Update, December 11, 2011: Thanks largely to the Environmental Action Committee, a well-funded “environmental” group, all trailers have to be gone from Lawson’s in 5 years. Score a win for trust fund activists (anyone check the income level and sources thereof of the activists?), a loss for Californians of moderate means.

I consider myself an environmentalist. And for this reason I’m alarmed by a new and very strong movement among people who call themselves “environmentalists.” If I may generalize, these are people who do not hunt or fish or make their living from the land. They often have not grown up in the areas where they are active. They want everything to return to an imaginary pristine state. They tend to be from families of wealth, have college degrees, can raise money for their non-profit groups, and know their way around in the political and media worlds.

This something I wrote on behalf of a gem of a local community that is now being persecuted. It’s for people of Marin County, and for Californians in general.

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One of the things I love: no footprints.

Boy, it’s been a long winter! But today just had it. Billy and I stretched aviary wire over the new chicken yard run. The sun was warm, it all went well, we got the wire tight, ready for the big day on Friday when we’ll tear down the old coop and move the little flock. (The rooster is a pistol; he runs things with a flair, and looks out for his girls. He calls them over for food, picks it up and drops it for them.)

I went for a paddle around 3. Paddling has been generally cold and/or windy, and water cold from Spring winds, but today it was warm, and warmer as I made my way down a channel in the lagoon. Water glassy and green. A seagull was tearing at a dead fish on the bank and didn’t budge when I came within 10 feet. I’ve been appreciating seagulls lately; they’re strong, ultra-resourceful, many quite beautiful, whi=te, yellows, black.

Perfect day for a mud bath. I pulled up to the grassy bank, stripped, got warm in the sun and then plastered myself with the gooey black mud. The stuff is like cream. All over, all body parts I could reach. Stood in the sun a while, the glory of being all alone out in the sunshine, no humanoids in sight. Then washed it off, paddled back to my truck.

There were a dozen kids playing on the mud flats, hooting, running, goofing. No cell phones or video games, just mud and water. They were having so much fun. Perfect day.

There are about 4 waterfalls on the stretch of beach I’ve been walking on these days. The rain was just stopping Sunday when I got started, and water was heading out to sea via every arroyo and crevice. Wind came up, sun came out, the ocean was choppy but with a nice swell.

Negative ionized, energy-generating air…

Here was an engine block, had to be off a ship because there’s no way a car could get within miles of the cliffs.  Ocean life creeping over it, looks like fossilized ghost.

About a 3½ hour roundtrip. I got to a rocky point, took off my backpack and just looked out at the reef and waves. I felt an overwhelming sense of love for the ocean, Jesus, it’s so beautiful and rich and wonderful, an everyday miracle in our lives. And it’s just there.

Today it’s a Spring sunny morning, mmm-mmm! To boot, Willie “Big Eyes” Smith is singing Muddy Waters’ song, “World Is In An Uproar.” Ain’t it?

I took off yesterday around 2 to coincide with a 3 ft. low tide. It was a bit windy, sort of overcast, not a soul in sight for the next 3 hours. There was something melancholy about the day, it made me think of an Ingmar Bergman movie for some reason.

I was searching for a particular type of shell to send to a couple of carver friends in British Columbia.

I’ve got so much time to do stuff like this now that I’m not training for races. My time outdoors has a lot more variety.