When I find myself in a juvenescent mood, wonder and joy usually follow — along with heightened energy. “Ignition” is the key and a prerequisite to action, to the choiceless choice to run for these foothills looming behind coastal Santa Barbara. Grab a bit of gear and boots, hop into my Tacoma and flee past Ojai to Matilija Canyon (see 4.1.1. Directions).
The question then becomes how to ignite the child-like juvenescent modality in the right hemisphere of the human brain, and how to prevent the potential slide into childish selfishness and petty behaviors.
Robert Pogue Harrison contends that today we’re losing our crucial juvenescence amid the flood of video, social media and polarizing culture. Periodic full immersion in raw nature seems to be the sure-fire easiest way to set off that child-like wonder and energy we’ve lost along with this juvenescence. Over these many columns, I’ve cited scores of wise humans extolling nature in all Her power and glory. Pantheism could be seen as a replacement religion, and I’m all for that type of reverence (my brand is Neo-Animism).
Therefore, as a wilderness advocate and longtime school teacher, I completely agree with the many recent articles reinforcing nature’s value for humans, and especially for children in this pandemic marking our early Anthropocene Age. Many of these articles obviously base themselves on their perception that the pandemic is ending — one title asked whether Americans have “cave syndrome.” Others focus on the nasty impact of self-quarantining, which constricts the spirit without killing it off outright. A recent Noozhawk column by Maria Fotopoulos emphasizes what children have been losing during the isolation of the pandemic.
After nearly 40 years teaching at Crane School, engaging in compelling outdoor programs there, I can attest with direct personal experience to the immense beneficial impact the out-of-doors has on our species, particularly young humans. Kids love it along creeks and in green potreros! In fact, I realize my own backcountry trilogy replete with specific stories delineating these positive outcomes for humans supports my belief (see 4.1.1. Books).
Rugged and harsh backcountry areas such as those along Matilija Canyon Creek and North Fork Matilija Creek have burst into sporadic midspring color as the plants realize sooner what we humans now have to face: A dry spring means even more struggles to propagate, and thus the blooming wildflowers along North Matilija Creek appear to be in a desperate maximum bloom right now. While both creeks still flow strongly, the water is down and will dwindle more without some precipitation, which seems unlikely.
When hiking the four miles to Middle Matilija Camp (and a bit beyond) on April 11, we encountered numbers of young people and whole families having a terrific time out in nature (a Sunday). There were more than 30 cars at the trailhead, and everyone enjoyed the floral displays and the hard exercise, and it felt extra-intense since the plants seem to know their glory time is short-lived.
We appreciated the dull crimson of the glowing red penstemon bushes, the vivid yellow flowers of the waving bush poppies and the plentiful blue potato bush’s brilliant azure hues.
Like this trio of highly chromatic flowers, a trio of new books should also whet adults’ appetites to head out-of-doors and haul their children along into our burgeoning backcountry (see 4.1.1. Books for details).
Craig Carey’s (new) second edition of “Hiking and Backpacking Santa Barbara and Ventura” supplies any hiker’s need for maps and expert descriptions of local trails. It’s “the bible” for our backcountry, as I wrote about his 2011 first edition. He has expanded and added even more details with excellent maps, and this 2021 edition is also in much-needed color.
Photographer-naturalist Chuck Graham’s “Carizzo Plain — Where the Mountains Meet the Grasslands” contains splendid photographs and a thoughtfully succinct text accompanying them. I’ve visited the Carrizo many times. Generally my interest has lain with the incredible pictographs displayed at the vulva-shaped Carrizo rock. As one of our last large natural grasslands, the Carrizo needs additional protection against commercial interests.
A third book may seem off topic, but it’s not at all. Michaeleen Doucleff’s riveting “Hunt, Gather, Parent” follows what I call the “paleo-fad” thinking, but I subscribe to some paleo-thinking, too. Doucleff, who has a Ph.D. in chemistry, flipped out trying to raise her 3-year-old while working for NPR as a science reporter. The family lived in three areas outside the United States — rural villages in Mexico, in Tanzania and in Canada — and, of course, Doucleff observed very cool “paleo” ways of raising kids in those places.
I agree with many of Doucleff’s insights — avoiding anger and yelling at children, for example, and so forth. But she doesn’t deal with the often-absurd demands of postmodern American urban life. We don’t live in tribal groups now, much as I wish we did for the sake of the children. Parental overprotection is a common theme in this book, although the absence of comments about her husband throughout is sad and an important omission. Reading her book, you realize yet again that you have to get your children out of town and into nature.
Back in the day, I might have taken my seventh-grade students along on this North Fork Matilija Trail, and on April 11, there was enough water flowing to savor half-soaking with a few pools — depths reaching 2-foot levels in a few blessed spots (amazing in this desert climate). In today’s litigious and increasingly fretful society, I believe we’re too careful with our children, that “cave syndrome” has also afflicted parenting and our kids (hence the allure of Doucleff’s book and the terrific title). With this parent over-intensity, it’s likely most teachers fear repercussions from a few parents or even their own administrations if there are any accidents.
Take a deeper glance at the lead photo showing a very tricky section of the North Fork Matilija Trail. Wild Pete and Mr. C are traversing a 4-inch-wide, crumbly trail and a horribly steep, 14-foot slope looms below, with stacked boulders at the base. Note: They both have dual hiking poles, and they are inching their way along. An aging gent myself, I made it as well, although a bit of crawling was needed. Yet I would happily bring my 8-year-old twin German grandsons on this trail, and they would blithely slip across without the sticks and without much pre-thinking — juvenescence supreme!
The deep blue vault of sky above and a rushing rivulet below, cautious but confident leaders would bring toughened Girl Scouts or Boy Scouts along this narrow section without much comment. I enjoyed balancing across this stretch but doubt many schools would allow me to bring students here in these petrified days. Paleo-living means more fun and certainly more risks.
Many other intriguing attractions dotted the North Fork Trail as we meandered along. There is special interest now in this Matilija Wilderness since recent impending federal legislation led by Rep. Salud Carbajal should double the size of the Matilija Wilderness to about 60,000 acres. It is difficult to imagine a 60,000-acre federal “wilderness” with just this one official trail (and no sign indicating the turnoff!).
On the North Fork, I met serious backpackers, trippy half-day hikers out for a swim with friends, and whole families. Everyone had water, and we all looked out for one another, alert to rattlesnakes — and many smiles. It’s another good aspect of Sunday hiking a more remote trail when you occasionally meet others.
Roaming about, we also located a sign of the earlier presence of indigenous people in the single bedrock mortar I identified on a large flat boulder near Matilija Camp.
Too many of us have sheltered in place (quarantined) for so long that we now need to bust out and wander with our kids into the chaparral shrublands and reclaim our juvenescent spirit. I know, I know, you may have to skip some TV sports or other couch-potato activities, but think of your children and your mental health!
4-1-1
» Directions — To the trailhead for North Matilija Creek Trail, drive south on Highway 101. Take Highway 33 from Ventura to Ojai, and continue on Highway 33. Well-signed Matilija Canyon Road is a few miles on to the end (barred gate).
» Books and articles: Robert Pogue Harrison, “Juvenescence” (University of Chicago, 2014); Nicholas Goldberg, “Are you anxious about re-entering the post-COVID world? Maybe you have ‘Cave Syndrome”; my three books are “Eternal Backcountry Return” (Amazon), “Autobiography in the Anthropocene” (Lulu.com) and “The Human Lemmings” (forthcoming); Craig Carey, “Hiking and Backpacking Santa Barbara and Ventura” (Wilderness Press 2021); Chuck Graham, “Carizzo Plain — Where the Mountains Meet the Grasslands” (2021). All these books can be viewed and then purchased at Chaucer’s Books in Loreto Plaza.
— Dan McCaslin is the author of Stone Anchors in Antiquity and has written extensively about the local backcountry. His latest book, Autobiography in the Anthropocene, is available at Lulu.com. He serves as an archaeological site steward for the U.S. Forest Service in Los Padres National Forest. He welcomes reader ideas for future Noozhawk columns, and can be reached at cazmania3@gmail.com. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.
