A Tale of two trails.

One day I will manage to get my lazy backside out of bed early enough to catch the sunrise from the Echo Mountain Resort ruins. One day, not today, today I was only a third of the way up the trail that more or less follows the bed of the funicular that used to shuttle visitors between the bottom of Rubio canyon and the White City, the Echo Mountain Resort, when the sun peaked over the ridge on to the east. The trail was steep and overgrown, maintained mostly by its infrequent users, looks like, and that’s perfect. About a month ago, I was shocked, and a little weary, to find two couples here who, to add insult to injury, had been directed to the spot by Yelp. Fortunately, today I was happy as a lonesome lark as I bushwhacked my way, brushing up against the wonderful fragrance of wild sage and thyme, staying clear of them spiky yuccas, and checking for ticks every so often. Those little pesky bugs like to latch onto warm-blooded bodies passing by, and I was definitely warm, sweating like a hyperhidrosed high -schooler on a first date is more like it. Cooling off at the summit was easy. I joined an ongoing party; the bees in the neighborhood were throwing a pollinating bash, loading up on the stamens of Coulter Matilija Poppies like they’re going out of style.

I left the foraging insects, who will one day save the planet, to follow the Lower Sam Merrill trail back to the Cobb Estate, and ultimately a nice little coffee place on Lake. Now. I like people. I am even happy to witness the increased usage of trails in the area, ‘my backyard’. I am not selfish, but this was extreme. I didn’t count the number of hikers, joggers, dog-walkers and mountain bikers I crossed, but maybe I should have; the number would have been telling. And I repeat, it’s all good, but I’m not used to it, as I’ve said many times before, I much prefer solace, the company of ants, bees, chipmunks and the occasional rattlesnake. I belong to that species that goes into hiding when crowds of tourist flock to their turf, the ‘local’. Next time, I think I’ll go back the way I came, or follow the mystery path I will not speak about, and get lost in the chaparral. I’ll still have to get up early though.