I am not a hiker. I’ll admit that. When I was a child, hiking was seen as the glue that holds every good family together, and my family believed in serious amounts of Elmers, because every Sunday my dad would pile us in the car and drive us to some new nature walk, hiking trail, or outdoor excursion.
Over the years, the strained relationship between nature and me eased, and I even went on a few recreational hikes willingly, no kicking or screaming or loud dramatic sighing involved.
Having said this, my standards for a good hike are pretty high. I hike for the destination; whether it’s exploring a cave or hiking down to a hidden beach, I refuse to hike loops. Walking “x” amount of miles for a view is a stretch.
But as with every rule, there are exceptions. Should the view be incredibly fabulous, I’m willing to put forth a little extra effort. Luckily, surrounded by mountains and ocean as far as the eye can see, the Central Coast makes it pretty easy to find something that meets this criteria.
Thus began my trek to Figueroa Mountain and the Pino Alto Nature Trail in Los Olivos.
Turning just off the 154, I decided then and there that regardless of the trail and whatever killer bees or poison oak it could possibly hold for me, the drive was worth it.
You could measure the distance to Figueroa Mountain in fields: one field of white, fluffy buckwheat; one field of yellow mustard flowers; one field of cattle grazing; and one field of golden grass.
For those who need a bit more than greenery or livestock to get them out into the hill country, this drive is not without its pop culture references. Following the twisting road will take you past one of the Never Land Ranch gates of the late, great Michael Jackson.
I will confess that, along with not being a hiker extraordinaire, I’m even less of a morning person. By the time I reached the road to take me up Figueroa Mountain, it was pushing 3 o’clock.
Dad had warned me that the road that took me to Pino Alto was not for the faint-hearted car, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why he’d say anything about the perfectly good asphalt road I was on—until I saw the narrow, dusty trail branching off the main road that would lead me to Pino Alto.
Several rough-riding minutes later, I was humming the Indiana Jones theme song and making my way to the long-awaited trail with dust in my hair and grit in my teeth.
It’s aptly named “Tall Pine.” The moment I stepped out of the car, I felt like I was on a Christmas tree farm. I wanted the smell to cling to my clothes so I could smell it later after I’d gone home.
Still enthralled with the elevation and the smell, I sat at a picnic table with a killer view of the mountains surrounding Lake Cachuma. In a world with so much background noise, from cell phones to car horns, the silence of Pino Alto was shocking. The only sound was the wind shaking the pine needles off of the trees, and to be honest it took my breath away. The isolated sanctuary of a trail seemed like the perfect place to ponder.
The walk itself is only 1 mile, with a relatively flat gradient. It takes about 30 minutes to complete. I walked through shady groves and sunny fields. On a clear day, hikers could see the Pacific Ocean from the trail.
The trail was a testament to time; I walked past saplings shooting up around fallen pines that had seen better days, with pinecones promising fresh beginnings next to tree stumps with countless rings indicating a life well lived.
Not quite ready to leave this fortress of solitude, I ambitiously decided to hike to the peak of Figueroa Mountain to the lookout point, approximately a half mile away from the trail. A short walk later, I was king of the hill—queen, really, but the point is the same.
I’m still convinced I could see halfway to forever from my lookout, but the sign said I was actually seeing the peak of San Rafael Mountain.
The beauty of that moment when the sun was starting to cast long shadows made this a more than acceptable hike to the indoor girl in the great outdoors.
Intern Malory Ensor walks with a purpose. Send comments to intern@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Aug 18-25, 2011.