Covid-19: Playing hooky

Playing hooky, that is, from Covid-19: I spent the whole day outdoors! With a friend! Doing work! Sixty-two miles from the place I've been sheltering for three weeks!

Before you protest that this is irresponsible, I will just say: we saw not a single soul (except those passing us in vehicles and a few random individuals along the roadside), so there was no danger of getting too close. To anyone, that is, but Lynn. And although I couldn't 100 percent vouch that she's been sheltering responsibly herself, well, I know Lynn, and yeah: 98 percent for sure. She is the epitome of responsibility. Which I can't necessarily say for any of the people I keep my distance from in the supermarket or at restaurants serving me takeout or passing too close on the trail. So I felt as safe as it gets.

Not only that, but spending four hours in the car jabbering with a smart, engaged, interested, interesting person was exactly what I needed, after three weeks not socializing except by phone. (Which is not to say my husband is not smart, engaged, etc.—he certainly is all that. But he's not much of a jabberer. And: variety is the spice of life. Right?)

I always learn so much from Lynn, whether it's something about history—today, for example, it was the homesteaders along the Big Sur coast in the late 1800s, and the sawmill operations making redwood railroad ties; or what we're watching on TV—Ozark and Intelligence came up; podcasts—Radiolab lately on Covid-19, and some of the things she's learned about this virus and other viruses; our personal tastes in music—we seem to largely agree. And so forth.

And then there was the place we went: Mill Creek, a gorgeous redwood canyon that I had never before visited. And the work we did: spot maintenance of the trail, which mostly meant cleaning up some sloppily sawn trees that were just left at the trail's very edge, plus one campfire ring clean-out and rebuild. The spot maintenance was largely aesthetic, since the trail was mostly quite passable; but who wants topsy-turvy lopped-off tree limbs lining the way? We did also remove a few down trees from the trail itself: practical work.

Mostly, it was just a great pleasure to enjoy the redwoods, the rushing creek, the mounding carpets of redwood sorrel (Oxalis oregana), the occasional not-yet-spent flowers of Trillium ovatum—whose common name, delightfully, is Western Wakerobin—the misting fog. Also the walking, the sawing, the lopping, the shoveling of ash and tossing of rocks—the work itself. In excellent company.

Here are some photos I took (click on them to see them large on black):

Mill Creek Trailhead

A lovely campsite. If we'd been in the wilderness, the structure
would have been a violation and we would have dismantled it.
But we were simply in National Forest, so it got to stay.
The campfire, however, was overbuilt . . .

. . . and so we made it more modestly enjoyable

Turkey tail fungus (Trametes versicolor)

Trillium flower

Redwood sorrel, with flower and raindrops

Closeup of the redwood sorrel flower, with insects

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Today's stats for Monterey County seem to be the same as yesterday: 69 confirmed cases, 3 deaths.

Stay inside (says the gadabout). Stay safe. Stay healthy.