Due to a miscommunication, I ended up hiking alone yesterday. The trail is long, and at times quite isolating (i.e. boring), so I think in all the years I’ve been hiking it, I’ve only done so alone once. When my friend was late, and I called her and realized the snafu, I considered just going back to my car, going home and jumping in the shower. It would have been so easy. Then I would have snuck into the workshop and started another frustrating & overwhelming day. Instead, I put one foot in front of the other and propelled myself in the direction of the gate. I’m so glad I did.
The trail was quiet most of the time, broken up by the conversations of other early morning hikers and broken up even more by the whir of mountain bikers blazing past me. It was such a welcome relief. I brought along Scott’s camera because I was in the market for a new one and he has a nifty little Canon PowerShot that he loves. I kept up a pretty good clip except for the moments when I was moved enough to stop and snap.
About a half mile down the trail, there is this big, beautiful, old pepper tree. Its branches hang heavy with foliage and drag to the ground. It’s one of those trees you would love to have in your backyard, if your backyard has been around for decades.
I love this tree. It has a secret.
Way down here, in the middle of nowhere, on this trail, if you walk inside this beautiful tree, you will find a rope swing that someone suspended years ago. I can’t even begin to wonder what the motivation was to put up a swing, hidden in the branches of an old tree, almost a mile down a dirt trail, but it’s so wonderful. If that tree were in my backyard, I'd place a hammock inside, and hang chandeliers from the branches. A secret garden. A private spot. Wouldn't that be nice?
This trail is actually a fire road, which is nice because it’s maintained. A developer was trying to build in this area a couple of years ago, and so spurred a preservation movement to squash his efforts (which were successful – I think the Land Conservancy raised about 5 million dollars to keep this place like this - maybe more, 5 million doesn't seem like a lot for this). I think during that time they re-graded the dirt road. It’s better like this – before it was all ruts and ditches, with rocks from rain runoff making it totally hazardous.
The view is amazing and inspiring and I always say that if I had the time, I would do this everyday (round trip is about 1.5 hours minimum). There’s an ocean view nearly the entire way, and the breeze is the sweetest thing…
Halfway down (and then up!) the trail ends and you find yourself at the gate into Rolling Hills. The gate that you squeeze through is actually the end of Portuguese Bend Road, and walking up it is the most strenuous part of the hike. It’s brutal. It’s nearly vertical – always moving thanks to some inherent land issues (so much so that the utilities are all above ground).
Rolling Hills is one of those rural communities where time stands still. You can still find open lots for $2-3 million if you want to build, and all the homes in the area have acreage. The equestrian influences are strong and the street signs are charming.
Look - the Partridge Family lives here! I actually went to high school with Susie...she lives in Ohio now, on a farm! Lucky girl!
The lone Rolling Hills Fire Station: we figure they are the lonliest, sleepiest station in the area! Yes, that is a bathtub in the foreground - now used as a water trough for the local horses. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed the flag at half mast; bringing me back to my Sunday morning thoughts about the fallen firefighters in the Esperanza blaze.
Lots of solitude. Lots of quiet. Lots of thinking time. I felt so invigorated when I finished - muscles all stretched and sore; but a good kind of stretched and sore. The happy kind. Like I finally accomplished something. I needed that.
