A Ramble Through The Woods and Yonder

 

A family of quail carved atop a charming sign cautions drivers as they approach Wunderlich Park and the historic Folger Stable

Photo: Chronica Domus

In spite of the fact that I do not participate in any sporting activity, I do enjoy exercising in the great outdoors.  And by that I mean on Shanks' pony.  There is nothing better than a good old-fashioned invigorating ramble to rouse the spirit. Besides, if you are fortunate enough to have the use of two healthy feet and a sturdy pair of walking shoes, that is all that one requires to get moving.  No special training necessary.  No fancy equipment required. So, having found ourselves without social obligations this past Sunday, we telephoned our dear friend Gavin, an indefatigable walker, and invited him to join us on a trek through one of the Bay Area's prettiest hiking trails.  We fled south by motor for about forty-five minutes until we reached the environs of Woodside and Atherton, smack in the middle of horse country.  The area acts as home and playground to many of Silicon Valley's wealthiest captains of (tech) industry, due to its proximity to the main business hubs of San Francisco and San Jose. The serenity of the surrounding countryside is also a factor as to why the place is a magnet for its tony residents.

It was a perfect day to enjoy the spectacular trails of Wunderlich Park.  The lower than usual May temperatures afforded us the opportunity to amble along the Alambique trail without overheating. Additionally, spurts of vigorous wind rustling the tree tops also kept us cool.

The towering Redwood trees of Alambique trail

Photo: Chronica Domus

We encountered this spectacular view from the top of the trail, elevation 1,430 feet 

(notice the fog rolling in from the right)

Photo: Chronica Domus

At some point on our hike, we must have deviated from the woodland trail as we found ourselves walking along flower-spangled meadowlands.

Entering the bucolic meadow

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was pleasantly surprised to see several varieties of flora in bloom this late in the season. Sadly, my botanical knowledge falls short of identifying the flowers you see in the following photographs. Perhaps one of you knowledgeable readers would care to enlighten me, thank you.

Ah, this one I know to be an Iris

Photo: Chronica Domus

Could this be some type of Lily?

Photo: Chronica Domus

This one has me stumped ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

... as does this ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

.. and this pretty little blue one  ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

... yup, this one too (a wild Sweet Pea perhaps?)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Finally, one that I recognize, a Thistle ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

... and this is Briza maxima, or Rattlesnake grass

Photo: Chronica Domus

All in all we covered about eight pleasant miles, meandering hither and yon, until we were once again reunited with our motor.

Goodbye pretty meadow

Photo: Chronica Domus

At this point, I'd like to add a word or two about appropriate attire if you too decide to commune with nature, as we did.  By donning comfortable walking clothes that fall within Nature's subdued color palette, you choose to walk in harmony with Nature, not against her.  The entire point of being in such splendid environs is not to draw glaring attention to yourself with your hi-tech neon athletic shoes or zippy colored sports clothing.  Please, do us all a favor and leave those for the gym workouts. Here, browns and greens and other neutrals should rule for the enjoyment of all who seek the tranquility that such open spaces provide.  Our like-minded friend Gavin and I wore our olive green-colored quilted jackets atop neutral comfy walking clothes.  One dapper gent we crossed paths with and exchanged pleasantries looked absolutely marvelous in his straw hat and togs of muted tone.  He even accessorized with a pair of binoculars hanging from his neck.  Well done, sir!

One of the highlights of Wunderlich Park is a visit to the ritzy and meticulous Folger family horse stable.

Approaching the Folger Stable

Photo: Chronica Domus 

A portion of the stable complex

Photo: Chronica Domus

Designed by Arthur Brown Jr., who was also responsible for the design of San Francisco's city hall and opera house, the stable is built in the so-called "Victorian Gothic style".  Constructed in 1905 for the coffee magnate, James A. Folger II, the building is an absolute joy to visit, even if you're not of the horsey persuasion.

A vintage Folger's coffee advertisement appealing to "crotchety connoisseurs" and "affable amateurs" alike

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As we were here on a Sunday afternoon, the carriage room museum was unfortunately closed preventing me from photographing it to its fullest potential for your enjoyment.  

Photo: Chronica Domus

I last visited the museum several years ago and was impressed with the pristine carriages on display alongside artifacts and information on the local history of the area and the Folger family that owned the surrounding land.

I managed to snap this photograph of a carriage through the museum's window
Photo: Chronica Domus

My enjoyment of the stable was buoyed by several of the exquisite equines in residence, including this beautiful fellow.

Hello, my name is Winchester ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

And this one.

... and I'm Chespin

Photo: Chronica Domus

The tack and harness room was clean and orderly, much like the immaculately kept stable.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Saddles at the ready

Photo: Chronica Domus

One could not detect even a whiff of odor to betray the fact that horses are in residence. The redwood paneling of the stable's interior was harvested from the estate grounds and stained to imitate costly mahogany.  Gas lighting and cobblestones complete the elegant look of the interior.

The Folger stable is kept in tip-top condition

Photo: Chronica Domus

This beautiful horse is being readied for grooming

Photo: Chronica Domus

Happy trails

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once we had poked around the stable and yard, it was time to head north but not before a brief pit-stop in the town of Burlingame .  Having become ravenous from all the walking and fresh air, we happily devoured a scrumptiously prepared late luncheon early dinner with a glass or two of wine, swiftly undoing all the benefits gained from our calorie-busting walk. Oops!

It had been a fulfilling day of bracing exercise set among a backdrop of spectacular scenery, reminding me once again why I so adore living where I do.

Are you the sporty type or do you, like me, prefer a ramble through woods and yonder?

Summer Glaciers and Flower Meadows

A view from the slopes of  Mount Rainier with snowy Mount Adams just visible on the horizon

Photo: Chronica Domus

Leaving the vibrancy of city life behind in Portland, we headed north in preparation for the next leg of our journey, one that would provide us with an altogether different experience.

Clearly, one is traveling through Washington state, make no mistake about that!

Photo: Chronica Domus

The above photograph shows how the state of Washington pays homage to its namesake president.  It seems that every major highway sign I saw included a silhouette of our first president's likeness. Confusion as to which state one is driving through is immediately dashed with this unique visual cue.  So very clever, I think.  Actually, confusion could easily rain down upon motorists entering and exiting Portland, especially as the state lines of Oregon and Washington span the city's swarm of bridges.

Cows happily graze in the fertile meadows around Mount Rainier

Photo: Chronica Domus

What punctuates the surrounding pastoral landscape as one travels further north is an extraordinary series of mountain peaks that are covered in snow, even during the heat of summer.  These peaks are so enormous, so dominant, so magnificent, that one cannot fail to have one's breath taken away upon first glimpse.  Our destination was Mount Rainier, the highest peak in the Cascade mountain range, and considered to be one of the world's most dangerous volcanoes.  It rises 14,411 feet at its summit, and holds no peer anywhere in the contiguous United States.  Simply put, Mount Rainier is a giant.

We were to spend the day as guests of a local dendrologist and his wife, who had generously offered to give us a guided driven tour of Mount Rainier National Park.  As we entered the park, we spotted the sign below.  We were definitely entering the wildlands of the northwest.

Hungry bear alert

Photo: Chronica Domus

This young lady waved us through to begin our tour of one of the regions most pristine parks.

A friendly park ranger greets us at the entrance to the park

Photo: Chronica Domus

Mount Rainier National Park is the system's fifth oldest national park, and is home to not only picturesque sub-alpine meadows, crystalline blue lakes, rivers, and vast ancient forests, but it is also home to abundant wildlife.

This sparkling emerald green lake is so pristine that the trunks of submerged fallen trees are visible to the naked eye

Photo: Chronica Domus

Throughout our day of driving and hiking we gazed upon spectacular scenic tableaux.  Our guide Thom, we discovered, was extremely knowledgeable and was able to provide background information on the many natural features we stopped to admire along the way.  Thom is also an expert dendrologist so each time I had a question on what variety of tree this was, or what plant that was, Thom always had an answer for me.

Not only does the park provide a natural visual feast for its delighted visitors, it also boasts several buildings that were constructed by the National Park Service in a fashion that is sympathetic to its naturalistic surroundings.  This architectural style, developed in the early twentieth century, is sometimes referred to as "Parkitecture", or National Park Rustic.  The first example we saw on our visit was at a spot known as Sunrise, when we stopped for a short hike around the visitor center and day lodge.

The rustic-style shingled day lodge at Sunrise was built in 1931

Photo: Chronica Domus

Another example of "parkitecture" is the Sunrise Visitor Center which provides its visitors with telescopes for a better view of Mount Rainier

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sunrise is the highest point on the mountain that cars can access, rising to a lofty 6,400 feet above sea level.  It is here that visitors gain the most complete view of the park and the extraordinary splendor that abounds.

 A view of the glaciers on Mount Rainier (a blue glacier is visible cascading down the right side of the peak)

Photo: Chronica Domus

The area is also famed for its swathes of wild flowers which briefly appear during the short summer months when the snow has melted.  We were fortunate to be visiting during the mountain's dazzling show and saw many unusual varieties, such as the example shown in the following photograph.

A fluffy anemone occidentalis which appears rather magical to me, and to my daughter was reminiscent of Dr. Suess' truffula tree, of Lorax fame

Photo: Chronica Domus

A colorful wild flower meadow of dwarf lupines and scarlet paintbrush

Photo: Chronica Domus

Continuing our tour around and down the mountain, we stopped at the Grove of The Patriarchs Loop for a brief respite in the form of a light picnic, and a leisurely amble around the looping trail.  I was surprised to see how much the vegetation on this side of the mountain, and at this lower elevation, varied from the sub-alpine species thriving uphill.  Here, surrounded by mighty ancient specimens of hemlock, Douglas fir, and western red cedar, one felt terribly insignificant.  It was as though we had stepped into an otherworldly place.  I was half expecting an encounter with a prehistoric beast where I would soon become his lunch. No, instead sprightly chipmunks frolicked along the forest floor, and the cacophonous din of Steller's jays swooping overhead was the only sound to break the silence.

This enormous towering mossy ancient red cedar has survived at least a thousand years

Photo: Chronica Domus

An example of a "nursery tree", a fallen tree that sprouts new life by growing vertical trunks

Photo: Chronica Domus

To view some of these trees, one must first take a little adventure across a small and somewhat treacherous suspension bridge that spans the clearest river I had ever set eyes upon, the Ohanapecosh.  We performed our finest Indiana Jones impersonations as we negotiated the wobbly structure, one person at a time.  Clearly, the three panic-stricken Japanese visitors we spied did not read the warning sign, which is written in English, and cautions against multiple people crossing simultaneously. Oops!

The Ohanapecosh suspension bridge which proved a challenging feat to keep stable

Photo: Chronica Domus

Concluding our drive around the park, we headed towards Paradise, affording us another opportunity to view the blue glaciers on Mount Rainier, and see yet another fine example of a National Park rustic structure, the historic Paradise Inn.

Paradise Inn was built to withstand the heaviest snowfalls in the park

Photo: Chronica Domus

A purple foxglove growing in a wild flower meadow in Paradise

Photo: Chronica Domus

Traveling through a stone tunnel, and passing several waterfalls, which are fed by melting glacial waters, we were soon to end a most enjoyable and memorable tour of this spectacular jewel in the National Park system's crown.

The stone bridge at Box Canyon

Photo: Chronica Domus

Melting water from Mount Rainier's glaciers create this waterfall

Photo: Chronica Domus

A bucolic final view of the majestic volcano

Photo: Chronica Domus 

Of course, our experience was made more enjoyable thanks to our knowledgeable and generous host and expert guide Thom, and his delightful and gracious wife, and for that we are most indebted to them.

I do hope you've enjoyed reading about this area of outstanding natural beauty.  In our fast-paced modern world, where more and more land is being turned over to developers, it is comforting to know that these unspoiled areas were conserved and set aside as parks for the enjoyment of future generations.

Pennies From Heaven

No, this is not my tip for serving dinner to my family, this is a tally of found coins for the year

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have always been a walker, at least as far back as my failing mind can recall.  My mother doesn't quite remember when exactly I found my legs as a toddler, but I'm sure that when I did, I ambled and sashayed with abandon.  I recall early sturdy and sensible walking shoes always being purchased at Clarks' flagship store on Regent Street in London.  This was certainly a fun adventure for us children being that our feet were always measured using their innovative electronic sizing machine.  The contraption insured the best possible fit in terms of width and length and assured my mother that we children would be kitted out in the best quality shoes she could afford.

As a child Chronica Domus was very familiar with these styles of shoe

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I am convinced my love of walking has something to do with the fact that I was born in England, a nation that claims walking as its most popular outdoor recreational activity. Walkers in Britain are even granted special walkers' rights enabling them to cross footpaths on both public and private lands.

The British walk for the sheer joy of it, taking in the air and sights of both city and countryside, decked out in their comfortable walking shoes and perhaps a waterproof jacket. Americans, at least in my part of the country, walk for sport in their yoga togs, hurriedly traversing their ground, and constantly checking their heart monitors or pedometers between refreshing sips of water from their bottles.  It is all very exhausting!

My first post-college job required that I travel to London from my home in Kent.  This was a grueling daily commute involving a motor coach and several trains operated by London Underground, as well as walks in between the two modes of transportation.  All this before I even reached my office at 8.45 a.m.  The entire commute was done in reverse during the evening mad rush to get home.  I probably walked at least four miles per day during both journeys to and from work.

The Embankment tube station, part of my daily commute into the office

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My honeymoon was spent walking for a week in the pristine Emigrant Wilderness, situated in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  This was an entirely new experience for me and one that meant I had to negotiate the terrain of steep granite ridges and mountains (a rare sight in England), verdant meadows and lakes.  That was probably the toughest and longest walk I had ever undertaken, a fact that stands true to this day over two decades later.

When I adopted my first dog upon moving to my new country, I undertook the pleasures of exercising her twice a day.  A short walk in the morning, before leaving for the office, and a more leisurely one at the conclusion of the day.

During my lifetime of walks I have often spotted coins laying about in the streets and roadways, a penny here or a penny there.  I instinctively pick them up.  Will these pennies bring me luck, as the rhyme states?  "Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck".

The first time I came across found money I was no more than a child of nine, playing at the local park.  I recall the fiver wrapped around a scrunched up hand-written note instructing the fishmonger to fulfill "four orders of cod and chips, please".  Surely, a child on an errand for his mother must have dropped the note and money on his way to buy dinner for the family. I felt a sense of sadness for the child. Dinner would not be served in the form of fish and chips that evening but I had no way of knowing to whom I might return the money.

A view of Main Street, Jackson, California where we found our loot (note: not much has changed since the 1930's, apart from the motor cars)

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The greatest amount of money I ever found was an astonishing nine-hundred dollars, located just outside the door of a small bank in the gold rush town of Jackson, California.  I was with my husband and some friends, and we had traveled to Amador county to spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast and to enjoy countryside walks and nearby towns. Obviously, it did not take us long to conclude that a customer of the bank had withdrawn the money and accidentally dropped it as they were leaving the building.  We stepped inside the bank and made inquiries of the tellers.  We were told an elderly gentleman had taken the money from his account and had only just left the establishment.  We thanked the tellers and set out to find the man in hopes of returning the cash.  It was an easy task as we immediately spotted the gentleman looking bewildered and upset.  We approached him and asked if he needed assistance.  The poor dear explained that he had just lost his son in a tragic motor car accident and had come to the town of Jackson to make funeral arrangements.  The money we had found was intended to help with those costs.  We were all dumbfounded upon hearing his unfortunate tale, but felt terribly satisfied we were able to return the money to the rightful owner.

Last June, I finally decided to seek the answer to a nagging question; precisely how much money do I come across during my day-to-day walks.  I set myself the task of picking up every coin or note I found for exactly one year.  At the end of it, I would have my answer.

At first, I found the odd penny strewn about on the pavements of my regular dog walking route.  Then, I noticed that shortly after the local schools had closed for the duration of the summer holiday, the coins I found were of larger denominations.  Quarters, dimes, and nickels had been dropped from the pockets and little hands of excited school-aged children on their way to the local shops, or perhaps a friend's  home, or to spend the day playing at the local park.  Incidentally, June was the month I found the most coins, followed by July and August.  After the schools were once again in session, my luck had run dry and I was back to picking up the occasional penny.  I did not find any notes during my twelve month experiment, although I did find eleven single dollar bills that were bundled together in a parking garage right before I started my experiment (so those don't count). 

I have just tallied the coins, exactly twelve months to the day after starting my experiment, and found I had collected a grand total of one dollar and fifty-five cents.  This was not exactly a windfall, I'll admit, but it was enough (barely) to buy a small cup of coffee from the local coffee shop.  And, as for luck, I'm not sure if finding all of those pennies has made me a luckier girl or not.  It has certainly trained my eyes to dart about obsessively upon the ground I tread.  I must stop that now.

Do you enjoy walking, and have you found anything of value during your everyday comings and goings?