Find the Flow - San Rafael Valley Part 2

You can find this original pastel painting, Find the Flow, in my SHOP. 

I'm not sure where the silence went, or why it left. Either way, it left an impression that I've been unable to shake since. A part of me wants to recreate that moment. Why didn't I savor it more thoroughly? Why didn't I realize in the moment what I was being given and somehow hold it more intentionally? 

But with the bawling of a far off cow and the whisper of a storm-driven breeze, the silence was replaced with the sounds of life. I had simply stepped out of my car into some kind of sound vacuum. Perhaps it was a creation of the weather? Perhaps a spiritual reminder that it is in silence that we can best hear. At any rate, the spell was broken and the sounds I'd expected returned to my ears. The chirp of sparrows and distant rumble of tires on gravel emphasized by the cloud of dust my eyes fell on in the distance.

I climbed back into the Xterra and continued on. On first entering the valley, I was surprised to find it dry and only sparsely populated by grasses. This area does bump up to the Sonoran Desert, but it is not included inside it's borders. Still, it's not exactly a rain forest either. Trying to understand these boundaries has been part of my own ecological journey. How do we define the changes we see? What exactly are we looking at? Who lives here and who cannot be sustained?

I had been expecting flowing grasses, but thus far, I was seeing thirsty ruddy troughs where water occasionally whips through but which were now filled with a few hearty wildflowers and mostly clumps of dried grasses. Dirt embankments undulated toward the valley where stood a few lonely Cottonwoods, waiting patiently for the deluge to slake their thirst.

This is my photo, from which the painting above was taken.

Continuing on, I was quickly rewarded by the discovery of the valley's spine, the great Santa Cruz River winding lazily throughout the valley. Surely I had read that this was the case, but it had slipped my mind and this revelation, brought together with the vision of it seemed to offer a tangible reminder that so many of us need right now. Water for the thirsty trees, even when it is flowing underground, reminds us that there IS provision. We must not lose hope!

Traveling further into the valley I recognized larger expanses of the lush short-grass prairie I had come to see. Flocks of birds rallied together, rising in the air and peeling off in all directions to find less disturbing locales as my engine rumbled by and heavy wheels kicked up dust. The rains hadn't quite made it to that point yet and I was producing billowing clouds at the back of my vehicle.

By this time, I'd begun noticing that alongside native grasses, occupying a dominant place in the landscape, a showy shrub covered in creamy white and mauve blossoms was also holding significant real estate. Hillsides, or any spot that caught water, boasted Erigonum Wrightii, more commonly known as 'Bastard Sage', it's seasonal show on full display. As the day wore on, these rounded forms only shone more fully as the sun caught their radiance, setting them aglow.

My intention had been to traverse the main portion of the valley, find the house which the State Parks department had slated as a potential visitors center and make a general survey of the place so I could come back at the golden hour and capture dramatic light on rolling hills. As it turns out, I'd set myself an unattainable goal, and, as I am easily distracted by every blooming plant, no matter how small, I was hard pressed to make anything approaching a respectable overview. 

This realization hit me somewhere around the same time I saw the trees pictured below, silhouetted as they were by the waning sun. The golden hour was upon me and I'd done nothing near complete a circuit of the valley. Hmmm, now to see if I can camp nearby??? I'll obviously need to go back. 

I did ultimately get a brief look at the San Rafael Ranch House, set back from the road and behind a locked gate. An aerial map shows that it is separated from it's outbuildings by the road running between the two sections. It appeared to be situated at the highest point available in the area, overlooking what can be seen of it's 22,000 acre holdings. You can learn about the ranch and how it became the San Rafael State Natural Area here. 

Based on what can be seen from behind the locked gate, I found myself more drawn to the outbuildings west of the big house. What looks to be a huge rusty corrugated tin topped Western style barn sits prominently, surrounded by corrals and prairie. My mind wanders to the creatures once cared for inside. Who lives there now? My guess? Some well fed barn owls and field mice! Surely there are stories beyond counting hidden in the bones of these buildings.

I'll share more stories of the wildlife I encountered along the way in another post, but for now, know that if you decide to venture into this stunning valley, there are no amenities, no toilets or gas stations, no Qwik Stop to grab refreshment. You'll be roughin' it down here, along with the cows, cowboys and cowgirls who call this remote place home.

But what the SRV lacks in modernity, it more than makes up for in the stunning beauty of a land made to sustain an abundance of life.