UNDER THE COUNCIL MADRONE (Yulupa to the Lost Coast)

Oct 2013

...I woke up in a hotel in Yulupa. It was cool and rainy, but the TVs said it was September.
Later that day I went outside and frolicked among some unusual plants, so reveling in the ways of folk here not pushing me to "keep moving" with the winds like in the other places I had been. A health food store was nearby, and amid the busy townspeople gathering food for the winter ahead, a couple of fellow travelers saw me and we shared our stories under some tall trees.  I learned that "Yulupa," known also as Santa Rosa, got its name from the golden sun sparkling on the waters.

Then I was on a bus headed north, and the news reporters kept saying something about a "government shutdown." The people around here ignored these claims and went about life as if this change had no effect.  Passing verdant vineyards and golden-hilled live oak savanna, I felt a rush of euphoria and understood this was the path my faerie guide had laid out for me.  At each stop, I wanted to get out and feel the air but I knew I would be left wherever I got off. Night came and the canopy of giant trees engulfed us on the curvy, hilly highway. It felt as if we all were together in waking dreamstate on the bus, "somewhere in between" realms, as in a long dark tunnel.
 This was the space-time that the orcs and wraiths and mercenaries could show their faces to those innocent or unaware, and take advantage of them.

I called out to my faerie guide, asking that for the next body of water I were to touch, if she would appear to me in sparkling form and take me away for "at least a moment." My destination would have flowing water and giant old trees, and I badly needed the recharge.
By the sunset of the following day, I had stood on the fallen trunk of the "Council Madrone," the largest Coast Madrone tree in the world; washed my face in the hillside spring waters, and stood on driftwood at the Mattole Lagoon, a magical place where the small river breaks the coastal mountains to the ocean.



My gracious host, a mama-bear woods elf coming into her own, fed me and gave me shelter in exchange for community and land help. With her outdoor furnace on the hilltop, we cooked and kept warm using hot-burning madrone tree branches.





About the place-name "Yulupa":
http://santarosa.towns.pressdemocrat.com/2012/07/news/place-names-how-yulupa-got-its-name/

coastline by the Mattole Lagoon.

About that "legendary peacemaker" the Council Madrone:
http://www.digthatcrazyfarout.com/madrone/

THE SOFTGROUND CA FAE: OAKLANDISH (Questing, 2 or 4)

Lake Merritt, sunset

Time Travel: I arrive in downtown Oaktown on a brisk October evening. Walking down San Pablo Ave, I pass Frank Ogawa Plaza and find it empty. There is a store that sells Oakland merchandise: "Oaklandish." I like the nebulousness of this new city motto. After a stop at a pizza joint I pull myself and my bags to Lake Merritt to watch the sun set.
For the time I have spent here Lake Merritt seems to be the regerative spirit of the city. Runners, human-walkers, dog-walkers, and boaters all converge here and of course it is a multi-cultural mix. Cute pug. Cute corgi. Happy ducks. Fishy smell. An inspired impromptu a capella band sings a new song. My Cali-seeking city-folk friends (you know who you are) will love this place. For me, a few twisty live-oak trees and a pretty sunset temper the cool breeze. Like in "The City," one must keep moving and go with the wind. Across the lake (which is fairly polluted still) is a wooded area with a sign "FAIRYLAND" that stirs my curiousity.  Hopeful, I trudge over with my bags and at a closer look read "Children's FAIRYLAND" and the trees conceal a theme park which is closed.  Grr. However, giant tablets with "One upon a time" and "Happily ever after" and a giant dragon-thing made of leaves  guard a sweet grove of large live-oaks (the city's mascot) which one could play and sleep under....







It is now dark and I find myself in the shadows of the live-oak branches.  There are folks lying nearby; they might be asleep or awake. A man walks by as light hits my shadowy  bliss and he asks me if I am "moving out." "Of where?" I ask, taken by surprise.
"Of the park," he replies.
This makes my evening. From this point, I feel fairly safe and work a sweat hauling my baggage around downtown. At the bus station, I meet a Tunisian man and we chat about our travels  and historic Carthage which feels like a strange parallel.