San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
Cloak of fog heightens sense of surroundings on Palomar Mountain
I went to the mountains for the views, but I saw the most when there was no view.
As a volunteer U.S. Forest Service lookout, I was excited about another season in the fire towers.
On May 1, the season began, with eager veterans and new trainees polishing skills that will be invaluable for early fire detection as the Southern California wildlands soon bake in withering summer heat.
This will be my fourth season in the towers, and I decided to make an early trip to Palomar Mountain to refresh my memory of the grand views from Boucher Lookout. From this vantage point on a clear day, you can see details on Catalina Island 80 miles away, ships sailing off the Southern California coast, or the buildings of downtown San Diego.
But today, there were no views. It was foggy and misty when I left Escondido, and normally the 5,000-foot ridges of Palomar Mountain State Park are above the morning marine layer.
Not this time.
Drifting clouds of drippy fog swirled through the ancient oaks, incense cedars and stately pines, and the roadside clusters of bluish-purple lupines glistened from the beads of accumulating mist.
On the winding road up the mountain, delicate peach-colored monkey flowers hanging from the cliffs were covered with drops of water that sparkled like diamonds in a glorious tiara.
In the past, I may have missed this beauty as my vision was pulled away to the distant views so commanding on a clear day. Today’s visit was special. Boucher Hill Lookout is perched on a knob at the southwestern corner of Palomar Mountain State Park. This 1,800-acre oasis is a speck of big-tree forest in an arid county mostly known for beautiful beaches, vast fields of chaparral and expansive deserts.
It’s a place where you can seek shade and cooler temperatures on sweltering summer days and be swallowed in deep shadows cast by massive black oak and pine trees as you follow a meandering forest path through fragrant clusters of blooming lupines that smell like grape soda.
On those days when the pinescented air is crystal clear, you can be overwhelmed at the beauties to behold. Grand vistas, distant wildlife, billowing cloud formations, colorful birds or a serpentine trail winding far off into the cloak of forest vegetation can constantly demand your attention.
But today there was little to see beyond a few yards in front of me. The forest was silent, mysterious and guarded as if holding on to its secrets.
The blanket of fog muted the sounds of the forest. Birds were still, the decaying black oak leaves carpeting the forest floor from last fall were not dry and crunchy under foot. The loudest sound was the random dripping as mist accumulated and fell from the tips of pine needles.
The dampness energized the fragrances of the forest, heightening the sweet scent of pine and cedar, mixed with the smell of damp moss, sprouting ferns, smoke from a distant campfire and the fresh mountain air. A true
Fougère Royale, if you will.
A whiff of breeze would tease the vision by slowly moving the mist around, allowing a brief glimpse deeper into the forest. A moment later the fog would seep back in, once again hiding the view.
On days like this in the woods, you move slower, focus more on the natural wonders visible nearby. I became so much more aware of the little things near me and let my mind wander.
It was magical.
I’ve written before about the rare dogwood trees in San Diego County. Palomar Mountain is one of the few places here where you can see them. The large white flowers were just beginning to emerge and from a distance the blossoms could be seen through the shrouding fog like some mysterious white objects floating in the air.
Normally invisible spider webs and the budding fronds of bracken fern were decorated with tiny drops of water as if placed by the tiny hands of some unseen forest gnome. The dampness heightened the fragrance of blooming lupine, filling the woods with the delicate smell of grape juice.
Magical days like this will soon be gone until fall.
The hot, dry and clear mountain days of summer will again pull our vision to greater distances.
We will be swallowed by the whole, rather than feasting on the tiny gems of nature that grab our attention and imagination when we can only see things closely around us.
Much of what I saw today was in the mind. I could imagine mythical forest creatures, maybe Oberon and Titania, the Shakespearean King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest. It’s fascinating where the mind goes when you can’t see the destination.
Cowan is a freelance columnist. Email ernie@packtrain.com or visit erniesoutdoors.blogspot.com.