Several large California condors have started circling ominously overhead, their 10-foot long giant wingspans blotting out the sun. An eerie "whoosh... whoosh.... whoosh" fills the air as a giant black shadow shrouds us in darkness.
"Oh shit! Oh shit! I know how this ends," I exclaim, "I've seen Game of Thrones. Drogon is about to deep-fry our asses! Run everybody, run!"
I must say, I certainly did not have barbequed by dragon breath on my bingo card for 2024.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up a bit. Last weekend, my wife Amy and I decided to undertake a pilgrimage to Pinnacles National Park -- about an hour and a half south of our home in San Jose -- to try and spot the elusive California Condor, a bird that nearly went extinct in the 1980s when its numbers were reduced to only twenty or so individual birds left in the wild.
Thanks to the efforts of the US government (wow, that’s a sentence I never thought I would find myself typing) today there are now several hundred California condors living in the wild across California, Arizona, Utah, and Mexico's Baja California.
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| "I never knew my mother or father. I was raised by a hand puppet named Shelia." |
In 2003, the California condor was reintroduced into Pinnacles National Park, and the park is now part-time home to a flock of around a hundred or so condors who split their time between Pinnacles and the nearby Ventana Wilderness, which is only about 30 miles away as the crow flies as the condor soars. Apparently this is "light work" (as the kids say) for the high-soaring condors, who can travel up to 200 miles per day in search of food. [Ed: I don't even like to drive that far.]
Pinnacles, if you have never been, is a remote, rugged park, with steep, unforgiving terrain that involves trekking through tunnels, ascending rock ladders, and tip toeing along exposed cliff edges. It’s definitely not for the faint of heart or anyone afraid of heights. So, for reasons that are still unclear to me, we thought it would be a great idea to invite our buddy Loren, who suffers from Vertigo and is deathly afraid of heights.
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| "Don't look down Loren!" |
“Don’t look down Loren. For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t look down!” I shout. Predictably, Loren turns his head back and looks down. Instantly his knees begin to shake and his face suddenly becomes three shades lighter. Amy and I briefly consider leaving Loren behind, but then we remember that he drove and has the car keys. “Come on Loren, you got this,” we lie. Loren definitely does not look like a man who’s got this.
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| "You got this Loren!" |
We've been hiking for over an hour at this point. We've already overcome numerous obstacles, not the least of which was finding a parking spot. It's worth mentioning that while Pinnacles is one of the least visited US national parks (at least in terms of total number of annual visitors), it's paradoxically one of the most crowded national parks, especially on weekends in the Spring when the temps are mild and the wildflowers are in full bloom.
If you arrive after 8:30 am on Saturday in the Spring, good luck finding a parking spot or even gaining entrance to the park. Luckily we had gotten an early start and arrived at the park just after dawn. Our early start also meant that we didn't have to contend with much foot traffic on our way up the mountain, passing the occasional other hiker or two, but otherwise having the trails mostly to ourselves.
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| Amy and Loren trying to keep their feet dry, but definitely getting their feet wet. LOL. |
"Oh look, a condor" Loren exclaims excitedly, pointing off to the side of the trail.
"Dude, that's a Swallow" I burst out laughing, "You really should see an optometrist! Condors are huge. They're the largest North American land birds. With their wings spread, they're bigger than human. Whereas that little Swallow could literally fit in your pocket!"
"Ah, okay. But what about that bird over there. That's definitely a California condor, right?" Loren proclaims confidently.
"Ugh! That's a California scrub jay," I sigh, exasperatedly.
"I knew it was from Cali though, bro," Loren beams. "You can tell by how chill he is. Just soaking up some rays. Probably about to smoke a bowl and crush a burrito."
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| "Are we there yet?" |
Having been hiking for over an hour and a half already, and just having successfully navigated one of the more precarious sections of the trail, we're all relieved to finally be approaching the summit. As we turn the last corner, a large shadow suddenly blots out the sky.
"Holy crap, what the hell is that!" I exclaim.
"That's a California Condor!" Loren shouts excitedly.
On cue, a large condor flies right in front of our faces, just a few feet above our heads, its large not-particularly-handsome bald head on full display. It's definitely no scrub jay. And based on it's large pink/orange head, it clearly not a vulture either. It's unmistakably and unequivocally a California condor. Mission accomplished! We've managed to spot one in the wild. Woohoo!
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| Condor or not condor, that is the question. Whether tis nobler in the sky... |
Suddenly, we look up off to our right and notice a group of at least a half-dozen more condors resting atop a rocky crag above us.
"Hey, what do you call a flock of condors?" Amy asks.
"I don't know, what do you call a flock of condors?" I respond good-naturedly, assuming that Amy is setting Loren and I up for the punchline of a joke.
After a few seconds of silence I realize she's asking earnestly. "Oh. Uh. Um. I don't know. A murder? A committee? A kettle? A rookery?" I respond, rattling off random words I've picked up from the New York Times crossword puzzle.
"Actually, a flock of condors is called a condo, while a flock of California condors is referred to as a scarcity..." an annoyingly familiar voice chimes in.
"What the fuck Siri, no one asked you! For hell's sake, I thought I disabled you!?" I yell, furiously fumbling with the settings on my iPhone.
"You're welcome. Happy to be of help," Siri interjects cheerfully.
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| A cacophony of condors? |
Resigned to the fact that Siri refuses to be silenced, I decide go with the flow and inquire, "Hey Siri, do condors eat humans?"
"Condors are scavengers, often eating remains left by careless hunters..." Siri begins lecturing.
Siri goes on to explain that part of the reason California condors nearly went extinct was due, in large part, to the usage of lead bullets by ranchers and hunters. Condors end up eating the leftover gut piles of the carcasses of the animals that had been shot, resulting in lead poisoning.
Siri then over-cheerfully relays that between 1992 and 2019, nearly 100 wild condors across the West and Mexico died from ingesting lead. Thankfully, however, California has taken steps to ban the use of lead ammunition, which has helped contribute to the growth of the condor population in recent years.
"Okay, thanks Siri. And -- just asking for a friend -- do condors breath fire like dragons?"
Siri groans and audibly rolls her eyes, but otherwise doesn't bother to verbally respond.
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| Pro tip: Dark tunnels are great place to pet sleeping dragons |
An hour and a half later, safely back down off the mountain and on the road back home, we take turns Googling fun facts about California condors.
“Did you know condors can live to be over 60 years old,” Amy asks?
“Ah, I guess that explains why they are all bald,” I reply, smirking.
"Did you know that a condor can eat three pounds of carrion in one feeding?" Siri blurts out, joining our conversation unprompted.
“Speaking of carrion… who’s up for some Smash Burger,” I inquire, suddenly very hungry.
“I could smash a burger,” Amy replies.
And so we set our compasses north, having successfully adventured and lived to tell the tale.
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| Show up after 8 am and this will be the "pinnacle" of your Pinnacle's experience |
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