How flakes and nuggets of gold found in the South Fork of the American River forever changed California and its people, fascinates me. Several books of history, written by and from the Native American point of view, has educated me beyond what I was taught in mid-20th century state board of education-approved history books. Those books made mild mention of the native peoples, while devoting chapters to the amazing men of the 1849 California gold rush.
The graveled road made a slight turn, and the first flock of lesser Sandhill cranes — a gorgeous waterfowl that stands 3 to 5 feet tall and weighs about 6 to 7 pounds — gathered together in a wet, golden field of marsh grasses and plants. The superstars of Merced NWR performed an opera of chortling, honking, and bugling songs in the field. Other waterfowl appeared to be their silent, floating audience.
Two months of rest, fatigue, drugs and hibernating from all things that might send the flu my way, and not to mention that my last hike at San Simeon was about 200 feet, it was time to put my hiking shoes to the dirt, strap my camera around my neck and go for it.
Winter! Not a good time for hitting the road in the Eurovan. BUT, California isn’t really having a winter. It’s a good time to roll Gilda’s wheels to the beach for a visit to Central California’s San Simeon, home of the world famous Hearst Castle. But wait! Across the street from the entry into the […]