Conquering Vertigo

In a rut?

So you head north over the Golden Gate to Marin, you snake along winding two-lane roads in a northwesterly direction, and about an hour or so later you arrive at Point Reyes National Seashore.

Along the way, you pass some of the most expensive real estate in the country, as well as farms and ranches from the 1800s that make delicious cheese and harvest organic produce.

The smell is clean and clear - even the cow manure approaches pleasant as an odor. Some folks came here in Vanagons in the 60s and 70s to tune in, turn on and drop out. The nouveau riche got here a little later, driving Lexi and BMWi. There are size restrictions on the houses and lots, plenty of horses, and the nicest animal shelter I've ever visited. I've heard that Marin is rich, white and snobby, but I haven't experienced that yet. (Still in the honeymoon, he whispers over my shoulder.)

Back to the park. We left the Pathfinder (13 yrs old and now reserved for trips -- city transportation is often boots and buses) at a trail head, shrugged on backpacks laden with wine and cheese (we know our priorities) and headed uphill.

Tule Elk were grazing peacefully on the hillsides, although ranger signs warned us to stay away as the elk are in rutting season. I didn't see any rutting. I saw a little antler rubbing, some yawning, occasional grass eating -- and a lot of sitting. Maybe they're just in a rut.

Hawks swooped overhead, waves crashed on beaches and against the rocky cliffs, and the wine was cold and clear, like the day.

posted by Woman In Love @ 4:13 PM