T'was my latest little wander round the globe, two weeks and a bit sampling the delights of California, both land and offshore. Goals were simple - primary targets Californian Condor, Calliope Hummingbird and Burrowing Owl, preferably Roadrunner and Clark's Nutcracker too, plus Black Bear and Blue Whale. Over and above though, the general desire was just for a 'good' pelagic and some darn fine birding throughout.
Sixteen hours in the air, another five hours split between Brussels and Chicago on the ground, and in I flew to San Francisco, a setting sun lighting the High Sierras behind that would soon be my playground for adventures to come.
Zipped through immigration, got lucky in the car hire (free upgrade by two categories). Ah, the evening was young, only 10 p.m. by the time I cleared the airport (but my body still worked in East Europe time, so that meant 8 a.m.!), so out I swept, hitting the freeways in a nice plush air-conditioned, tinted windows, cruise-controlled automatic everything black number of a car. No point wasting time, so cruised on down towards my first point of call - some hours south, West Pinnacles. Almost there, missed a turning in Hollister, then did a couple of tours of the town before spotting the poxy small sign that was hidden by a tree. Blue flashing lights and I got stopped by the Highway Patrol - for driving too slow! That was a first for me! A lost tourist at 1.00 a.m. was not a usual encounter in that part of the world they explained. 'And why did you stop so long at the four-way stop?' they asked. What a stupid question, I thought, but did not say, how on earth should I know who has got right of way when all directions have a stop sign! I did suss that out soon though, just guess and go faster than the opponents on the other sides, unless thay happen to be bigger! Arrived at West Pinnacles rather jaded, having lost track of how many hours I had now been on the go since my breakfast in another world in another time era, but I was immediately delighted by the middle-of-the-night atmosphere - wonderfully warm, insects churring away and the first bird voice of the trip - a Western Screech Owl calling somewhere near.
Found a nice parking place under a tree, slept by the car. Dawn would bring the start of my trip.
Day One - 22 August
Woke pre-dawn, which suited me just fine - cackling Scrub Jays scoulding at this new arrival, Coyotes howling a most delightful dawn chorus. Birds were flitting back and fro, but I need a little more light, so quickly jumped in the car and drove a mile further up the road. Pulled in under a big tree to a deep hoo-hoo of a Great Horned Owl, now that would be a fine bird to start the trip off I thought, so I carefully circled the tree and gazed up in all directions, couldn't see a thing! Ten minutes later, the honours of first bird seen fell to Hairy Woodpecker, quite acceptable as a start. Soon added Bewick's Wren, Scrub Jays flying off in every direction, the first Dark-eyed Juncos (the species to become one of the most common everywhere!) and Californian Towhees, a most exotic sounding name, but rather quiet unassuming bird!
Birding had started, the sun was rising and I decided upon a hike - pure brilliance, everything new or nearly so, the first Black Phoebes were as welcome as the abundant Steller's Jays, and then I found a bird of right character, or rather a dozen or so of them ...Acorn Woodpeckers, what little stars, more like babblers than woodpeckers, these things were fabulous, noisy gangs of them roving the hillsides and not in the least bit timid, did enjoy them. As the sun climbed, already it was about 30 C by 8 a.m., out came the swifts to play - hurtling past, rather stunning White-throated Swifts, a dozen of them, did enjoy them too. Then a pair of Californian Thrashers, then a zoom-by hummingbird that could have been any species in the world for all I saw. Hike over, I retired to my car and settled down to take my first few photographs, snapping both the Steller's and Scrub Jays, plus my buddies the Acorn Woodpeckers.
Read one information board, that gave name to the high peaks that towered above me - Condor Crags they were called, named in the Old Days when Californian Condors used to roost there. Ah, I dreamed how nice it would be to see them above such majestic andscapes, but the reality was, I believed, the birds were long gone. With the population dwindling to a mere couple of dozen birds, or thereabouts, in the 1980s, conservationists saw the imminent extinction of this mighty giant, so took the drastic, but necessary step of capturing all the remaining birds and taking them into captivity, thereby deeming the bird extinct in the wild. Captive breeding followed, highly successful, and (my knowledge of dates is all highly hazy) a decade or so back the first birds were re-realeased back into the wild. My dream was to see some of these birds, now breeding and doing well, but not at Pinnacles, but either on the Pacific coast or way further south, both places I thought would need some luck.
So there I was dreaming about Condors, when two almighty birds swung out over the ridge, massive birds that could only have been one thing, and they were ..two Californian Condors! I was astonished! Over the valley they cruised, two midget (by comparison) Turkey Vultures in their wake. Blimey I thought, what luck and I sat down to have a peanut butter sandwich. Then I jumped up again, three more Californian Condors appeared over the crags!!! There they circled, two mobbing each other, and giving views I could only have prayed for ...and then one landed on a boulder way up on the side of the mountain, a good kilometre off and much higher than me. There it sat and did nothing, there I sat and watched, and longer there it sat and did nothing, then a bright idea bounced into my small skull - leg it up the opposite side of the mountain, creep round the ridge and hopefully I would be at the same height and maybe get a few distant shots. All very good, but the temperature was now 35 C, the mountainside was pure scree and scrub and that fantastic idea almost killed me! Got up there in record time, water pouring from my brow and my legs wondering what they had just been subjected to. Crept round, peeping over boulders here and there, then saw a feast for the eyes, the Condor was still sitting there and just a mere few boulders away. I sat a while till my breathing returned till near normal, then clicked away to get the shots I wanted. Wonderful. Flight pictures would be nice too, presuming he was actually going to take to the air again that day, but my position was useless for that, I needed to be lower, so when he launched, over my head he would go. Twenty minutes later, I was I was sat peering up, waiting ...and wait I did, the bugger made me sit there half the morning in a scorching sun as American Kestrels and Turkey Vultures wheeled about.
A shuffle of position from the bird, then (okay I exaggerate) the skies darkened as wings opened and the Condor stepped off the boulder, soaring directly over, awe-inspiring. Four or five times round he swooped, then over the ridge and gone, the first magical moment of the trip over ...and it was not even mid-morning on the first day!
And because I like the jays and Acorn Woodpeckers so much, you get their mug shots too...