Experiencing the sensory pleasures of California bay laurels, madrones, and of course redwoods, while running (and breathing) at this hidden gem in Los Gatos.
By Bridget Lyons
August 27, 2024—I felt a certain pride as I pulled into the parking lot of Bear Creek Redwoods Open Space Preserve in Los Gatos to run its great 7.6-mile loop. My car was the first one there on a Saturday morning in July, which meant I’d have the place to myself for a little while. It also meant I’d beat the heat—and might be able to climb up into the fog before it burned off. Most of all, though, it meant that I’d have some space and time to commune with the local residents: the trees.
Because of the 1,430-acre preserve’s name, you’d assume that the redwoods are the stars of the show. In some ways they are; there are stands of second-growth redwoods throughout the area. A few remaining old growth trees are visible as well, including one fabulous, unique tree near the junction of the Alma and Redwood Springs Trails.
Like all redwoods, this outstanding individual has a huge central trunk, but it also has an odd elbow-like branch that juts out from it. Out of that elbow, a second trunk yearns straight back up towards the sky. Apparently, this tree’s unusual shape saved it. The loggers of the late 19th century didn’t think the tree could be milled, so they left it in place. It’s always a treat to walk amongst giants, and Bear Creek has enough of them to remind you of just how small and young you are.
But to be honest, I come to Bear Creek for the bays and madrones.
When I first moved to California from the East Coast, I landed in Marin County—and was immediately struck by the smell of the place. The forests of my childhood didn’t have much of an aroma, but it seemed like I couldn’t take three steps in the Mt. Tamalpais watershed without experiencing olfactory overload. I soon learned that I was most drawn to the exotic smell of Umbellularia californica, California bay laurel. It was somehow both sweet and spicy, and it seemed to have a sharpness about it that made my nose tingle.
As I started up the switchbacks of the Alma Trail, just across from the Bear Creek parking lot, I was immediately bathed in this smell. Ah, I’m home, I thought, having been given a sensory reminder of one of the many forces that drew me to this state in the first place. I pulled a bay leaf off a nearby branch, snapped it in half, and rubbed it between my fingers. If I felt my uphill pace lag, I’d just rub my nose for a moment and be invigorated.
After a mile on the Alma Trail, a mile-and-a-half on the Redwood Springs Trail, and several quail and squirrel sightings, I came to the base of the Madrone Knoll Trail, which leads to its eponymous high point at an elevation of 2,400’. As soon as I turned onto this final piece of trail, I spotted the peeling bark of one of my other favorite trees: Pacific madrone (Arbutus menziesii). I stopped to take a picture of one particularly well-composed arrangement of rust-colored flakes curling around a pale green trunk. Then, a little further up the trail, I found my shoes shuffling through piles of reddish-brown bark strips and couldn’t help but smile. Yes, this is a California experience, I said to myself.
But the most California experience of all awaited me at Madrone Knoll. There, I got “fogged on.” As all of us who live here know, you don’t get rained on in the summer. You can, however, experience water droplets falling onto your skin—they’re just falling out of the fog bank you’ve found yourself in rather than out of a cloud. I got to the top of the Bear Creek loop early enough to feel moisture on my forearms and appreciate the rare summer sight of water droplets beading on tanoak leaves. The fog bank I stood in was thick and quiet, and it chilled me enough that I put a layer back on for the return trip.
As I ran the second half of the loop on the Alma Trail, I started encountering other people. I wasn’t surprised to see that the parking lot had filled by the time I arrived back at my car—a reminder of how much we Californians love and use our open space preserves.
It goes without saying that Bear Creek wasn’t always set aside for wildlife and recreation. Over the course of the last few centuries, it’s been occupied by everyone from the Ohlone people and logging companies to millionaire estate owners and the Jesuit order of Catholic priests. The last two groups left behind structural remnants, some of which can be seen while strolling through the cultural site adjacent to the parking lot. The copious interpretive signs serve to remind users that this land has always been attractive to a wide variety of people. They also reminded me that I should consider myself lucky to be able to run in terrain like this and spend time with trees—for free, even—on a Saturday morning in summer.
Of course, it’s not just luck that got us access to this land. It’s the result of a lot of hard work by multiple organizations and individuals. Bear Creek Redwoods Open Space Preserve is part of the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District (Midpen). The parcel was purchased and protected by Midpen in conjunction with Peninsula Open Space Trust (POST), Committee for Green Foothills, and generous private citizens.
Consider supporting these groups that work to ensure both our ability to tromp around the spaces we love and the continued health of their non-human residents—including redwoods, bays, and madrones. And, of course, get out and enjoy these residents’ company.
For a park map, park hours, rules and regulations, species lists, and more, go to the Bear Creek Redwoods page of the Midpen website.
Bridget Lyons is a writer and editor living in Santa Cruz. To learn more about her work and explorations, visit www.bridgetalyons.com.
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