Maybe it’s cheating to count Glendale as three paths, but it has been assigned three numbers (82, 83, 84) for the different sections broken up by Queens Road and Fairlawn Drive. And each section is certainly distinct.
I worked my way from the bottom of Glendale Path–where Glendale Avenue ends on Campus Drive–to its top on Grizzly Peak. The west entrance is marked clearly, and the path is made of level, concrete step, and has a metal railing on both sides–so, quite the opposite of Scott Newhall Path, which I’d taken earlier.
Early on I saw a tree trying to escape from its owner’s back yard through a handy hole in the fence. Or maybe it’s just curious and wants to see what’s happening on Glendale Path. . . . Not much, actually.
Along the path I found two placards provided by an organization called Friends of Five Creeks, which apparently has been around since 1995. The first one pointed out something that I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise–a small dip in the land next to the path that is one of the sources of Codornices Creek. The sign had pictures of wild strawberries and the California rose, I suppose because they could be found along the trail. But I didn’t see any. It also touted the benefits of creeks, which included managing floods and erosion, “providing habitat for wildlife, and giving people the opportunity to experience nature in the city.” Sounds good to me.
Because it’s August in the Bay Area, I saw my fair share of naked ladies. Not that kind! This is the height of blooming season for Amaryllisbelladonna, or, as I’ve always known them–naked ladies. I assume the “naked” refers to the lack of accompanying leaves. When I see a single stalk, I think it looks particularly naked.
The path looks less official and more makeshift along the middle section, sometimes using a range of materials that look as if they may have been found or donated. At one point, the fence on the north side had all but collapsed and was being supported by surrounding flora. But it was all perfectly safe, I’m sure. I survived without a scratch!
The second placard informed hikers of local geology. It compared the age of Pinnacle Rock in nearby Remillard Park to the land beneath the sign, the first being over 100 million years old, and the second being a mere one to two million years old. Which, okay, is a huge difference. I’m sure the comparison signifies something important beyond the numbers, but I’m no geologist, so I didn’t ponder it for long.
The final section began with a precipitous climb on solid concrete steps that, luckily, had a railing. But toward the middle, it flattened out a bit and turned into railroad ties and earth, surrounded by grasses, more naked ladies, and a few trees along a wooden fence. The end was less scenic, as it was a dark, narrow passage that bordered someone’s bins for trash and recycling.