Long referred to as “The Door,” Del Puerto Canyon winds 22 miles through the Diablo Range, connecting the San Joaquin Valley to San Antonio Valley and, eventually, the greater San Francisco Bay area.
A gargantuan spiderweb hangs across the steep dirt road. It shimmers, translucent in the sunlight, slack lines nearly imperceptible. As I duck the web and trudge further up the road's corkscrew turn, the thick brush, thistle, weeds and poison oak part, revealing an ancient looking stone bench on the shoulder above the road.
The demolition of the San Clemente Dam will set the Carmel River free. But the massive project serves as a reminder that when we mess with nature, the solutions carry their own great cost.
A journey to the Avenue of the Sun, and evidence that the great oak forests of California are largely the product of thousands of years of Ohlone tree husbandry.
The rolling grasslands of La Honda Creek Open Space Preserve are like a sublime hallucination this time of year; their contours, a sensuous geometry. A breeze sweeps through the clearing and the lush green shivers with life. The velvety slopes make me want to strip off my clothes and perform wild, flailing somersaults down the hill.
This story begins with a mysterious mural—153 square feet of bizarre suffering and eerie salvation. From the upper left corner, a demon with legs like coiled springs descends upon men in loincloths.
