My shoe wardrobe shows the answer: Merrell.

Decades ago, before I’d ever thought about barefooting, I had turned to Merrell clogs for their open-heel comfort. They were a perfect fit in size 9.5, and although pricey, these beasts seemed to last forever–with a life cycle running from everyday work-wear to retirement as garden clogs.

Now I’m excited to find Merrell’s new “Barefoot” line includes sandals. Minimalist sandals that do NOT put any straps between my toes have been tough to find, but Merrell’s Barefoot Pipidae Wrap fulfills all my comfort requirements. (At at price, unfortunately–$85. Since I own few pairs of shoes, I try to justify the cost by how long Merrells last.)

My new Pipidae’s came in the mail a few days ago; so far I’ve only worn them on a few errands around town over the weekend, but I’m looking forward to working in them and giving my closed-toed Merrells a break. Advertised as water footwear, the Pipidaes (named after a family of tongue-less Southern Hemisphere aquatic frogs—go figure) feel light and comfortable—the 4 mm sole is a little thicker than necessary, but there’s zero drop (elevation change from heel to toe—most shoes have a raised heel) and they come in inconspicuous black. Unfortunately, no half sizes are offered at this time, so I went “up” to size 10; they’re a tiny bit longer than I’d like, but still OK.

I hope to never hike or run in them (or my Merrell Pace Barefoot Gloves)–my ideal is to put nothing between my feet and the trail. Reality sometimes interferes with my dreams, though, which is why I occasionally strap my Pace Barefoot Gloves to my Nathan hydration backpack as an insurance policy for the following conditions: trail is too hot; trail is too cold; trail is too rocky; trail is too many miles; liability requirements of the land conservancy that I do volunteer work for.

FUN is why I barefoot; when an overdose of gravel or blazing sun removes the fun factor, I’ve been glad to have the Pace Barefoot Gloves as an option; now I’m looking forward to the Pipidae’s to keep my toes happy when city life keeps me away from the trails.

Ready to retire: my old Merrells

Friday’s hike “bonus photos” :

Darklinlg beetle meet 'n' greet

The ”bold jumping spider”–Phidippus audax– is a little fuzzy in the photo below, but this is the only shot that showed his iridescent chelicerae (mouth parts).

Jumping spider high five

Instead of tallying
up miles today
I plant myself where

jet trails and hours
dissolve in the warm
February light

that melts worry,
ignites trumpets
of fuchsia-flowered gooseberries.

Tiny fiddleneck
petals blink
a yellow warning

along the overgrown
green-track road:
watch out, wanderer—

you are about to be
flattened by a jolt
of electric blue

hairstreak butterfly . . .
almost a head-on collision
and you bless

the source of azure
zig-zagging
un-craziness.

Out sitting instead of hiking, I was startled by the blue and black flashing of a butterfly coming out of the oak shadows; a little research when I got home revealed it to be a Great Purple Hairstreak Butterfly (Altides halesus)–not a rare butterfly, but one rarely seen by people in the wild. When it lighted on the ground, it disappeared into the grass and dirt, nothing more than a non-descript black blob. When it took off–wow! Such irridescenct blue inner wings! There’s no way I was going to be able to capture it in a photo, so I focused some words instead.

Tiny fiddleneck petals

Fuchsia flowered gooseberry

After parking at the Augustine Staging Area off of Santiago Canyon Road, hikers have several options. I headed out on Limestone Canyon Road . . . which used to be crunchy sharp gravel for the first mile or so, but has recently been graded to a smoother surface. Much kinder to hiking feet and bike tires!

Farther along the road, I encountered this bounty of acorns:

Hikers I met reported lupine in bloom on the ridges; I did not come across any in my canyon travels, but did enjoy the profuse displays of fuchsia-flowered gooseberry (Ribes speciosum) in several places under the oaks.

It was good to see so many people out enjoying the day and getting to know this area . . . lots of families with children were out exploring too, which bodes well for the future of preserving our Orange County wildlands . . . if the next generation knows and cherishes these natural treasures, they will work to preserve them.

And speaking of the next generation: it was also heartening to see a new generation of oaks sprouting and springing from what had been fire-scorched earth only 4 years ago. (The baby oak is in the right foreground . . . )

Douglas' nightshade/Greenspot nightshade (Solanum douglasii)

Wishbone bush/California four o'clock (Mirabilis laevis var. crassiofolia)

So Cal morning glory (Calystegia sp.)

Wild cucumber/California manroot (Marah fabaceus)

Of course the trails at Santiago Oaks Regional Park are busy with mountain bikers, but today was my first encounter with a mountain bike + trailer. This dad told me he was towing his three-year-old daughter, who slept on the uphills and woke up for the downhills. Whatever gets kids out in nature . . .

Dad and daughter headed uphill on Mountain Goat Trail.

All good times on the trails at Santiago Oaks end with a splash through Santiago Creek at the trail’s end.

Big winds = fewer folks out enjoying the trails . . . and the fast-moving air also makes it difficult for animals upwind to sense my presence. That’s how I ended up trotting around a curve in the Bumblebee Trail and surprising a pretty healthy-looking coyote. He gave a startled sideways jump (so did I!) and then loped off the trail up a brushy gully to an open patch on the side of the hill, where he stood for a bit to check me out.

Can you find the coyote in the center of the photo?

Here’s the same photo, cropped to focus on the coyote. My little pocket camera can only zoom so far . . .

What great camoflage fur . . .

Anther notable sighting along the trail was this intensely purple nightshade:

Native purple nightshade: Solanum parishii

Most of my photos are of the native beauty I find on my wanders, but today I thought that it would be more honest if I also included shots of non-native invasives. One particulary pervasive species is star thistle. At this time of year it is dead and gray and dry and ready to ignite, even though we just had a nice soaking rain last weekend. That’s one of the reasons there’s a red-flag fire warning this weekend: the dead annual invasive weeds from last year are tinder dry.

Last year's start thistle lines the trail with gray, stickery nastiness.

These are no fun to step on, for obvious reasons.

Other “truth-in-photography” images from recent hikes:

Who does this?!

One hike's worth of trail trash. Yuck.

Orange peels may be biodegradable, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to litter the trail with them.

This is what belongs on the side of the trail: fungi!

Last weekend's rains conjured up these mushrooms.

To cool off, I dunked my toes in a tributary to Santiago Creek. Hmmm . . . now what could be feeding this year-round rivulet? Not the over-watered landscapes from the nearby housing developments, I hope . . .

A barefoot dunk is the best way to end an hour's fun on the trails of Santiago Oaks.

Going out in nature is a two-edged-sword-kind-of-thing sometimes: I love and appreciate the natural beauty, but get a little irate at the degradation.

A little rain, a lot of fun yesterday . . .

Splash!

The smells of mud puddles and green creek-side mulefat, the calls of nearby hidden frogs, the feel of warm damp trail . . . yesterday’s wander was (oh no . . . I’ve never had this word surface before) wanderful!

(Sorry for the pun–it was a pun-tabulous afternoon.)

e.e. cummings said it better in his poem

[in just]

when he calls the world “mud-luscious” and “puddle-wonderful.”

It is!

A few early rains in the fall, supplemented by a couple of hose waterings, have coaxed some bright bloomers out in my Southern California suburban back yard–which has been undergoing transformation into a native plant garden the last five years. Now all I have to do is step outside my back door (barefoot, of course) and witness such wild beauty as this (shot this morning on my little Canon Powershot):

Dichelostemma capitatum / Wild hyacinth

Rhus integrifolia / Lemonade berry

Desert bluebells / Phacelia campanularia

Eschscholzia californica / California poppy

Dudleya stolonifera / Laguna Beach Live-forever

Let it rain!

So . . . off to Santiago Oaks Regional Park, my favorite place to wander–it’s an easy 15-minute drive through Orange to a whole other world of native plants and creatures. Although it’s been grazed and burned and invaded by non-native annuals and slashed through with trails, it remains a place of beauty and biodiversity . . . here’s a few images from my wanders:

After three days in shoes, this is how I spell relief.

.

I saw six deer, in two groups a couple miles apart. Here's one.

Mule deer mean mountain lions might be near; I always feel safe in my backward-looking cap (since mountain lions only go for fleeing prey, right?)

Just a few newly blooming wild flowers: this is the only wild hyacinth I saw in over two hours (Dichelostemma capitatum)

I also found one spot along the Bumble Bee trail where a few red paintbrush were growing and glowing (Castilleja affinis)

It's called "twiggy wreath" 'cause the flowers come right out of . . . twigs

Flowers on twigs = twiggy wreath plant. Stephanomeria virgata is the scientific name; "virgata" means "wand-like"

Raindrops on the trail–nothing smells better!

Mule deer does and fawns at Santiago Oaks.

The CNPS conference was an excellent learning experience, full of interesting sessions about all-things-native-plants–and so many knowledgeable and friendly  experts in so many different areas. It’s going to take me a while to go through my pages of conference-session notes and process it all–and make a few poems out of the experience, I hope.

The conference really made me realize (as if I needed reminding!) what a wonderful ecological treasure our Southern California wildlands are. The challenge remains: make sure everyone in SoCal gets a chance to experience them, learn to love them, work to preserve them.

Step one (according to Rick Halseyof the Chaparral Institute): NEVER use the word “brush” when referring to our local flora. Start with “chaparral” . . . learn what that means, and the appreciation will follow.

The biped bikers and hikers all had smiles and “Happy New Year’s” greetings. The plants had more colorful things to say:

Wishbone flower (Mirabilis californica) at Santiago Oaks 1.1.12

California aster along the Mountain Goat trail

To soar over the ridges of Orange County’s foothills . . .

While I may not get airborn, running barefoot along the trails sure feels like flying to me. Today I lasted over and hour and a half–I’m starting to think I might be able to enjoy a half-marathon this year. The only drawback lately has been landing a bit too often on rock chunks. Either my “radar” is down, or I’m just getting cocky and careless as I flit ecstatically along with no knee pain. Or maybe the odds just aren’t in my favor–the ratio of rocks on the trail is . . .  lots and lots.

Soaring over Barham Ridge

This next photo might not do the air temperature justice–high 70s . . . the best kind of weather for barefoot running (as opposed to the worst: chilly enough to make my toes go numb, below 50).

A warm winter afternoon

It’s been almost too warm, if there is such a thing in the middle of winter. Little December rain means the hopeful annuals sprouting along the trail–both non-native grass and native wildflowers–are already fading.

Fading early grass; waiting for rain

Running the Deer Trail at Santiago Oaks in the late afternoon made me think of the phrase “crepuscular gully.”  I’ve often seen deer here as the day fades, but not today.

Looking southeast toward the mouth of Weir Canyon

A year ago on New Year’s Day I had a long encounter with a bobcat on the trail . . . I was hoping for the same again today, but I had such a great run it was OK I didn’t.

Last week, though, I was pleased to “run into” a roadrunner and coyote one afternoon–both fairly rare sightings in the Irvine Park/Santiago Oaks trail network where I spend so many miles a week.  And, of course, my “bucket list” animal encounter is a mountain lion . . . although if I do come across one, it might be the end of my bucket list . . .

Happy Trails 2012–I’m hoping for many painfree barefoot miles.

Explorer's Guides: 50 Hikes in Orange County

Not only does the reasonably-sized book (yes, it will fit nicely into your pack) present an interesting variety of trails (helpfully divided into three sections that pay respect to Orange County’s varied topography: Coastal Hikes, Foothills Hikes, and Santa Ana Mountains Hikes), the guide thoroughly describes what hikers will find as they walk along.

That is what sets this book apart—the amount of fascinating natural history Karin includes can transform any hike into an opportunity to learn about, and marvel at, all the hidden intricacies of local landforms and the unique plants and creatures that make their home in, on, over, under, and throughout Orange County coastal areas, foothills, and mountains.

I read a quote once that said being out in nature and not knowing the names of things is like going to a great art museum where all the paintings are turned to face the wall.

Karin’s book goes a long way towards revealing the beauty of Orange County’s wildlands.

Bonus #1: it’s the only Orange County trail guide written by a woman.

Bonus #2: My creative writing hikes to the mouth of Fremont Canyon get a brief mention on page 172! I had the privilege of hiking with Karin and showing her my favorite place on the old Irvine Ranch: the narrow mouth of Fremont, formerly known as “Canada de la Horca,” or “choked canyon,” because of the places where the walls squeeze in on you.

Karin has painstakingly (literally) walked every mile of the longer Fremont Canyon loop, as well as every other hike she describes, and she does a nice job describing what she’s seen along the way. Adding layers of interest to “mere” description, though, is the amount of research she includes with all kinds of cool details about each area’s human and plant and creaturely history (and sometimes, in the case of fossil-heavy areas, pre-history).

Since I am somewhat stuck in my little 2-3-times-a-week foothills hiking/trail-running rut (90% of my rambles are in and around the Lomas de Santiago: Santiago Oaks Regional Park, Irvine Regional Park, Peters, Limestone, Weir Canyons . . . you get the idea), I enjoy reading this book just because it transports me somewhere new each time I pick it up. . . and it makes me REALLY want to drive a bit and explore the many Santa Ana Mountains trails it seems I’ve been missing out on all these years . . .

For Orange County visitors, traveling here for work or vacation, 50 Hikes in Orange County is a wonderful resource to show the “better” side of Orange County—pretty much the opposite of the artifice of Disneyland . . . and while lots of the hikes listed are suitably remote, some are only minutes off the freeway. This is another benefit of the book: the variety of terrain, accessibility, mileage, etc.

And, of course, since there are far more than “50 hikes” in the wilds of Orange County, I hope Karin’s book will get people interested in exploring all the many other places to ramble (and, after exploring and learning about and falling in love with our Orange County wildlands, I hope more and more people will be interested in preserving this vast treasure.)

Karin’s next project: she’s looking to compile a book of 50 more hikes, this time as described by some of the local experts she met while researching this first book—“50 Favorite Hikes of Orange County Naturalists,” or something along those lines. I can’t wait!

For both locals and visitors, this book makes a great gift, now or throughout the year. It’s available at local bookstores as well as Amazon.