Malog (Maleki Blog): Hiking With a Twist

Drove to Malibu again and Malibu Creek State Park, in Malibu Canyon. California State park fees are $12 daily and $120 annually. About 4 times as high as MI. So I turned around and drove a couple of miles and joined a hoard of other cheap-skates who had parked on the side of the road, crossed the road and jumped on the trail-head.

The trail-head was actually a narrow path that led to the main trail after half a mile or so. On the way I noticed a big brown rattle snake that had lain across the path and hearing me it slithered into the brush! Uh-oh. "Umm ... excuse me, but I was I was told there would be no snakes!" were the words I would have wanted to say to the critter, but actually, I read there would be rattle snake and people should stay away from them. Yes, Cal State parks actually charge you $120 bucks in fees to post signs that advise people to stay away from deadly reptiles!

The main trail is wide enough to drive on. But it's only used by hikers and mountain bikers. It runs for hundreds of miles, clear on the ridge tops of the Santa Monica Mountain range.

The view was breath taking. The air and the skies clear, temperatures just right. You could see the ocean on one sides and mountains on the other. I was beginning to think "I like this place, you know."

This I assumed to be a remnant of the gold-rush days. But what do I know. It could be anything. It does make for a good story though.

Yeah, yeah, we get it, more scenery...

And then some ... getting a bit trigger happy on the iPhone's camera...

But this you have to see! Happiness does not exist, unless it's shared. This is the Malibu Canyon road snaking (oh no, snakes!!) through the valley and flowing ocean ward. Mountain flowers in full bloom. Heaven!

These little critters are everywhere. They think they are blending in, they are cool in school. But then they just twitch and jerk away, screeching "Yowww, you saw me! I'll run and stop suddenly over here. Now you can't see me. Yikes, you saw me again, I'll jump and jerk that way then..."

Like the great wall China, the trail twists on the ridge tops as far as the eye can see.

At times the trail is broad and smooth. Other times it's rocky and washed away, or narrow and overrun with brush.

Then I noticed a twisted piece of black wood on the side of the trail. As a life-long snake-phobic, my senses are tuned to examine every stick and twig to ensure it's not a snake, and this one was! A diamond-shaped head, black and sinister looking rattle snake. I jumped back a few steps, heart racing, which is my usual uncontrolled reaction. I cussed out loud at my cowardice, but I couldn't control my fear.

The thing about some animals like the great white sharks or the grizzlies is their arrogance in their utter dominance over their domain. The cavalier "I don't give a rats who you are, I'll kick your ass just to have something to do" attitude. This guy was one of those. It laid there without a care. I stamped my feet, shouted, threw a rock his way, he wouldn't budge. (I don't know its gender, let's assume it was a "he" to avoid offending any female readers). A couple of kids on mountain bikes came along and stopped dead in their tracks. We argued over who should go first. I encouraged them to go first since they were on bikes and it's a scientifically proven fact that rattle snakes are afraid of bicycle wheels. Finally one of them got his courage up and in the most shaky fashion rode through. The snake cocked his head a bit, almost smirking. The other kid was still unconvinced. Sometimes courage is swallowing your fears. This wasn't one of those times. Courage was to be too afraid to look afraid and stupid. I slowly inched my was forward, like a slinking dog, tail between the legs, tiptoed across the bow of the dragon. The snake peered at me as if to say "Yeah, that's what I am talking about. You better slink and bow your punk ass and show some respect beeach!"

I was out of breath by the time I was across. It felt like the snake was going to make a little jerk and say "BOO" just to hear me scream and run and hear his laugh behind me.

I wanted to run, then the thought of more snakes ahead had me paralyzed. I felt like a hobbit walking in Mordor. Then the thought "how am I going to go back?" crossed my mind. "We are not going back, Sam" said Frodo.

After another hour of hobbit steps I turned around to go back. I felt like a death row inmate making the deadman's walk. It seems silly now, but the irrational fear was all consuming. I don't know who had kidnapped my mind and body, but every twitch of crass, every stick of wood had me jumping, hyperventilating and completely out of control. I had picked up an anti-snake rock and I noticed my knuckles were turning white from squeezing it. The scenery seized to exist. My scanning eyes were fixed on the trail. This was no fun.

There was a movie where there were these beautiful people living in this beautiful land. Everything was wonderful, except for these monsters who'd come out of the caves and grab a few of them every once in a while and take them down into the caves for food. This I thought was California. The beautiful land of sun and sea. There were sharks in the ocean, snakes in the mountains, $120 park fees, gridlocked highways and strange realities in dream jobs. The under belly of the truth.

Was it still worth it?