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canyonwalkerEarlier this year when we were wishing to take an easy hike in the area we tried Don Edwards National Wildlife Refuge, a low-key park at the very south end of the San Francisco Bay that we've visited a few times before. We like it for being able to get down "in" the bay— not really in it, of course, but so close to the water that we see almost eye to eye with the many birds in the rushes. It's an unusual slice of Silicon Valley that I've dubbed The Land That Time (and Silicon Valley) Forgot.
With that intro you're probably now expecting this blog to be about going back to Don Edwards. And that's where you'd be wrong. Kind of. Currently the main visitor area of Don Edwards NWR is closed for repairs. They're dredging and reconstructing many of the levees boxing in the various sloughs and ponds. We discovered that much to our chagrin when we tried visiting a few months ago. When we were discussing where to go hiking last Sunday I lamented this closure again as it's been a year and a half since we visited last, and it's an intriguingly different experience from almost any other local hike. So then I studied a map to answer the question, "Is there another park right next to it where we could hike in the same area?" It turns out there is. Alviso Marina County Park.
Driving through the town of Alviso to get to the park on the edge of the bay is like driving through the part of Silicon Valley that time forgot. Tech company HQs and posh condos are left behind as the roughly patched streets thread between derelict factories from the early 1900s and long abandoned storefronts. There's even a stranded boat up in the grass that looks like it's been there at least 50 years. Thankfully the park facilities are not decrepit. It's just that getting out here feels like a journey through time and back.
Once at the park, the feel of being in civilization— modern or forgotten for 50 years— falls away quickly. Marsh grasses grow tall, and the walkways dip deep into them. But then even the railed walkways disappear when you pass through the final "door" (seen in photo above) and you're onto the bare dirt of the sloughs.
Even better— and weirder— than being on the bare dirt is being on the salt. At the edges of the salt ponds hte waterline has receded a bit, leaving inches of fresh salt. And the view out across the points is strange and bizarre. The salt and other elements in the water tints it bright red, orange, and yellow. And small pillars of salt rise up through the rainbow hued water.
With that intro you're probably now expecting this blog to be about going back to Don Edwards. And that's where you'd be wrong. Kind of. Currently the main visitor area of Don Edwards NWR is closed for repairs. They're dredging and reconstructing many of the levees boxing in the various sloughs and ponds. We discovered that much to our chagrin when we tried visiting a few months ago. When we were discussing where to go hiking last Sunday I lamented this closure again as it's been a year and a half since we visited last, and it's an intriguingly different experience from almost any other local hike. So then I studied a map to answer the question, "Is there another park right next to it where we could hike in the same area?" It turns out there is. Alviso Marina County Park.
Driving through the town of Alviso to get to the park on the edge of the bay is like driving through the part of Silicon Valley that time forgot. Tech company HQs and posh condos are left behind as the roughly patched streets thread between derelict factories from the early 1900s and long abandoned storefronts. There's even a stranded boat up in the grass that looks like it's been there at least 50 years. Thankfully the park facilities are not decrepit. It's just that getting out here feels like a journey through time and back.
Once at the park, the feel of being in civilization— modern or forgotten for 50 years— falls away quickly. Marsh grasses grow tall, and the walkways dip deep into them. But then even the railed walkways disappear when you pass through the final "door" (seen in photo above) and you're onto the bare dirt of the sloughs.
Even better— and weirder— than being on the bare dirt is being on the salt. At the edges of the salt ponds hte waterline has receded a bit, leaving inches of fresh salt. And the view out across the points is strange and bizarre. The salt and other elements in the water tints it bright red, orange, and yellow. And small pillars of salt rise up through the rainbow hued water.
