Grove of giants
River mist
It was chilly at 7:15 this morning as I started hiking along the American River just downstream from Sunrise Boulevard. The sun wasn’t up yet, and there was nobody else around to appreciate the wispy fog hanging over the water — it was just me and the mallards, and a flock of Canada honkers passing overhead.
Trail marker
Stories in rock
A geologist might be able to read the stories these rocks have to tell; all I can do is try to imagine how they came to be here while I admire their unique beauty.
Sign language
Secret garden
Out of bounds
Rocky road
If you take a few hours to wander along the south bank of the American River Canyon below Folsom Prison, you’ll find plenty of history — and a lot of rocks. There are remnants of the old canal that ran from the original Folsom dam to the powerhouse, and you can also find Indian grinding holes overlooking the river. It’s […]
Iron age
You don’t have to look very far from where I live to find forgotten bits and pieces of the area’s local industry. There’s plenty of old rusted pipeline in abandoned orchards and building foundations with iron bolts sticking out. But it’s not always so easy to learn the stories behind these small fragments. Sometimes it seems to me that most […]