Catherine Thiel

Dr. Marx

English 134-16

29 September 2004

It is cold, foggy, and dark. Everything looks dead around me - brown grass, bare and skinny trees, my tired classmates. I look at the wildlife and think about greener, more beautiful places. I imagine that I am hiking in North Carolina or Austria, where nature needs no sprinklers to remain green. Why am I awake now? How can I find beauty on this hike? How can I possibly write an essay about this?

Despite my negative thoughts, I force myself to focus on the hike. Birds soar through the crisp air, singing their morning melodies and landing on trees and telephone wires. I hear cows in the pasture and feel nice, cool breezes. The road curves, and the hilly scenery suddenly appears more beautiful as we walk through the quarry. The fresh scent of a group of eucalyptus trees overwhelms me and brings back memories of the several times I have enjoyed Catalina Island. As I exhale, fond childhood memories make me increasingly excited about my journey, and I envision climbing a large live oak tree nearby. A small white butterfly flutters by me and a group of well-camouflaged deer climb the hills of their home. A tiny stream flows to my left, bringing life to the surrounding plants, such as the poison oak with its bright green and red pigments. Large red and brown leaves cover the sides of the rocky road, and I hear their crunch underneath my feet. The edges of the road are dotted with little white and yellow flowers that overlook a kingdom of brown grasses, rocks, and cacti from their thrones atop thin, brown stems. Yet, it is time to leave the road, the farms, the fences, and the telephone poles and adventure up Poly Canyon.

The sun becomes brighter as we start up the hills in single-file. I begin to feel like a kid and daydream about all of the hiking adventures I experienced with my family when I was younger, earning me the nickname “mountain goat.” Though my mind is elsewhere, the trail I am walking on is cutting through new landscapes. This area has fewer trees and more grass and chaparral. Birds still sing and fly around, and other animals like deer and coyotes have left behind droppings that we studied together. The trail separates an area of fortunate green vegetation that is nourished by a spring from a dryer, browner section to the right.

The terrain continues to change, and the temperature becomes warmer as the sun shines more successfully through the fog. I now walk on serpentinite soil, which cannot support many plants. The land appears more barren and I feel cool breezes. Rocks with yellow and red moss cover the ground and add other color to the mainly brown landscape. Yucca plants become more common and stab me as I walk along the path. They remind me of frail Christmas trees with a few Christmas lights on them.

As I continue to walk, I think about how the plants that grow in this ecosystem seem exceptionally resilient despite inhospitable soil and long periods without precipitation. One such plant, the “resurrection plant” will go from a grey or brown color to a brilliant green with only the slightest hint of moisture. This plant and others persevere through the summer and then bloom gorgeously in the wetter winter months, remaining alive with the hope that rain will come.

Finally, we reach the top of Poly Mountain, and our view is spectacular. The neighboring mountains are almost completely covered by fog, yet we can see the peaks. Turning around to take in the whole panorama, I see rolling hills on the other side of me glistening in the morning sun, lightly blanketed with some small strips of fog. In the distance, I hear cows mooing, the hourly Cal Poly bells, and vehicles on the highway. The campus is just down the hill, and though I can hear it, I cannot see it at all. It is such a strange feeling to know something is so close but feel so disconnected from it.

We begin to walk down the mountain through the foggy unknown to return to our ordinary lives. I reflect on all I have experienced today. I no longer think of this land as ugly and boring; it has a more hidden and mysterious beauty. Perhaps jewels like this that one has to work to discover are more beautiful.