Southern California is an interesting sort of place. Particularly the Central Coast, where chaparral reigns fragile king.
I’ve had discussions with people who struggle to see the beauty of subtropical desert environs such as these. Too much brown, too many tans. Even the green struggles to stand out. How could this compare to the deep emeralds of a dense northern forest?
The scrub oak and sagebrush would scratch my skin if not for the heavy, reinforced denim around my calves. High boots keep my ankles safe from treacherous rocks crumbling under my weight. Leather across my shoulders avert the baking sun above; even at this high peak, the air is warm and dry and unforgiving at speed.
The wildlife that thrives here need not my armor, they wear hide and carapace better suited to the heat. I’ve come across foxes, coyotes, deer, tarantula – lucky spots all of them, they only show themselves on the road on uncommon occasion. But like the affection of a street cat, there is something all the sweeter and more special for these chance encounters.
Sure, rainforests are prettier in pictures. But the hills off north here are velvet in person. Let’s see the sunset if we have time.
– Goose
Leave a Reply