Skyline Ridge Open Space Preserve - Alpine Pond

Skyline Ridge Open Space Preserve has two quarter-mile trails that are wheelchair accessible. The one I went to is the Alpine Pond trail. The trail's entrance is located in the Russian Ridge Open Space Preserve parking lot which is next to the intersection of Highway 35 and Page Mill/Alpine Road. The gravel parking area has a couple of handicap parking spaces and a wheelchair-accessible bathroom.

The beginning of the trail takes you through a tunnel and down to the Alpine Pond. Next to the pond is the wheelchair-accessible David C. Daniels Nature Center and a floating pier. The well-maintained trail, which goes around the pond, is mostly hard-packed dirt with one stretch that is gravel. There are a couple of picnic tables and a viewing station that has wheelchair-accessible binoculars. Even though the trail is only one quarter mile long, I found it an enjoyable trail to travel around on.

The other wheelchair-accessible trail is located not too far off of Highway 35 and that trail circles around Horseshoe Lake.

Here is my Youtube video of it:

Acceptance

I see the word “acceptance” as sort of a work-in-progress type of word. Like a lot things in life, the way I have perceived and applied “acceptance” in my life has been evolving throughout my journey.

I began learning the true meaning of acceptance at a very early age. Because I was born with Muscular Dystrophy, I was never physically as strong as others around my age, and my weak leg muscles gave me a kind of waddle type of walk. Like some other kids who were treated differently for whatever reason, it was at times challenging being accepted by others throughout my school years.

In 1996, my disease had progressed to the point where I had to start using a ventilator to help me breathe. Even though I had no problem accepting this new way of life, I was soon to find out that some people couldn’t accept for me who I was now. I wasn’t really upset about all this and, in a way, I understood. Growing up in a culture that dictates what we should all look like, what we should wear, what we should eat, etc., for those that don’t fit this so-called “main stream media mold,” being accepted for who we are can make one’s life path that much more challenging.

Acceptance is more than just how others see you, however. It also means how you accept others, and lately, that is something I have been meditating upon.

As I look back on my life, I would have to admit that there were times where I didn’t accept someone for how they lived their life, how they looked, or even what their beliefs were, whether it be religious or political. I think a lot of this was partially due from the lack of understanding, or the unwillingness to try and see their point of view.

Even though I might not agree with how someone might choose to live their life, it doesn’t mean I’m right and they’re wrong. Who am I to say what is the best way for someone else to live their own life? I have enough challenges just trying to stay on the straight and narrow along my own life path then to worry about someone else’s life journey.

I’ve always felt that I was a student of life. Trying to learn from my experiences, whether they’d be good or bad, and to be open to ideas and new ways of thinking. Acceptance for me will always be in a state of transition because there will always be some new challenge that will come along and test me. It's just part of this life-long journey that I have been privileged to have, and that I can accept.

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park is one of the most beautiful parks I have been to. The 0.8 mile Redwood Loop Trail is an all-access trail. The wide, hardened-dirt trail is mostly flat with only a couple of small down hill downhill slopes that should be easy for anyone in a wheelchair to traverse. One can’t help but stand/sit in awe at the majestic redwoods that this trail showcases.

The parking lot has handicap parking and there are accessible bathrooms. The mornings can be chilly, so dress accordingly. The park entrance fee is $10.00. You may use the entrance fee receipt for any other state park you may visit that day.

Chickadee Nature Trail

The Chickadee Nature Trail, in Huddart County Park, is an all-access, 3/4 mile trail that loops around through a variety of native plants, trees, and even offers a few views of the San Francisco Bay Area. The trail, though (as of May 2011), is in need of maintenance. The hardened dirt trail gave me a bumpy ride in some areas. The left side of the trail loop had a wooden fence blocking off the trail. I read somewhere that the bridge was out. There was a trail heading down but it looked too steep for a wheelchair to safely navigate, especially on a dirt trail.

Toward the end of the right side of the trail loop, a tree that had fallen over the trail. Overall, though, it was a worthwhile adventure as I was able to enjoy the peaceful and relaxing scenery that the forest trail offered.

There is a $5 park entrance fee. There are two handicap parking spots next to the trail, and I didn't see any accessible bathrooms.

I have a new website!

I created a website for showing my video/photo montages of parks and places. It also has links to websites that list accessible State Parks and such in California.  I'm heading to Henry Cowell Redwood State Park this weekend and will be making and posting a new video of my adventure there.

http://irishsea-mark-videos.blogspot.com/

Life is good!

Mark

Saying "Thanks!"

I was brought up to be thankful - for the food on the table, having a roof over our heads, and for the clothes I wore. Later, though, in my adult years, I didn’t seem to be as thankful, even though I had a great job, nice apartment, and a few good-hearted friends. It wasn’t so much that I wasn’t grateful for what I had, it was just that, like most things in life, I took it all for granted.

Ironically, it wasn’t till my life path made a sudden detour and I was now living the lifestyle of someone in a wheelchair and breathing on a ventilator, that I became reawakened to the acceptance of being thankful.

I say the word “thanks” often in my everyday life, but it’s not only for being grateful for the meals I receive each day, for the comfortable room I had built for my special needs, or for having supportive and giving family and friends… I’ll express it for various things, like when I’m able to get outside and go to a park, or seeing a tree beginning to blossom, and even like a few weeks ago when we were coming home from a doctor visit, I gave thanks after watching the morning sun chase away the last of the mountain mist.

It’s more, though, than just saying the word thanks. For me, it’s how I give appreciation in what I see and experience, and also a way to create and reinforce a positive attitude. Just like we try to eat healthy and exercise, this is something I do to help nurture my spirit, my soul.

Today is my birthday. I have lived 55 years with muscular dystrophy and even though as each year passes this disease makes my muscles that much more weak, I still have so much to be thankful for. So at the end of the day, the last thing I try to remember to say is, “Thanks! Thanks for this day of life.”

The Return of James Bond

It was just after 9:00 AM when my driver, code name Caregiver, dropped me off at the appointed rendezvous place. As in previous visits to this quaint, coastal town, Sunday morning seemed to be the best time to journey here. I preferred the quiet and peaceful setting, though I knew that in a couple hours a multitude of beach-goers would be arriving.

The sound of the surf called out to me and I quickly steered my power chair in between two buildings, following the narrow pathway to a fence that separated me from the beach. A grateful sigh blended in with the sound of another wave crashing upon an almost-deserted beach - I was home.


Having waited till I arrived here, I figured I better go have breakfast and a much-needed cup of coffee. I picked this one restaurant because it had tables next to large windows, giving the diner a wonderful view of the ocean. The only thing, though, was that the place was small and the tables and chairs had barely enough for someone in a wheelchair to navigate through.

Asking the waitress for a window seat, I changed my chair's power setting to "slow and steady" and, with a deep breath, followed her.

After only one chair bump and the customary, "Excuse me," I safely navigated through the maze of tables and chairs. For my skillful endeavor, the waitress rewarded me with a, “Nicely done,” and a California-beach-girl smile.

Breakfast was just what I needed, as was the cup of coffee. Having a limited amount of time for being here, I regretfully asked the waitress for my check. While I was waiting, I suddenly heard a woman's voice behind me call out a couple of swear words and then the sound of someone's hand beating down on what sounded like a computer keyboard.

Turning my power chair around, I found the source of all the commotion. A woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, was glaring down at her laptop, as her hand once again pounded down upon the laptop’s keyboard.

Being somewhat of a computer geek, I couldn't help but offer my assistance. Moving over to her table, I informed her of my computer skills and asked what kinds of problems she was having with her laptop.

"Well..." she started to answer in a frustrated voice. "I was working on my PowerPoint presentation for work when my computer suddenly slowed down. I'm afraid to reboot it because I don't want to lose my file and all the work I have put into it."

"Do you think you can fix it?" she asked with hopeful eyes.

"I'll see what I can do," I replied with a reassuring smile.

Several minutes later I figured out that she not only had too many programs running at the same time, but probably a lot of spyware. I informed her and told her I knew of a free program that would clean out the spyware and fix the computer's registry, if needed.

Twenty or so minutes later, and another cup of coffee courtesy of Linda, I finally was able to get her computer running normally again, and, more importantly, her file was fine and I saved it, just in case.

"Thank you?" she started to say, wanting to know the name of her computer savior.

"Bond, James Bond," I replied.

Her look of gratitude quickly changed to one of, "Oh my gosh, I let this character work on my laptop?”

I gave her a wink and a "just kidding" smile. She laughed and thanked me again.

Seeing the time, I wished her good luck on her presentation and then headed out to my next destination, the town's fishing pier.

Minutes later, I was cruising over the pier's wooden planks at a slow pace as to not jar myself too much. Even at this pace, though, I was feeling every "thump," but the sight of the end of the pier was well worth a little bit of discomfort.

I parked myself on one side of the pier, as the other side was occupied by two fishermen. Gazing over the pier's wooden railing, I watched the fog finally relinquish its misty embrace, leaving in its wake a clear, panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean.


Closing my eyes, I let myself relax and soak in the sounds of the waves streaming underneath me and the warmth of the rising sun. Suddenly, I felt something cold and wet land on my lap. Looking down, I came face to face to with a fish that was doing all it could to flop back into the water below.

My first thoughts were, "Cool! Fish for dinner tonight!"

Suddenly, as if it could fly, the fish rose up into the air, not more than 6 inches from my face.

A voice from my right called out in almost a laughing voice, "Sorry about that!"

One of the fishermen slowly reeled in his catch while his buddy looked at me with a look like, "I sure wish I had a video camera!"

A few apologies and acceptances later, I let the two guys get back to their fishing.

Seeing the time, I relinquished a sigh and started to head back to where my driver would be waiting for me.

Halfway back across the pier, though, I spotted a small dog running with its leash bouncing along behind her. Not too far away, I saw who I assumed were the dog’s owners. A couple was busy in what looked liked a theatrical conversation, with lots of hand gestures, loud voices, and foot stomping.

The small dog, having a curious spirit, decided to go to the edge of the pier and look down upon the waves moving underneath. I suddenly got this nervous feeling about this situation.

Seeing that the couple was still involved in entertaining each other, I sped over to the dog, which, at this time, was leaning way too far over the side. With a, “Yelp!” it slipped and fell toward the water below. Luckily, the dog had a long leash and, with great effort, I was able to lean forward and catch the last part of it.

Unfortunately, the quick move disconnected my ventilator hose from my tracheal tube. So there I was, hanging onto the end of the leash, my ventilator “disconnect” alarm going off, and the poor dog hanging below whimpering.

Thankfully, the couple stopped what they were doing as soon as they saw the dog’s and my predicament. As the man gratefully took the leash from me and slowly brought up their dog, I quickly reconnected my ventilator hose, while taking a couple deep and much-needed breaths.

The woman asked if I was okay and thanked me several times for saving their dog, Misha. The guy then shook my hand and asked for my name.

“Bond, James Bond,” I answered with a smile.

Misha tilted her head and barked, “Huh?”

Knowing that I was just about out of time for my Capitola adventure, I tipped my hat and set my power chair to “hurry n go.”

On the way back, though, I had to cross back over a short, concrete bridge. The problem was that the sidewalk taking you over the bridge is very narrow. I wouldn't have much trouble crossing it, but it would be hard for someone to pass by me. Seeing that the traffic was close to zilch, I eyed the road next to the bridge and figured that, if I hurried, I could make it safely across.

Giving my seatbelt a quick tug, I changed the setting on the power chair to "maximum velocity." Checking for traffic one last time, I sped forward onto the road.

I had to make a couple of course adjustments as I zoomed across the road and I must’ve made the driver of a vehicle behind me nervous, for he gave me a quick honk. Seconds later, though, I was safely across.


Suddenly, I heard a loud voice from behind me. "Pull over!" a man’s voice called out.
Slowing to a stop, I was surprised to see a police officer on a mountain bike pull up in front of me, and it didn't look like this was going to be a social visit.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked.

I wanted to reply with, "Because you wanted to check out my wheels?" But, he didn't seem to be the type to appreciate sophisticated wheelchair humor like that.

"No I don't?" I replied, with a mustered-up innocent look.

"I saw you almost ran in front of a car crossing the road!" he firmly stated. He followed that up with, "Can I see your license?"

I thought about giving him my James Bond ID, but instead of it saying James Bond, 007, it read James Bond, 001/2, license to tell tall stories. But, knowing that my ride home was probably already waiting for me, I put on a "sure thing, officer" smile and handed him my other license.

After examining my ID and making sure the picture belonged to its owner, he handed me my ID back and gave me a warning to not to attempt to do that type of crossing again and to next time use the bridge. And with a, "Have a good and safe day," he took off to once again guard the town against crazy guys zipping around on power chairs.

Several minutes later, I was in the van with my power chair locked into position. As I bid the Pacific Ocean adieu, I wondered what new type of adventures I would find on my next trip here. With my trusty power chair and the delusional name of James Bond, one can only guess.