On Top of the World

On Sunday, the idyllic weather beguiled us, so we pulled our copy of 101 Hikes in Northern California: Exploring Mountains, Valleys, and Seashore and considered our choices. Hiking here requires a lot of stamina, because practically every trail requires a steep vertical ascent. We selected a trip to Fremont Peak State Park, because it promised an easy trail. Once we arrived, we decided to take a different one that would lead us to the peak. As you can see, once we arrived at the top, the view was superlative. I turned 360 degrees and took in the scene. Took photos, too.

Steep Descent

While climbing and then resting at the top, the sensation of vertigo stalled me for a little while. I realized I am a tad acrophobic! We ascended from the other side, but this photo gives a better perspective. When we departed, I found it easier than I thought to climb down. I wasn’t hauling all my weight against gravity.

Gold in Them Thar Hills

If you’ve ever wondered why California is called “The Golden State,” this is why. Once the winter rains cease, the lush green grasses turn gold. The entire countryside is amber. Unfortunately, because there is no rain after winter (for the most part), the view from the peak was obstructed by dust and haze. These grasses are also fuel for the dangerous brush fires that occur during the dry season.

Hysterical Marker

My mother will appreciate this photo. She’s always fascinated by history. The U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey established this marker in 1930. The fine for disturbing it in any way is $250. Back then, that was a steep fine.

Following our climb and recovery, we then meandered west toward the coast. I had a hankering for ocean breezes and the sound of waves. We ended up at Seacliff State Beach, which is notable for the grounded ship parked at the end of the pier. I left the camera in the car. There’s a photo of it on the state park page. We were informed that it originally had been built for use in World War I, but it took so long to build that the war had ended by then. Some businessmen bought the ship and sailed it to the pier, where they grounded it and turned it into a ballroom. It was quite popular for some years, but once the Depression arrived, they went bankrupt. The concrete hull, abandoned by humans, now provides perches for seagulls and pelicans. We wandered across the pier and then down the beach, watching the sunset. We passed by RV after RV of people camping at the edge of the beach, nodding hello and admiring their setups. Some people bring potted plants and rugs to put outside their trailer! It’s an elaborate enterprise and quite a community.

At last, both of us were quite spent, so we headed north, back to home. I felt very content. My muscles, however, complained this morning. We’ll just have to make it a habit to go hiking!

Although I’ve not yet felt the earth move under my feet, apparently there are quakes of varied magnitudes all the time happening close to home. A peek at the recent earthquakes for California and Nevada will show all the activity in the last week, including location, seismic strength, and date/time. I’ve been told that constant minor quake activity is desireable, allowing us to avoid (or prolong the arrival of) The Big One. On Thursday there was a microquake (less than 2.0 on the Richter scale) in Morgan Hill, where my company is located. Yet no one seems overly concerned, and since I slept through two quakes last fall (that even hardened residents noticed), I’ve not paid much heed.

Then I read a fascinating article in San Francisco magazine about how direly unprepared we are for the next big quake. It explored the histories of the disastrous quakes of 1906 and 1989, highlighting the lessons to be taken from these events. He also creates a scenario of what the next Big One might do, and where; I’ve excerpted what caught my attention:

In Santa Clara County, nearly 100,000 people live in more than 30,000 soft-story units; in San Jose, a million residents, visitors, and commuters lie in the temblor’s path. Landslides and toppling trees bury sections of serpentine Highway 17, between San Jose and Santa Cruz. At its tail end, tearing through Morgan Hill and Monterey, the quake shakes sprawling suburbs and oceanfront homes that weren’t there a century ago.

…As the 100th anniversary of the worst disaster in U.S. history approaches—a disaster that affected the spot where you are sitting, your mate is shopping, your favorite restaurant is serving, your children are, hopefully, learning—it is high time to start putting the right questions to the right people: ourselves. In 1906, the quake was triggered by the opposing plates of the San Andreas Fault slipping past each other an average of 13.5 feet. According to measurements taken by United States Geological Survey global-positioning instruments in the High Sierra and the Farallon Islands, the fault’s North American and Pacific Plates have moved 7.5 feet closer in the last 99 years, increasing the pressure on the fault line. That does not mean an earthquake is due tomorrow, but it should grab our attention.

Sobering, indeed. Not one to leave the reader in despair, the author provided a handy list of what to do to prepare, and I read it over. So today my husband and I purchased three cases of water in gallon jugs, a total of 18 gallons, which is supposed to provide us (and the cats) enough water for four-to-six days in the event of service interruption. Here I present the list of advice from the article:

What You Must Do

1. Go to www.72hours.org, a website developed by the San Francisco Office of Emergency Services, and implement every piece of advice. Lay in a week’s supply of water and canned food, plus a manual can opener, medicine, pet food, flashlights, cash, a transistor radio, and extra batteries. Buy a good fire extinguisher. And don’t sell that old bicycle.
2. Bolt your home to its foundation, and make sure your water heater is strapped to the wall. If the structure needs diagonal bracing to strengthen it, compare the cost of getting it done with all the costs of not getting it done.
3. Buy a $3 crescent wrench and learn how to shut off your gas. An earthquake will rupture gas mains, and if the electricity doesn’t go out, a spark could quickly ignite a fire. That’s the main fire danger in the Bay Area today.
4. Plan a kid pickup. If you commute, you may have difficulty getting home, let alone picking up your children. Make plans now with someone near their school who will get your kids and take care of them until you can make it home.
5. Stick a transistor radio in your car or briefcase. Telephone lines will be jammed or down, and cell phones may be unusable as well. Transistor radios will be our best means of getting information. Make sure you have extra batteries.
6. Find a temporary home now. Figure out where you and your family will stay if your home is damaged or unreachable. A friend’s home is better than a shelter.
7. Don’t be foolish. After reading this, bypass knee-jerk reaction #1: “I am going to sell my house and move.” Ditto for knee-jerk reaction #2: snoozing. Opt for a little-used smart reaction: preparing for the earthquake that will come.

The 72hours.org site has more detailed instructions of what to put into one’s disaster kit and how to create a “go-bag” in the event of an evacuation. It may seem pessimistic and a bit “Chicken Little” to focus on this, but the potential for such an occurrence is high enough to warrant preparation. Once supplies are laid in, I’ll go on with life feeling a bit more secure.