April 19, 2014

Hiking – Oak Canyon Community Park – Oak Park

The glossy covered magazine, which arrives tucked into our morning paper, lists over 20 hikes all within 10 miles of our house. The trails are laid out, mileage listed and ease/difficulty of each hike spelled out. I hand it to my husband. He glances at it. Looks at a few of the hikes on his ipad then says, “I have a better idea.”

See here’s what I have learned in over 30 years of marriage…men don’t follow directions and, mostly, never like to be told what to do. Unless they think of following the directions themselves and first, without coercion or suggestion, then the rules change. “What about the China hike?” I ask. It says moderate to strenuous and covers 6.5 miles with 1,300+ feet of elevation gain. I think it sounds interesting.

He fiddles on his ipad, hems a bit, then flips it around for me to see. “Narrow path. Rattle snakes. Nope. I’ll find something else. Trust me.”

The thing is I do. And actually he has me at rattle snakes.

Thirty minutes later we are loaded into the car, Mayhem (the pup) panting wetly in my ear. Using enlarged satellite images my husband (playing Tom Sawyer) finds a hiking area nestled in the city of Oak Park. I know we turn off Kanan Road and park at Oak Canyon Community Park. All else is a mystery as to how we get there.

Leaving the sidewalk behind, my husband decisively turns us up a dirt trail and our hiking begins. The trail climbs quickly and steeply (my first typical thought is, I hope I don’t have to come down this,) and soon we are completely away from concrete and cars.

The unknown calls to my husband. His steps quicken, he gait loosens, and his smile grows. Each fork in the path isn’t debated. He twists and turns us up the trails, following his inner sense of adventure. I stop trying to figure out where we are after the first three turns. All I absorb is that the path is wide, flanked by chaparral-like trees and bushes, and is 99% empty of people and human sounds.

Birds call. A hawk soars screeching overhead. (Mayhem in all her fluffiness may have looked like lunch at first.) Desert flowers bloom.

Where my husband relaxes instantly into the uncharted, I follow hesitantly, gauging the trail, a few steps behind. Then, all I want to do is hike forever. I want to try each trail. Now. I want to see what’s over the next ridge. I get where he is, I just own it in a slower fashion.

On the scale of life, we balance each other perfectly. I give him the directions; a new trail, a new idea. He absorbs it, discards it, and finds something completely, gloriously different to explore; without directions.

The beginning of the trail.

Pretty views.

Yucca plant sitting off the trail.

Blooming flowers.

Another path we followed.

March 29, 2014

Hiking – Happy Camp Canyon Park in Moorpark, California

Against my inherent distaste for different and untried, my husband, Mayhem (the pup) and I hiked a new (for us) trail today. It took longer to get in the car and back out of the driveway than it took to drive there. And still we managed to forget Mayhem’s shoulder harness leash…We looked at it, talked about it, and still left it warming the garage floor.

Happy Camp Canyon Park is in Moorpark and rests at the edge of our bucolic town. It sits on 3,000 acres and sports 12.5 miles of trails. I assure you we did not cover all of that today. Mayhem loved the numerous and fresh horse droppings and had to be taught (over and over again) that they were not tasty biscuits waiting for her on the trail.

I pretended to be calm about the fact that we chose twists and turns on the trails at a whim and quietly assured myself that my husband could find his way back from anywhere. When he pointed out the freshly dug and overly large animal hole/den, I actually wished it housed a snake, but he said it was too big for a snake. I opted for my head-in-the-sand protective amnesia and looked the other way.

We came to a bluff overlooking a valley covered in green scrub and blooming Lupin flowers. The descent path was steep and thin and my husband said it might be too tough for me. His reverse psychology worked and we headed down or rather I, skidded down the rock/dirt path. I was so proud when I reached the bottom upright, that I took a multitude of pictures to document my mighty conquest. (I love hyperbole and since it makes me look braver, I employ it frequently.)

Mayhem barked at bike riders, horses and bees as she romped through the dirt and grass. We laughed at her antics and the fact that my four steps equal one of my husband’s and that I use a slight walk/skip to keep up with him. I also stop frequently to take pictures, remove an outer layer of clothing, and drink constantly from my water bottle. My patient husband vibrates with energy as he tries to match my slower, more peaceful pace.

As we rounded the last part of the trail, we came upon friends we hadn’t seen in a while. We walked and talked like we had just seen each other the day before. It reminded me that one of my favorite things about hiking, besides the natural beauty of the earth around me, is that while hiking there is nothing to do but move, absorb the views, scents and sounds, and talk – about everything and nothing.

What a perfect place to be.

The beginning of the hike – My husband with Mayhem

Looking up at the “steep” trail I hiked down

A bee gathering pollen from the Lupin

The end and the beginning of the trail

February 14, 2014

Hiking – Wildwood Canyon in Thousand Oaks

Unless you are lucky enough to live in the mountains, there are few places where you can drive for a maximum of ten minutes and reach a great hiking trail. We have our own hidden spot where we have hiked for years. From our house to the trail is about three good song lengths at most. (Or two back to backs of Meatloaf’s, Paradise by the Dashboard Light.) Last weekend my husband, the wild and crazy pup, and I hiked Wildwood Canyon in Thousand Oaks. I haven’t laughed that powerfully in months.

To start at the beginning, we decided to hike one of the trails we like most, backwards, which for me entails having no idea where I am, because I’ve never done it that way before and even if I had, I still would have been confused. So I followed my husband down into the canyon that rims a waterfall. We were lucky enough that the slight drizzle we had last week made the waterfall bounce and spray over the rocks.

It was cool with soft clouds covering most of the sun’s glare. My husband was thrilled. He never, ever likes to be hot. The trail we chose had great leafy tree coverage, more than a trickle of running water, and birds filling the crisp air with their songs.

We reached a junction, that I’m sure I’ve been to hundreds of times so I confidently said, “This way,” only to not so quickly realize that nothing looked even slightly familiar. My husband’s theory was that we’d eventually land somewhere near our car. We hiked on.

We reached a crossing where the water rushed exuberantly over the rocks. The pup, who loves water, decided she wasn’t crossing. She sat down and looked expectantly at my husband. He crossed to show her how easy it was. She was less than impressed.

He crossed back over, heaved her up into his arms and carried her over. She landed on the ground and happily licked him to show that she was proud of him for figuring it out. We still can’t figure out who is training who in our whole puppy/human situation.

He reached an arm across to help me and the man who has perfect balance started to dance, and not on purpose. His feet spun. His arms waved. And I swear there was a cartoon bubble over his head that read, “Whoa!!!!!”

Have you ever watched a 6’8” man flail about trying not to fall on slippery rocks? Since he eventually righted himself without falling, I can say it was the funniest visual I’ve ever seen. I could hear Curly from the Three Stooges and all of his sound effects as my husband wobbled.

I can’t say that I saw much of the rest of the hike because my eyes were blurred with tears from laughing. Every time I looked at him, I laughed. I snorted. I even drooled. One of the best hikes I’ve taken in a long time. I was outside. I was with my husband. And we were laughing like kindergarteners.

The beginning of the trail

Near the waterfall

The waterfall

Beautiful trees

I love this part of the trail

January 23, 2014

Dancing and Hiking with the Sunset Women

As a child there’s the feeling that anyone, even a few years older, really has nothing of interest to impart, but as I inch along the trail of life, I have discovered that I missed a lot about people when I was younger. To put it bluntly, until recently, I never appreciated the strong, brilliant women in my family. They may have a few years on me, but I can only aspire to live my life the way they have, and the way they continue to embrace the world.

One of the emotional casualties of my parents’ divorce was my Aunt Linda; by not seeing my father for years, I also lost out on my relationship with this woman who spent years working with numbers and paints scenes of quiet beauty. I can hear the wind rustling the leaves on the trees in her paintings. I can smell the trail dirt on the hiking paths she paints. And I can feel the sharp air in my throat in her painting of a snowy trail. She came to my daughter’s wedding this year and without hesitation gathered me close in a hug and showed me old baby pictures of me she had brought with her. Then she proceeded to dance full out with anyone and everyone throughout the evening.

My Aunt Ruthie was 15 when I was born, and has always been the cool, hippie aunt who actually was at Woodstock, who camps and hikes, and is someone who nurtures everyone she encounters, and still I had never really talked to her in depth until my mother died eighteen months ago. Then, one afternoon she called and asked if I was working from home. I was and we ate our lunch together over the phone and talked. Her voice is as soothing as her personality and I was sorry when we had to go back to work. This is a woman who for her fiftieth birthday hiked with a friend to Base Camp at Mount Everest. (Forgive me Aunt Ruthie if I have the details a touch incorrect…, but this is what I remember.) Since that conversation, we talk intermittently, text, and hopefully soon, will hike together.

I’m sorry for all of the conversations that I have missed with them over the years. It makes me realize that there were years that I tunneled through life, missing some very important connections. I took the family connection for granted. I saw them, robotically and without appreciation, for holidays, vacations and never really knew them.

It’s obvious that sometimes I take the tortoise approach to life…but thankfully, these women have been patient with me. I’ll leave the wild dancing and extreme hiking to my aunts – as long as I get to be a part of their lives.

Sunset in Laguna Beach

January 14, 2014

Hiking – Rocky Peak Park at the border of Simi Valley and Chatsworth

Last Saturday, my husband, the ‘you can’t make me tired’ pup, Izzy, and myself hiked at Rocky Peak Park. I’m embarrassed to say that we have driven by this trail, which sits right off the 118 freeway, for over twenty years and we have never stopped to hike it. It is the perfect hiking gem; hidden in plain site. There is no real parking site so cars line a dirt path that runs parallel to the freeway. Then you have to walk across a small bridge that spans the 118 freeway. I had always thought it would be like hiking in the middle of the mall, but a few minutes up the trail nature wipes out any possible freeway noise.

We were hiking that day to celebrate my husband’s four weeks of recovery from spinal surgery. He was so grateful to be outdoors and moving, that the trail could have run through a residential section of town and he still would have been happy. The trail pitched sharply from the beginning and I admit to puffing my way up it. But because we climbed so quickly, we were presented with miles of pristine views.

When I hike with my husband, I feel like I’m cheating. I don’t have to worry that I’ll make a wrong turn and end up in another state. I don’t worry about safety because he always seems to know how to wrap/tape/glue anything, including body parts that get damaged or injured. He’s the guy who is aware of everything around him for miles, where I’m good if I know where my feet are. His presence allows me to hike in a completely mind-free manner; tasting the freedom of the moment without restrictions.

The trail was filled with families, friends, couples and runners. Everyone seemed to want to celebrate the fact that while the rest of the country nestled inside frigid homes, we were lucky enough to enjoy blue skies and seventy degree weather. The boulders and plants lay scattered alongside and in the trail forming a moon-like landscape.

We passed a fit, but time-worn couple, easily in their seventies, strolling side by side up the trail. They greeted us warmly and showered attention on our prancing Izzy. We hiked only a few hours in honor of my husband’s newly added titanium fusion. There were miles more trail to explore, but we’ll be back another day. As we got into our car after hiking, we saw the same couple headed to their car. They were only minutes behind us. I hope to be just like them when I grow up.

My husband and Izzy at the beginning of the trail

January 6, 2014

Hiking – Red Rock Canyon to Calabasas Peak

Red Rock Canyon to Calabasas Peak – off Old Topanga Canyon Road and Red Rock Road

Yesterday, my daughter – sometimes known as Princess, my all-exhausting pup – Izzy and I hiked Red Rock Canyon Park. We met there in a dusty, but well maintained parking lot. Being a mom, I carried far too much water, energy bars and a baggy of almonds. I also carried a collapsable water bowl and a bag of kibble for Izzy. I knew the hike was only about a two hour trek, but knowing my propensity for getting lost, I always over-bring and thus usually carry an unnecessarily over-heavy backpack. (My poor son-in-law was forced , due to me, to carry 5 pounds of trail mix on my first attempt at summitting Mount Whitney.)

The path was wide, well-marked, and mostly shaded throughout much of the hike. We met all sorts of friendly people mostly with their happy dogs. The rock formations looked like the mountain had burped up boulders, laid them haphazardly on their sides, then poked cave-like holes in them, just for fun.

We had printed the directions to Calabasas Peak and carried them in my backpack. Ironically and of course, we never took them out of my pack which partially explains how we missed the peak.

We ambled along, laughing, catching up, and viewing the skyline cradling the brush-covered mountains. Sometimes we stopped to watch Izzy inhale the overstimulating scents that covered the trail or to grab frantically at her leash when she attempted to launch herself over the mountain ledge, as she chased a juicy, fluttering leaf.

After we had climbed for a while, the trail began to head downwards. The directions had said to find an offshoot on the left. My guess is that we had talked our way through that little bit of noticing and missed the part that we should have gone up on to reach the peak. We followed the trail another twenty minutes or so and then, because we are not men, asked a hiker , “Do you know where Calabasas Peak is?”

She turned and pointed far up the trail. “You should have followed the trail to the left back there.”

She waved a hand at the area back over our shoulders. We thanked her and turned around.

On the way back, we easily found where we should have turned. It was clearly visible…if we had remembered to look. Again, because we are not men, we did not feel the need to hike the extra amount to reach the peak that day.

When we got back in the car, we decided we were only mildly disappointed at our missed summit, because the day had been gorgeous, the sights more than interesting, and we had been outside in the glorious nature-scented air.

What more could we have asked for?