I have been home a few weeks since the end of our cross country road trip and I have been sifting through the 1200 pictures I took during the three weeks. There are still a few stories to be told from the family's ten days in Santa Cruz, California, our home town before Key West.
We were staying in the Santa Cruz mountains in a friend's granny unit so it was the work of a moment for me to wake Cheyenne and tip toe out to the car in the clammy gray early light and head out to her favorite walk in the redwoods. We weren't alone, pulling off Graham Hill Road: 
That was a bunch of active, but friendly dogs. Cheyenne as usual preferred her own company and we let the pack move off up the trail ahead of us.
The area we were walking is a bit hard to define precisely, possibly at the top end of Henry Cowell State Park and possibly part of the Big Trees Railroad narrow gauge tourist railway that runs at the top of the hill... however there is no signage so we walked most mornings and enjoyed the peace and quiet together.
The sun was a welcome sight as coastal California normally sees night time lows close to 50 degrees and that's too damned cold for a Florida resident in summer.
The flora in these pine woods is rather unusual but it is in keeping with the foggy atmosphere of the place.
For Cheyenne the cool temperatures just stimulated her desire to walk and explore.
I stood around watching the sun come up as Cheyenne rooted around in the poison oak (she later transferred enough of the oil to my arm, presumably in a hug, that I got a nice rash to remember the walks by).
Walking these places the smell in the air is what I remember. It's a mixture of dust, for the summer dry season is arid and last seven months. Then there is the wild sage, the pine needles and the cool damp morning air. By noon it may be 85 degrees, but at this stage of the day the morning is cool and pleasant. 
Downtown Santa Cruz, close to the ocean may be socked in by low hanging clouds, the so-called marine "fog," but up here a couple of thousand feet the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I recognize a mountain bike jump, but for Cheyenne a pile of sticks is just an obstruction on the trail. 
Up in the chaparral of this particular trail there is a bizarre cleft in the ground, a trench that puts me in mind of World War One fortifications. Cheyenne was not the least bit amused and I had to coax her into walking down the first time she encountered the narrowing gap in the ground: 
At the base it is too narrow for two feet and walking the sides takes a certain sense of balance. 
Slow poke! 
Where south Florida has gumbo limbo with it's famously peeling bark, California has madrone, a particular tortured tree that grows in spirals and has the same bright red colored wood as Florida's gumbo limbo.
This is a dog that likes to sniff. She loved coming back as many mornings as I would bring her.
This part of the walk is decidedly part of the tourist tour by railway conducted in these parts by the Big Trees Narrow Gauge Railroad company of nearby Felton.
With the sun well up it's time to call it a day and put an end to our companionable hour together.
Home for breakfast and another day of meeting and greeting old friends. A fine start to the day was this daily morning walk.
We were staying in the Santa Cruz mountains in a friend's granny unit so it was the work of a moment for me to wake Cheyenne and tip toe out to the car in the clammy gray early light and head out to her favorite walk in the redwoods. We weren't alone, pulling off Graham Hill Road: That was a bunch of active, but friendly dogs. Cheyenne as usual preferred her own company and we let the pack move off up the trail ahead of us.The area we were walking is a bit hard to define precisely, possibly at the top end of Henry Cowell State Park and possibly part of the Big Trees Railroad narrow gauge tourist railway that runs at the top of the hill... however there is no signage so we walked most mornings and enjoyed the peace and quiet together.The sun was a welcome sight as coastal California normally sees night time lows close to 50 degrees and that's too damned cold for a Florida resident in summer.The flora in these pine woods is rather unusual but it is in keeping with the foggy atmosphere of the place. 
For Cheyenne the cool temperatures just stimulated her desire to walk and explore.
I stood around watching the sun come up as Cheyenne rooted around in the poison oak (she later transferred enough of the oil to my arm, presumably in a hug, that I got a nice rash to remember the walks by).
Walking these places the smell in the air is what I remember. It's a mixture of dust, for the summer dry season is arid and last seven months. Then there is the wild sage, the pine needles and the cool damp morning air. By noon it may be 85 degrees, but at this stage of the day the morning is cool and pleasant. 
Downtown Santa Cruz, close to the ocean may be socked in by low hanging clouds, the so-called marine "fog," but up here a couple of thousand feet the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I recognize a mountain bike jump, but for Cheyenne a pile of sticks is just an obstruction on the trail. 
Up in the chaparral of this particular trail there is a bizarre cleft in the ground, a trench that puts me in mind of World War One fortifications. Cheyenne was not the least bit amused and I had to coax her into walking down the first time she encountered the narrowing gap in the ground: 
At the base it is too narrow for two feet and walking the sides takes a certain sense of balance. 
Slow poke! 
Where south Florida has gumbo limbo with it's famously peeling bark, California has madrone, a particular tortured tree that grows in spirals and has the same bright red colored wood as Florida's gumbo limbo.
This is a dog that likes to sniff. She loved coming back as many mornings as I would bring her.
This part of the walk is decidedly part of the tourist tour by railway conducted in these parts by the Big Trees Narrow Gauge Railroad company of nearby Felton.
With the sun well up it's time to call it a day and put an end to our companionable hour together.
Home for breakfast and another day of meeting and greeting old friends. A fine start to the day was this daily morning walk.
The old County Bank facade has remained behind a decorous planting of boring plane trees. The original plants were wild and indigenous, thick leaved and bushy creating a true garden feeling. 
The struggle for some in Santa Cruz is to keep national chains and box stores out of downtown and out of the county if at all possible. There was much opposition to a national book chain coming to Pacific Avenue, but Santa Cruz is home to University of California Campus so the local bookstores have a devoted clientèle. Coffee houses abound to provide competition for Starbucks and local chains like Noah's Bagels and Peets Coffee.
Despite the cold wet winters bums have landed in Santa Cruz for as long as I can remember and they still do, hanging aimlessly on Pacific Avenue. Violence too has come to downtown Santa Cruz with drive by shootings and stabbings and robberies on a scale that makes me blanch. Of cops walking a beat? Not a one strangely enough even in the middle of tourist season. 
There is of course a multiplex art house theater as well but seeing the Regal on Pacific Avenue and the Nickelodeon around the corner on Church Street reminded me we have nothing less in Key West with the Tropic. 
Much of what I left behind in Santa Cruz I have found in Key West- including high cost of land, an appreciation for alternative cultures, though Santa Cruz is much more white majority than Key West which has lively Cuban and black communities.
The architecture of downtown Santa Cruz took a hit with the Loma Prieta quake (which killed 6 people in Santa Cruz, far more than have died in hurricanes in Key West). 30 percent of downtown was leveled in the quake and it took the city a decade to recover with businesses operating out of tents and bitter debates about the future of downtown.
Alternative transportation in Santa Cruz is represented by bicycles rather than scooters. However unlike Key West's numerous bicycle racks which a re overflowing with bicycles, Santa Cruz's aren't. Distances are greater, the weather is colder especially in winter and there are enough hills to make people think twice about how they get around. 
The oil spilled (and some say still spilling) in the Gulf of Mexico has not reached these waters. Cheyenne is a land dog. She has learned to enjoy streams and puddles but grass and shrubs are more her speed and swimming is out of the question as she has never been trained to enjoy the water properly.
The sandy bridle path alongside South Roosevelt Boulevard gives her lots of opportunity to root around.
The salt ponds are not suitable drinking water.
The plans for the renovation and refurbishment of North Roosevelt call for the elimination of non-native coconut palms, not least because falling coconuts harm people and vehicles and coconut palms take a lot of maintenance to keep tidy. In the spirit of being good stewards of the public monies the city is asking the state to replace them with less labor intensive trees...Well, this attempt to be parsimonious with the public treasury has got the critics' panties all in a wad because they say, tourists expect to see coconut palms in the city, and damn the public expense...Tourists can come to South Roosevelt to see some coconut palms looking suitably tropical.
There was a time when someone figured out that you could pitch a tent on the Bridle Path and no one would bother you. No one did until a whole long line of bums in tents sprang up and the city promptly declared an emergency, designated the salt ponds an environmentally sensitive wetland and banned parking, camping, and hanging out in the bushes of the Bridle Path. The No Parking thing is rather annoying because you have to park in the street and walk your dog across four lanes of supposedly 30 mph traffic to get to the path. But that perhaps limits the attraction for everyone and makes it more peaceful than it used to be.
It is waterfront property with exceptional views.
There used to be a few homeless guys who made a quiet home for themselves in the bushes and trails of the Bridle Path but they got swept away in the general clean up. It is a good spot to hang out, criss crossed with trails and shady nooks.
There is an old pier structure that used to jut out over water but the area seems to be silting up and even though it's the rainy season it was dry enough for Cheyenne to explore.
One more summer dog walk in the bag.