Dow Rode

Meandering your way along mist soaked dirt trails; the heady smell of wet cinnamon and eucalyptus clouds your mind. Within five minutes of exiting your car, you are transported to a world unmarred by man. It’s like you are in another place and time… Ferns shadow lichen encrusted rocks and outcroppings. Trees that speak in tongues long forgotten stretch into the mist above. In the distance you can hear the tap-tap-tapping of a woodpecker looking for its next meal. Dogwood trees add splashes of white and pink amongst the green foliage. Gliding along the trail of your choosing, you glimpse a hint of mankind: a cement tunnel is in your path. Although you know Mother Nature never intended this passage, she has nevertheless decorated the path with her beauty. Pushing aside a spindle of honeysuckle, you make your way though the tunnel…

Magically, you’re no longer in the forest, but on a sea bluff! The smell of the salt air mingles with the sagebrush. You now begin to wonder if that woodpecker you heard was instead an otter working away at an abalone shell. A wooden rail (borrowed directly from the forest) is all that separates you from the ocean. Gazing out, time freezes; there is a gorgeous deep blue lagoon below you. A waterfall is cascading from the edge of the costal forest onto the untouched white sands of the lagoon’s beach. There are no words for the beauty you have discovered…

To the right is a rocky outcropping, just begging to be climbed. You oblige and find the perfect perch to sit, absorb, wonder, and relax in the splendor before you. It is midmorning, and the sun is just beginning to pierce through the marine layer. A beam of warmth falls upon your back, and you feel as if God and Mother Nature as one have invited you to stay as long as you wish. You feel at peace.

Then, all of a sudden, you hear laughter and running feet. Two young boys spring out of the tunnel. The wooden railing becomes a jungle gym as the boys’ parents step up behind them. Muffled awe drifts up to your ears from the adults. Meanwhile, the boys have begun to dig their initials into the fence with their Cub Scout survival tools. The husband and wife share a tender glance, and then shuffle their brood further down the trail.

The momentary lapse into reality reminds you of other trails and paths yet to be personally discovered by yours truly. But, before you clamber back down to the path, you take a mental picture – a postcard for your memories. Then slowly wander back to your car, whistling a song you don’t know the words to.