2007 - Spring - GladeRunner |
The squall vaulted over the crumbling cliffs of Malibu and ripped through the late afternoon sky of Los Angeles , warping the vertical sheets of black glass and rattling the metal bristles atop the buildings outside my window. As the clouds scudded inland towards the hidden mountains, a beam of light pierced the Western bank, turning the urban mist into a crucible of molten copper. Jetliners glided in a dutiful queue through orange feathers, silently seeking the safety of LAX's runways, while helicopters rose to the unsettled air like a swarm of red-eyed Martian insects. As abruptly as it flared, the incandescence quenched, but the Blade Runner daydream burrowed deeper. As the night descended and my coworkers departed, the busy human noises of sliding drawers, clattering keyboards, and snapping latches subsided, leaving only the muffled moans of the city to penetrate my suspended cube of managed air. Sirens and horns ricocheted off millions of tons of angular concrete and steel, filtering up to my window with no sense of origin or destination. The palpable thumping of rotor blades and the faint whir of an elevator affirmed that people were defying gravity in the dark.
Far below, red and white worms inched along misnamed freeways. Manic fireflies sparked from every crevice. Ephemeral watercourses, now obediently paved and fenced, made black stripes on the forlorn floor of the once living desert. I watched the fluorescent pixels on the nearby skyscrapers blink off one by one, and I recalled Phil Ochs' refrain: “So this is where the Renaissance has led you.”
Well, you don't have to stay there. A few days later, Mike Bowers and I dropped over the ridgeline into Nisene Marks Park . We don't run as fast as we used to, but that doesn't seem to matter. The earthy smells of the wet redwoods blended with the fragrance of fir fronds tossed by the recent wind, and every gully laughed with trickles of water. In a frosty glade where lumberjacks once sacrificed virgin trees, a shaft of sunlight found its way through the rejuvenating canopy to touch the earth. Fifty spider webs, bejeweled with dew, rippled above a bed of blackberries in a swirl of bright vapor. Maples in their emerald jackets of winter moss sheltered the Buddha Bridge . Below us, hidden among the ferns and the sorrel, the salamanders were preparing for Spring.
You can find Salamandres in Los Angeles , not in the creek of your choice, but at the Wilshire Grand Hotel. They're easier to find in Aptos. Be a Glade Runner and visit!
Well, you don't have to stay there. A few days later, Mike Bowers and I dropped over the ridgeline into Nisene Marks Park . We don't run as fast as we used to, but that doesn't seem to matter. The earthy smells of the wet redwoods blended with the fragrance of fir fronds tossed by the recent wind, and every gully laughed with trickles of water. In a frosty glade where lumberjacks once sacrificed virgin trees, a shaft of sunlight found its way through the rejuvenating canopy to touch the earth. Fifty spider webs, bejeweled with dew, rippled above a bed of blackberries in a swirl of bright vapor. Maples in their emerald jackets of winter moss sheltered the Buddha Bridge . Below us, hidden among the ferns and the sorrel, the salamanders were preparing for Spring.
You can find Salamandres in Los Angeles , not in the creek of your choice, but at the Wilshire Grand Hotel. They're easier to find in Aptos. Be a Glade Runner and visit!