Here’s one for the memory book: I had to walk underneath a dangerously low-stretched power line today– twice! Santa Cruz almost never gets thunderstorms. But today was an exception– as I walked over 18 miles of skinny, narrow, often one-lane mountain roads between Los Gatos and Scotts Valley. The storms were strong enough to tip trees, and the power line I had to twice rush underneath on a steep, twisty, remote mountain road well out of cell phone range, was precariously holding up such a fallen tree.
Today was by far the wettest day of the walk: from the time Steffany dropped me off in Los Gatos, where I’d last left off, the rains were uncomfortably coming down. The sweetheart she is, Steffany offered me yet another night with her family– but after taking them up on the offer and canceling an otherwise late start yesterday, I was too determined to move full speed ahead today– despite the ominous forecast of thunderstorms and rain throughout the day.
Picking up a fast, free, fabulous bowl of soup on the way out of town (I love those spontaneous invitations the signs inspire), I continued on to the Los Gatos Creek Trail en route to my circuitous bypass of Highway 17. I had been prepared to walk up and over 17, but as locals seemed to be thoroughly disgusted with the idea, giving me an expression as if to say: “you’re putting mustard on ice cream!??–” I’d decided to re-route in accordance with their wisdom.
Even in the rain, those first couple of miles on the trail brought some die-hard joggers and bicyclists, determined to be out and about despite the elements. What a refreshing boost to witness!
As the trail concluded, I’d thought I’d be walking directly onto the Old Santa Cruz Hwy, as I’d figured to do on the map. But NO: unknowingly, I’d instead been guided the wrong way onto Alma Bridge Road, which ended up adding unnecessary miles to the day’s journey. It also guaranteed I’d not be arriving to Scotts Valley before dark.
Within a couple of hours, as heavy as it started coming down, often times horizontally, the rains ultimately soaked through my outdoor pants and into my shoes. I was wearing three layers of socks today, which helped. I placed a poncho over my rain jacket and despite this, the humidity was such that all dry layers within still ended up damp. For the first time, my glasses had fogged over and I had to walk without them for hours, which, given the fact that I’m so nearsighted that I’m legally required to wear them to drive, made for an interesting twist. (Should I investigate Fog-X for spectacles..?)
A couple of hours into the cycling storm surges, a donut hole of bright sky opened up, substantial enough to let the sun peak through, give the trees and me the gift of shadows on the ground, and most importantly, instill a high hope for a brighter conclusion to the several remaining hours of walking ahead. Within minutes, this donut hole had sealed with the same crappy filling that goes into your typical donut, as the dark storm clouds gloatingly smiled their way back into the picture. This time they’d bring some thunderous surprises with them.
Partly because I feel blessed for having experienced so much good weather so far; partly because so many good people assist me; partly because I know that tough times bring greater appreciation of everyday simply joys; partly because I believe perspectives can be shifted even in trying situations: I never once felt “unhappy” the entire day!
And as it has ended up, there has been so much to be happy for!
After nearly a month in mostly urban surroundings, I returned to nature today. I walked by huge redwood trees again, and just had to give one a happy-to-see-you-again hug. The punctuating respite of sunlight and occasional overcast calming were better than an alternative non-stop stream of water. I met a handful of cool people, who certainly perceived the seriousness of this walk on a day like today. At sunset, on my way down from the 2,000-ft climb up the pass, despite still be quite nearsighted without the glasses, I could see the brilliant color show of a distant sunset between breaking clouds. And perhaps most importantly: the whole time, I knew that if things ever became unbearable, I could make a call to Steffany or to Peter and Jana, who would be hosting me tonight, and I’m confident that either would come to my aid immediately. I also was warmed by the thought that the ultra-hospitable Peter & Jana were awaiting me, and ready to take me with them to a pair of local gatherings of friends in Scotts Valley.
The rains were at rest by sunset, having worked hard to soak the surrounding hillsides all day long. Arriving to the outer limit of Scotts Valley over an hour after dark, I received an off-the-road greeting from the most euphoniously energetic evening toad orchestra ever: I could feel their powerful little voices ribbeting right through me– so strongly that I had to stop, face them, remove my now-dry glasses, close my eyes and extend my arms into the air to absorb the full experience. Sounds weird; was awesome!
Peter and Jana coincidentally passed by me as I reached the main street of Scotts Valley. “Are you at the corner next to the gas station?” Jana asked me over the phone, to my surprise as she pinpointed my exact location. I met them across the street, and concluded the Walk for the evening, ready to return to that exact location for the continuation to Santa Cruz the following day…
Steep hills, soaking rains, splendid sunsets, precarious power lines, and musical amphibians– the day wasn’t an easy one– but I already look back on it with a big grin on my face!