Take A Hike with Richard Stockton – Hiking in a Storm in the Byrne-Milliron Forest
… is it worth the risk to hike in a storm?
I make the mistake of turning on NPR. As I drive past the Corralitos Market and
Sausage Company on Hames Road and turn left on Browns Valley Road, I hear a
Texas politician pontificate about his divine knowledge of when life begins. For
me, that would be my first cup of coffee. I turn on my windshield wipers and
wonder, “Why the hell am I heading for the Byrne-Milliron Forest in this storm?
Who would drive through driving rain to climb a mountain?” I’m indeed a curious
duck.
SIGNS OF CONFUSION Browns Valley or Brown Valley? Google Maps and the neighbors say Browns.
The Roses of Yesterday and Today sign with Monarch Butterflies on it is an easy
landmark for the road up to the parking lot. Turn left onto the entrance road across
from the Roses sign. It’s about a mile up to the Land Trust parking lot.
My Prius is the only car in the parking lot. There is a blue porta-potty that claims a
video camera is capturing everything. I wasn’t too keen on using the porta-potty
anyway but reading that my defecation reflex efforts are going to be captured on
video makes me want to take my chances with a poop bag in the woods.
I start from the parking lot and find the Byrne Trail. The rain has slacked off, but
the wind picks up. It blows harder and harder. The trees bend sideways, creak, and
pop. Is this a little crazy to be up here now? Yeah, it probably is. I’ll try not to get
hit in the head with a redwood limb.
Why do I love hiking in a storm?
Inclement weather can turn a hike into an adventure. Even the easiest trail feels
like it’s going into uncharted territory. You can’t see far, you pay more attention to
what’s under your feet. You become wild. You’re not just a person invading the
landscape, you’re part of it.
Rain is easy. We’re made of water. Wind is different. Wind is to be reckoned with.
Wind can be frightening. I was near a tornado once. Very near.
It’s 1996, I’m in Lubbock, Texas, and the comedy club put me up in a motel room
that has indoor-outdoor carpet on the floor. The walls shake every time a cattle
truck goes by. I pace the floor and berate myself.
“I’ve been a comic for ten years and I’m playing in Lubbock, Texas at a club
called Froggy Bottoms.”
That’s when I hear the wind. At first it whistles around the windows but grows
to pound the little motel and the walls shake. I turn on the radio. The DJ says, “Get
down people. The big blow’s comin’. Ya’ll, it is time to git to the root cellar!” The
radio dies and the lights go out. I tremble in the dark as the walls rattle and the
wind howls. I’m going to die in Lubbock, Texas.
I go to the door, because being from California, I know that it is safer in a
doorway. I open the door three inches. I see a lawn chair blow by. A garbage can
shoots down the street. I see a young boy, caught out in the tornado. He is being
blown down the street. I should go out and carry him to safety, right? Where
exactly is it safe? Am I going to do nothing? Will I let a child perish?
Wait a minute. He is on a skateboard. He has his jacket pulled up over his head
as a sail to catch the wind. He shoots past and I hear him yell.
“Yeeeeeeeeeehaaaawoo!”
I shake and he sails. There it is. You can cower in fear or go on the ride of your
life. No, I did not save that boy, he saved me.
Tornados aside, how dangerous is it to hike in a storm?
In the central coast I think we can probably get away with hiking in weather. Our
climate is so temperate, you’re not going to freeze, you’re not going to die of thirst,
and it’s not like I’m going to get lost on the Byrne-Milliron mountain and starve to
death. It would be hard to get lost enough to even have an intermittent fast.
I talk to a woodlot owner, with 20 years in the forest industry. He says, “Walking in the forest during windy conditions can pose risks, especially if there are old or weak trees. You may be able to hear a tree start to fall, but the question is if you
will have enough time to react and get out of the way. It can be dangerous,
particularly in softwood stands.”
Softwood? That would be redwoods, right? Like the giants that are creaking,
moaning and groaning all around me?
I make it to the Byrne Trail Observation deck and can look over Watsonville all the
way to the ocean and a panorama of much of Monterey Bay. This observation deck
alone is worth the trip. Binoculars are amazing up here.
The deck looks like a stage, with Monterey Bay as the backdrop. I feel like King
Lear, shouting into the wind.
“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!”
The rain stops, the wind dies down. Blue sky opens over the ocean and the angry
heavens pass over us. I’ll bet you a dollar that back in the day, Ohlone Native Americans
would stand here to check in on their land and their tribe. It feels like they are here now.
I’ve walked the mountain, with nothing but the feel of the wind and rain across my
face. I’m at peace with my storms. Tromping around a mountain of old trees in a
violent storm? Probably not a good idea and I don’t recommend that you do it.
Unless you have to. Then pull your coat up over your head to catch the wind.
How To Get There: Take Highway 1 to Freedom Blvd., cross over the freeway
and drive up Freedom to Hames Road. Drive through the metropolis of Corralitos
which consists of the Corralitos Market and Sausage Factory and continue straight.
Turn left at Browns Valley Road and go until you see the Roses of Yesterday and
Today sign, with Monarch Butterflies on it. Turn left there. The road up to the
Land Trust parking lot is approximately a mile after you turn off Brown’s Valley
Road.
Byrne-Milliron Forest Land Trust: a 2.9-mile loop trail near Watsonville,
California. Considered a moderately challenging route, it takes maybe 2 hours to
complete. This is a popular trail for birding, hiking, and walking, but you can still
find solitude. The trail is open year-round and is great to visit anytime. Dogs are
welcome and may be off leash in some areas.
Take A Hike with Richard Stockton – Fall Creek Hike to Limestone Kiln
… It’s about the next step.
It’s dawn and I’m the first to park in the Henry Cowell State Park parking lot up Felton-Empire Grade Road. I had to use my phone alarm to wake up. I hope hiking will get my circadian rhythm in alignment with the sun and moon, but for now my circadian rhythm is in alignment with Netflix and my bladder. My left knee cramps and my phone says its 40 degrees. I thought hell would be warmer.
Fall Creek Hike, from the Henry Cowell parking lot to the Limestone Kiln.
From damaged to managed
If you are a beginning or casual hiker, this column may be for you. If I can walk these trails, you can too. I hike every week, but I am not good at it. I have knee issues, I have endurance issues, I have mental issues. That’s why I hike. Does this hiking column have the legs to find an audience? Do I have the legs? At my age I don’t have time not to hike. I plan to open a store called Forever 71. It will sell trekking poles and shoes.
Two years ago, I wanted to get in the best shape of my life. And I wanted to do it quickly (I hope you are enjoying the coming train wreck.) I started running. My first time I was a wheezing mess in two minutes, four months later I was doing thirty minutes at a stretch.
I became a master of how slow you can go and technically still be jogging. I ran like I was playing soccer underwater.One afternoon I did my thirty-minute jog and felt like my feet were not even touching the ground. I stopped listening to my body and sped up. At 44 minutes I heard a pop in my left knee and limped home. I tried to fix it with more exercise but overdid that and hurt both knees. I walked with crutches all winter. I had to rest, and backed off all leg work to let my menisci heal. It took months for the pain to subside. I started working with a physical therapist and began to recover. Toe lifts, squats, lunges… but what really got my legs strong was riding a stationary bike. Rode it all spring. Never got far.
Leonard Cohen says that we are but “a brief elaboration of a tube.” I will take care not to spring a leak. Two years ago, I tried running. Now, I will try walking. Every day I exercise… caution.
I stand at the trail head with my staff, water bottle, with a Go Pro video camera attached to my chest harness and my left knee cramps hard. I’m standing here in the parking lot staring at the trail head feeling the damn knee throb. Am I making this pain happen psychosomatically? Did I come this far just to come this far? I stand on my right leg and stretch my left. The pain backs off and the only thing to do is to take the next step.
The Fall Creek trail head begins with a gentle descent. Maybe my left knee will warm up.
I’m hiking alone this morning; it is so still even the trail becomes thoughtful. The morning fog covers this land that was once under water, part of an ancient ocean, uplifted to form the Santa Cruz Mountains about three million years ago. The silt, sand, and mud that had been deposited in that shallow sea compressed into the shale, sandstone, and mudstone that make up the Santa Cruz mountains today. We’re headed to the stone remains of the Limestone Kiln. “Limestone is a sedimentary rock commonly composed of tiny fossils.” (scparks.com)
I’m a mile or so in. It’s seven-thirty and a shaft of light breaks through and mist rises over the trees to clear a path for more sunrays to stream into the forest making more moisture airborne. Spiraling dewdrops swirl upwards, and the sunlight breaks into a million promises.
My left knee is tender descending. Ah, the joy of hiking uphill. But as the heat from the rising sun burns the midst off, the trail burns off the tightness in my leg. By keeping my muscles fired from toes to nose like we learn to do in yoga, my body forms a union of support, and I can take the next step. If you walk in nature up and down hills, your legs will get stronger and you will get a rock-hard derriere.
“I’m gonna search and find a better way to walk…” Billy Joe Shaver
I’m Just An Old Chunk Of Coal (But I’m Gonna Be A Diamond Someday).
Long time hikers seem to gravitate towards trekking poles. Poles can give you an upper body workout, even with a single staff. Got a trick left knee? Try the staff in your right hand. Physical therapist Dr. Morgan Fielder says, “If you’re like me, your knees can hurt on the downhills. Trekking poles may help you tackle the downhills with more confidence and reduce the forces on lower body joints.” I need to heed the good doctor and get into poles.
The Fall Creek Trail feels like it was created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Surely, I am in Middle Earth.
You’ve got a lot of choices to go shorter or longer. I’ve discovered that since I became unemployed, anywhere on earth is within walking distance.
Made it! My heavy legs made it back out. I am in an altered state… this parking lot looksfamiliar. Think Richard, think. Did I bring my wife’s car or mine? When I find my car, I use my hands to pull my legs up under the wheel like they’re carry-ons. If I do yoga tonight, tomorrow I will move like a dancer. Did my journey answer the question, “Will hiking keep me alive?” Maybe it will keep you alive. Did we come this far just to come this far? It’s all about the next step.
I invite you to join me here https://youtu.be/1LBhF3vN2GY to take a two-minute time-lapse video of the trail, or by phone.
How To Get There: the day-use area of Fall Creek State Park Trail is in the Santa Cruz Mountains south of downtown Felton on Highway 9. From Highway 17, take the Mt. Hermon Road exit. Follow Mt. Hermon Road until it ends at Graham Hill Road. Or take Graham Hill Road up to Felton Highway 9, go across the intersection and up the Felton-Empire Grade Road for a mile and the Henry Cowell State Park lot is on your right.
Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park: with 20 miles of trails and skyscraping, old growth redwoods that are accessible from the day-use side of the park. There is grassland, river, sandhills as well. You’ll see banana slugs, black-tailed deer, coyotes, bobcats, and now at the Felton Fish Ladder, steelhead trout and coho salmon.
Special thanks to my contributing editor Julie Flannery.
Take A Hike with Richard Stockton
… think outside, no box required.
Rio del Mar Trail, get your Vitamin Sea
The French supercentenarian Jeanne Louise Calment was not just alive at 122, she thrived. She said, “I’ve only got one wrinkle and I’m sitting on it.” Today I hike with my French connection Laurence Bedford, songwriter Rick Zeek and our El Jefe, the 85-year-old Sleepy John Sandidge. Sleepy John says, “Dying is not an option. I don’t have the budget.” Sleepy John is a hiking inspiration to celebrate age pride. He says, “Aging is not contagious, everyone’s got it.”
This is a beach walk, and you’ll appreciate it if you remember to bring shades or a hat. The sun gives life, and it takes it away. I used to wear sunblock to keep from getting wrinkled. Now I wear sunblock to keep from looking homeless.
Synchronicity strikes when my three boys decide to hike the Rio del Mar Beach, because I follow the shenanigans of the Rio del Mar Homeowners Association, who have illegally blocked off the public path in front of their rental houses so they can advertise that they offer a private beach. We park in the free parking lot in front of The Pixie Deli.
I always thought that as I aged, I would become more of an activist. Turns out I just get crankier. My tee shirt should say, “I’m flabby on the outside, crabby on the inside.” Friedrich Nietzsche said that hiking is a political act. Today his idea turns out to be a little too on the nose. We start walking south, right past the disputed public walkway that the Rio del Mar HOA is trying to rip off. The rental houses look empty, we’re the only ones on the path. The boys walk ahead of me and then head to the surf. I’m meandering along the pathway, snapping photos of the erosion from the last flood, taking pictures of the real estate rental signs. I hear someone behind me.
“Who are you?”
I turn to see a well-dressed, 60-something lady. She is livid. Eyes red. She hisses,
“Who are you?”
“Oh. Hi. I’m Richard Stockton.” I extend my hand.
She does not look at my hand. She steps closer.
“Who are you?”
I am pretty sure I had covered that but get the idea she means something different. She takes a step closer.
“Who are you and what do you think you’re doing here?”
“I’m walking on a public path.”
“This is a private path. That’s why there are barriers.”
“You mean the barriers that the California Coastal Commission ordered the HOA to take down. Why do you think you can deny my use of this path?”
“It’s in the judgement.”
Of course. My new Karen friend is talking about a 2022 civil court ruling that said the City of Santa Cruz does not own the path. However, as Lisa Haage, Chief of Enforcement at the Coastal Commission pointed out, “It’s not relevant who owns the walkway.” Indeed, since the California Coastal Act of 1972, the Coastal Commission has the state mandated power to make sure everyone has access to the beach. I attended that December 14, 2023 Commission hearing when the board adopted all five resolutions by the staff by unanimous vote and ordered the Rio del Mar HOA to cease and desist with the encroachment of the pathway and pay $4.8 million in penalties.
My Karen snaps, “Where do you live?”
“I live in Santa Cruz. Where do you live?”
She takes a deep breath and steps back. Of course, she’s an investor.
“So, you don’t live here.”
“I am an owner.”
“And you’re mad that I’m using this public pathway.”
“It’s not public. What are you doing here?”
“I write for Good Times Weekly Santa Cruz.”
She flinches and takes a step back. I am emboldened.
“I’m just doing my job… to report why you think I can’t walk here.”
“It’s in the judgement.”
“OK. I’m sure you want me to disappear, but we both know that’s not going to happen. What should I do here? How do you want me to do my job?”
She takes another step back, her lips tight, fists clenched.
“Read the judgement.”
“I have read the court’s judgment, and it does not refute the Coastal Commission’s authority to keep this path open. If you really believe that I am trespassing, let’s call the police.”
I hold up my phone. The woman glowers, spins away and stomps off.
When I catch up with the boys, they ask me who my new friend is. We discuss how the mechanics of capitalism works to take away our very access to the ocean. We have been pushed to the left edge of America, as far as we can go. We have no choice, this is where we make our stand. This beach is our Normandy.
I say, “But I will not denigrate the intelligence of the Rio del Mar housing investors who claim that the California state beach access law does not apply to them. Denigrate means ‘to put down.’”
Laurence gets excited about investigating the people who own these rental houses and we form a detective agency. That night Laurence texts me that of every house owner he has tracked so far, none live in Santa Cruz.
The HOA put up large new fences blocking access to an embattled beachside walkway that the homeowner’s claim the public has no right to access. They advertise their rentals as having a private beach. The powerful, quasi-judicial California Coastal Commission says otherwise.
Man carrying his dog over barriers that the Rio del Mar HOA used to block the public pathway. Robert Moddelmog, enforcement agent of the Coastal Commission, says, “Our goal is not to have the public climbing fences.”
Coastal Commission officials say even if the walkway does belong to the property owners, the state law mandating coastal access supersedes that. The agency says state law requiring public coastal access would overrule a decision by a local judge to privatize the walkway. A woman passing by says, “The best solution would be for a tsunami to wipe it out.”
The ocean is always stunning. Terrifying. This is where Mother Earth shows you the curvature of the earth as the water bends out of sight.
Laurence comments that it looks like they’re bulldozing the beach back into the ocean. This wall is apparently a turn on for people who like concrete in volume.
Dogs are welcome on Rio del Mar Beach, but you’re supposed to keep them on leashes.
One of this trail’s reviewers on AllTrails.com says the beach is lousy with criminals who do not keep their dogs on leashes. I guess he’s talking about my hiking companions, clearly dangerous.
We don’t want the day to end, so we go to the Pixie Deli and Good Eats at the end of the parking lot. They have a banner over their entrance that says, “No shirt, no shoes, no pants, no problem.” We could be tired, we could be stoned, but the food is incredible. We eat on their wonderful patio in the sun, out of the wind.
I paid $16 for this salad, but it was amazing. And it comes with Danielle’s smile.
I invite you to join me on this hike with a 2 minute time-lapse video.
How To Get There: take Highway 1 south to Rio del Mar Blvd, Exit 433B. Follow that all the way down to the parking lot. Dogs are welcome but must be on a leash. I’m pretty sure that The Rio del Mar Homeowners Association would like to have all four of us on a leash.
Special thanks to Julie Flannery for her editing contribution.