They stand there, foreboding, haunting; almost luminescent in the late afternoon sunlight, with green chaparral shrubs and orange sandstone cliffs the divinely chosen palette of colors. They are the barrier that stops the city of Santa barbara from spreading to the East. Lonely and desolate, and yet a mere half hour drive from the Mission near downtown Santa Barbara, the Santa Ynez mountain range holds the key to numerous possibilities within their ominous presence.

An average Santa Barbara Saturday is upon me (which equates to gorgeous blue skies and warm sunshine), and I am bored with the daily walk along the nature preserve. It is a beautiful place to walk your dog, this Wilcox Preserve on the Mesa, but if you are looking for solitude and a lack of shrill barking, the preserve is not the place for you. So I threw together a day pack: water, journal, book, nuts and dried fruit, a warm sweatshirt, and rolled my gas guzzling Toyota Tundra up Gibraltar road, spiraling upwards to the high peaks of the Santa Ynez front range. It was so early in the morning that even the hang gliders and para gliders had not yet parked their customized rigs along the side of the road for their awesome descents in the early afternoon.

Forbush Flats was my destination. Fred Forbush was a true pioneer, cast from the mold of men who could endure hardships that even the most trained professional athletes of today would balk at the idea of attempting. He etched out a living by creating an incredible apple orchard in the Santa Ynez river valley with remnants of his legacy and hardwork still visible today.

Wildflowers are abundant along my two mile drop into the meadows of Forbush Flats, as are signs of strong erosion. 2004-5 was one of the most rainy seasons ever recorded for Southern California. More evidence of the abnormal precipitation is the thunder of a newly formed waterfall that is normally a rocky precipice, but has been transformed this year, along with many other features of this ordinarily dry chaparral biome.

Lazily stretched out in the sunshine down in the meadows, I was inspired to write this poem:

That sunshine
glazing and heating all living and non-living creatures
in it's direct pathway
A pathway took me here
constructed by tools and men - but I am grateful that
it transports me away from the massive human centers
of tools and men
all of this just over the ridge from where I lay
down the south slopes of the Santa Ynez foothills
boats and cars
streets and people
newspapers an signs
The images ever-present always shifting consciousness
away from the simple facts and simple truths
There is life in every speck of dirt, every thistle and blade of grass
each wildflower is a mini-ecosystem in and of itself
My luscious human odors have attracted swarms of flies
my irresistible fleshy smells indicating another few hours
of subsistence for these miniscule creatures
living on miniscule time frames
I lay back under coastal sage and twisting oaks
and I smell what fresh is
it's a green texture linked from nose to mouth
it does not contain high levels of CFC's nor residues from spray cans
But even the spray cans and oil-based synthetics are born of this
single planet
How humbled I am to walk these miles and lie in this meadow
breathing seeing smelling tasting
An ancient world that has gone on before our race and will keep
flourishing long after our last footprints have been washed away
Thank you for this understanding and for this solitude
I have missed walking the land without cement and electricity and processed wood
My mind slows into a rhythmic breath
the pulse of the natural world

ER Harris