Lost on the Left Coast

The Sentinel staff is holding a tomato-growing competition, which to me seems “so Northern California.”

And because I’m an intrepid local reporter, I’m documenting that competition here.

If you haven’t heard, it’s April 20th, better known as 420.

For those in the dark, it’s unofficially known as national pot-smoking day.

Contrary to popular opinion, 420 is not the penal code for marijuana. Actually, Penal Code 420 refers to obstructing entry to public land.

Curious, I went to look and turned to my old friend Wikipedia.

I like this bit:

The earliest use of the term began among a group of teenagers in San Rafael, California in 1971.^[2][3]Calling themselves the Waldos,^[4] because “their chosen hang-out spot was a wall outside the school,”^[5] the group first used the term in connection to a fall 1971 plan to search for an abandoned cannabis crop that they had learned about.^[4][6] The Waldos designated the Louis Pasteur statue on the grounds of San Rafael High School as their meeting place, and 4:20 pm as their meeting time.^[5]The Waldos referred to this plan with the phrase “4:20 Louis”.

However, perhaps best of all, the first article listed under the “References” section is  is a 2007 article from the Sentinel about the 4/20 celebration at UCSC. Of course it is.

Growing up on the east coast, redwoods carried a certain mystique, representing the exoticism of the west coast in contrast to the Puritan roots of New England and surrounding areas. The idea of a tree so wide you could drive a car through it seemed more fitting for a fantasy novel, along with fire-breathing dragons and talking rocks. In first-grade we proudly sang Woodie Guthrie’s classic, “This Land is Your Land,” voices rising as we sung out the line “…from the Redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters,” but the concept of a redwood tree was completely foreign to us. None of these images or explanations could have prepared me for the sheer immensity of California’s coastal redwoods.

On our first trip to Big Basin State Park, still suffering a slight headache from navigating those impossibly curvy roads, my boyfriend and I could not stop marveling over just how very big these trees were. There was something almost magical about these statuesque trees that had survived throughout the history of California’s development. I cannot even imagine what the first Europeans who arrived in this Golden State must have thought when they first saw the coastal redwoods. Big Basin has the distinction of being the very first state park in California, established as such in 1902. More than one million people visit the nearly 20,000-acre park in the Santa Cruz Mountains each year, according to parks officials.

On our first visit back in August we traversed the park’s best-known trail, the Redwood Loop, an easy, wheelchair accessible 1/2 mile trail that provides views of some of the tallest trees in the entire park. The massive Mother of the Forest rises more than 300-foot from the ground, seeming to almost scrape the sky. Her partner, the Father of the Forest, has presided over the forest for an estimated 2,000 years, and ranks as one of the widest trees in the park.

When relatives and friends visit from back home, Big Basin is high on the list of places to take them, stopping as we walk the trail to pose with these wooden giants and take photographs for posterity. Despite the prevalence of skyscrapers and office buildings that seem to stretch straight toward the heavens, there remains something absolutely exquisite about nature’s own statuesque giants. Even the least impressed amongst us can not help but be overcome by the power and beauty of these trees. I often wonder if those who have been fortunate enough to grow up around these trees maintain a similar sense or whether their omnipresence makes most long-time residents somewhat indifferent. I sincerely hope this isn’t the case.

My colleague has a story this week on something that strikes me as being quintessentially Northern Californian. For those unaware, on the east coast, there is a pervasive belief that everyone in Californian is a shiny happy surfing stoner with a hankering for tofu burritos.

Regardless, how you can you not get a chuckle out of this cookbook recently released by a Santa Cruzan and longtime High Times staffer?

Yes, Elise McDonough has released “The Official High Times Cannabis Cookbook.” Let that digest for a minute, if you will. It’s quite the bargain on Amazon at just $12.76 for a paperback version, although locals would perhaps be better off buying a copy at local bookseller Bookshop Santa Cruz when Ms. McDonough signs copies there on April 5.

And if you’re really inspired by her book and you’re looking for a new job, the SF Weekly might have just the gig for you. The San Francisco-based alt-weekly has posted an ad seeking “pot edibles reviewer.” Of course, you have to have a valid medical marijuana card to do it, but the kind staff is willing to let you write your reviews under a pseudonym, you know, just in case. Too bad Puff Daddy’s already been taken.