Wildlife Adventures at a State Park By the Sea

Andrew Molera State Park
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After my drive partway up the coast, I stopped at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, hoping my interagency pass would grant me a discount. It didn't. But the setting was just so pretty I stayed. Thinking the weather would clear up I chose a site with a little more sun than the others. I pitched my tent and set off walking. The campground offered sites along the river for an extra ten bucks. As many of these were unoccupied I walked through them along the river. Then I realized it was getting on in the afternoon and if a hike was in order, it must be soon. A Host Campsite near the entrance had a sign for $1 maps. The other two State Parks in the vicinity are Andrew Molera and Julia Pfeiffer Big Sur, and we looked over the trails weighing the strengths of each park. Although Pfeiffer's trails were less frequented, Molera's popular trails were that for a reason: they had great vistas and a variety of terrain. I bought the map and decided to hike the bluff trail, where I could walk along the ridge looking out to the ocean.

Resting deer
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When I got to the Park clouds moved in and I lost some daylight I was counting on. So I checked the map and decided to walk through the creamery meadows.  This trail crossed a bridge most of the year, but winter must have been good here because the bridge was most certainly missing. I took off my shoes and socks, and went for it. Ooh was it cold! At first it was invigorating, then about five feet later, water up to my knees, my skin started shouting as my muscles accepted the cold. I leapt onto the shore and got my socks on. The water felt like glacial runoff. Walking into the meadow, the sky turned gray, the wind picked up, and my calves never seemed so full of nerves. I decided to go on, mostly because I was not interested in getting into the river anytime soon. The meadows were beautiful. The grass was tall and verdant, trees had blossoms, I felt very isolated. I like that, if it wasn’t clear. I snapped shots of flowers and ambled along, until I saw two deer resting under a nearby tree.

They watched me, the mother perhaps preparing her bulk for the violent dance if I came too close

More deer!
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They watched me but didn’t move, just placidly stared with dumb eyes, their cute black noses gyrating slightly as they chewed. How calm they were! Another reward of hiking quietly, alone, is to feel just a hint of belonging in the wild ecosystems we visit. When I continued walking, just around a corner I was delighted to see five more deer sitting in the tall grass, watching me. So I watched them back for a few minutes, still surprised that they were cautiously accepting my presence. Eventually I passed the deer, looked up to see a sky that had grown darker, saw the ribbon of rain falling in the distance, and turned around. The hike was disappointingly short, but I did get back to the campsite just in time to make dinner before the rains came.

Creamery Meadows
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It rained all night. By dawn the storm had passed and I awoke to learn that my rain fly was no longer hydrophobic. Although the tent was dry on the inside, it was unfortunately waterlogged. Thus I packed up my things, moved the tent to a somewhat sunny corner of the site, and headed out for a hike, praying I would return to a dry tent.

I drove to Andrew Molera State Park again, and decided to walk to his eponymous Point, where California Condors had been spotted feeding on some of the elephant seals that died molting. The walk was lovely, paralleling a river, where rain sparkled on leaves and a few ducks swam around, then rising to a higher wooded area filled with these wonderful bushes speckled with powder blue flowerings. At the top of the climb, the trail went out to a point where a trail was carved through more short, flowering bushes. I stood above the ocean, cursed the rain for settling a haze over the green hills that prevented good photographs, but the river below was open to the morning sun and it sparkled so that a glare was all I could capture with my camera. Across the water a tall rock stood, a real boulder, and on it perched a few dozen large birds. Many must have been the condors, with dark feathers, huge wingspans, and oddly shaped necks.

The river, second hike
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On the walk back, after passing the small campground near the parking lot, two deer, which must have been mother and offspring, walked out of a nearby thicket, towards my trail. They were eating breakfast. Every few feet they stopped and grazed, looked up to make sure I was still a safe distance, then walked a bit further. I just stood there on the trail and watched. This continued for a few minutes, and they seemed quite content. Gaining some confidence, I started to walk a bit closer (I was going to have to pass them eventually!). Then a memory flashed, and I replayed a few times the video of a man attempting to defend himself from a deer that was on hind legs, beating him with its front legs on the Fox special When Animals Attack II.

Andrew Molera Point
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When I focused again on the peaceful, feeding deer, they appeared a bit larger, a little less predictable. I walked towards the thicket they emerged from, distancing myself about thirty feet from them to pass. They watched me, the mother perhaps preparing her bulk for the violent dance if I came too close, but more likely, of course, just curious in a vacant way. I safely returned to my car.

Back at the campsite, the tent was still quite damp, so I covered the contents of my trunk with my EZ Rest, laid out the tent, and headed out for my next campground so I could repitch ASAP.

Birds on Boulder up ahead
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The ride was gorgeous. The sky was clear this morning, and the views were as spectacular as the day before, until south of Monterey highway 1 and 101 joined, and the road shifted inland.