Carla Brennan's Blog

Reflections and Photos from The Big Trip and Beyond . .

Pinnacles National Park – June 1 – 4, 2020

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PINNACLES NATIONAL PARK – JUNE 1-4, 2020

ARRIVING
It took 24 hours to settle down after occasional feelings of distractedness and unease. It takes time to adjust to the pace of nature and to living in the open. Eventually that wonderful feeling of coming home arose. A home, I realized, I had been longing for every day. I don’t mean Pinnacles National Park but the fragrant green surroundings, the gently moving air, the random sounds of bird and insect. I said to myself, this is all I want to do, be in natural places like this and to sit quietly. Watch. Listen. Explore.

The thing about nature is that it is always changing, revealing something fresh, surprising, wondrous. Even in the exact same spot. By contrast, human civilization is dedicated to promoting predictability and control.

Instead of sheltering at home, I was sheltering in campsite, limited to where I could go on foot since the roads beyond the campground were closed to cars. Chris had his bicycle so he adventured farther afield.

A FEW SIGHTINGS
A hummingbird visited, hovering nearby, flying off and then returning, checking me out several times, as if it were wondering if I was a giant nectar-filled flower. It decided I was not and disappeared into the bushes.

All day the acorn woodpeckers burst out of the tree canopy, grabbing insects midair and circling back into the shadows of the towering oaks. Rather than boring into bark for food they were cashing in on the wealth of flying insects. I saw scrub jays doing the same thing. I was not sure what insects were up there.

The insects I did see close at hand were the perpetually annoying gnats, the dawn and dusk mosquitoes and an occasional butterfly. The scrub jays, along with the California towhees, spotted towhees and juncos, also foraged on the ground nearby, looking for crawling creatures.

A raccoon visited us at least twice while we sat and read. It was persistent and fearless. During the night it left muddy footprints over the trunk hood as if it had used it for a dance floor. Then it slid off leaving a sloppy muddy trail down the side of the cab.

CALIFORNIA CONDORS
Every evening, about a half hour before sunset, I walked five minutes to a spot where I could see the ridge line of the hills to the east above the campground. It was there, given the right conditions, the California condors would congregate.

I only saw them there one night. Some of these huge birds were soaring on the thermals while others were roosting in the trees. At times I could count at least 10 to 15 birds. They were far away, but it was still thrilling to see them through binoculars or my camera’s telephoto lens.

There are over 300 California condors in the wild today. About 86 of them reside in Pinnacles National Park.

HIKING BEYOND
Our site was at the farthest point of a loop at the southern end of the campground. One edge of our campsite was hemmed in by an old barbwire fence. It was low in one spot so I climbed over it to explore what was beyond. The barbwire fence seemed like a relic from the past rather than a real barrier to be respected. I hopped the fence frequently. It took some careful foot placement to avoid getting scratched or hooked by the sharp wire points

Beyond the campsite, I found a long stretch of meadows and trees making up a riparian corridor. It paralleled the official trail along the main road leading to the upper trailheads. Few, if any, people leave the main trail to visit this area. A small, slow moving stream was at its heart.

The meadows I crossed were covered in dry yellowed grasses, the bright green of a few weeks earlier gone until next year. They were primarily invasive foxtails, a terrible nuisance and potentially a terrible ordeal to walk through. I was wearing running shoes that were usually comfortable for hiking. Within only a few steps the needle-like foxtail seedheads had burrowed through my shoes, through my socks and were attempting to penetrate my skin. It was painful and frustrating. I had to stop several times to pull out the offending barbs from my shoes. And, as you might imagine, they were near impossible to remove. The following morning I wore different hiking boots which were blessedly foxtail proof.

As I returned to the campsite from my first early morning expedition, scrub jays were numerous and active along the creek side. The dashes of blue attracted the eye and at times seemed out of place amid the greens and earth tones. All jays are noisy, their voices loud and harsh. But I also heard a call that stood out from the others. It was an hysterical shrieking, louder, more urgent and piercing than any of the other bird sounds. Then I thought, I know what this is, probably a young jay demanding food. Soon I spotted it, a fledgling on the ground with bright blue wings but still dark around the head and chest. It flapped its earthbound wings, hopping madly about, mouth agape. The parents were nearby and seemed unmoved by the theatrics, occasionally offering it mouthfuls of grubs.

PANDEMIC
You wouldn’t know there was a pandemic going on except that much of the park was closed. Few people wore masks, few stepped aside when they passed on the trail. There were small groups of young adults, college-aged I’d guess, who were not socially distancing or wearing masks. I am pretty sure they had not been sheltering in place together at home.

Most of the other campers were families with young kids, taking advantage of a place to get away from home and ride bicycles. It was a hard to be near so many strangers after several months with only Chris at home. I couldn’t help but think each one was a possible vector of viral doom.

WILDFLOWERS
I was late for this year’s wildflower party. The main event was over and most flowers had already left for the season. A variety of flowering shrubs remained, most with white blooms. Some of the still plentiful stragglers from the party were buckwheat and California wild roses.

I soon discovered one of my favorite flowers, the elegant clarkia, were still blooming. It was like finding little jewels strewn among the brittle straw of desiccated grass. These ones were small and delicate compared to the larger and more robust ones I saw here last year in April. But they had the same charming pinwheel shape and bright purple-pink color.

There were a few surprises. On a slope near the small creek were round flower heads of mini purplish small flowers. They were lovely and unknown to me; but I knew they were from the mint family, with square stems and fragrant small leaves. Later I would identify them as coyote mint.

Turning a corner on a longer hike on the second day I came across a large shrub maybe 8 feet across and 5 feet high with multiple arms ending in racemes of purplish flowers. From a distance I thought it was late blooming lupine and left the trail to get a closer look. The flower heads were something altogether different. The racemes were covered decorative fuzzy buds in a variety of colors: pink, whitish, purple. Every so often an elegant blue flower with long stamens emerged from the furry buds. These flower heads reminded me of party decorations or icing on a cake. So maybe the party wasn’t over yet! The leaves were fragrant and I guessed it was in the sage family. But it was much showier and more dazzling than anything I had seen before. I later identified as Woolly Bluecurl.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This gallery contains 34 photos

The Sad Evanescence of Wildflowers (Wildflowers Part II)

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The Sad Evanescence of Wildflowers (Wildflowers Part II)
Photos from April 4-24, 2020

It’s what makes wildflowers so extraordinary: they come unbidden and last only briefly. The spring flowers and vegetation have been robust and exuberant this year. Their wild and carefree example is a welcome antidote to the oppressive constraints of lockdown.

During this pandemic, because I am limited to where I can go, I visit the same places often. I am closely witnessing the successive waves of wildflowers. It is like watching a long play with numerous acts. Some characters have a role in each scene while others exit early. Sometimes new characters are introduced later in the performance. One character who has appeared on stage in every act is the California poppy.

The flowering current, an early blooming shrub, is no longer displaying its large pink flower clusters. Eventually, it will show off it’s purple fruit but for now it has transitioned from something showy, cheerful and bright to an inconspicuous bush.

The giant trillium has now passed on. The leaves are still hugging the forest floor, big and flat, but they are beginning to show the wear and tear of life in the wild. The tall, deep red petals have shriveled and darkened, dislodged by the multi-sided seed pod at its base.

The blue of the sky lupines has been replaced by the purplish tangled mats of winter vetch. Just last week the lupines were everywhere and now they have strangely vanished without a trace. How can this be? I feel abandoned. They were just here, so vibrant and fresh.

The shooting stars have also departed, having only appeared for a brief time, like their namesake. The resplendent carpets of flowers along Russian Ridge have finally peaked. The fading of their previous glory saddens me.

Withered plants, fallen petals, dulled colors. I am heart broken and grieving. My friends are leaving again. We had such a short time together. But it was splendid and joyful for a while.

We must wait another year to meet. I hope they all make it to our next rendezvous. Our date for spring 2021 is already written in my calendar. With droughts, fires and climate change, it’s not a given they will come. My own existence is also not guaranteed.

Does beauty only exist because everything is transient? Is life only meaningful because it is finite? Does our love have to be intricately tied to our capacity for heartbreak?

Yes, it seems so.

This gallery contains 30 photos

Wildflowers are My Solace – Part 1

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Wildflowers are My Solace – Part 1

Mid-March – April 3, 2020

Santa Cruz Mountains and Coast

This is the first installment in my annual spring wildflower post. All photographs were taken before April 3, 2020. A silver lining to the pandemic is more opportunity to witness the gradual arrival of spring.

Spring has burst forth this year with confidence and splendor, oblivious to the human cost of the pandemic. The Santa Cruz Mountains are home to a beautiful array of wildflowers; you just have to know where and when to look. Each year I return to familiar haunts where I have found flowers before. Each year I try to find new places with new wildflowers.

The freedom of my wanderings has been undercut, at times, by park, beach and trail closures. But there are enough wild places open, even within walking distance, to keep me occupied. During the weekdays, there are more people out than there would have been prior to the pandemic. Since many people aren’t going to work and are desperate to be outdoors, they are showing up at places I used to have to myself. I stay home on weekends.

Walking into meadow and forest is an immersion into primordial beauty and a focused treasure hunt. I am hunting down wildflowers and hoping to capture exceptional photographs.

Below are photographs of some of the earliest wildflowers.
• Checkerbloom
• Giant Trillium
• Pacific Trillium
• Baby Blue Eyes
• Blue Dicks
• Flowering Currant
• Forget-me-not
• Giant Trillium
• Golden Violet
• Redwood Violet
• Lupine
• Milk Maids
• Wild Onion
• Popcorn Flower
• California Poppy
• Sea Pink
• Pacific Trillium
• Wood Sorrel

This gallery contains 21 photos

Retreat in the Santa Cruz Mountains

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NOTE: I have been remiss in posting my blog notes and photos for the last few months. I’ve been resorting to “quick and dirty” posting on Facebook on both my personal page and my more professional “Carla Brennan Photography” page. However, now that I have been sheltering-in-place for a few weeks, I am knuckling down to resume regular posts. I have no shortage of photographs to share.

When I wrote the first draft of this narrative in January, I did not know that my self-retreating skills would soon be put to good use while sheltering-in-place for the pandemic!

THE SELF-RETREAT

Santa Cruz Mountains, CA
December 2019

Every so often – but not often enough – I arrange a self-retreat, a period of time to be alone and silent. The days are spent following a loose schedule of meditation, exercise, meals and moseying about with my camera. This past December I spent four nights at a friend’s estate in the Santa Cruz Mountains while they were away.

For this self-retreat I tried something new. I shared the experience with a friend. We both contributed to preparing meals and we ate together in silence, only speaking to communicate practical concerns. We also meditated together several times a day. Otherwise, we kept our own schedules. We had separate but nearby rooms. Maybe this is new kind of retreat, a buddy-retreat instead of a self-retreat.

Despite forecasts for sun, it was overcast and rainy most of the week. Thick fog often obscured the surrounding mountains. This weather added to a mood of quiet introspection.

The property had beautiful gardens with small man-made ponds and pathways. Large and small sculptures, stonework and inviting seating areas were dispersed among the plantings. Despite the rain and chilliness, I wandered outdoors for a few hours each day. I did not hike, mind you, but only sauntered, as John Muir recommended, slowly and lovingly taking in the sights, smells and sounds of the sacred land in a leisurely manner.

This area of thoughtfully cultivated land is completely surrounded by wild redwood forest creating a feeling of remoteness and welcomed isolation, even though it was only a few miles from my home (as the raven flies) and even closer to the not-so-bustling center of downtown Ben Lomond. I felt delightfully removed from my ordinary life as if I were far away in a magical kingdom.

CALIFORNIA NEWTS
Each day, whether raining or not, I’d zigzag through the gardens of fruit trees and flowering plants. Several ponds, created for water storage and for beauty, dotted the landscape. Within these pools, California newts had begun their mating rituals, lazily floating in embracing pairs. This was engrossing to watch even though it was, for the most part, serene with little activity.

Occasionally there would be a sudden upheaval and disturbance. A third newt would approach a mating pair and attempt to takeover. I assume it was a male trying to win over mating rights with the female. Suddenly the three newts would become a writhing ball of hard-to-identify amphibious parts struggling for supremacy. Eventually one newt would leave and the pair would again settle into their gentle mating embrace, floating dreamily in the murky water. I never knew if it was the intruder or the original male who left.

Some newts had also taken to traveling across land through the forest so I had to be careful where I stepped. They were perhaps on their way to another pond to reproduce.

WATER STRIDERS
The other primary inhabitant of the ponds were water striders, those insects who magically glide on water, taking advantage of its natural surface tension. Being the large, clumsy creatures that we are, we rarely get to experience this feature of water. I tried to photograph the delicate balance of insect resting on water.

DROPS AND BUBBLES
I enjoy photographing water in all its many forms. The rain during the week left glistening beads of water on stems and leaves and flowers. I even found myself reflected in large bubbles created in ponds by droplets falling from trees.

OLIVES
Do you love olives? I do. I love eating them but I also love photographing them. I am enchanted to see them growing and ripening on their trees, something you don’t see, of course, in the Northeast where I am from. Olives do well in the climate here, with weather similar to their origins along the Mediterranean Sea. I now understand why olives are a popular motif in Southern European designs. I have, for example, a lovely French oilcloth tablecloth and napkins decorated with a black olive pattern.

RETREATING
A retreat is a chance to slow down, to return to simplicity and celebrate silence. It is a break from the relentless demand of our to-do list and a respite from the powerful intrusive “weapons of mass distraction.” For a while we can be relieved of the pressure to get things done, to fulfill agendas and pursue accomplishments.

Having engaged in many long silent retreats over four decades, I know the transformative power of relinquishing our daily routines and hurried activities. We can return to a rhythm connected to the lifeblood of the living planet rather than the demands of societal pressures and electronic devices.

It is a sorrowful state of affairs that most people don’t know that there is an inner depth available – still, silent and peaceful – just below the stormy wave-tossed surface of our thought-driven minds. Nature provides the surest doorway to this other way of being.

The first day of the retreat I slept a lot, surrendering to a fatigue I didn’t know was there. The second day, I was consumed by aches and stiffness in my body. The third day I was pursued by a torrent of thoughts and memories trailing me like an inescapable bad smell. The last day I finally fully arrived, body relaxed, heart and mind present and at ease. I was sad to be leaving the following day.

This is the way most retreats are. It takes 3-4 days to release the layers of built-up tension from daily life. This is why even longer retreats can have a more profound effect. Over many days of silence and simplicity we relax more fully into the open expanse of our inner being.

 

This gallery contains 29 photos

Monarchs Rule!

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Monarchs Rule!
October 2019

My unscientific, total guesstimate says that the number of overwintering Monarch butterflies this fall is about the same as last year. That’s good; at least there doesn’t seem to be fewer. But, as you may have read in my blog and other places, there was a precipitous drop in butterflies from 2018 from 2017. Why? Climate change, habitat loss and possibly other causes.

These photos were taken at Natural Bridges State Beach and Lighthouse Field State Beach in Santa Cruz, California. Natural Bridges has a butterfly flower garden that attracts the hungry Monarchs and allows for close-up portraits. Most of the other butterflies are either flitting about or huddled together, resting in groups high in the eucalyptus and cypress trees looking like dried leaves. You need either binoculars or a telephoto camera lens to see them with any clarity. I am amused by all the people taking photos with their smartphones; they probably, at best, captured a few tiny orange dots here and here.

Please do not reproduce any photographs without permission. Contact Carla Brennan: brennan.carla@gmail.com

This gallery contains 32 photos

More at Moss Landing

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More at Moss Landing, CA
September 2019

If you’ve you been following my blog, then you’re already familiar with Moss Landing. It sits in the middle of the great crescent of Monterey Bay with Santa Cruz at the top and Monterey at the bottom. The harbor at Moss Landing is a draw for many coastal creatures: birds, sea otters, sea lions and seals. Even though it is busy with human activity it’s a place where you are almost guaranteed to see wildlife.

Chris was scheduled for surgery and we wanted a one night getaway before then. In the center of the crowded harbor is a KOA RV park. We’d talked many times about staying there but never had. I was excited to have the extra time to wander the harbor with my cameras. Usually I visit Moss Landing for only 2 to 3 hours stints. (This post actually includes photos from my most recent shorter visit as well as the overnight.)

The RV park was nothing special and was expensive by our standards but it worked well for us anyway. We could walk to the beach (Salinas River State Beach) and the harbor channel. We could also walk to several restaurants. We enjoyed a better-than-average Mexican dinner at the Haute Enchilada and a better-than-average Thai lunch at the Lemongrass Seafood Bar and Grill. We could even walk to a small museum and store devoted to Shakespeare. What more do you need?

As I said, Moss Landing is a busy place, not like our usual preferred camping locations. It has commercial fishing, recreational fishing, whale watching excursions, sailboats, marine supply businesses, restaurants, the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute and the nearby Highway One. And let’s not forget the huge powerplant that allows you to locate Moss Landing from a distance by its two towering smokestacks. Even during the night there was traffic on the highway, people coming and going in the harbor and groups of sea lions erupting into excited barking.

Highlights:
• Next to us at our campsite was a pristine late 60’s VW bus. Bright orange without a dent or speck of dirt anywhere. The 60s live on in California.

• During a previous visit to Moss Landing I discovered several Monterey cypresses where egrets and herons like to roost. These trees were an easy hike from our campsite and I visited them several times a day.

• In the low light of dusk, two otters were singlehandedly ridding the docks of their accumulated mussels. One otter took a large shell and whacked it against a cement piling, essentially using the dock structure as a tool to open the mollusk.

Please do not reproduce any photographs without permission. Contact Carla Brennan: brennan.carla@gmail.com

 

This gallery contains 57 photos

The Age of Aquariums

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The Age of Aquariums
July 2019

It is the dawning of the age of aquariums for me because, as a Monterey Bay Aquarium (MBA) member, I can go whenever I want for free. My last trip was in July with my visiting niece, Eliza.

The aquarium was busy but not overcrowded. We started, as I usually do, with the jellies and then moved on to the gigantic open sea tank. That was followed by the cephalopods, seabirds, sea otters, the Baja exhibit, the kelp forest and on and on. We closed the place out at 6:30 PM. Even though this wasn’t primarily a photography visit, I, of course, took lots of photographs.

Here are some of the highlights:
As we stood in front of the open sea tank, lulled into a pleasant stupor from the darkness and soothing ambient music, a cross made of pipe was lowered into the water from above. A docent standing nearby explained that it was a signal for one of the tank’s residents that they were about to be fed. Sure enough, the giant sunfish – a favorite of mine – slowly made its way toward the cross, mouth agape. A disembodied gloved hand dipped into the water holding some gelatinous goop and the sunfish gobbled it up. Apparently, they had to get rid of one sunfish because it couldn’t learn this Pavlovian trick – not the smartest fish in the sea.

We were disappointed to not see the sea turtles; they were having a “spa” day as they apparently do every Thursday. Yes, they call it that. They are taken to their own private tank on the roof where they get to sunbathe and eat special food.

As we arrived at the seabird exhibit they were also being fed. A MBA employee threw handfuls of anchovies into the water. Puffins, oystercatchers and murres swam like torpedoes, quickly gathering their meal in their beaks.

At the squid tank, most of them had already eaten, but one, which appeared to be a large male, still had a goldfish in his tentacles. He proceeded to play with the fish for quite a while, like a cat does with a mouse.

We watched sea otters play with fake kelp, sharks swim circles in the kelp forest, a giant Pacific octopus fully visible in its dark tank, lounging penguins and many versions of Dory and Nemo in the reef display.

With each visit there is something new to see as well as an opportunity to visit old friends.

Please do not reproduce any photographs without permission. Contact Carla Brennan: brennan.carla@gmail.com

 

This gallery contains 34 photos

The Remaining Wildflowers of 2019

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THE REMAINING WILDFLOWERS OF 2019

I posted a blog earlier this year about the superbloom at Carrizo Plain National Monument. In May I found more wildflowers at Pinnacles National Park. Today I am sharing many of the others blooms that I saw throughout the spring and summer. They were spotted along Skyline Blvd., up and down the the coast, Henry Cowell Sate Park, Uvas County Park and other local spots where I happened to be or where I pulled over to get a closer look.

Take your time and enjoy. There are a lot of them.

Please do not reproduce any photographs without permission. Contact Carla Brennan: brennan.carla@gmail.com.

 

This gallery contains 70 photos

Whale Tails and Sea Lions

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Whale Tails and Sea Lions
July 2019, Monterey Bay, CA

The day was overcast and foggy. The blues of the sky and sea had vanished, rendering everything in shades of black-and-white. Eliza and I were going whale watching aboard the Goddess Fantasy from Moss Landing. I splurged and paid an extra fee to get us “VIP” seating on the upper deck. I figured it would be easier to move from port to starboard to stern as we tracked the whale sightings. It would also give me a better perspective for photography. It was definitely worth it.

In the harbor, sea lions lounged on various docks, weighing them down into the water. Signs warned to beware of “vicious sea lions.” We watched a sailor aim a hose at a sea lion that was positioned between him and his boat. I would have thought the sea lion would have enjoyed the shower but it slid into the sea. Cormorants greeted us at the signs welcoming boaters.

Just a little ways into the Bay we sighted a single humpback whale lunge feeding, its large knobby head with mouth agape burst through the water. We kept going to an area where a small group of humpbacks had been seen. What made this whale watch special – that is, seeing something new – was the large rafts (groups) of sea lions that were swimming along side the whales. These whales were all dive fishing which means we mostly only saw spouting, arching backs and diving tails. Few heads emerged and there was no breaching. But we were interested to see them rise and dive amid the swimming sea lions as if they were all enjoying the day together.

Several times the sea lions swam quickly, leaping out of the water in quick synchronous graceful arcs called “porpoising.” I tried to photograph this but failed to capture it.

After the whale watch we went to Moss Landing State Beach and watched the sea otters.

A couple weeks later a photo from Monterey Bay of a humpback whale that accidentally scooped up a sea lion while lunge feeding went viral. This would have been taken about the same time we were there. All the experts claimed how unusual it was to see this. But after watching how closely the humpbacks and sea lions fished together, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/2019/07/humpback-whale-sea-lion-mouth-photo/

Please do not use any photographs without permission. Contact Carla at: brennan.carla@gmail.com

 

This gallery contains 33 photos

Elephant Seals Rough-housing!

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Elephant Seals Rough-housing!
Pescadero, CA
7/22/19

Eliza (my niece) and I went to Ano Nuevo State Park, Pescadero, CA, to check on any elephant seals that might be there. July is when the males arrive onshore to molt. The females are currently feeding far out to sea; they molt in the spring.

I warned Eliza that all we might see were big inert lumps of furry blubber lying on the beach. Like sacks of sand. Not very exciting really. But we were pleasantly surprised to find plenty of action. Juvenile and mature males were engaged in play fighting. Quite entertaining! There were brawls both in and out of the water with lots of strange guttural gurgles, grunts and groans. With their fur coming off, some of the molting seals looked like characters from “The Walking Dead.” Hollywood make-up artists take note.

Observe the difference in the size of their noses. For elephant seals, size matters when it comes to their schnoz. During breeding season in the fall, the fighting will no longer be play and will draw blood as they fight over who gets to rule the harem.

On our way out to see the seals (a 1.5 mile hike), a docent at the small “staging area” cabin pointed out several mud-constructed cliff swallows nests. Parents were flying back and forth with insect meals for the growing chicks. We also witnessed a mother California quail with her large brood of chicks crossing the trail in front of us. At first we saw 2 or 3 babies, then 6 or 7, then 9, 10, 11! A male, possible the father of this group, was acting as sentry atop a bush, looking for predators. Fortunately, we didn’t qualify. There was also constant bird traffic traveling between the small fresh water pond and the ocean. Streams of brown pelican flew overhead. The most unusual sighting was a San Francisco garter snake, retracting into the grassy meadow, with a mouse in its mouth!

 

This gallery contains 26 photos