2024/6/5/24 Pismo Beach Dune & Surf Clam Quest

A fine June Gloom summer day inspires us to drive 100 miles North, to walk three miles on dune and beach. Interior valleys are already heating up, but out on the coast it was a monochromatic hazy day.

 

We were happy to have a reason to get out to ride in a place we hadn't been in years. Such beautiful nature, lovely at any time of year but especially now with the dune flora changing colors.

We started at the Grover Beach dune entrance, but chose to walk North towards Pismo alongside the Municipal Golf Course, then out on the seaside and turned South on the strand until we came to the inside dune trail to lead us back to our parking area.

I am genuinely impressed with this boardwalk that allows people in wheelchairs or with babystrollers to get up onto the dunes and see the sea. This is how I'd like to see municipal money spent for accessibility.

It travels quite a ways, and celebrates the ice plant (Carpobrotus edulis) that does such an effective job stabilizing the dunes and at this season is a carpet of yellow and pink flowers.

The golf course is planted with Monterey Pines (Piunus radiata) that take on their characteristic wind-blown appearance from the onshore breezes.

Always amusing to watch golfers beetling across the grass in little carts, or concentrating on their shots.

Several of the huge pines seem to have succumbed to the rains of the last two winters, and have been left toppled over in place with root balls raised.

And soon we come to a sign that shows a human and canine on this trail.

Humans and equines proceed toward the sea.

Following a ridge above a slough, tracking through multiple trails, we come out to the sea which in this photo is relatively indistinguishable from the sky.

Now for the ultimate in relaxing riding. So lovely to be allowed onto the beach, stepping outside urban life and onto the simple ebb and flow of the waves.

Combined shot of the slough, and a tiny life guard tower in the distance, no doubt empty today.

Time to introduce the riding krewe. 

Kris Parton, riding Miguel, a tiny BLM mustang. He likes to walk slow, and so do we, so that made for a nice ride for Kris who says on a lot of rides people nag at her to keep up.

I say going slowly you see the flowers and notice details.

And here is Jamie Buse, on the forever racehorse thoroughbred Mosca.

Jamie grew up riding the beaches of Goleta so this is a flashback of her girlhood.

And of course, the blog narrator and all around MeetUp organizer Pat Fish on Tobe Mule, a Rocky Mountain Pleasure Horse and Mammoth Donkey hybrid.

Not that I would ever say Tobe Mule is anything but perfect, however, truth is, in Kentucky lakes do not behave like surf and he harbors deep suspicions.

The weird and unusual thing about this beach is that people are allowed to drive right down onto the sand, spread out the kids and have a picnic.

We saw one car and trailer being dug out, a big money-maker for local tow trucks.

Nice local tradition.

I specifically scheduled this MeetUp on a Wednesday to be here when there would be less vehicular traffic. 

But astonishingly large travel trailers did come roaring along. On weekends you have rented dune buggies to contend with, putting an equine's "bombproofing" to the test.

A group was tossing a Frisbee, another family had a kite, many had dogs with different levels of control over their enthusiasm seeing horses walking by.

A very holiday vibe.

A beach is there for everyone. Co-ed athlete or tie-dyed throwback. And even a clam digger, a pastime this beach is known for, searching for the delicious Pismo Clam.

This fellow was digging a series of holes looking to pull up clams.

If the clams get tossed up on the sand by the surf they can't rebury themselves, so they are frequently visible.

Last year a woman came with her kids from Fresno and the were delighted to collect what they thought were "seashells" on the beach. Oops, they had living clams in them that were below harvest size.

That'll teach ya.

Really? Tricky?

I saw her interviewed and she said she was going to get a clam tattoo to remember this expensive error. I sent her a postcard offering to do it for her, thought it would make a good story to tell.

Well, unfortunately she didn't come to me and, oh, tricky!!! She ended up with a scallop shell instead of a clam. I guess the gasoline logo is the only shell that tattooist knew.

But enough of making fun of other people. Silly us, we are so simple minded just going for a walk on the beach is making us very happy.

We are all three ladies of a certain age, and deeply appreciative that for this sporting event we have four good strong legs beneath us.

And what a nice way to leave politics and impending world war and pandemics behind us, even for just a few hours.

With every MeetUp ride the attendees are slightly different, but always the goal is to have a chance to get back to nature and relax in beauty.

And now it was time to ride up the inside of the dunes to return to our staging area.

Bushy masses of Indian Paintbrush (Castelleja miniata) flash hot pink rising from the ice plant, with California sage (Salvia apiana) and a carpet of others in full Spring flower display.

The trail meanders back and forth, soft sand weaving between all the plants.

It was a still day,

but I've ridden out here on a windy day when all these grasses move and give the impression of being on a ship at sea.

Way up on the Northern horizon is the city of Pismo.

But we are only going as far as the Grover Beach parking lot, our starting point.

And there they are, our metal machines so vital to this exploration by hoof. Load 'em up, move 'em out, and good-natured critters that they are, they oblige our curiosities and take us on our adventures.

Until next time, and the next Mule Trail.

##### FIN #####

### PAT FISH ###

2021/8/29 Pismo Oceano

The tranquil waves of the Pismo/Oceano/Grover beach.

 

It was a hot day, so we went in search of fog.

With all of our interior trail riding options way too hot, we set our sights on the Grover Beach access to Pismo Beach, where equines are welcome in the dunes and on the beach.

As the map shows, we tracked through the interior dunes, then out to the beach for the stroll back.

But first, after loading up Tobe Mule I had to brave the coastal highway miles.

And much to my consternation everything went just fine until the last 10 miles of the 80 mile total took LONGER than the previous 70. OK, I had a good audio book, but my riding companions, who had arrived just a few minutes earlier, had sailed by the machinery being set up to weed the center divider. When I hit the jam just a few minutes later it had become a parking lot.

OK, I tell myself this is a reminder to be grateful that I do not have a long commute to work.

I get to the parking lot, we all tack up and set out, and I see that the traffic jam has proceeded to the kiosk where people enter to drive onto the beach. Is there no end to this press of humanity?

We start out for the dune trail, and there, hunkered down like a troll demanding toll for passage, is a guy in a hoodie lurking in the iceplant. Jamie yelled in no uncertain terms "DO NOT MOVE!" in her best motherly "Because I said so!" voice, with the result that the little fellow was frozen in fear, the equines were not spooked, and we started our ride.

  Immediately we are in nature, and any thoughts of too many people dissolve away. Now it is time to enjoy the landscape, watch for seasonal changes, appreciate our four-leggeds.

These dunes are ancient, and wise city planners set them aside for the public's enjoyment.

We seldom see anyone else on these trails, even though the ocean is just over that rise to the right.

Jamie and Mosca like to lead the way, this thoroughbred's tail was made to fly in the wind.

Yvette's quarterhorse Breyer was feeling his oats too.

And Tobe Mule and I think any time out on the trail is well worth the effort to get there.
The plant communities change subtly as you walk along, in some places wind-beaten large trees shelter animals beneath them.

Tucked into some of these shelters are the trash middens of trespassing campers, but they are rousted by the patrols when they are noticed.

But we have no official capacity, we are just taking a grateful break from the Real World and going for a nature walk.

Even as the inland valleys are burnt grass and fire hazard, the sea grass here is lush and waving in the breeze.

This section burned last year, a vagrant's warming or cooking fire decimated an acre or more. Now it is making a comeback, but the skeletons of the larger bushes still mark the spot.

Turning to look on the other side of the trail this bright patch of iceplant was luminous in the sun.

Then we reached the access road, and it was time to turn toward the beach. Tobe is an old hand at the sand, but neither of our companion animals had ever been to the beach, so we took it slow.

Something new, orange fencing made a track down to the surf.

Looking both down and up-coast we could see that the vehicles were everywhere. At the price of a shorter ride I suggested we just turn up, heading back toward our starting point. Dodging cars, dogs and children was going to be tricky enough for that distance.

There were people surf-fishing, kids trying to splash around, people walking their dogs...... it was a full driver training movie for the horses! Tobe Mule on the other hoof is quite sure that the lakes in Kentucky never moved like this and it 'taint natural, so he will walk on the hard packed wet sand but not in the surf.

Seeing cars flying Mexican flags put me in a reverie. We are 2 weeks from the 20th anniversary of 9/11, and way back then I imagine that every car on this beach would have been flying the American flag in a spontaneous outpouring if patriotism.

But today, kids of all ages are enjoying the simple joy of a day at the seashore. An innocent and timeless pleasure.

Sometimes I have to include a butt shot, since when I see other riders' photos from trail rides this is what they look like.

Then close to the entrance we fond a dead seal.

 

Poor thing, it deserved a more dignified end than this.

The cars kept pouring onto the beach, and at the lifeguard tower up ahead we reported the seal. The two blonde lads looked at us bewildered, clearly it was not in their job description to deal with a carcass.

Well, we weren't the ones camping near it. We did enjoy rousting a large colony of seagulls. Another good training moment for the equines.

It is hard-wired into prey animals like horses and mules to respond to the agitation of other animals with a fast twitch. So it was nice to have them see the birds scatter and not be reactive.

There was a fire pit in the sand, reminiscent of the pits dug on the Santa Barbara waterfront on July 4th way back in olden times, giant craters 30' across and 10' deep, so everyone could comfortably lie back against the slope with beer in hand and watch the fireworks over the breakwater. Ah, nostalgia.

Then it seemed like a good time for beach portraits.

Yvette Porter and Breyer, who looks like a model horse

Jamie Buse and Mosca, who always knows when to strike a supermodel pose

And Pat Fish and Tobe Mule, the scheme team.

Then it was time to stroll further up the sand, while it was my job to sleuth out the tiny trail that would take us up off this beach through dunes, and then back to the starting point.

Glimmering on the horizon is Pismo, but we are not fated to go so far.

Thankfully I did find the trail entrance, and we turned inland once more.

These trails are nicely laid out, with asphalt for strollers and sand for runners and equines.

And the ever-shifting colors of the iceplant and other dune species.

With a nod to the golfers on the course that borders the trail, we continued.

And an appreciative nod to the city planners who had the forethought to build this elevated boardwalk, to allow the mobility challenged a nice way to stroll the dunes and see the sea.

All in all a lovely short ride in a classic slice of California.

Goodbye!

“It were a grief so brief to part with thee.
Farewell.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 

 

##### PAT FISH #####

## FIN ##