The Sun Don't Always Shine in California

In the Midwest, a rainstorm--by definition--includes thunder, lightning and dark rolling clouds. Here on the Peninsula, a rainstorm is more like having a blanket of sopping, light grey clouds laid over everything. Rather than buckets of water pouring down, the sensation is more like everything becomes suddenly wet and remains so for days. At times, it is impossible to tell the low clouds from the falling rain. And, so near the coast, a real storm means gusting winds and the thunder of foaming waves on the beach. This wet blanket weather has settled over the bay area for the last week, but no one is complaining because until the rain hit, California was approaching a terrible drought. The rain has also had no effect on my outdoor activities--coaching lacrosse and hiking.




Yesterday, Abby and I took a hike in the hills of San Pedro Valley Park. These hills are the divide between the inland bay area and the coast. North of El Granada and Montara, they rise right out of the ocean, passable by car only along the treacherous and twisted stretch of Highway 1 known as "Devil's Slide."



By foot, the hills are beautiful, especially for a foreigner to the diverse flora of this area. There were many places where we felt the dense brush around us and the muddy rugged trail felt like we were hiking in the rain forest. The ground was covered in eucalyptus bark and tangled thorn bushes.

Eucalyptus bark.


We followed the Montara Mountain trail which travels mostly along the edges of steep hills. This meant danger when Abby tried to jump out of the way of snakes--actually curved fallen branches--but it also meant fantastic views of the small town of Pacifica and the crescent shoreline of Half Moon Bay. As we climbed closer to the white overcast ceiling, the view broadened; it seemed more and more like the people were just ants moving around on the little sidewalks, going in and out of their little boxes, driving their little cars along little roads and disappearing around little curves in the distance.

Pacifica from San Pedro Valley Park

At one particularly existential moment on the hike, Abby noticed, "Those clouds are moving really fast." A moment later, we were hammered with rain. The sheets of rain completely obscured the view of the town and the ocean all at once. From so near the clouds, and standing on the edge as we were, it really seemed like the rain wasn't so much falling, but being pulled down by the thirsty earth. The clouds weren't leaking by any volition of their own, but really having the liquid sucked out of them. As the earth drank all around us, the whole place was totally grey for a minute, then the winds blew the clouds on, and we could see the crashing sea again.