Getting Giddy on Gaviota Peak

“I’m walking up to Gaviota Peak this afternoon,” said Dave. “Wanna come?”

I love spontaneous invitations, and it sounded like fun, an especially fine thing to do on the first day of September, a new beginning. Our friend Steve-from-Utah was on his way to visit us but I called him on his cell phone and asked how he’d feel about going for a little hike when he arrived.

“Sure,” said Steve.

And so it came to pass that at nearly 5 p.m. we set out on the trail, and by 5:15 I was wondering why I had been so eager to do it. It was hot and sort of humid, and there were little bugs, and the trail is just a long steady ascent to the peak, and did I mention that it was hot and sort of humid, and there were little bugs?

But it helps to have good company, and there was plenty of laughter along the way, and the light grew softer as the day ebbed, and when we reached the peak, Dave dug into his two-ton backpack and pulled out a couple of frosty cold beers. For me, who has never developed a taste for beer, there was an icy can of Coke, and I don’t regularly drink the stuff, but at this moment it provided the perfect infusion of liquid, sugar, and caffeine.

Below us to the south the coastal hills rolled out to the hazy blue of sea, and to the west ,the Ranch grew golden in the dusk, and Highway 1 rose up the grade toward Lompoc. I could even discern the little lights of Vista de las Cruces, the school where I was once a teacher. And if ever there was any doubt that this is an enchanting part of the world, from this vantage point, it is indisputable.

There is an aluminum canister at the peak, and if you lift the lid you’ll find a few lined notebooks in which to write your name and comments. Some folks get spiritual up there, leaving words about blessings and gratitude, while others choose to complain -- the books are packed with four-letter words and hilarious variations along the lines of never again. It was hard to imagine how anyone could feel disappointed, though, even without a Coke to guzzle.