Agua Tibia

I had the opportunity to spend some time last weekend with my great aunt and uncle (who are indeed great), along with my extended family of cousins. I really enjoyed catching up with them, hearing new family stories, and especially taking in the quiet ambiance of their home. Their house (which by the way, they built themselves) sits in a scattered oak forest in the mountain/desert area east of Temecula. Thanks to the variety of native and introduced vegetation nearby (and some well-placed bird feeders), sitting in the kitchen looking out the window provides better wildlife viewing than many zoos. One day I spotted quail, scrub jays, hummingbirds, rabbits, squirrels, and a bobcat within about 5 minutes, all while drinking a V8 juice at the table. Not bad.

Since the house sits right on the edge of a wilderness area, Monday evening I decided to go for a short hike. After making my way up through the forest and dodging some colorfully evil P.O. along the way, I found myself wandering through some relatively dense chaparral. There was a clear path in most places - a combination of wildlife trail and reclaimed fire road - but it required some careful maneuvering, due mostly to my maniacal fear of rattlesnakes. Here's a play-by-play:

• Stand ever-so-quietly in the path scouring the ground with my eyes like a starving hawk looking for dinner
• Take a careful step forward, slowly placing a foot before stomping it on the ground as to scare away any snakes within a hundred yard radius
  
• Stand ever-so-quietly listening for even the faintest hint of slithering through the bushes
• Convince myself that any sound heard is either a bird or a lizard
  
• (yet remain tensed and ready to scream like a little girl should a snake actually appear)
• Repeat

This made for rather slow progress.

Fortunately rattlesnakes don't usually climb

All of this is, of course, completely irrational. Rattlesnakes are an important part of the ecosystem, mean me no harm, and with reasonable precaution are unlikely to give me any trouble. In fact I've never (knock on wood) even encountered a rattlesnake while hiking. They are actually, to date, observers of The Pact, my longstanding (though decidedly one-sided) agreement with nature and its creatures that in exchange for allowing me to pass unharmed through their domain, I will make every effort to respect their place in that domain and promote their well-being. Bison, mosquitoes, and scorpions, for example, are egregious violators of The Pact against whom war has been declared (this reminds me that a Pact-dedicated post is long overdue...)

Anyhow, the point is, I have no rational reason for my fear of rattlesnakes. I'm comforted somewhat by the knowledge that at least part of this fear is genetically predisposed, and that it offers evidence of my evolutionary superiority, but still...walking through rattlesnake country just freaking freaks me out. And I still wish the hawks would come and eat them all.


So after a little while I called it good, and took some pictures of the lovely surrounding scenery. The picture below shows Mt. San Jacinto in the distance, the mountain that once summoned me to an awesome, unplanned camping adventure.


In the end, this was only an hour long, 1.5mi/300' journey, but a rewarding one nonetheless (made especially nice by a hearty bowl of lentil soup upon my return). I hope to one (very cold, wintery, rattlesnake-paralyzing) day make my way back, and explore further up the mountain!