Salty Memories of Balboa

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Hiking, Travel

The temperature dropped twenty degrees in the last 24 hours.  I didn’t expect Spring like temperatures to continue through the end of January.  It is still Winter and one should never get their hopes up until March when sun deprivation kicks in and wishful thinking feels like a matter of life or death. I’m not there yet, but I did think back to my last trip in the Fall to Newport Beach, CA.  I say Newport Beach but actually I spent most of my time on Balboa Island.  I went there to see some relatives and say hello to the Pacific.  It had been a few years since I smelled the warm salty air.

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I did a lot of walking once I got to Balboa.  It wasn’t that far from my hotel and I could have walked but California isn’t exactly pedestrian friendly until you get to the beach.  I took the free hotel shuttle one mile to avoid having to cross eight lanes of traffic.  It didn’t really feel like a vacation until I hopped off the shuttle and crossed over to the island.  I carried my backpack with all the essentials; western bird guide, binoculars, water, snacks and my journal.  What more do you need?  I hiked the beach mostly to ID shorebirds and watch the waves curl.  When I was hungry I walked down the Balboa Pier to have a Cobb Salad at Ruby’s and watch the fishermen and women pull Mackerel out of the ocean.  Occasionally I would lift my bins to ID a bird in the distance.  I was hoping to get some life birds on this trip.  I hope to get life birds on every trip I take.  After walking all day I headed back to the hotel to take a dip in the pool and then read and sip bourbon on the balcony.  I don’t hang out in hotel bars at night.  That’s just not me.  I’ve always sought out quiet places, whether it be the woods in Michigan or a quiet balcony in California.

I didn’t stay too long in southern California.  I had a nice visit with my nephew and cousin.  I’m not sure when I’ll go back?  I’m ready to head back to the Pacific Northwest.  I prefer the wild and rugged coast there.

to be continued…

Run Charlie Run!

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Charlie, Hiking, tea time

Dogs are great!  I’ve had a dog most of my life.  Charlie is one of the best.  Today’s hike was for her.  We went to a local County Park that doesn’t see too many visitors.  For that reason I like to take her there to run.

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While Charlie ran and wore herself out I slipped into the zen of hiking; feeling each step and the sun on my face.  There hasn’t been much wind lately so it has been even more quiet than normal.  Sometimes I stop and try to identify everything I hear.  There’s a farm next door to the park so the domestic geese are always vocal.  Crow and Bluejay are always there to warn their friends of our presence.  At one point along the trail we flushed a large flock of Junco.  A Red-tailed Hawk scolded us from a distance.  Charlie spooked up a squirrel and gave chase.  I called her back quickly.  There’s a picnic table along the trail at this park that I rarely sit at.  But, today I chose to stop, sit and make tea.  Well, actually I forgot my tea..ha!  You have to read my last post to understand that I’m always forgetting things.  I was fine with sipping on hot water.  Honestly, there’s not much difference between hot water and mild green tea in my opinion.  I bought a new Snow Peak backpacking stove yesterday at REI.  It has a piezo igniter.  I figured that was a good feature since on my last trip I forgot my lighter.

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With all the warm weather I’ve been thinking about where to head to this Spring?  Actually, I’ve been thinking about how more than where.  I started looking at tear drop campers this week.  I thought that might be a good option for Charlie and I.

To be continued…

Tiny Victories

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Life, rivers
It was 46 degrees and the few inches of snow beneath my feet was soft and slushy.  The sky was typical; a Midwestern hazy blue.  The winter sun was low on the horizon and shining brightly just above the treetops. The birds seemed to be singing more melodically.  Were they happy about the warmth?  If I were a bird I suspect I would have been singing a happy tune on this beautiful day.  I was happy about breathing in some warm air for a change.  It didn’t burn my lungs; it felt soft.  I took a few deep breaths to soak it in.
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I was hiking to a place along the river where several large Sycamore trees stand.  In the Spring, Yellow-throated Warblers nest within their canopy.  I like to go there to listen for warblers and sit on the gravel bed on the inside bend of the river.  When I arrived at the bend I found one of the Sycamores laying across the river; a victim of natural erosion and an undercut bank. Beside the tree in the snow were three separate tracks made by a rabbit, goose and deer.  The deer had laid down along the river and melted the snow down to the gravel.  I put my pack chair down where the deer had laid.  I considered smoking a cigar.  I patted myself down looking for my lighter and soon realized I had forgotten it at home.  There would be no cigar today.
I work inside a Federal Prison.  I’ve worked there for twenty-two years.  It’s a good job and steady paycheck, but it’s starting to wear on me like the river wears on the bank beneath the old Sycamore trees.  Every year a little bit more sand washes out from beneath my roots.  One thing that has been bothering me recently is having to remove all my gear from my pack before carrying it into work the next day.  The gear I take into the woods is not allowed inside the prison.  Sometimes I forget to put things back in my pack before I head out on my next hike.  Sometimes I find myself sitting alongside a river silently cursing because I forgot to pack something.  It’s a really minor issue I know.  But the river of time is relentless and little things have a way of wearing you down in imperceptible ways.  But, I wasn’t ready to fall across the river.  I went to REI later that night and bought a new pack.  Problem solved.  It’s these tiny victories that I celebrate on a daily basis.

River notes and tea

by Gregorio Perez, posted in rivers

I am drawn to rivers.  The other day I was thinking about my teenage years when I used to head to the woods and build a fire along the River Raisin in the winter.  That was about seven miles from where I live today.  I’m still within walking distance to the river and it still calls to me.

One day last week I remembered how my friend Tom and I used to spend an entire day along the Au Sable River near Oscoda, MI fishing for Steelhead in the middle of winter.  We packed in fuel and a pack stove to heat up water to pour over our boots to warm up our feet and to make hot coffee.  It was miserably cold until we felt the tug of a Steelhead on the end of our line.  An adrenaline rush is all you need to keep you warm in the winter.  But if you’re not fishing for Steelies, hot coffee or tea will also do the job.

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This past weekend I decided to gear up and head to the river to spend some time there.  I took my journal to record my observations:

  • Robins are sipping water along the icy bank.
  • White-breasted Nuthatches are active here.
  • The sound of the river flowing by sounds nice.
  • Wood is snapping and breaking in the bitter cold.
  • The snow is soft and light.
  • Goldfinches are flying over but not stopping.
  • A dog is barking in the distance.
  • I hear bluebirds.
  • It’s mostly cloudy but the sky is intensely blue within the breaks.
  • It didn’t take long for the water to boil..maybe three minutes
  • Hot tea in a metal cup makes its own holder when you set it in the snow.
  • Downey Woodpeckers are always around.
  • I can hear a jet flying by.
  • It’s 20 degrees F.

Return to the Wild

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Uncategorized

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This isn’t exactly a New Year’s resolution.  I continuously make course corrections in life.  This is one of them.

It has been a little over two years since my last post.  I’ve made a lot of course corrections over this time; some of them pretty hard, but necessary.  One of these changes is the subject of today’s post, “A Return to the Wild”.

It started in the spring of 2017.  I had moved into my house and was beginning to feel a little run down from the whole process.  I needed a break.  I purchased my first stand up paddleboard (SUP) and dedicated the summer to finding my nature groove once again.  It’s January now and my board is tucked away for the Winter.  It didn’t slow me down.  I happen to love snow.  Luckily, we’ve been getting a lot and I’ve been taking advantage of it.  My cross-country skis have seen a lot of action so far this Winter, but last weekend I took a spill in order to avoid a tree.  It was the kind of wreck that requires a few minutes of mental checks to make sure everything is working properly; legs are good, ankle hurts but good, thumb is jammed but good, ribs sore but good, wipe snow off goggles, get up, test balance, good.  I survived.  Wiping out is fun if you live to tell about it.  However, I did decide to take a short break from skiing to let my ankle heal. We’ve had a bit of a warmup and most of the snow is gone so there’s no real temptation to get back on my skis.  I don’t really see it as a setback because it forced me to think about something else besides ski, ski, ski.  I became more contemplative or one might say I became more mindful of my surroundings.  Every brittle branch snapping in the cold, the sound of water trickling, bird calls, squirrels scolding each other, planes in the sky, and the sound of wind all became a symphony once again.  It’s hard to hear the symphony when your mind is focused on avoiding trees.

I’m always making course corrections.  Sometimes it’s good to look back to see where you’ve been to make better choices about where you need to go next.  Sometimes it’s best to just let things happen.  That’s how I feel about writing and outdoor adventure.  “Sometimes adventure doesn’t start until something goes wrong”, said Yvon Choinard.  My gimp ankle told me to head back into the wild to see what it has to say.  These are their stories.

Char-LEE Effect

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Charlie, Life, The Heron

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It has been two years since my divorce was final and about four years since I moved into an old house in a small quiet town.  The solitude doesn’t bother me, nor do the long periods of silence.  I prefer peace and quiet anyway.  But, what does bother me is a life without purpose.  I often feel like I am adrift.  A lot of people tell me they wish they had my life.  It is nice, but freedom without purpose raises more questions than answers them.  I often ask myself, “What’s the point?”.  I’m reminded of Thoreau when I think about wandering.  He went into the woods to seek a simpler life but returned to civilization missing companionship.  In the movie “Cast Away”, Tom Hank’s character befriended a volleyball and named him “Wilson”.  I realize I’m not on a deserted Island, starving or delirious, so I think I can do better than befriending a volleyball.  So, instead of a volleyball, I bought an English Bulldog and named her Charlie.  She pees on the floor and bites on my toes.  She wakes me up at all hours of the night and steals my shoes.  She’s a four-legged menace to society, but she’s also adorable, cuddly, and did I mention adorable.  She’s absolutely what I needed.  I don’t wander as much as I used to.  I’ve slowed down and stay home more.  The decision to devote my life to caring for something other than myself has made me more focused. I even started writing again after a long hiatus.  Finding writing again feels like finding a favorite pen that got lost in the sofa cushions.  It feels good.  It feels right.  That’s the Charlie effect.  Thank you Charlie.

Life at a snails pace

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Birds, Environment
Snail and toad are friends, originally uploaded by Goyo P.
Slowing down is natural as we grow old.  But I feel like I was born for a slow pace.  I have always preferred canoes, bikes and hikes.  Expressways make me nervous.  I told my Dr. about it.  He asked what I did about it?  I told him, “ I drive country roads instead”.  It’s true.  One day a few years ago I decided I would permanently avoid them whenever possible.  When I tell people this they look at me funny.  Society is all about cars and living fast.   But I chose a different path and I don’t regret it.

Living sans interstate turn my trips into journeys…not destinations.  Lately I’ve put a lot of miles on country roads.  When my art festival season ended I decided I needed to spend more time with nature.  Actually, my last art festival was a birding festival.  I participated in the Crane and Art Festival in Marshall, MI.  I had a great weekend selling art.  But what I really enjoyed was the experience of watching the Sandhill Cranes come in to roost at night.  The weather was great.  Each night I would spend the evening sitting on the observation hill under the moonlight to listen to the cranes in the Baker Sanctuary.  I soaked in the changing colors of the night sky.  Each morning I woke up early, made coffee and took off to watch the sunrise burn through the morning fog.  I drove the back roads to enjoy the fall colors.  Every now and then I would pull over and watch the cranes fly overhead as they left the sanctuary for their day time feeding grounds.

After the festival I drove the back roads to Dexter, MI to canoe/flyfish the Huron River with my friend Sherm.  We didn’t catch much but we did see plenty of birds.  My favorite bird along the way was an Osprey with his piercing call.  The Huron Metroparks are great sanctuaries in southern Michigan for nature lovers.  I particularly enjoy the Dexter Huron Metropark with it’s variety of Oaks along the river.  My favorite thing to do there is to look for Burr Oak acorns. 

The following weekend I drove the country roads to Thorn Lake in southeastern Jackson County.  Along the way I pulled over a half dozen times to photograph Sandhill Cranes in the local farm fields.  I stopped to look at old barns, small ponds with Kingfishers and the occasional Kestrel on a wire.  Thorn Lake is a sanctuary in itself with waterfowl numbering in the thousands.  I was even fortunate to see a pair of Bald Eagles hunt and catch an unlucky Coot for dinner.  To really see or ID the birds you need a scope.  I’m putting a scope on my Christmas wish list.

On a drizzly day last week I spent an hour or so walking through Furstenburg Park along the Huron River in Ann Arbor.  Ruby-crowned Kinglets were bouncing around in all the trees like pinballs.  I like this park in the winter too.  It’s a great place to see Pine Siskins as they feed on Black Alder trees along the river.  The paved trail from Gallup Park to Nichols Arboretum is also nice.  Warblers hang out along the river during migration.  I saw my first Cape May Warbler there this Spring.

The other day I drove the country roads to the Haehnle Sanctuary near Jackson, MI.  Birders are showing up in large numbers to get a view of the Sandhill Cranes as they fly in to roost for the night.  Some leave disappointed because of the low numbers.  Before they hop back on the interstate to head home I want to tell them to take the country roads home.  They may find them in large numbers along the way in the fields.  The water levels at the marsh are not ideal this year.  Weve had a lot of rain this fall.  So most of the Sandhills have been bypassing the marsh.  But it’s still pretty awesome to see them fly directly overhead. 

This past weekend was the best weekend of all this month.  A friend invited me over to her property in southwest Lenawee County.  Being a Lenawee County resident I love to go birding here.  Birders are hard to come by in Lenawee.  Lenawee is a farming community.  As Leopold stated in his Sand County Almanac, bread comes before conservation in hard times.  And Lenawee has seen some very hard times lately.  Hard times made it easier for the mineral industry to come in and drill.  Hard times push farmers to maximize the crop acreage which reduces riparian buffer zones and grassland habitat.  Hard times bring in industrial farmers and CAFO’s.  Hard times have been bad news for clean water and bird habitat.  It’s been so hard I’ve considered writing off Lenawee County as too far gone.  The conservation battle seems too great.  The constituency here does not support conservation.  But there are passionate people here willing to work for conservation.  Lynn Henning is one.  And, my friend Janet is another.  She broke the drain tile in her farm field and reestablished some old wetlands that were previously drained for farming.  She invited me over to go birding on her “farm”.  It’s true that it used to be a farm.  But it’s a sanctuary now.  It’s not just a sanctuary for birds, trees, wildflowers and amphibians.  It’s a sanctuary for those who cannot live without pasque flowers, according to Leopold.   It’s for those who love to fall asleep to the sound of Chorus frogs, those who still remember the sound of a Northern Bobwhite and those who prefer Gentian to Garlic Mustard.  My day with Janet on her “farm” renewed my hope for Lenawee.   It is not “too far gone” as I once believed.  There are conservation efforts in Lenawee.  You just have to get off the interstate and look for them. 

To see some of Janet’s work visit her youtube channel.

The Little River, washing the spirit clean.

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Fly fishing, Nature, Photography
Little River, GSMNP, originally uploaded by Goyo P.
John Muir said go to the woods to wash your spirit clean!  I like the words of Muir so that’s what I did for two weeks in July.  I wanted to say something about the Little River because I think it’s a magical place.  The Little River runs along the northern edge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  It’s the closest trout stream to my parents house so I have become familiar with it.  My favorite stretch is the East Branch by the Elkmont campground.  I like this area because it offers some seclusion.  Of the millions of visitors per year that pass through the Smokies only a small percentage get out of their cars.  An even smaller percentage hike further than a mile into the woods.  Conservationist Aldo Leopold said some people can live without nature, and some people cannot.  I’m one of those who cannot.  The Little River trail is an easy hike.  It’s an old road with a gradual incline.  But for a fisherman like me, “easy” may not be the best choice of words.  This is Copperhead country.  You wont find many on the trail but you’ll see plenty basking in the sun on the boulders along the river….exactly where I pass to cast a fly to native Brook Trout.  And, then there are the Black Bear.  A woman was killed a few years ago by a black bear as she rested on the rocks.  And, there are still “aggressive” bears along the trail.  The NPS is pretty good about posting signs to warn people about them.  There are a few of these warning signs along the trail.  Anyway after a few days of fishing with Copperheads and Black Bear you begin to understand the meaning of Muir’s words….”washing your spirit clean”.  It’s hard for me to get too entangled in life’s problems when it takes all my concentration and focus to stalk a wary mountain Brook Trout without stepping on a Copperhead.  It parallels Buddhist meditation.  Buddhists meditate by focusing on their breathing.  It is impossible to think about the past, present and future all at once.  Bringing the mind to the reality of the present washes away all worries of the past and anxiety of the future.  Furthermore, researchers claim that exposure to high levels of negative ions created by waterfalls improves health.  Muir would have said, “no duh!” to that.  It’s pretty obvious there are benefits to spending time in nature.  More importantly it helps me to understand that everything in nature has purpose.  Without Copperheads, Black Bear, chiggers, mosquitos we would not be able to focus on the present.  We need wild animals, insects, plants and trees of all varities to wash our spirit clean.  Some of us need it more than others.  I need it daily.

A Fierce Green Fire

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Book Review, The Heron

Some people wonder why I spend so much time in the woods?  Some people tell me I go to the woods to escape reality.  Some people say I must be in search of something.  Some people just think I’m weird.  The truth is there is a “fierce green fire” inside me.

“A Fierce Green Fire” is the name of a book by Marybeth Lorbiecki about environmentalist Aldo Leopold, author of A Sand County Almanac.  Leopold isn’t the reason I spend so much time in the woods, but he helps me understand why I do.  I’ve been going to the woods all my life.  I grew up along Beaver Creek just outside of Adrian.  It’s where I spent my summer days; catching frogs, building tree forts, and playing in the creek.   When I was 12 we moved to another home along the River Raisin.  I learned to shoot an air rifle in the flooded woods along the Raisin.  My dad said I was only allowed to shoot blackbirds; which we considered raucous vermin who stole food from his feeders.  But one day I broke his rule.  I accidentally shot a Robin.  I remember vividly seeing it fall from the tree.  When I walked up to the robin it was twitching and watching me.  I only had to watch it for a minute or so before the twitching stopped.  Then I watched a fierce green fire leave his eyes.  I buried that Robin in the woods beneath a Maple Tree.  Aldo describes this same experience in his younger days when he first shot a wolf.

When I was a kid I went fishing a lot.  Most kids love to fish.  But I really loved it.  When all my brothers were chasing girls I chased fish.  I studied them.  I learned all I could about new techniques and gear.  I caught a lot of fish too, learned to clean them and loved to eat them.  I still love to eat them.  But nowadays I rarely keep them.  I don’t keep fish for a lot of reasons.  When I was a kid I was the Josie Wales of fishermen.  All I cared about was how many fish I could catch.  Some days I just left them on the bank.  Like the outlaw Josie Wales I would say, “buzzards gotta eat” and spit on their heads.  Later on in life when I was working my way through college I got a part-time job at the Spring Valley Trout Farm just west of Dexter, MI.  They also had a catfish pond.  My main function was to assist the customers, keep the gear in good shape and clean fish.  I remember one hot summer day when a father and child came in to get their catfish cleaned.  The kid wanted to watch so they stood there while I pounded the catfish’s head with a mallet, cut the throat and ripped it’s skin off.  After that the father skurried the son outside to go find mother.  I have to give the father credit for allowing his son to see that process.  It’s good to know where your food comes from and how it’s processed.  Most animals we eat are deprived of their lives horrifically and violently.  So I don’t kill fish anymore.  If I do I say a prayer thanking God for the food that sustains me.  I think everyone should go to a chicken farm, or a CAFO or any food processing plant to see the ugly truth of where our food comes from.  Every person needs to see the fierce green fire leave the eyes of the creatures we eat.  It would do them good.

I go to the woods because I feel God more in a pine cone than sitting in a pew.   I dont work for humans anymore.  I work for nature.  Leopold said that we are “the meanest flower that grows”.  This is most obvious in our voracious appetite for new and shiny things.  We destroy everything in our path for them.   And most Americans are blind to it.  We chop off our feet to buy a new pair of shoes.  Progress is not bad.  I am comfortable.  I owe that comfort to progress.  But I refuse to give up any more of my wilderness chapel in the name of greed.  Recycle your old abandoned buildings that you left to rot in the city.  Leave my chapel alone because I would rather listen to the chorus of frogs than an iPod, smell the sweetness of morning dew on a Big Bluestem than expensive perfume, feel the cool Lake Michigan breeze on my face than spend a day in air conditioning, or float down the Au Sable than spew smog with a jet ski.  That’s just me.  Those are my joys.  I need wilderness to do that.  It has nothing to do with politics.  It has everything to do with a fierce green fire.