Easter Walk

I suppose there are many ways to celebrate Easter Sunday, but for me the chosen mode yesterday was a walk up to Gaviota Peak. I was lucky enough to receive a spontaneous invitation from an old friend, Dave, who was planning to hike with Jesper (as in Yes-per), who I knew from Café Quackenbush, where he is the chef, and a fine chef at that. Since we are mentioning occupations, I might as well note that Dave is a veterinarian, and he first had to make an early morning business visit, which involved infusing 1200 million progressively motile sperm into a mare's uterus, and as irreverent as it may sound, he thought that in its own way this was an appropriate beginning for a season of springtime, fertility, rebirth and renewal.

Anyway, we decided to meet at the trailhead at 9 a.m.I had been thinking about Easter, as a holy day and holiday, and in particular recalling how I viewed it as a child, when my religious ideas were far more certain and church-y. I believed back then with all the trust and conviction a little girl can muster, and I was grateful to know that everything would all work out in the end, despite the sad and terrible chapters of the Biblical story and much evidence to the contrary even in my everyday world.

Yes, Easter was my favorite holiday by far. I can still remember the life and joy of the day and the season, all that sacredness mixed in with pagan spectacle: forsythia in bloom, new shoes and pastel colors, ladies in extravagant hats festooned with birds and bees, a perfumed sanctuary filled with jubilant hymns and stirring sermon, maybe a hollow chocolate bunny awaiting me at home ready to have his head bitten off. Mostly I guess I just loved the delirious deliciousness of spring...and it is a sentiment that has never left me, even though we Californians don't "earn" spring in quite the same way as those who must first endure the punishment of a serious winter.

But a walk up to Gaviota Peak on a not-too-windy April day is a pretty exhilarating experience, and a good opportunity to fully acknowledge springtime and let a little why-not hope into your heart. Shall I bore you with description of hills tipped with yellow mustard, wildflowers along the trail, sun-dappled views of bright green hills, the panorama of the coastline from high above, and the Channel Islands on the horizon? I guess I can just post a picture or two.

It was wonderful. And I don't know if you've been up there, but there is a shiny steel canister at the top with a notebook and pen inside, and people write their names and thoughts, and it's fun to read the comments. It's interesting how how many folks get sort of spiritual after a brisk, sweaty hike. Maybe it's the view. Or just the effort required to get up there. A lot of gratitude is expressed, and wishes of peace for the world.

A few people had been walking slightly ahead of us or behind us, so now there was an impromptu gathering of strangers up there. There was a young couple, he from Kentucky and she from L.A., with a big friendly dog and a great attitude. They had been to the La Purisma mission and Jalama Burgers the day before, and were looking for other suggestions. Then there was a tall slender blonde woman who was a yoga instructor from Lompoc, with her perfectly matching tall slender blonde family. (One of whom, a girl of 19 or 20 in running shorts whose long suntanned legs had gotten goose-bumpy in the cool air, actually said to her mom: "I'm gonna go over there and do a tree pose. Wanna join me?")

And for a little while we sat around or near the canister as though it were a campfire, and at one point someone said he was re-reading classic books, and Jesper mentioned that he was enjoying Faulkner, and someone else said something about Fitzgerald, and I couldn't resist reciting that wonderful last quote in Gatsby "...so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" and someone else said, "Oh, write that in the notebook!"...and so on...and it was just all so companionable and incongruous.

Eventually the group dispersed, and Dave and Jesper and I lingered, taking in the views, talking, growing silent.The truth of it is, I don't know exactly what I believe, in a literal and specific way, but it seems to me that life itself is unlikely and miraculous.

So who can say?It was a really fine Easter morning, as far as I'm concerned.