I kinda have become stir-crazy. It is a convergence of many of the usual suspects...I feel like shit, I am adjusting to my new dope, and the days are all becoming a blur with work and travel. Even the weekends have gone limp & grey. It has been weeks of weekends spent at the keys of this here computer trying to get it set up. This is a large undertaking - way larger than I originally imagined. It is taking forever, and if I am honest with myself, I know it will take all weekend. I have my TV back, and that numbs some of the boredom of getting this done. Before that, this was many weekends of sitting here literally having the clock radio on some sports station all day and trying to locate where all my photos, mp3s, and old documents have gone and trying to get them in one spot and formatted in a way that pleezes me. This is mind-numbing - save for the occasional unearthing of a long-lost song or picture - and I absolutely could not take another weekend of it. Moreover, I have been traveling for work so f'ing much I simply had to do something recreational and pleasant.
It has been months since I have been out and about in the Cali outback, so I decided that I simply had to take in a little Golden State Rural Delight. The only bummer is that the in-state recreating is now taking place under winter rules, which basically translates to keeping things nearby since the mountains are too cold & snowy, and there simply ain't enough daylight to justify a long trip way way way out somewhere. This means I gotta keep it within near range of the house OR I need to go out the night before and drive to a distant hotel and use the whole next day's sunlight to work my way back to the homefront. Since this is thee Holiday Season, I need to save my money, so no long drives or hotel stays are gonna happen. Renting a car is pricey enough.
Last winter I did a pretty good job in scoping out the highlights within a few hours of Oaktown. I have much detail to cover, so I have no doubt that the winter will be fruitful, so the debate was whether to seek out the last few spots of virgin territory or to go back to a fave. I couldn't decide, so I just started driving and thought I would figure it out when I got there, wherever that may be. My desire soon revealed itself, and that desire was to watch waterbirds and Tule Elk at the Great Valley Grasslands State Park and/or Volta State Park north of Los Banos, which is about an hour east of San Jose/Gilroy.
When I got into the Central Valley, the whole thing was choked in what I think was smoke from a fire somewhere. If it was smog, it was BY FAR the worst I have seen in the Central Valley. I actually don't think that is what it was - it simply wasn't brown enough, and it kept getting worse the further south I got. This wouldn't do. I decided eventually to bail on the waterbirds and instead go hunting for the last Acorn Woodpeckers of the year in the canyons due east of San Jo. I had been out that way once before (along CA130 east of the Lick Observatory - so many good jokes jump out of that one...do I really need to make it explicit?), and I dug it. In fact, I think I saw my first coyote out there, which is awesome. Instead of just going the same route, I elected to try out the San Antonio Valley road that came into Livermore - in my beautiful home county of Alameda - from the south. By going that route, I hoped to get a look at the remnants of Alameda county's last elk herd (thanks to the sadists who channel their perversion into careers in mining and real estate development, the elk may be fully extirpated from the county in a few years.) I also thought it would be awesome to find a local supply of suitable Acorn Woodpecker habitat to enjoy the winterlong.
I didn't totally succeed in finding a place to watch peckers all winter, but I did see much else that made the trip more than worthwhile. Early on, in fact, I saw something amazing...I saw evidence to suggest that the veracity of at least one old cliche is highly suspect. In fact, I may hereby have spotted the beginning of a trend I would find most awesome!
To say it is awesome isn't entirely true. I kinda like the idea of savaging cliches has a nice ring to it, but let's be honest, they often live on because when they do ring true for you, you are glad they are there ain't ya? This particular one gave me many jollies, in fact on our National Mall in Warshington DC I purchased a bumper sticker with it on it, and it remains proudly affixed to my laptop. In short, it says something like "Suburbia: Where they tear down the trees and name the streets after them!"
Awesome. This idea has a few variations, but for the most part, it tickles me for its veracity, especially in this era in which the Culture Of Ownership enjoys such high esteem. Ha! Count 'em down out in the world if you don't believe me. Whether a subdivision named for the ranch it destroyed, the hills no one can now see because of their Plywood Palazzos, or indeed, just a street named for the trees ripped out to facilitate its creation, the cliche holds.
On this trip I ran into the first instance I have ever seen where the cliche not only doesn't hold, but in fact, the exact OPPOSITE is true. While picking out a route through the back range of the coastal mountains that separate the East Bay from The Bay, I decided to retrace part of the ride along a little road that one gets to from I-5 past the Patterson exit. I had done that road before, but this time I would take the other fork in the road that comes about 20 miles in. On that new fork, I would go north into my home county of Alameda, and check out the canyons and valleys south of Livermore. When I got to the I-5 exit, I saw a few things I didn't remember seeing there. For openers - and keep in mind, my recollection is that this road started in the middle-of-nowhere - I saw a guy at the bottom of the off-ramp standing there with a cardboard arrow pointing to a new subdivision going east. I had no recollection of there being much developable land that way, nor a road that could hold the traffic. In my confusion, I decided I had the time to explore each option to find out what the hell was up. I went in search of this new subdivision, so I took the Diablo Grande Parkway - which I don't recall seeing there when I was there before, and it wasn't on my old map - a good ways in, under the powerlines that come from the windmills at Altamont, and tucked in a nice little valley, I got to the end of the Parkway.
The road out to the cozy little palaces is the same as the over-arching name of the developments, and it is in here where the cliche goes to pieces. The road & general area is known as Diablo Grande. Indeed, this here is the very first time I have seen a development in my life where the name represents what is being brought in rather than what must be destroyed to build it. I was astounded! They were even going to build actual vineyards around the part they were calling The Vineyards! I was agasp. Agog! Left is right. Up is down!
I wanted to go further in, but there was a gate. That is so so rich! I admit freely that when I see a gatehouse at a subdivision, all I can think about is locking the gate shut and posting a tank out front; but the time just hasn't come yet (I am indulging you right-wingers a little here so that you can continue to believe what you want about anyone who might not agree with you and your voting habits - enjoy.) By putting that gate there, they denied me what I really wanted, which is to see how far the developer would go in properly naming things. My hope was that a Truth In Naming law might have been passed in Cali under the radar and I would be stumbling upon an area with awesome names like White Trash With Money Blvd. or Total Fantasy Financing For Those Who Imagine They've Made Good Avenue. Sadly, my way was blocked, an I would have to settle for the little bit of titillation I was able to get from simply seeing that each area was named "(X) at Diablo Grande". The death of the cliche is tough to take at some level, but I wouldn't go back. Tis better to live with things as they actually are than as you wish they were.
My fantasy visit with the aspirational ended soon enough and I had to get going on my little trek through canyon country. It didn't take long for me to realize I had moved on from whities-in-denial territory to whities-reveling-in-what-they-are territory. One universal sign of that transition is finding the road signs shot to hell. Generally, the severity of the damage, and number of destroyed signs is a near perfect indicator of who the locals are. In this case, I quickly came upon this poor switchback sign that was literally shot to hell. I still can't figure out what could have made the gaping hole in the sign. Maybe a crazy-ass air gun or something concentrated on one spot. Maybe some pencil-dick with a Desert Eagle got up-and-personal with the poor sign. I may never know, especially since I can't see myself returning anytime soon. Once I made it to the fork in the road, I headed north into the home county, and I learned that it was all I really will need.
I am still completely clueless as to how the Bay Area was divided into counties. Alameda is a large county that remains extreme in its diversity. The county includes downtown Oakland and rural San Antonio Road, the two points I had to connect to get home. I am about to go in for jury duty here in the county, and I imagine the range of cases I could get.
What if it is some Bubba accused of poaching the wild pigs that run around the south county? What if is Bub Rub or Lil' Sis violating noise ordinances with their whistling tailpipes? I am not sure this range of possibilities exist in too many places. Imagine Bub Rub sitting on Bubba's jury, or even the other way around? Amazing. God Bless Alameda County!
If you doubt Alameda's rural bona fides, then you aren't trying hard enough to get to know this little slice of paradise. On the road up to Livermore, there were free range cattle a-go-go. They might be tougher than other cattle out in The Heartland, but they are as cow as any cows.
It is true that south county likely doesn't have TRUE Bubbas like Red State Murikkka, but there were some signs that there could well be some remnant Okies from the dust bowl who settled down out there. There weren't tons, but there were some, trailers with ATV's and 4X4's on the big tires out front. I also spied one of my rural favorites - a driveway that needs a bridge over a small channel, and rather than build a bridge, they buy an old railroad flat car and drop it over the span. Tis true, those old rail cars were built like tanks and likely make for bridges that will last many moons. I would likely go for one myself being a train nerd, but they don't make that kind of flat car much these days (they are either modified for something else, or for carrying truck trailers, they make highly modified cars now.) I make no judgement on this fellow Alamedan. They have my blessing to use old train cars for their home bridge. I am a little jealous in fact. I am also pleased as punch to find such a thing so close to my urban domicile. It bodes well for a winter full of day-trip escapism.
My real hope for the day was to find a big old tree I could park under and watch Acorn Woodpeckers all day, and be able to find such trees in county. Were I to do so, I would - again - be well set up for a winter full of real recreation that requires very little travel. It didn't quite work out, but this doesn't mean I was denied my much-sought avian joy.
Indeed, I stumbled upon a huge gaggle of quail just chillin' roadside. There had to be at least a dozen along the road having a gay old time. Since you almost never see just one quail, I knew when I saw the dude that a hen would follow, but then another dude and ton of hens came out from the ravine on the left side. Normally they all scatter at the site of the car, but they hung with me. Sadly, the road at this stretch was a single lane. Actually, it was single lane for a long long time. This meant that even when I saw Acorn Woodpeckers (of which I saw at least 3), I really had no safe place to sit and watch. There were simply too many blind curves and hills and such for me to just stop on the road and watch. The only spot where I could do that was right where the quail were getting their swerve on.
I love the quail and all, but things got really bird-nerd hot when an awesome Western Blue Jay ran over and joined the party. I see that jay quite a bit; in fact a fairly loud bunch of rowdy jays live in the big Eucalyptus trees out front and on the golf course near my house. They aren't a rare delight in the way that the quail are, but seeing jay and quail hang together was most phat.
I wasn't able to figure out the exact dynamic between the birdies, but they had something going on. The quail seemed quite familiar with Mister Jay, and after a slow approach, he was allowed to go a' peckin' with the quail as they worked their way down the road. One thing I did note is that the two birds each had different tolerance levels for me moving around and for other cars. There were a few occasions where the quail hit the bricks to get away from something, but the jay actually hung around. They are cool like that. You can all-but get them to eat out of your hand on the Berkeley campus. They are kinda city birds, and common to me, but I liked seeing them none-the-less. All in all, I could say it was a good day. I saw my last woodpeckers of the year, I got some quality quail time, and I think I got a good line on some winter bird-nerd haunts.
Naturally, hanging out at Altamont near the windmills might give me access to some mega-birds. Those blades kill loads of birds each year, including some awesome rare ones (like the Golden Eagle, which I once saw at Marin Headlands and I nearly crapped on myself in seeing how big and awesome they are. But I digress...) I might hang at Altamont a little this winter since I like the view, but I am much more likely to get out in Alameda's long valleys south of Livermore, and then there is the whole Ohlone Wilderness and other awesome spots. My ultimate goal is to find prime Acorn Woodpecker territory where I can sit out and read on winter weekend days that I can get out. When I find that one awesome spot, I will be greatly pleased. My whole winter will be set for gooooood times. I know you will return often to make sure I get there, especially if you know I will be loading this site up with more pictures of woodpeckers.
I will, and if 2008 is the year I finally get the Ivory Billed Woodpecker tattoo I have long wanted, you can pretty much count on 2008 being The Year Of The Pecker.
Sigh. I get hot flashes just thinking about it!
Posted by rudayday at December 17, 2007 09:27 PM