Hiking above Lake Berryessa

Lake Berryessa is a large reservoir only a handy half hour's drive from Davis. It was created in the 1950s by the construction of the around 100m high Monticello Dam blocking the Putah Creek and providing irrigation water and around 10MW of electricity to the area. Lake Berryessa was my first small excursion into the Coast Ranges, the mountains running along the mighty Pacific. And it was great!

Katrina, a friend from work, picked me up in her beloved Chevvy Volt. We had planned to do the Blue Ridge trail, which climbs to about 450m and offers a great views of the lake embedded in the rolling hills. The path leads through Cold Canyon to a "homestead", I'm guessing some sort of delapidated logging or mining camp, before climbing up to the ridge over giant wooden steps. It was obvious that the area had been burned in recent years. Charred trees reached leafless into the cloudy autumn skies. A wildfire had come through here in 2015, destroying the trail and the respective infrastructure. But it is amazing how much vegetation has already regrown in the two years since. The path had been restored by the UC Davis, who manage the Natural Reserve and use it for research purposes.

Up on the ridge we discussed past hiking experiences, German grammar and theories on the surprisingly meticulous divide between sparse brown shrubs on the east and greener bushes on the west side of the hills. The path was easy to walk, climbing bluffs and dipping in between, offering ever different vistas of the lake and the Coast Ranges. A couple of black hawks soared above while we were having a snack on a some large rocks taking in the beautiful scenery. The lake has a smaler, narrower part right at the dam and fills a wider valley further in the distance. To the east, we looked over the plains of the Central Valley and could just make out the skyscrapers of Sacramento in the distance. The sun came out to play and it was a beautiful little hike through amazing landscape.

After making our way back down the far side of the ridge we made a quick stop over at the "Glory hole" behind the dam, a round spillway which prevents the lake from overflowing. Unfortunately the waterlevel was too low so instead of a seemingly infinite sink hole it was just a sad round wall of concrete. Somewhat disappointed we drove towards Davis and stopped over in the cute town of Winters. A great burger at the annoyingly popular "Putah Creek Cafe" replenished used-up calories and topped off a fun Sunday in beautiful California. 

The Old Sac

The previous weekend granted us another beautifully sunny day, although not quite as warm anymore. A friend from the institute joined me on a quick trip to California's capital city, Sacramento. We had planned to go to the famed California museum to learn about the Golden State. But the weather was too nice, so we ended up walking through town, looking at old trains and old houses and the capitol and hipster coffee places.

Sacramento is a sizeable city with around half a million people living in the area, but it cannot compete with thriving San Francisco only an hour and a half away. Today the capital, it used to be the staging ground for the infamous Gold Rush to the West. The Sacramento river flows into the bay of San Francisco and was easily navigated and offered itself for transporting bulk goods. The Old Town is right next to the river and consists of throw-back Wild Wild West houses and brick warehouses. Everything is merchandise, tourists and muesums. And candy stores. Tons of them, for no apparent reason. It felt a bit like in Lucky Luke, even though no one seems to know these comics here.

We walked around a bit and then headed to the Capitol, seat of the Governor, House of Representatives and Senate of California. It's basically a smaller version of the one in Washington, DC, only that the palm trees are healthier and the tourist count is reduced to a minimum.

While talking travels and politics, we ended up in Midtown. This part of Sacramento has had a bad reputation but is now in the firm grip of gentrification. And of course we ended up in a coffee shop that tried quite hard for a warehouse look - and actually pulled it off! There were open bean sacks lying around and steam rose out of kettles. People were playing board games, catching up on the newest trends, tiping away on their Mac Books and I actually saw one guy deeply immersed in a crossword puzzle, sipping an espresso. He didn't wear a barret or smoke a skinny cigarette but I could swear the air around him shimmered in black and white and a melancholic, ghostly accordion tune seemed to vape in from nowhere in particular. Ah, la cité sur le Sac ...

Yes, it's the guy with the eagle jacket. 

More about Davis

I wanted to write a little more about Davis, just to give everyone a bit more of an impression where I ended up here. And it's basically all summed up in this driving billboard parked in my street:

I have already written about the bike-friendliness and the large campus. To make sure that the student-dept-laden students don't save money at the wrong end, Campus police hands out free bike lights. And a bike shop hands out free helmets as long as you sign a "Helmet hair, don't care"-pledge and promise to sacrifice your hair-do every single day. However, people keep telling me that Davis is not representative of the US or even California. The campus makes up a good third of the town and students and researchers are everywhere. Things seem pretty liberal and hipster. Oh yeah, and large wild turkey roam the streets constantly.
Other things are a bit more cliché: incredibly wide streets (even in backalleys) to accomodate the huge cars, which are parked in front of mostly one-storied individual houses with garbage disposals (bone-crushing meat grinders in the sink) and gigantic washing machines inside. Exhibit A to C can be found below.



The washing machine photo is from my house by the way, where I live with a super fun vet and epidemiology PhD-student. It's a bit far from campus but the good bike paths make up for it.

Unlike my brother, who spent a few months in Michigan towards the end of his university days, I did not end up at a sports university. I asked one of my colleagues if she wanted to come to the (american) football game with me. She replied drily: "I don't call what they are doing here football." I asked another colleague who had never seen the sport live either - and we went anyway.

And it was a spectacle. It was homecoming weekend and a beautifully warm day, so the relatively small stadium was fairly packed. A sizeable portion of the crowd seemed to be made up of the marching bands for the two team, plus an alumni band of UC Davis. We were playing Cal Poly (like half way to LA?) and it was a pretty tight game. UC Davis ran away with three touchdowns in the first few minutes but then the Cal Poly ponys (or stallions?) came back. We are the Aggies; our symbol is also some sort of horse. Probably a more fearsome horse. Fair enough.

So they were playing football and taking time outs and throwing balls and flags and smacking into each other and taking time outs and jumping around with towels in their hands and marching bands marched and the coaches took time outs and cheerleaders cheered and dancing groups danced and then the other marching band marched and rolled on the ground a little and then some more playing and maybe another time out ... and in three hours later UC Davis had won 31:28. In short: it was fun! The sun was shining, the beer was good, everyone had a good time. Except the horses. The ones with the white helmets...

I guess I'll stick with Baseball.