In the distance you can see the Sutter Buttes. Fifty to sixty miles away, as the crow flies---this bump of rock on the Sacramento Valley floor was considered sacred by the local Native American population. They believed that when they died, their souls went to the Sutter Buttes to rest.
Of course, they had another name for them (which I can't remember as I type this). The Sutter Buttes are the Anglo name.
As you drive north on I-5 you can see them on your right. About sixty miles to the north of Sacramento. For me, this starts you on a sacred journey of the northern Sacramento Valley. First you have the Buttes; then Mt. Lassen; finally you get to Mount Shasta--where thousands of spiritual seekers gather to feel that holy mountain's power.
Quite a few legends have risen up about Mount Shasta (at the northern terminus of the valley). Some say the first Goddess descended to Earth there. Others say that a group of Lemarians live within the mountain. Others state, "nope--not the Lemarians---it is Atlanteans who live there". Elizabeth Clare Prophet has had summer pilgramages to Mount Shasta. Some say there are space ships that visit Mount Shasta when lenticular clouds guard it's peak. There are Buddhist shrines there. Monasteries. Gary Zukav lives within its shadow. Definitely a destination point for White Collar New Agey types.
Frankly, I love that mountain---and most summers Joni and I go there to camp at 9,000 feet in a free campground (where St. Germaine is said to make an appearance once and awhile). I don't think I've seen a more beautiful mountain.
And now for a question you probably haven't been thinking about: Will this blog end when the year is over?
I have very much enjoyed how having this blog has gotten me outside most days of the last year. For the second year, I hope to expand it a bit. You see, it will be my fiftieth year on the planet...and it is time to get moving a bit more.
So I plan on expanding this blog to: 365 Walks, Runs, Hikes, Bikes, Floats, Peaks, Reads and Wines!
I never did Half Dome this year; next year I hope to bag that. I didn't climb any mountains this year; next year I hope to remedy that. I didn't float any rivers. I didn't get on my bike once (as Ian has so admirably done). Frankly, walking has been good---but I eat and drink too much to get in shape.
So next year I will (get in shape). And I will write about it. I also will write about the books I am reading--and all the tragedies and triumphs that befall me during my fiftieth year. And let us not forget the wine!
For those who have followed this year I give a heart felt: Thanks! I won't be disappointed if you don't follow along next year. You have my blessing to dump me. Hell, I get sick of me too!
However, an invitation: Join me as I make my fiftieth year my most active ever. Write about your adventures and hikes, runs, bikes and other things you do that get you outside. I'd love to hear what you are up to!
Life is too short to be spent indoors!