Travel Notes
Parks, trails, cities, and destinations β everywhere I've been and what I found there.
Map tiles Β© OpenStreetMap contributors
A 3.7-mile loop through Stanford's open land β rolling green hills, a 150-foot radio telescope, a herd of black cattle, at least one wild turkey, and a view back down to campus that makes the whole thing feel cinematic.
At 3,849 feet, Mount Diablo claims one of the largest viewsheds of any peak its size in the world. We went for the BBQ and stayed for one of the best sunsets I've ever seen.
San Francisco doesn't need a whole week. One good day β a harbor lunch, sea lions at Pier 39, and the walk down Lombard Street β and you'll understand why people fall in love with this city.
The oldest Japanese-style estate and gardens in the Western Hemisphere, set into a hillside above Saratoga. Cool in summer, quiet on weekday afternoons, and very precisely built.
South of Livermore, a 750-acre reservoir wedged between dry summer hills. June is when the grass turns gold and the contrast with the water gets unreasonable.
55 acres of curated garden on the Duke University campus in Durham. In late May the south is at peak humidity, the cypresses are deep green, and the koi pond is still enough to fish in.
Reno without the neon. The Truckee River runs right through downtown, and on a slow Sunday morning the whole place feels more like a small mountain town than the casino city it's marketed as.
A second visit to Ed Levin a week later β the yellow mustard is in, the air is unusually clear, and there are paragliders working the ridge lift above the same hillside we hiked two weeks ago.
Two weeks before the mustard blooms, Ed R. Levin's hills are a perfect uniform green. A small reservoir, a herd of black cattle, and a view that reaches from Milpitas all the way down the South Bay.
Driving down Highway 1 with the sunset in the windshield, then a small charcoal grill in the dark β skewers, a fire too small to keep your hands warm, and the smell of yakitori carrying across the campsite.
Pulling off the road for ten minutes of December dusk over the Pacific β a grassy bluff above the ocean, the sky breaking into amber, a single cypress holding the frame together.