The Dreaming Tower

So far my time at the Dreaming Tower has been a pleasant, serene, and refreshing experience. The day begins with the sun rising over Anderson Valley to the east and beginning its journey through an arc extending directly above the Dreaming Tower: during midday, the sun shines through a skylight on the third floor room where I have been working and doing my yoga-inspired fitness routine. Perfect place to enjoy the solstice! 

Quick solstice comment — I've never understood why most people treat solstices and equinoxes like rare solar system events (e.g., eclipses) that have a distinct peak at a certain time. I consider the solstices to be more like a season — the amount of daylight on the day before or after the solstice is not noticeably different from the official solstice day. And painstakingly modeling the influence of solar radiation on the ground heat balance for hill slopes at an hourly timescale throughout the year has led me to believe that the cumulative influence of the sun on air and ground temperatures in the weeks surrounding the solstice is much more impressive and important than its peak on a particular day and time. Similarly, during the spring equinox, the daily change in solar angle accelerates dramatically over a span of weeks in temperature regions of the Northern Hemisphere, leading to the melting of snow and warming of air. In other words, from the perspective of weather, the cumulative effect of the solstice or equinox is much more consequential than its peak. I doubt that any non-human organism batted an eye at 2:24PM on Monday, March 20th, 2023. I guess people like to have more holidays to celebrate, landmarks for time, whereas I'm interested in the cycle, the process, the "cumulative influence."  

The many windows of the Dreaming Tower look out onto the garden and forests of redwood, madrone, and douglas fir, with views of trees both nearby and on distant slopes. Aside from birds and wind, there are no sounds. I sit for hours watching fog swirl around the ridge line to the south. I’ve put on music a few times, but I more often enjoy the silence. The weather is perfect: 50s at night and low 60s during the day, sunny with frequent mist. 

Note that photos are intermingled with text (in contrast to other posts), so continue reading past the photos...  

Fuzz

Maya

I’m obsessed with the surrounding area - the Dreaming Tower is situated within coastal redwood forest that extends westward to the coast and transitions to oak woodlands and meadows on the east side. The drive along Philo-Greenwood Road reveals many remote orchards, vineyards, ranches, and cabins in meadows and gaps in the forest canopy. 

The coastal mountains and hills are cut by a number of rivers, including the Navarro, of which Greenwood Creek is a tributary. I walk to Greenwood Creek via a logging road that starts ~1 mile down the road from where I am staying. It is a really cool road, with active logging only occurring at the very start — to the creek and back is about eight miles from where I'm staying. I think it would be superb if logging companies were generally required to open their lands to people, at least when no logging is taking place.   

I run ~six miles at Hendy Grove, a group of 1000+ year old redwoods and one of the few public lands around. I find my way onto a trail that leads uphill and out of the park and eventually to a cool meadow, where I turn around. At both Hendy Grove and Greenwood Creek, I experience the unique vibes of the tall old growth redwood trees, beneath which the quiet and shade create a peaceful, but almost spooky environment. The quiet of pine needles, distinct from the quiet of snow. 

I take highway 253 from Boonville to Ukiah for provisions (reasonably-priced food and gas). Highway 253 leads northeast out of Anderson Valley in twists and turns along the edge of steep brown hills before descending through oak woodlands into Ukiah. After this grocery trip, I am confident that I have enough greens and other essentials to get me through the next two and half weeks at the Dreaming Tower. On that note, I learned that I can make sourdough bread in the toaster oven! A pyrex dish that I brought with me for leftovers fits nicely within the extra large toaster oven. I have a sourdough starter and about ten pounds of sprouted spelt flour leftover from C Street, so I have been making loaves and working them into the mix (e.g., eggs and toast, PB&J with Good Good jam). Great stuff.

Toaster oven sourdough in Pyrex Dish

Impressive what lactobacillus can do 

I drive misty roads to the coast and make my way towards Fort Bragg, where I walk 5.5 miles along the coast from Noyo Headlands Park to MacKerricher Beach, and then run 5.5 miles back the way I came. Lots of great coastline, dirt trails, rocks, wildflowers, and beaches. 

Mendocino County is so cool! I love the diversity of landscapes and vibes: rocky coast with cypress and fog horn and clanging buoy, quiet redwood forests where headlights create tunnels of light through the mist, parched oak woodlands and dry meadows, shady streams at the base of steep canyons. 

One aspect of my daily life that I don’t love is that I have to drive to go anywhere! I’m no stranger to hanging out in the middle of nowhere, but at some of my previous remote spots, I’ve had access to cool places to exercise outdoors within walking distance: Lefthand Creek, Nugget Hill, and other local trails near Meesa’s place, trails around the reservoir in Nederland, old forest roads leading into the mountains outside of Lago Atravesado, extensive networks of trails in Winter Park. There is the logging road ~1 mile from me, but that is technically private property and requires a decent walk down Philo-Greenwood road. Hendy Grove is a 25 minute drive to the east, and Greenwood Beach / Elk is a 20 minute drive to the west. My road and mountain bikes would have definitely helped to reduce this sense of distance, but they are unfortunately in storage for the summer. I could run down to Oakland (~3 hours) to grab them, but they would be annoying to carry around for the rest of the summer. I think I'll enjoy them when I return. 

Mendocino Coast

With the solstice approaching, Raf and I have begun the independent phase of our summer adventures. Last Wednesday, she headed off to Denver, where she is doing staff training for her summer gig and adapting to the abnormally-early Front Range monsoon. This past Saturday, I left San Diego around 3am, hauled our stuff in a U-haul trailer to a storage unit in San Leandro, CA, dropped off the U-haul, and continued north towards Mendocino county. As groceries are expensive in the remote coastal towns near my Airbnb, I stopped at Grocery Outlet in Cloverdale, the last cheap grocery spot, and filled up a cooler with provisions for the next four weeks. 

I'm not one to engage in driving for pleasure, but the road through Anderson Valley is pretty much as good as it gets. I sing along to Simon and Garfunkel's America as I pass cattle farms, vineyards, orchards, and the remote towns of Yorkville and Boonville. Winding northwestward towards the coast, the landscape transitions from brown grassy slopes with sparse oaks to dense redwood forest, extensive networks of roots holding the steep terrain in place. Raf and I had driven through the valley in the other direction from Comptche one time before — Anderson Valley is a very special place, a relic of a forgotten agricultural time. 

"The Dreaming Tower", my home for the next month, comprises the third and fourth stories of a beautiful house built by a back-to-the-lander in the early 80's (the 10 acres cost $10,000). His daughter now rents out the top unit via Airbnb for extended stays. It is surrounded on all sides by fruit trees, redwoods, and views of Anderson Valley and nearby ridges. I am greeted periodically by a friendly little brown dog, a fluffy old gray cat, and a cautious wide-eyed black cat. The silence is energizing — I've already spent hours doing and thinking about absolutely nothing. 

Overall, it's a huge relief to have finally escaped Southern California. While 1932 C Street was a wonderful home for me and Raf, living in the shadow of the 5 freeway was a really challenging experience for someone who values clean air and quiet. I came to love the dry shrub landscapes of San Diego's coastal mountains, but it was frustrating to be so disconnected from natural surroundings. For much of my time in Colorado and Chile (especially, Lefthand Canyon, Nederland, Winter Park, and Lago Atravesado), I enjoyed the heightened quality of life that comes with living among trees, mountains, meadows, and rivers. In contrast to those experiences, the noise and air pollution of urban life steadily eroded my health in a way that I will never subject myself to again. 

For my first full day, I decide to head to the coast and run 8 miles on the Fern Canyon trail in Van Damme state park. When I arrive and find that half of the trail is closed due to this past winter's flooding, I pivot and make my way to the town of Mendocino. Extremely boujee and touristy but also very cool, Mendocino is a preserved historical settlement on a rocky headland. For my first move, I ask a guy in a waitstaff outfit smoking a spliff if he knows where I might find a public restroom. After pointing me to the closest one, he goes on to explain that there is a much cleaner and more pleasant restroom a short walk across town. 

"I'm interested in speed at the moment, but I will check out the luxury option when I have more time." 

"Any port in a storm."

A short distance from the restroom, I find the start of a trail that follows the coast along the perimeter of the headlands, and slowly make my way around. The rugged basalts of the Mendocino coast are striking in comparison to the pale brown sandstones of San Diego. After looping back through quiet streets lined with art galleries, churches, and upscale restaurants, I hop in the truck and head over to Russian Gulch State Park. There, I run six miles through a lush redwood canyon to a waterfall. By this time, I am pretty warm and sweaty, so I strip down to my shorts, weave through selfie-takers, and stand underneath the frigid flow for about ten seconds. 

On the way home, I stop at Navarro Point, amble along the cliffs, sit on a bench among the wildflowers, and enjoy the stiff wind for a while, before heading back up Philo-Greenwood road to the Dreaming Tower. 

Can you find the seals?