You’ll find many fine volumes of trail descriptions on the shelves of your local bookstore. My guides are different. I tell you how to follow a particular route, and I describe my own experience of it, usually on one particular day. My hikes are not a forced march from one mile-marker to another. They're more like a meditation, the practice of being here, in this space, at this moment—listening to birds chattering in the underbrush or to wind in the high fir branches; catching a whiff of a mysterious spicy fragrance; spotting crowds of blue forget-me-nots or one brilliant red paintbrush. I follow a variation of a Zen precept: When I walk, I just walk. I leave the rest of my life behind at the trailhead.

 

For more than thirty years, I've traveled these paths—many times, in all seasons, in every kind of weather. I love them, and I hope you will too. They have taught me how to live, how to love the Earth and its many forms of life. I'm not just an observer of this life, I am one with this life. Perhaps that is the impetus for gathering these trail descriptions on my Web site: I would like to share this insight.

 

All these trailheads are within a thirty- to sixty-minute drive from my home. Some of the hikes are cozy and intimate; others offer expansive views of mountains or sea. My ideal route takes me through a variety of terrain, from sandy beaches to grassy meadows to shadowy forests, and most of the hikes posted here do pass through several different habitats. I have included one city hike, shorter than the others, less various, but too spectacular to leave out.

 

When you want to stretch your legs, feel the wind on your face, breathe pure air, and hear no machine-made sounds, head for Point Reyes in Marin County or state parks in Sonoma County to find some of the best hiking anywhere. We are truly blessed that local, state, and federal authorities have seen fit to establish these areas and set them aside from development. We can hike every month of the year, and some of our best hiking weather is in winter. Winter is a misnomer in this part of the world. We have only two seasons, wet and dry, not the traditional four of picture calendars. People who have lived in the east or the Midwest say they miss these distinct divisions of the year, especially the autumnal changes. However, old California hands, natives and near-natives, can feel in the air, in its light and smell, the subtle shifts at equinoxes and solstices.

           

I walk these trails on weekdays and sometimes hike for several hours without meeting anyone. This suits me but it may be daunting to others. I consider all these paths safe for a solo woman. Weekends and holidays many more hikers will be out on most of these trails. On more highly traveled routes you will see less wildlife. I've seen foxes and coyotes when I have been alone, not when I've been walking along chatting with a companion.

 

One thing I don’t see along my favorite trails is trash. Northern Californians, bless them, respect the environment and leave few traces of their passage through it. So when I come across a stray candy wrapper or bottle top, I pick it up and pack it out. I recycle plastic bags for this purpose.

 

Now that I have rhapsodized about hiking, and these trails in particular, it’s time to introduce a note of caution. I have hiked in the Sierra, other states in the West, and other countries of the world, and I have rarely encountered as many hazards as on northern California paths.

·         The number one peril, for me, is poison oak. I have met people who claim they are not allergic to its toxins, but immune individuals can become sensitized at any time and break out in an itchy rash. You should not touch any trailside plant until you learn to recognize Toxicodendron diversilobum by its foliage: “leaves of three, let them be” is the hiker’s mantra. The genus name should be fair warning. The species name diversiloblum refers to the fact that it creeps, it climbs, it masquerades as a shrub. I have a special wash for urushiol-induced rashes and use it as soon as possible if I think I have been too close to this villain.

·         Stinging nettle is another pesky plant that is especially abundant along many Point Reyes trails. Simply brushing your hand lightly against its bristly leaves will create a stinging sensation that lasts a few minutes or a few hours. It can raise large welts on especially sensitive people. The leaves look quite soft, but don’t be taken in. The flowers that dangle like tassels beneath the foliage, barely noticeable because of their pale, greenish white color, are the best field mark.

·         Mountain bikers love many of these trails. They often loom around a curve at a fast clip and eschew the use of a bell to warn foot travelers. They ignore signs for no bikes and use narrow trails anyway. On numerous occasions I have had to leap off the path into a patch of poison oak to avoid a crash.

·         Horses are not nearly as dangerous as bikes, and there’s no disputing they have the right of way. Just step to the side of the trail, all members of your party to the same side, and let them pass. The right-of-way rules, sometimes posted on trails, are: bikers give way to horses and hikers, hikers give way to horses, horses give way to no one.

·         Rattlesnakes can be a hazard on inland trails. I haven’t encountered them often, but they are critters to be aware and wary of. One June morning at Sugarloaf Ridge, a large white truck that was part of a trail reconstruction project passed me on Meadow Trail. Down the road a bit, the truck stopped; after a few minutes the driver got out and came back toward me. He said there was a rattler lying across the road and he couldn’t get it to move. Together we walked back to the truck, which was still chugging away and surely vibrating the ground for a considerable distance. This did not seem to disturb our snake. Nor did a few well-cast stones. The driver brought a long alder branch out of the creek and tried to lift the reptile off the road. That did it; our friend slithered, rattling away, into the brush.

·         This is mountain lion country. These cats roam over huge territories,       sometimes encompassing 75 square miles, even crossing busy highways. Parks where they have been seen post signs at trailheads. Just remember: don’t turn your back on one of these predators; step away slowly. I've seen one adult up closer than I felt comfortable with, and one cub. I have come across many bobcats, which are smaller than mountain lions and not a threat to humans. Both felines are shy and secretive, so I consider it a privilege to sight one.

·         Did I mention ticks? They are much smaller than any of the above but just as formidable, and the smallest of them, the deer tick, is a possible carrier of Lyme disease. They often lie in wait on grass stalks and jump onto passing hosts. I have also picked them up when I had to walk through or around fallen trees.  

The list of resources below will lead you to more information about these hazards.

Read the hike description before you set out. This will help you determine the best time of year to go, what to wear, and whether you will need such items as a hiking stick or long pants. And you’ll get an idea of what to look for. I'm a bit of a botanist and a birder, self-taught in both cases. My plant and bird descriptions are minimal, so if you are interested in knowing more, you may want to invest in field guides to western plants and birds. I also use a handbook of mammals, which includes animal tracks and scat.

 

Please note:  Trails do change over time, especially after a particularly wet winter. Also, admission fees can go up.

 

All these hikes are fairly long—eight to ten miles. You can turn around at any time without fear of censure. At Point Reyes many trails intersect, so it's possible to put together a shorter loop than I have described.