Pinnacles February 18 - March 9, 2003 After two and half years, Sid took me for the first time to our nearest National Park.

	Track through Juniper Canyon is awfully romantic this time of year

	On our way up, we passed many bizarre rock formations

In the first place I would like to express my disappointment about the fact that our presidential candidate, Mr. Maxidog Fiq, has lost in the end. We did not have a chance to talk with Mr. Fiq yet, but Mr. Šmudla (a vice-presidential nominee, enjoying his stay with Kren's family these days) dropped a word that it is his preference to continue a quiet life of a household canine.

We are, on the other paw hand, much more sociable. On a Friday following the weekend of our trip to the desert, we had agreed to have a beer with Milan. We met him through photoPos - his pictures of Lick Observatory spoke a clear voice: he is our neighbor! Milan has an affinity to this frothy beverage and since such can be had in sufficient quality only at establishments where beer is micro-brewed (hence they don't carry elk urine by Bu****ser and their ilk), our selection went for a Gordon Biersch pub in downtown San Jose. Sid cursed a little when we could not find a place to park -- we had grown not used to downtown life and its fight for space. A moment later, both of us were cursing -- Gordon Biersch taproom consists of approximately five large halls, where we were supposed to find a chap, about whom we knew only that he was bald. We found him eventually, and I don't know how much fun Martha and Sid (our designated drivers) had, but we who had all the beers enjoyed them considerably.

Martha is from Mexico, which gave us an opportunity to quiz her a bit about local names. As it happens, over half of places have Spanish names and with by far most of them we have not idea what the names mean. For example our favorite Point Lobos is literally "Wolf Point". However, Martha thinks that it should actually read Point Lobos Marinos -- as sea wolf in Spanish means a sea lion -- and here we have a Sea Lion Point. Indeed, it is difficult to picture a wolf there, though we have seen (and heard and smelled) many a sea lion there. There's also this whole affair with an archaic, Czech word for an adventurous sailor, a sea wolf, literally translated. We think that it may have been just a botched translation from Spanish, perhaps even from times when Spain was the sea power. It would make a lot of sense if seasoned sailors called themselves old seals, rather than wolves.

	A balanced rock

	A view to Pinnacles' neighborhood, with a restroom hut for scale

As you can see, our party was very cultured. I must admit, however, that I had to sleep it off for most of Saturday, which killed our earlier skiing plans.

Our next cultural item in our diary was a ballooning meeting. We had expected some fun gathering in a bar, and instead we participated in a two-hour debate on whether it is right that a club management had decided to purchase a $250 annual membership of this club in a ballooning federation. By the way, it all took place at a pizzeria and the sum of money spent on meals and drinks there were bound to get close to those two or three hundreds. I would have never thought that ballooning can be this serious affair. Well - clubbing about ballooning, that is. Nevertheless, we got to meet a few more people, which was nice.

Spring has seriously arrived during these last few weeks. Perhaps a little early, but the more welcome it is. Besides blooming flowers and bushes under our bedroom windows, a passionate dove courtship has been underway every day since five a.m. We did not need to wait long for consequences, and so now a dove female is firmly lodged atop her eggs in a nest inside a bush next to our Jacuzzi. I watched her sitting there patiently while summer hailstorm bombarded everything, and I forgave her all the racket a few weeks ago. She just got between a rock and a hard place.
Spring simply affects everyone -- I, for example, suffer from classic Middle-European panic, feeling an urge to get outdoors "while the weather is so nice".

	Our trail went through high-tech spots - a bridge over a ravine, leading to a tunnel through the rock

You may not believe it, but in those two years I have been here, we have actually never gotten around to visit our closest National Park - Pinnacles. It's not because it wouldn't be interesting, but it happens to be located just too far to not qualify for an afternoon stroll, yet close enough to make us feel like not wasting a whole weekend on it. And so our trips usually took us to closer places, while we extended our trips into distance - and every time we were passing ragged tops of Pinnacles in a distance, we promised to ourselves to get there some other time.

	A moss- and lichen-covered tree

One cannot drive across Pinnacles Park, so you must choose to visit either the eastern or western part. We picked west out of pragmatic reasons. Sid's previous two attempts to enter from the east failed on account of too many crowds visiting. Moreover, the western part offers a very interesting hiking ascend through Juniper Canyon up to a viewpoint by Scout Peak, some thousand feet higher. An adventurous loop leads among ragged rocks, peppered with steps carved into stone, steel railings, bridges and a tunnel. I admit I was pleasantly surprised - I was not expecting to find a nice preserve easily competing with many famous locations, a stone throw from our house. A park ranger cautioned us that our planned hike would take four hours, but that must be an estimate fit for shopping mall prowlers (who tend to venture into these parts in great numbers, having run out of chain stores and factory outlets, and suddenly needy of "wilderness"). We managed the loop (including many a picture taking, lunch eating, and an off-trail conquest of a local apex) in three hours.

Pinnacles, too, did not get passed on by Spring -- the weather was warm, but not hot, grass was green, creeks were a-bubblin', blossoms a-bloomin' - and here, too, birds were a-nesting. By the look, I would guess they were condors. Park management, to protect the birds, had closed some areas off for both rock climbers and off-trail hikers alike. We watched through our camera zoom lens, from our (permitted) vantage point, as parents fed a screeching, barely feather-clad youngster in a nest. We did not, however, manage to take a picture.

Copyright © 2003-2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.