Coastline Pilot

July 19, 2003

 

Chasing the Muse

By Catharine Cooper

 

Friends frequently label me a rebel, and they get no argument from my court.  I constantly chase the edges of experience, not recklessly, but with a sense of pushing into territory that is new and exciting.  And yet, grudgingly, a part of me dimly understands the rules and plods along behind them.

 

This plodding part of my personality manifests when hiking well–traveled areas of our park systems.  That said, I’ll go cross country anytime the route warrants, but in most instances, I’m content to follow the footsteps of those before me, crisscrossing canyon walls and ravines in a measured  fashion, stepping lightly in an effort to protect what little wilderness  remains. 

 

Wilderness is hard to come by.  Nature takes quite good care of herself without our meddling.  In fact, of all the species, it strikes me that humans alone are set on eliminating anything that resembles open ground.   Our exponentially expanding population all but guarantees that one day, human habitat will cover every corner of the planet.

 

Wild lands clear our psyche and heal our souls.  The first time I stood on the frigid shores of Glacier Bay and gazed across the water into the backcountry, I experienced a mind expansion that is hard to describe, except as an awakening.  Core body fibers understood, that as far as I could perceive, there were no other human beings.  I was looking at wilderness.  Pure, unadulterated raw space, which spoke to me in a language I had previously not heard.  This land, and others like her, are vital to our mental and physical health, and the survival of earth. 

 

On a recent climb into the foothills above South Laguna, researching the viability of a trail across the much discussed Mar Vista project, I was struck by the fact, that sometimes there are better reasons not to have a trail, than to provide access.  The terrain in question is steep and thickly covered in coastal sage scrub.  The underlying sandstone crumbles under heavy use, and the proposed entrance traverses a riparian watershed.  The land, to use a borrowed phrase, is virgin.

 

A covey of fat quail scurried from my footfall, chirping to one another as they scattered into the shelter of sage.  Overhead, a red tail soared, hungrily scouring the land for a late morning meal.  Droppings of coyote, bobtail and rabbit littered the ragged course through thick growth.  I was walking in the home territory of other species.  For a moment, I considered my trespass.  

 

Even delicate trails scar the landscape.  Not more than one half mile to the north, I could see the cut of Valido trail, a recently mapped component of the Aliso Peak Trail Network (thank you Open Space Committee).  This trail connects South Laguna off Valido Road (via West Street) to Touvet Trail, Aliso Peak and the ridge that leads into Woods Canyon.  These trails provide spectacular ocean and city views, and traverse the same species of chaparral in which I was standing. 

 

I can understand the desire to increase access to the open space, but not at the cost of greater disruption of an already taxed eco-system.  The property off Mar Vista will sufficiently spoil approximately one and half acres, and I’m certain, displace more than one family of rabbits.  The owner, however, does control thirteen acres, and the project, while controversial, is small in scale to the extent of the land holding. The proposed trail would impact a swath of property on the periphery that by mandate, cannot be developed, and must remain in its natural vegetative state.

 

Dave Bohn, a wilderness photographer, friend, mentor and author of Glacier Bay: the land and the silence, often shared his sentiments with students.  In one poignant reveal, he spoke of the Katmai peninsula, a place he both revered and cherished.  It was his holy ground, a territory where bears reigned and man had not spoiled.  He said that he would gladly sacrifice ever setting foot again in his treasured space, or even sharing it with his children, if it meant keeping it wild forever. 

 

Some things, some places, need to be left alone.

 

Catharine Cooper is a member of the city’s Open Space Committee.  She can be

reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net