After being thwarted in our canyon descent, Tomas and I drove into the hills to an isolated dammed-up pond. A week before I’d made a path through the cattails to the water. (I waded out and when it got too deep, just lay on the cattails and they bent over to make a path.) We went swimming, it was very beautiful, pond ringed by cattails, swallows dipping to nab water-skimming insects… At left, I’m coming back in; that’s my bald head a little above the middle, pulling myself along. I felt like a muskrat.

Gathered nori fresh off rocks at low tide. Washed it, dried it, now to roast it. Can’t believe I haven’t done this before. Essence of the sea, you know it’s good for you.

Two photos from the beach, below the turkey buzzard posing artistically, such a choice of perch, such style! When still, these guys aren’t handsome devils like the hawks, but when airborne, they’re magnificent, floating on air currents, tuning direction by adjusting wing ailerons, soaring, floating…A few years ago I had a series of dreams where I was flying. I wasn’t just up in the air, I had to take off. I’d run along, flapping my arms and pretty soon I’d be airborne. It really felt, well…real. Still gives me a thrill to remember how it felt to fly.

Below a dead pelican. Another magnificent bird. Surfers all have watched them skimming waves, seemingly never flapping wings, just gliding along on the wave updraft, in group formation. I’m gonna leave this on the (remote) beach for another few months, so all the flesh is gone, and I’ll take the head and bleach it out for my collection of bird and mammal skulls.

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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•A (sort of) warm rain started falling around dusk yesterday. Rain has become a treat for me. I love everything about it. I just got a pair of rainpants at REI so now am prepared for walking out to the cliffs during big storms that roar in from the south. The air is sweet, fresh, electric. As energizing as getting head under waterfall. Simple joys.

•Solar light bulbs – For 50 years I’ve made skylights with flat (“Filon”) fiberglass, just interleaving it like a big shingle (on asphalt shingle roofs). It’s so simple. and solar-lights the room, free of charge. (I’ve found translucent, not transparent, provides best light.) I mention this because a young builder was here the other day, and this had never occured to him.

•Eatin local – I had 2 doves for dinner last night. One was roadkill, the other I shot. Yes, I do some small-scale hunting, OK? My dad was a serious duck hunter and my brother and I hunted for ducks and doves when we were about 12. Wild duck is my favorite food in the world. We have finally gotten around to eating a lot of local and/or wild foods. Crabs, fish, the occasional abalone, chanterelles, Yerba Buena tea… artichokes, beets and beet tops, chard, salad greens, tomatoes…from the garden. We started out to do this 30+ years ago and it’s all come to pass in the last 10 years or so. Local. Well, duh!

•End of a running (racing, that is) career – Bottom line: I’ve damaged my knees (20 years of fast downhill running) so at this point I’m knocking off the speed stuff. Oh I am so mature! Dumb fuck, I should have pulled out earlier. I should explain that there is a local race, the Dipsea, with tradition and romance and agony all wrapped up in a 7-mile course over the flank of a magic mountain. Me and my running friends (them even more so) have been obsessed with this great race. I’m starting to run differently. Once I give up on speed as a goal, it opens alternative paths. I’m fascinated with “chi running.” Trying to land more on mid-foot than solely on heel, flex knees more for shock absorption, better posture, and the greatest thing: FEELING the trail with my feet. Running as an art, running like an Indian…

•Tiny Homes book – is rolling. Rick, Lew, and I (with page design by David) have this week started turning out pages. 10-12 so far. We’re watching the book put itself together in this early phase. I’ve been laying out pages at random, just grabbing what looks exciting. Every day new material is coming in. Good stuff! There’s going to be way more than enough for one book.

•Rain and firewood – Rain is like, if you’ll excuse the expression, money in the bank. I feel secure when there’s been enough rain and the earth has enough moisture for the year. Same with firewood, we’ve got maybe a 2-year supply now (all roadkill trees), it’s comforting.