A Hike in Mount Laguna

Today Scott, Mikayla and I drove up to Mount Laguna to go for a hike. I planned it because I was feeling suffocated by the city and needed to smell some fresh air that wasn’t tainted with exhaust fumes; I needed to hear some silence that wasn’t ripped apart by cars and dogs; I needed to walk on a path that was unpredictable, and give my feet a break from the endless, flat, planned-out cement.

As soon as I got out of the car at the little Mount Laguna market, it felt like the country air was waiting for me, and embraced me like an old friend. I breathed in deeply to let the scent of plants – or whatever makes up the unique smell of country air – fill my lungs like a medicinal inhaler. After swinging open the old screen door and stepping inside, we all slowed our pace as we could hear our own footsteps on the plywood floor. We browsed the trinkets, snacks and camping supplies until we found the map section. The store was lined with windows, but it was still pleasantly dark inside, protected from too much sunlight by the large overhanging awning that shaded the porch and the dream weavers and other crafts hanging in the window or dustily squatting on the window ledge. The clerk recommended a couple of different hikes for us. We got back in the car and drove a few more miles down a road that ended at a campground.

After putting on sunscreen and each taking a large swig of water, we walked into the campground and found the Big Laguna trail. The meadows were full of purple, white, yellow and red flowers. The grass was still green. Big Laguna had a little water in it that sustained some floating, flowering plants. The vista of the huge meadow was breathtaking. Without shade, the air was hot, which was a welcome relief from the marine layer that has blanketed the city.

Each turn in the path offered a patch of wild white Alyssum, a butterscotch-smelling Jeffrey pine, or a new angle on the flower-filled meadow. The only noise was our loud footsteps, the wind in the trees, or mountain bikers peddling past us. There was an overlying sense of non-noise that, to my city ears, was loud in its own way.

The only part of the hike that made me sad was all the dead mature oak trees. A beetle is killing them all, taking them out execution style, one by one. Their once up-reaching branches looked like they were hanging upside down. Their majestic trunks had turned grey-white from death. Many had fallen, and lay broken along the path.

The hike was longer than we had expected, and being novices, we had not brought water or snacks with us. Mikayla kept us going the last couple of miles by relating to us the best parts of the sixth and seventh Harry Potter books. Scott and I both read them when they came out, but we do not remember the details like Mikayla does.

When we came back to the campground, we found a water pump that had cool water to drink. We rinsed our faces to cool off and returned to the car. All three of us felt tired and rejuvenated from the hike.

I must plan getaways like this more often. Mount Laguna is only an hour east of us.