It’s wet outside. Very wet.

The ground around our house was saturated from the storm just a few days ago. The current downpour is dumping even more water. I’m half-worried that some overzealous bureaucrat might designate our backyard as a wetland. There’s a Norwegian saying, “Det finnes ikke dårlig vær, bare dårlig klær!” which translates to “There is no bad weather, only bad clothes! I’m not sure what clothes are required for the atmospheric river dumping buckets outside, but I know I don’t have them.

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Since my wife and I returned from an incredible time at the Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival in early November, there have only been a couple of weeks when one of us hasn’t been ill. When either of us starts to feel better, we reach out to the other person and say, “Tag, you’re sick.”

My recent bout of bronchitis lasted four weeks. As a result, my feet hadn’t trodden a proper dirt path in two months. Prior to the end of November, I logged over 65 trail days in 2023. Since December 1^st, nada.

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Last week, on the evening of the penultimate day of January, I perused the ten-day weather forecast. Tomorrow looked good; after that, rain, a couple of days of clear weather, and then a deluge. The ground wouldn’t have time to dry out before the second storm, and I didn’t want to damage the trails by trudging on them too soon. It made for an easy decision. Get on the trail.

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It was dark as I pulled into the parking lot at Shirley’s Bagels. No one was in line, something very unusual for this popular eatery. (I bought a few extra bagels to bring home to my sick wife. She’ll be happy.) Earlier, I had pulled into our local Costco Gas Station and drove straight to the pump: no waiting. Part of the reason is it’s midweek, but it probably has more to do with the fact the sun hasn’t risen.

There’s something to be said for alpine starts: less traffic, fewer people, magical sunrises, and more wildlife. All that’s required is either going to bed a few hours earlier or sacrificing a bit of sleep.

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It’s light when I hit the trail at Crystal Cove State Park. El Moro Canyon is my favorite local outdoor haunt; I can hike, run, mountain bike, study coastal sage scrub, and enjoy views of the ocean and Catalina Island. It is an oasis of wildness with coastal development to the north and south.

The fog below me is slowly burning off; the clouds above foretell what’s to come. The backcountry trails here are closed for several days after moderate rainfall; who knows when they will be open after the current tempest. 

I push those thoughts from my mind and relish being outside. There’s nothing on the calendar for today; no reason to hurry. Sauntering along, I enjoy watching dawn turn to morning turn to day.

After a while, I reached the ranger station. I stopped in and bought a 2024 Limited Use Golden Bear Pass. It might just be my best use of a double sawbuck all year.

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The way back to the car is up. The ocean vista on the descent changes to canyon and mountain views on the return. Strangely, I don’t feel any fatigue even after a half-dozen miles. The fitness walks around the neighborhood and on Signal Hill have paid dividends.

Walking slower on the ascent, I notice more things. There are some large toyons with vibrant red berries to my left. The berries are pretty to look at but toxic to humans. I pass stands of Coast Prickly Pear and bushes of California buckwheat. In a few months, there should be plenty of wildflowers, and I noticed several rosemary plants: good reasons to return if I needed one.

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Back at the car, I finish the pizza bagel I had nibbled on before the hike. It’s cold, but I don’t mind; it tastes good. I change into a clean and, more importantly, dry shirt before departing.

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I feel calmer on the drive home, and there’s a bounce in my step and a smile on my face when I greet my wife. It’s amazing what a few hours outdoors can do. Florence Williams documents nature’s restorative benefits in ‘The Nature Fix,’ but I didn’t need to read her book to learn this. Nature herself taught me this long ago, and I resolve not to let two months pass before my next adventure.