May beckoned. April’s fierce winds had petered out to pleasant and the rainy season had run its course. The sky was brilliant blue, the grass a day-glo green. Wildflowers were at their peak, and both bird and whale migrations were in full force.
Lucky for me, I had a buddy to enjoy nature’s offering. We hiked along the Drake’s Estero Trail, starting late in the day with flashlight in backpack just in case. The rutted path was lined with a profusion of purple irises, poking out from the mounds of poison oak. We quickly lost count of the quail that darted in and out of the lupine and blackberry bushes and scurried from us at almost every turn, their black head plumes bobbing to rival the elegance and whimsy of a royal wedding hat. Soft brown cows, too, shared our path, curious but mostly hesitant; a few held firm and some even followed us.
Farther along, on the Sunset Trail, we lingered to watch the sun drop behind the lighthouse mesa. The tide was out, and the evening’s glow lit up a vast silver labyrinth of water and silt. In fading light on return to the trail head, we passed through a small grove of bishop pine, when suddenly a dozen egrets silently swooped above us, like mute Blue Angels thrilling us as they settled into the tree tops to roost for the night. What could be more remarkable?
As it turned out, the next day brought a new round of beauty and delight. Fueled by coffee and a scone from the Bovine Bakery, we biked to the turnoff to Chimney Rock, and stopped for lunch at the west overlook. The sea was turquoise near the rocky shore, where brown, beige and nearly white sea lions rested, while farther out into the cobalt ocean spouted a whale and her calf. We settled into our repast of spicy beef jerky, apples and power bars and enjoyed the warm sun as the grey whales gradually headed around the corner and out of our sight. And boarding our bikes, we, too, went on our way.
