Artemisia tridentata

Sagebrush, big sagebrush, possibly a variety of wormwood, this tough plant covers millions of acres of the Southwest and graces large tracts in the Tehachapi mountains.  We even transplanted a few to our landscaping, although they do so well that, left alone, little else would be found around the house if we didn't whack it back from time to time.  I am constantly drawn to the dusty green and scraggly shrub, which can grow up to six feet high or more, although usually it scrambles around in the one to three foot range.  As I hike the trails or pause on a ride, if one is nearby, I'll pinch off a few leaves and savor the biting, herbal smell.  Snort too deeply of the crushed leaves and you're left practically ill for a few moments--powerful stuff.  One of the great experiences in life is to walk a Great Basin hillside in the Nevada outback after a big rain storm.  The moisture releases the aromatics in the leaves and the spice envelops you.  When I was younger, before heading home to coastal California when I had been on a trip to the sagey east side of the Sierras, I would rip a bundle of small branches, tie them together, and drop them onto the dash of the old VW van I had for so many years.  For months afterward, every time I opened the door, the rushing odor of wild places would pour out, for a moment taking me away from mundane tasks and back to places of adventure and joyous escape.  Let us venerate the common sagebrush, fuel to the homesteaders and the great perfume of the West.

Clouds before the storm

Today's morning walk was cool, grey, temps in the low 30's F.  No snow, but it's always good to be out.  I've read recently about the effects of nature on the brain, that being out in nature, looking, absorbing the natural environment helps us think and balances us emotionally.  Not a new idea:

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”


--John Muir


If I'm ever angry, confused, depressed, funky, then a walk, a ride, a ramble in the hills almost always puts me to rights.  I find it incredible (as in unbelievable) that some people can spend their entire lives in paved, regulated, controlled urban and suburban environments.  Packed together like rats, no wonder our big cities are breeding grounds for crime and mental illness.  I realize I am lucky to live in "shruburbia" as the great hiker Colin Fletcher calls the semi-wild regions like mine, a frontier between housing and undeveloped expanses.  Indeed, my home valley, with a fairly low and spread out populace, is surrounded by millions of virtually uninhabited acres.  Cattle roam some of it, but most is the land of the coyote, the fox, and deer, the occasional black bear, bobcat, and mountain lion.  I've only seen tracks of bear, but those were hardly a mile from my house.  All the others we have seen directly.  On some nights, the chaotic chorus of coyotes with a kill drifts down the mountains, putting Django on edge.

Still, for all their beauty, my local hills grow familiar, and I crave new vistas, a different trail underfoot.  In a week, we head out for the Mojave and Sonora deserts.  We'll amble through silent dry canyons and forests of cacti under a cool, dim winter sun.  I'll post when I can.

The hawk and the dog food

Today I squeezed in a utility ride on the trusty Haluzak.   We've been having some bright, brassy late fall days, and I wanted to get out before the impending storm shut down cycling for a couple of days.  We're due for some possible snow say the weather gods.  I hooked up the Burley trailer because the load was going to be bulky and substantial, about a 30 lb. bag of dog food plus a bunch of cat food in cans and a few things from the Home Despot (my snarky term for Home Depot, the housing supply super giant warehouse store).  One of my goals was to see if I could dampen the squeak that develops on the Burley hitch, but I failed.  I put some wax on the somewhat flexible attachment point, and it was quiet at first, but once loaded, the noise was back.  Arrrgh.  I hate repetitive squeaking sounds coming from my bikes!  The noise might be from a different bearing point, so I will continue my quest.  The old style hitches never had this problem.  Burley is of no help.  They were surprised  that I had  any problem at all with this.  I own three of these trailers as I loan them out to other cyclists when I run a now annual bike touring club.  ALL the trailers have developed the squeak, squeak, squeak....

Still the ride was fantastic, but I noticed the shift in the wind direction, and I had to layer up for the ride back home.  My total load was a bit over 40 lbs.--not including the trailer, of course.  If I can fix the noise problem, I might tour again with a trailer.  The convenience of packing and unpacking is amazing.

On the way to the various stores I was heading for, I saw a small squadron of hawks blaze low and fast across the road.  At first I saw two, big red tails, but then, as I rolled by a tree, I spotted the hawk featured below and was able to get pretty close for some photos.  We're seeing a lot of raptors come through our area, which is a major migration corridor for all kinds of birds.  Jodi was on a hike today and saw an eagle!

I think this was a Cooper's hawk.  Not sure on that, however.  Later, I made it to the pet supply store and loaded up for the slower slog home.

Forty + pounds of stuff:

It was good to do it all without starting a car.  I was the only one out and about on a bike that I could see, which is pretty common around here in a our car-crazy culture.  Certainly, I'm one of only, literally, three or four people who seem to shop and do practical things on a bike.  With all the hugely overweight people in this society, I wish I could get them to see the fun and practical benefits of even simple daily chores done on a bike.  My next posts are likely to be hiking pics.  Let's see what this storm has to show for itself.  Django LOVES the snow!

An expensive desert stroll...

Here in the land of the great Mojave Desert, we've been having some astonishingly clear days.  What are called the "Santa Ana" winds have set in, blowing hard from the east, and left the skies a burnished blue that is something to behold.  These winds are dry, coming in off thousands of square miles of the Southwest, a land of little rain, and sometimes huge fires follow.  We have had some rain, so fire conditions are not as bad as they could be.  For us, last Sunday was set to be, for once, virtually windless in a region known for virtually constant blowing.  On a bike I've battled this country more than once in blustery conditions.  I think I still have the emotional scars to show for it.  Brutal.  But Sunday, all was sweetness and light, and Jodi and I needed a walk through our kind of church.  We hiked into a land of twisted hoodoos and sinuous, narrow-walled canyons of eroded stone, lots of volcanic ash and sand and lumps of basalt here and there, a vertical cliff in a dead end slot, small stands of the fabled Joshua tree here and there.  We reveled in the light and silence, and I took many excellent pictures, which you will not see.  Why?  Oh, because I'm a moron and left the camera at some point out in the vast sandy expanse featured above, a photo courtesy of Jodi.   I've ordered a new camera, so, minus a couple of hundred dollars, I'll have my own gear again soon.  Sigh....