While we were staying at Tracy and Richard’s place at Point Reyes Station a couple of weekends ago, we hiked- maybe wandered is a better descriptor – to Abbotts Lagoon. I love being outside and, especially, walking on a dirt trail or on no trail. Still, I haven’t walked on a dirt path – except to cut through a parking lot border – in probably four years, and I’ve missed it. There are all kinds of reasons, from hammertoes to having trouble breathing. After I got my new replacement aorta valve, I started exercising by lifting weights and walking on a treadmill, which I still do, but neither one offers the satisfaction of being on the land.
The short hike to Abbotts Lagoon, in Point Reyes National Park, was harder than I expected. And more fun! And more interesting. When I am walking on a treadmill, once I get to a steady pace, I don’t think about the actual walking part, but walking on an uneven dirt path, I have to think about almost every step. That is not something I did fifteen years ago. Fifteen years ago, I had much more available bandwidth to look around and marvel at the scene around me. Not that this is a particularly spectacular landscape. At first, it is just dry grass and gentle hills. Still, it is full of detail.
Close to the end of the trail, well before the beach, is Abbotts Lagoon, which connects with the ocean by way of several lazy meanders. There is more wildlife here than I expected, and everybody seemed less afraid of humans. And why shouldn’t they be less afraid? Our species has gone from hunter to birdwatcher in most of the world -well, here at least – during the last century (plus or minus a decade). The fur traders and casual hunters have been replaced by people like us who are not looking for decorative feathers or otter pelts, and the animals have reacted to that.
Something is healing about being out on the land. Being on the land is primal; it touches our animal core. There are a lot of people on the trail and each one of us is singular. Each of us has our own personality. Just like the animals we cross paths with. That difference is the engine of evolution, and it runs deep.
As an aside, about seventy years ago, I tried my hand at raising snails. I had read about it in Sunset Magazine. The article was about taking common garden snails and putting them in a large container of cornmeal for a couple of weeks to clear their digestive tract, and then…that was it. Like magic, they were ready for eating. Except I couldn’t do it. When I took the top off to clean the container, some were on the cornmeal munching away, and some were sliming their way up the sides to see more of the word; one was even all the way to the top, trying to get out. Each snail had its own personality. Snails are pretty primitive, pretty basic, but even at that level, each one is different. It is harder to kill and eat an animal that has a personality, for me, at least. End aside.
