It's not on the park map anymore, but I still like to visit Mud Lake several times a year. It used to be a pond of several acres frequented by frogs and egrets; now it's completely filled with cattails. Change happens, it is the natural process—just as Mirror Lake in Yosemite Valley is no longer a lake, but a wet meadow.
Mud Lake lies under the flight path into SFO, and every ten minutes or so a 747 sails along overhead. I have a little dream, which I have no hope of ever fulfilling, of being in a place, even for a very short time, where there is no trace of humans—no trash, no power lines, no airplanes droning above.
The drive out to Pt. Reyes is especially wonderful at this time of year. Pale lavender pennyroyal crowds the roadside and in the town of Olema the naked ladies are out in full pink glory—Amaryllis belladonna, that is. The hike up Stewart Trail is, as always, quiet and serene. Dust settling on everything, leaves turning yellow and brown, seed heads drooping—all these make the forest look just a little dilapidated, the end of summer. A few flowers remain: monkey flower, dandelion, elk clover. White morning glories are the most abundant, climbing over shrubs and trees.
I meet more than the usual number of hikers and horseback riders out enjoying the first sunny morning we have had all summer. Ridge Trail is extremely muddy and torn up by horses. I have to walk at the very edges of the path and keep bumping into stinging nettle, which is still tingling on my arm as I type this hours later.
For more complete details of this hike, see Mud Lake under Hiking Descriptions.