Silicon Valley Redneck

Agh.

I haven't been getting out for proper weekend hikes in the mountains the past couple of years.

That 8-miler with a hill on Friday morning went OK, but that was on nice tame trails (and I've been a bit sore since).

Yesterday: 12 miles or so, out & back, at Big Basin, from Waddell Creek Beach to Berry Creek Falls, with the filial unit and a friend of hers. Moderate amount of up & down, some of it steep, and quite a lot of uneven footing.

Oh, and I think this was the first time I'd been out on a serious trail in the foot gloves, as opposed to boots or Tevas or some such.

I have sore muscles in places I'd forgotten I had muscles.  Including some of those around the hips that are necessary for not falling over when clambering down rocky slopes.  (I didn't, quite, fall over in such a situation.)

I think I'll skip morning walkies today.  Getting out of bed was enough of an adventure.

Would that I'd been carrying...

... a proper camera this morning, for one of those situations where a cellphone Just Doesn't Get The Job Done.

As I was finishing up my 5-mile morning walkies, I noted a tightly-clustered flock* of turkeys at the end of the big field nearest the parking lot (but nearer the side opposite the footpath).  All a-gobblin' and a-yippin' and a-howlin'...

Wait.  Those aren't normal turkey noises.  What's going on here?

Well, a little ways from one end of the flock, there was a coyote, having a bit of a showdown with them.

As I watched (and ambled closer, hoping to get within cellphone-camera range), the coyote retreated a little at a time, limping badly.  I don't know if he'd been injured by the turkeys while trying to catch one, or if he'd been injured earlier and was just there in the field trying to sneak up on ground squirrels when the roving gang of poultry attacked, or what.

He gave the audience (i.e., me) a classic Wile E. Coyote defeated look as he hobbled off.

* The reader may be forgiven for misreading this as "total cluster-flock" or similar.

Whooooof!

Got a slightly early start on the day, and decided to make use of it by taking the Long Option for morning walkies: 8.mumble miles, with a decent hill in the middle.

Being as how I'm not fully up to speed*, this took rather longer than one might wish, and I didn't get back to my car until 0925, what with stopping to chat with people I hadn't seen in a while, buy eggs at the farm, and so on.

Then a couple of urgent morning errands, and now home.

I have the definite feeling I should have fried up some pork sausage this morning.  The pastry-and-eggs I had wore off about the time I finished the hike.

Still not much in the way of photogenic wildlife; the camera seems to keep it away.  I did get some snaps of the Dread Guardian of the Forest, who'd just caught a chipmunk.  (Photo to follow; gotta work now.)

Update: I can haz stripey skwirl?

Incidentally, that was quite a small chipmunk; the Dread Guardian is a rather young, and not notably big, pygmy mountain lion. As in, smaller than a going-on-6-months-old, runt-of-the-litter, Top Hat.  Alas, I was unable to include an obscure military artifact for scale.

* Except that, assuming it was 8.4 miles and I started at 0645, that works out to a bit over 3 miles/hour, which pretty much is full speed. Maybe I just need to start earlier, or only do the long edition on days when I don't have anything urgent the rest of the morning.

Another reason to beware of wild rodents

This morning, near the beginning of walkies, I spotted a fuzzy tan object in a parking turnout.

Stepping over the low fence, I got close enough to confirm that it was, indeed, a dead (and uneaten) woodrat.  One of the docents stopped at the same time, and spoke of tossing it in the freezer, on general principles.

Stepping back over the fence to the trail, I clonked my little toe on the top rail.  Five-Fingerses provide little protection against toe-clonkage.  Now I've got a purple toe.

Well, at least it doesn't seem to be broken this time.  Didn't get notably worse as I continued for another 3½ miles or thereabouts, and it's not terribly sensitive.  Just kinda sore, and very purple indeed.

I keep thinking I should install a set of steel toe caps on the old pair of foot gloves.  One cap per toe, of course.  Maybe with claws, like those things Die Fledermaus wears.  (Yeah, probably a bad idea: with the extra leverage, that fence likely would have broken my toe.)

The things you see when you haven't got a proper camera

Out walkies at Rancho San Antonio yesterday morning, I noticed a fuzzball ahead, alongside the road before the farm.  As I'd left my camera back in the car, all I got were some mobe snaps.

I'm not much of an authority on matters murine, but that right there is either a dwarf long-tailed chinchilla or a dusky-footed woodrat, no?

It was scrabbling in the dirt with its forepaws, and apparently finding tiny things to nibble on - seeds, perhaps, or the remnants of a trodden-on Frito.

Looky them whiskers!

At one point, the critter wandered over and sniffed at my toes, whereupon I cautioned it against running up my leg.  Wood rat, roof rat, or regular old plague rat, loitering by daylight in an area where people are traipsing through just ain't normal behavior for a rodent that isn't someone's pet, and I didn't feel like taking chances with whatever might be afflicting it.

Update: scale is not clear from the photos; it might be mistaken for some sort of blunt-nosed mouse.  It was definitely rat-sized, and a fair-sized rat at that, though it was a great exaggeration for a passing blonde to say it was as big as a dog.  (Her perceptions were perhaps affected by the lack of a table to stand on and scream.  Or, maybe, she has one of those teeny-tiny purse dogs for reference.)

A note on footwear

I've been mostly wearing Vibram^® Five^TM Fingers^es for a couple of years now, and find the KSO Trek variety quite suitable for moderate hiking.

They are not, however, appropriate for reenacting the Swedish role in the Battle of Copenhagen.

You get lots of vegetation wedged between the toes.

Return of the mountain lion?

On morning walkies Monday, wildlife activity seemed normal: various deer grazing near the trail and watching the passersby, and a flock or two of turkeys.

Tuesday, no deer and no turkeys.  Well, it was a frosty morning, and I'd broken out the winter wardrobe (Long sleeves!  Long pants!  Socks!), including something to keep my ears warm, viz, a deerstalker cap, and maybe the deer didn't appreciate being stalked.

Wednesday, warmer; I was back to my usual attire, but still no sign of deer nor turkeys.  Did they all fly south for the winter?

Thursday, rain.  Also, I got a slow start on the morning, and had Stuff To Do.  No walkies, so wildlife not observed.

Friday, normal attire, normal route, normal-ish time; several turkeys right by the parking lot, and none further in.  Two deer in one of the usual spots, acting skittish and hastening from view.

So... I guess something's got the wildlife spooked, and I don't really think it's me.  Maybe next week I'll carry the big camera, in case of big kitties.  Also maybe the pocket cutlery, in case of uppity big kitties.

 

Wacky wet weather

The storm having passed, and the morning starting out dry-ish if a bit overcast, I headed off to morning walkies this morning, a bit behind my usual schedule.

On the way, my windshield started getting sprinkly.  Cancel and return via OSH for some needed odds & ends?  Naw, it's only a bit of a drizzle, and I've got a rainproof parka in the trunk.

Park, parka, head out along the trail.  Note that the parking lot is nearly empty.  Note also a stationary siren in the distance, sort of southeastish.  The calamity alarm at the quarry, still going from yesterday?  Can a crime scene not be interfered with even to the extent of turning off the alarm?

Not many people along the trails, somehow.  The drizzle intensifies, becoming proper rain by the time I reach the farm.  I decide to head back.

In a classic example of spontaneous generation, the rain-soaked trails have sprouted turkeys.  (I thought it was worms that sprouted after rain, but maybe that's only on concrete sidewalks.)

Back to my car, safe and soaked, just as the rain tapers off.

Swing by OSH on the way home, around 9:20 (traffic on 85 northbound was horrible).  Store nearly empty of both customers and employees.  Nobody rushing to buy emergency roof-repair materials?  (I guess those come from Home Despot.)

Home in the lack of rain, a couple of hours of work, lunch, then off to JCM.

Midafternoon in the lab, hear loud rain.  Wait, wasn't the storm supposed to have been yesterday?  Anyway, keep busy with indoors work until the rain goes away.

Finally, home again in the dry, stopping at Ace and Signetics Lowe's in search of tools I didn't realize I needed this morning.  No joy; apparently there's not much call for hole saws in 15/16" and 1-9/16" sizes.  Guess I could use 7/8 and 1-1/2 and a little brute force, but MSC has the exact proper sizes, so perhaps I'll make the rounds of the industrial suppliers in Santa Clara tomorrow and see if I can get them locally.  (Hm.  Grainger has such things in the correct sizes; have to see about local stock.)

 

And it is not right that The Beast should master Man

Apparently Og started the pocketknife meme.

Well, in keeping with the stated rules, here's the totally inoffensive little package-opener and whisker-trimmer that's lived in my change pocket the past many years:

But... what with the Bad Ol' Putty Tat hanging around my crepuscular stomping grounds, I'm thinking that perhaps "inoffensive" isn't totally the right priority.  While I'm not feeling worried enough to start carrying, e.g., a pigsticker stuck on the end of a Garand (which would be cumbersome, not to mention sure to attract unwanted attention from the area's badged denizens), I might just resume toting the pocketknife I carried most of the way through college and for many years thereafter:

There: that's big enough and sturdy enough to have some utility as a weapon, while still fitting in a pocket, and I can extricate it from the pocket, conjure it open, and get it in ready-for-use position pretty quick.  Much better than fumbling around the change pocket for the little guy, opening the first blade that comes to hand, and discovering that it's a thing for taking stones out of a horse's hoof.

The big lockback, oddly enough, came from an electronics-surplus store, the name of which escapes me.  It fits nicely alongside the leading edge of my wallet, in a consistent location and orientation.  Many years ago, it was displaced from that spot by a pocket watch, but, since the watch has now been set aside in favor of just looking at my phone, there's once again a place to carry my old favorite salami-slicer.

(I just haven't Been Prepared lately, have I?  This was Falling Satellites Day, and I didn't even carry an umbrella.)

 

Do deer make goat noises when they're being munched on?

Bit of a followup on Monday's morning-walkies story....

This morning, the mountain-lion warning had reappeared, in more specific form: the trails leading up to the pond area, including the spot where all the commotion was on Monday, were positively closed due to recent mountain-lion sightings.

Someone near the entrance said the critter had been seen yesterday.

Cathy and Megan, who had been there on Monday while I was pondering the ruckus, reported that they'd passed that spot again a bit later, and the noise was still going on.  A passing foreigner* informed them that he knew that sound, and it was certainly a deer giving birth.  Later in the day (if I'm recalling the tale correctly) a friend of theirs was passing through the same area, and saw a mountain lion.

So: it seems there were two critters making the noises.  Apparently a mountain lion does meow like a chainsaw, and the goat noises might perhaps have been the big black goat that my tall passerby claimed to have seen... or they might have been a deer's distress call**.  (Funny that the deer standing around about 20 paces up the trail seemed oblivious to it, though.)

And it's just as well I wasn't dressed for wading into thickets.  A mail shirt and hood might have been in order.

I'm thinking it must have been a rather inept mountain lion, for the deer to have been making a commotion for such a long time.

I surmise that the specific trail closure is motivated by the prospect of a cat lurking there defending its kill.

Or, perhaps, it really was Shub-Niggurath I heard on Monday, and the whole mountain-lion story is a cover-up.  To avoid panic, you understand.

 

* Presumably a sub-equatorial foreigner.  Round these parts, deer don't give birth in September.

** I suppose I could settle this empirically, by grabbing one of the local deer and munching on it.

 

Overheard in the woods

(To borrow a format from Tam.)

I was out for standard walkies this morning when an Unidentified Object off to the side of the trail started making strange noises.

UO: (small chainsaw noises)

Me: ?

UO: MrrrOWWWR(chainsaw noises)

Bushes: vibrate, rustle, crash crash

Me: Um... do mountain lions meow like chainsaws?

Bushes: rustle hither, rustle thither

UO: crash, blunder, stumble, pant pant

Me: Er... who goes there?

UO: MEEEEEHHHHH!

Me: Or should that be, "who goats there?"

Short passerby: Just in case, I'm hiding behind you.

Tall passerby: I see it!  It's a big black goat.

UO: Meeeehhhhh!  Crash, blunder, MEEEEHHHH, crash, pant pant

Me: I'm not going into that thicket in shorts and foot gloves to rescue a stupid lost goat.  Find yer own way out.

This being Monday, the farm was closed, so there wasn't a convenient opportunity to inform someone official that there was a loose goat up the trail.  I don't think it was one of theirs in any case; probably got loose from somebody's back yard.

Before the sounds assumed that strongly goatlike quality (and the passersby arrived on the scene), this felt like a "weapon at the ready, but don't panic" situation... except that what I had for a weapon was my pocket camera, which is conveniently bright orange to facilitate being noticed by investigators.  ("Yup, that was a goat what done him in, all right.")

Anyway, I'm glad it didn't turn out to be a wild boar.  Though goats can be dangerous enough.

Afterthought: I hope it was merely a black goat of the woods, and not The Black Goat of the Woods.  Iä, sure, you betcha.

Thursday update: I missed morning walkies the last couple of days, on account of delayed fatigue from the weekend and taking in the car for overdue maintenance yesterday morning.  Back to the usual place today... and those big red mountain-lion warning signs have disappeared.  Maybe the mountain lion was eaten by the goat?

 

I didn't taw a putty tat.

There's some great foofaraw over a mountain lion sighting in Los Altos Hills - somewhere around Rhus Ridge, Hidden Villa, Foothill College, that sort of area.

Out for walkies at Rancho San Antonio this morning, I encountered conspicuous new warning signs and the occasional worried runner.

(Hint: if you're worried about predators, don't run. Even a Chihuahua will chase a runner.)

I'm not especially concerned, being as how I'm much bigger than a mountain lion, amble around on my hind legs, and generally look and act like a well-fed apex predator.  Besides, I've got my sure-fire mountain-lion repellent: I started carrying a camera after seeing a mountain lion at Rancho about 20 years back, and haven't spotted one since.

On my way back, I encountered two, count 'em, two big paramedic trucks parked in the schoolbus area.  Preparing to deal with a flood of mauling victims?

Further: as best I can tell from news accounts, two people saw the cat over the weekend, out in the woods where mountain lions belong.  Nothing about it being aggressive, or wandering into populated areas.  So why all the fuss?  Mountain lions have been in these hills since forever, occasionally crossing paths with people, and it's never been a secret nor cause for alarm.  Is there something about the latest sighting They're not telling Us, or is it just silly overreaction?

Update: photographic proof!

Friday morning, I encountered a furry, tan, long-tailed mammal, which in all other respects was entirely unlike a mountain lion.  Here's the rather blurry proof that I met with a not-a-mountain-lion!

Now, at this point, you may be thinking "Who gives a rat's patootie?"  Well, just moments later, I discovered that a previous user of the trail had in fact given a rat's patootie:

Happy new year!

As is the custom, I led the Hangover Hike this morning, commencing at 0745 (that was the nominal meeting time; after waiting for stragglers, carpooling up to Skyline Ridge, and waiting for everybody to decide how many layers to wear, we actually hit the trail about 0845).

I had a dozen takers this year.  The weather in the flatlands was clear and cold (34°F; cold for this area).  Given the wind we'd had yesterday, I was expecting fiercely cold and windy conditions up on the ridge.

In fact, by the time we got there, the temperature was up to 55, with practically no wind.  After a bit of hiking, I was regretting my long pants and long-sleeved shirt (and long hair, for that matter).

A bright, clear morning!  (As usual, click images to embiggen.)

Views all the way out to the ocean!

Ocean, Pacific, 1 ea.

New year's resolution: do not meddle in the affairs of witches, lest you end up like this tree.

Coots on Alpine Pond.

That puddle has boats* on it!

Silicon Valley in the new year, slightly obscured by haze.  Stanford is left of center (with the possible exception of the Hoover Institution).

My house isn't quite in this picture, unless you have very good X-ray vision.

The view towards the ocean is so much clearer....

A potato bug, also known as a Jerusalem cricket, or "sunket."

And, as we pass the hobbit-hill, we know we're almost back to the cars.

Camera notes: (1) the pocket camera doesn't fall back automatically, so the EXIF data is an hour fast; (2) the lens needed cleaning.

 

*In SVR-speak, anything on top of the water is a "boat."  This covers anything from ducklings to aircraft carriers.

Yet another salmon hike

Once again, I led one of my expeditions up the San Lorenzo River....

The group meets the river.  As usual, click for larger images.

The view ahead.

The thing about hiking in rivers is this: it's easy to trip over a rock, fall down, and get soaked.  Staying relatively dry requires great care in locomotion, which makes for slow going.

Alternatively, one can embrace the soak.

I don't think we exceeded this speed limit at any time.

The deep pool at the former Diversion Dam is another of those spots where the swimmers get through a lot faster than the waders.

Still, they'll catch up eventually.

There were a lot of crawdads around, nibbling toes and begging for scraps of tuna sandwiches.

The boulder-strewn rapids are slow going for everyone (except those who cheat by getting out and hopping from dry boulder to dry boulder).

Another embracing-the-soak situation.

Yup, the non-swimming crew is still back there.

More exciting terrain!

Another slog up the rocky rapids.

We had to exercise the full strength of our salmon powers to make our way up this mighty waterfall (click for actual-size image of waterfall).

Another obstacle in our path - but it can't stop the Salmon Hikers!

The Bay Bridge was closed this weekend, but we encountered this Oak Bridge, which appeared to be in good order.

This is practically the last obstacle downstream of the Garden of Eden.  Promise!

We finally returned to the carpool point just about 6:00... which, allowing for 2 hours round-trip driving, 15 minutes getting organized, 15 minutes for lunch, and half an hour walking along the railroad tracks, means we must have spent five hours hiking two miles upriver.

It's now evening of the day after, and my legs are finally getting unsore.

Maybe I should do a Samhain hike!   ...Aw, but Samhain comes on a Wednesday this year.

2007Y! 2007, 2007!

Out with the ZOOG year and in with the ZOOT year!  I realize this post is a bit late, but my New Year's Day was busier this year than most.

As usual, I led my 7:45 AM hangover hike.  Last year we had exciting weather, with horizontal rain and sleet, and many newly-fallen tree branches obstructing the road back after we were done.  This year, we had boring weather: bright, sunny, just a slight breeze, and moderately cold (with only a few patches of frost in evidence).

A view west from the northbound ridge trail in Skyline Ridge OSP shows a fog-filled valley.  (As usual, click for a larger image.)

Alpine Pond was un-marred by waterfowl.

The view west from Borel Hill.  There's got to be an ocean somewhere under there!

The view east.  Can you spot the dirigible hangar hiding in this picture?

Hike report: Turkey hunt

I have a tradition, going back a few years, of leading a turkey hunt (strictly catch and release, sorry) at Rancho San Antonio on Thanksgiving morning.  There have been turkeys at Rancho for a long time, and they're often out on summer evenings, but they're not generally in evidence on Thanksgiving morning, with all the crowds.

Well, this year we actually saw turkeys!

Yup, real live wild-variety turkeys.

Sorry about the poor light... my camera's built-in flash isn't very powerful.  Must have a tritium deficiency.

Mmm... venison.  With bay-leaf seasoning.  And mushrooms.

I don't seem to have a recipe for woodpecker, though.

This was my first proper hike, with a hill in it, in about three months.  We went to the top of the picnic hill, where we had fine views.

Well, I got properly tired, but I also burned off a bit of that excess blood sugar.  Now it's time to get some morning exercise... and maybe burn off some of last night's dinner.

Rite of passage

I guess everybody is supposed to break a bone as part of growing up... generally on a nice civilized playground close to home, right?  And at an early age, when such damage heals quickly?

Well, this past Sunday afternoon, I was out at Arroyo Seco, having a bit of a guided tour of the upper gorge (120 miles from home, maybe 4 miles from the road)....

Nice scenery, as we hiked in along the fire road.

(As usual, click fer bigger.)

OK, so now we're off the fire road, at the end of the trail along the creek, and about to get wet.

Nice creek.

Snake!  (But no mushroom, and definitely no badger badger badger.)

As you can see, it was a fine day for a hike/float/swim up the creek there.

Then, without warning, while strolling through ankle-deep rapids, I was attacked by a gang of rocks!

They had me outnumbered!  One yanked my feet out from under me, another hit me on the left ring finger, while a third hit me on the right little toe!

The afflicted finger seemed to be moving in directions it shouldn't... before it stiffened up and didn't want to move at all.  The toe seemed to be in likewise bad shape.

With considerable assistance, I made it downstream to the trail, where my companions came up with a splint for the finger, which by this time really seemed to need one.  Then a 3-mile hike back along the fire road to get back to the car....

Then, back to the Bay Area, and a long evening in the emergency department at Kaiser, being pushed to & from the X-ray department in a wheelchair (c'mon, three miles of fire road, and then they're worried about my ability to walk around the hospital?).  Diagnosis: a dislocated finger and a broken toe.  Home with a splint, and bandage, and a bottle of narcotic painkillers, most of which seem to be going unused (Monday morning, the pain was in the less-nuisance-than-narcotics category).

Today, off to the sports medicine department.  The doctor says I won't be doing any hiking for several weeks.  I get a less cumbersome splint for the finger, and nothing for the toe (I think a sandal with the toe-strap loosened will be at least as good as one of those clunky post-op shoes).  Maybe I'll try milling a slot in an old sandal, so the toe can dangle unbothered.

I now know that my bones aren't unbreakable.  Also that last year's sandals no longer have good tread, and that, for exploring Arroyo Seco, a lower-profile flotation device than an inner tube would be better.  Maybe a kickboard, or a smallish air mattress.

Typing is still slow & inaccurate, and that's enough of it for now.

Awwww... no snow yesterday.

Yesterday was the occasion of one of my South Skyline Loop hikes: starting from Skyline Ridge Open Space Preserve, we loop through Monte Bello OSP, Upper Stevens Creek County Park, Long Ridge OSP, and back to Skyline Ridge, skirting a Christmas tree farm toward the end.  (The summer edition goes the other way around, to avoid slogging up an exposed fire road in the heat of the afternoon.)
With the unregionably wintry weather we've been having lately, I'd kinda hoped to find snow along the way.  Snow at the Christmas tree farm would have been perfect!  Alas, it had all melted.
(There had been a fair bit of snow falling in the area - up at Borel Hill, anyway - around 3:30 Saturday afternoon.  It was rather wet by the time it reached ground level, and melted soon after landing; something to do with the air temperature being about 10 degrees F above freezing.)
Apart from the lack of snow, it was a good, if slightly weird, hike.  I lost one carload of followers on the way there; I guess somehow they all got in the car without anybody having caught the directions.  On the other hand, I gained a like number at the trailhead.  Then at the first trail junction, my count came up one short of what I thought I had back at the cars... but nobody identifiable was missing, so I must have miscounted initially.
The mosses and mushrooms were out in force.  So was the mud, but that's only to be expected.  Stevens Creek was running well, but wasn't too deep to ford easily: those of us with confidence in our boots simply splashed across, while the less-confident looked for dry-foot routes over log or stones.
Weirdness resumed as we passed the tree farm; the official trail was blocked by a large fallen tree, and, as we sought a way around it, part of the group ended up going straight ahead, through the middle of the farm, instead of veering left to meet up again with the trail.  It turns out that was a shortcut, though steep and slippery in parts.
Total distance according to GPS was 9.35 miles with the shortcut, which suggests about 9.5 miles for the official route - rather more than the 8 miles I'd estimated by adding up the official numbers on the map.  Oh, well - everybody made it, and it was a decent amount of exercise.

Back from the Hangover Hike

I'll post a report later, with photos and maybe some video.  Short form: I had ten takers, four of whom chickened out at the trailhead; one other turned back early.  The other five stayed with me as far as Alpine Pond.  We had 50/50 weather: 50°F and 50 MPH gusts of wind... and sporadic rain, sometimes heavy, with bits of ice mixed in.  Fun, fun, fun!
Start the year with an early-morning hike in horizontal freezing rain, and nothing worse will happen to you all year!  Guaranteed, or double your money back!

How to spend the afternoon... doing something productive, or processing the photos for the hike report, or curled up with a cup of hot chocolate and a DVD of Die Walküre?

Hike report: Pogonip

For years, I'd been vaguely aware of a park, or preserve, or something, over by Santa Cruz and going by the name of Pogonip.  Having noticed it again on the Wilder Ranch map, I decided it was time to go check it out.
Turnout was light: I only had five takers,  one of whom (Bill) had been to Pogonip a few times, some years earlier.
I'd vaguely planned on parking at or near Harvey West Park, with the Rincon Road turnout off Highway 9 as a backup.  As it turned out, Harvey West Park is a good starting point, with a fair amount of on-street parking, and restrooms.  It also has a group picnic/BBQ facility, which raises possibilities for hike/BBQ activities.
We headed up the trail...

Woodlands (click for larger images).

This little critter was guarding the upper part of the Lookout Trail, where it goes up to the no-parking turnout.

We were well above the layer of fog which hid the ocean.

A glimpse of the distant clubhouse.  We'll be returning to this later.

Looks like there may have been some quarrying going on here, long ago.

This horse trough doesn't get cleaned as often as it might.  It does stay full, though.

Think this spring just uphill might have something to do with that?

The most ambitious creek crossing of the trip was the runoff from the spring.  (Guess it's called the Spring Trail for a reason.)  All the serious creeks had bridges; this one, we had to step across.

A scenic spot in the woods, with a vaguely trail-junctiony look to it, partway up the Spring Box Trail.

We didn't see any springboks, but, thanks to Bill, we took a scenic detour to these goldfish inhabiting what might be a spring box.

Ah!  Here, just as we meet up with the Lime Kiln Trail, is the old lime kiln.

There appears to have been some quarrying done just uphill of the kiln.

Looks like some students have been attempting to burn some lime of their own.

Heading down through the woods... we begin the return side of the loop, down the Fern Trail.

Old Tomnoddy, all big body, old Tomnoddy can't catch me...

Shortly after this, we encountered a small, dark-gray snake, but I didn't get a picture of it.

This tennis court has seen better days.

As has the clubhouse.

We can't be lost; there's the city below us!

Roller coaster, anyone?

One of several pleasant little creeks.  We didn't have to use the log; there was a nice new bridge.

On returning to our starting point, we noted that Harvey West Park has a public swimming pool (recreational swimming Sat/Sun 1:30~4:30, $3.25).  None of us had come prepared for a post-hike swim, but it's an option for the future (as is a dip in the San Lorenzo River, of course, but some people seem to like their swimming holes heated and chlorinated).