervention.

We walked on, the vast ocean before us, and the clouds riding the breeze.

The path was more of a stream from the recent rains than a trail, but it wasn’t treacherous.

The cypress trees were the doorway, hiding the magic that lay beyond.

Beneath the cover of trees, our feet found little dry footing. But we made it through and  as the cypresses  leaned back as if drawing a curtain, we espied the main event.

An unexpected “whoa” escaped my throat as I stepped out from beneath the trees and took in the vast beauty.

Tucker seemed suspicious of whatever was in the strong winds that accosted his ears and nasal passages. But I was too joyful to notice that as my eyes drank in the view.

The flat peninsula devoid of grasses gave us views of the south and the north: To the south, where the beach and our trusty steed rested...

​To the north, where the redwood groves held their land just over the mountain peaks, taking in the ocean air and fog every morning and evening.

The colors and shapes took a hold of me, this glorious work of art by Nature.

I could stand there all day, drinking in the beauty, inhaling the magic.

But Tucker seemed done, and as his loyal partner, I had to respect his choice. He had let me go down a path he initially objected to, so now that I got what I wanted, it was his turn.

We returned the same way, exiting through the magic cypress portal and back to the land of humans.

All along this coast, there was the remnants of United States military. As we passed a half-downed fencing, I had to ask again (to no one and to no answer), why, when our military abandons a location, do they leave it looking like a zombie apocalypse, a hundred years hence?

We carried on, facing the south this time, taking in the beauty of it.

As we passed a small inlet, a fuzzy white cloud rose up beside me, drawing my attention to whence it came.

There below, as the waves crashed, sea foam fairies danced above the bedrock, springing skyward, then floating back down, rocked again by another wave, dancing and giggling to the rhythm of life.

The term “supernatural” comes to mind, and yet I had to wonder how something more super than nature could exist. Or did those who created the term just never experience places like these? For truly, taking the road less taken, you wind up in Nature so spectacular, you could never fathom anything more super than this.