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VASCO CAVES REGIONAL PRESERVE: A Wind-Swept Journey Through TimeHiking Ancient Terrain and Witnessing Sunset Over Mt. Diablo on the Summer SolsticeA bobcat sits on furry haunches atop a rocky knoll surveying his grassy domain withcasual feline regard, sniffing the air at nothing in particular. On the higher ridge opposite,a mother coyote and her young pup stop to look around, then scamper down and out of sight under cover of brush. Overhead, a cloudless cerulean sky buzzes with the avianantics of prairie falcons, kestrels, red-tailed hawks, and golden eagles. In the valley below, a herd of deer graze peacefully, while a kit fox paws at the ground and trots awaytriumphantly with a meal dangling from her jaws. On a hillside abloom with purpleneedlegrass, silver lupine and fiery orange poppies, industrious ground squirrels have dugout batteries of tunnels, which they share with burrowing owls, lined up like a row of wise sentinels with eyes sharpened on the lookout for a hapless vole. Somewhere amountain lion stalks and lies in wait. Condors, antelopes and grizzly bears might appear.In the sheltered sanctuary of a guano-splattered rock overhang, a group of Central ValleyYokuts, or perhaps Delta Miwok, or more local Ohlone native people, gather in ceremonyto paint ancestral symbols, dance the ritual stories of creation, pray to gods and spirits,and congregate as one to witness the sacred transition of seasons at the longest day of theyear.Life scenarios such as described above have unfolded for thousands of years at thisspecial place in far eastern Contra Costa County, near Byron, northeast of Livermore, andabout 40 miles east of Berkeley, in a land that, were it not for a carefully managedresource plan that allows for occasional visits by human beings, has all but been forgotten by time and civilization. Here, you can stand alone on a rocky promontory, lost to theworld, eyes closed, and gaze into the infinite beyond, feeling infused with the ancientvibe of timelessness, at one with the eternal ebb and flow of creation, in synch andharmony with the undisturbed, natural rhythms of life.This is a place that literally blows you away! On a naturalist-led guided tour on the finalday of Spring, a group of twenty-two irrepressibly enthusiastic nature lovers braveunrelenting gusts of 30 mile per hour winds for the unique opportunity to walk amongspectacular sandstone boulders, admire grassy hillsides dotted with venerable Valley oaksand California Buckeye trees, and take in otherwise off-limits high desert-like vistasoverlooking four of California's nine distinct land forms, providing a stunning visualreference point for one of the East Bay's, and perhaps one of California's, most unusualecosystems and precious natural resources -- the 775 acre Vasco Caves RegionalPreserve.Open to public tours just since 2005, access was preceded by years of wrangling withlocal land owners and finally a deal was struck with the Contra Costa Water District tohelp buy and protect the preserve. Indeed, because of the delicate balance of so many rareand threatened entities, Vasco Caves is a precious resource area deserving of the utmost protection, with access restricted to anyone not formally signed up with a guide throughthe East Bay Regional Park District. It's an ethic of deep respect meant to keep out theriff-raff and partiers, a conscious effort to preserve and protect the caves from

destruction. (Drawing graffiti and incising initials, images and symbols in the softsandstone is vandalism, pure and simple. . .just look at how people over the years havedesecrated the awesome boulders at Mt. Diablo's Rock City.)The ecological island, surrounded as it is by development, watershed lands, ranch lands,and vast tracts of wind turbines, exists in its own time and place, left alone all these yearsexcept for the scientifically and well-thought out land management practices to helprestore certain pristine features. One account written by an elderly woman reminiscesabout having had the run of the place back in her youthful day – the forties? - when it was just a big backyard playground and she took everything for granted and now rues moderntimes when everything has to be restricted. The appeal, and precisely why it's restricted,is that isolated specimens of flora and fauna survive here, including rare and endangeredspecies such as the red-legged frog, tiger salamander, western toad, and the San Joaquinkit fox. Adding to the aura of mystique worthy of the extra measures to safeguard VascoCaves is its status as archaeological treasure trove -- grinding stones and mortar holesabound, where acorns and buckeye meal were ground; tool-making workshop sites exist,where occasionally flints and arrowheads and scattered pottery shards can be found; and,most notably, fragile, barely discernable pictographs decorate walls in tucked awayalcoves, iconic representations of ancient creativity, probably the only surviving or known examples of Native American rock art in the immediate Bay Area. Archaeologistshave concluded from forensic evidence that people have been active at Vasco ever sincehumans have been in California, dating back to about 8,000 to 10,000 years ago.According to our affable guide, Mike Moran, a naturalist with the East Bay RegionalPark District, "a lot comes together right here at Vasco Caves" - convergences of history,geology, geography, botany, zoology, ecology, and prehistoric archaeology. Beforesetting off, Mike gathers the group together and pulls out two large laminated maps (topoand linguistic) to spatially orient us and give a short lecture on what to expect. With thewind whipping ferociously, we duck behind the bus for a respite, and from the looks onsome of the participants’ faces it’s obvious that some did not come prepared for the rawelements. If it weren't for the raging wind, it would be a spectacularly perfect evening.Well, it is anyway, despite the wind.Finally, at about 6:30 pm, with crisp rays of sunlight bathing the eastern views in goldenhues, and casting warm shadowy effects all about, we set off down the trail into thisstrange, never before seen world existing just a few hills over from Vasco Road.Considered one of the most dangerous stretches of highway in the Bay Area, the road was built as a concession by-way when Los Vaqueros Reservoir was built. It was never meantfor so much traffic (as commuters from two counties use it and drive, cell phones in hand,like maniacs), and many fatal accidents have resulted mostly from cross-overs. VascoCaves also happens to be within view of the somewhat unsightly, somewhat disturbing bird-killing wind turbines of the Altamont Pass Wind Research Area. And yet,despite....it's an amazing sensation to be sandwiched in amongst all this and still get thefeeling of being smack dab in truly remote, wind-swept, rugged, ancient territory.Along the way, at various spots of interest, mostly out of the wind, Mike stops and points

something out -- a tree, a plant, a feature of the landscape, a dead snake, a buckeye,sheeps’ bones, an old well -- and holds forth knowledgably on everything that makesVasco Caves such a one-of-a-kind experience. We learn how grazing management practices help restore native grasses and increase raptor habitat; about the large nesting populations of golden eagles and burrowing owls; and have a “wow” moment when Miketells us that Yosemite Miwok peoples have stories about the Vasco Caves. “Look aroundyou,” he exhorts with a sweeping gesture, “what do you see?” He is specifically pointingto a shallow depression with tule reeds growing in abundance. “How can it be,” he asks,“that water-loving plants can thrive in such a seemingly arid environment?” Same thinggoes for the big cottonwoods and the 100+ year old Valley oaks, he explains, thirsty treeswhich require year-round access to water. The answer, Socratically rendered, turns out to be a conundrum of geology: the preserve is a very subtle water dependent ecosystemwhere plants exist and thrive in harsh conditions owing to ground water that is forced tothe surface from far away by complex subterranean activities that somehow push it to thisarea. A real miracle, he says, one of several which make the preserve so special, andallow so many different species of wildflowers, trees, and large and small fauna to callthis place home. Otherwise, scanning the lay of the land, there don't appear to be anynatural drainages or water flow channels – perhaps a clue as to why no permanentsettlements were established here -- so unseen groundwater, wells, springs and vernal pools are truly life-giving gifts provided by Mother Nature for her many creatures.We walk on, the wind just pummeling us - I turn and strut backwards, a locomotor featthat proves to be a major improvement, but no one else catches the cue, instead trudgingwith heads down, and jackets turned up against their faces, causing them to miss out onso much of the scenery, also making it difficult to follow Mike's ad lib discourses.Looking about, I'm charmed by animated hillsides swaying with knee-high grasses; treetops bending and swooshing to the will and whip of the Aeolian forces. We stop next to a beautiful outcrop of boulders tinged in chartreuse yellow algae and splotched withvermillion red lichen patterns, situated in a picturesque hollow like a Georgia O'Keeffemirage. We gawk at and snap photos of the fortress-like bulk, while Mike tests out thegroup's Rorschach quotient at every turn – see who can spot what in the sculpturalcontortions of the wind-carved formations. Someone sees an eagle's beak, another personspots a manatee, someone else a badger. I see Valley of Fire like elephantine figures andother fanciful forms. It's easy to understand why native peoples worshipped such rocksand anthropomorphized them as gods and spirit beings.We walk on - it's a very leisurely pace we're moving at, covering all told no more thantwo or three easy miles - and Mike continues to regale us with tidbits of this and nuggetsof that. We learn about the expansion of native bunchgrass on the hillsides, owing to thegrazing of sheep that eat the non-native foxtail grasses. Mike points to a distant copse of trees high on a ridge and notes they are the northernmost stand of Palmer Oak, anuncommon desert mountain species of Quercus generally found at altitudes of between2300 and 4300 ft. and known for its large acorns and hollylike spiny leaves. At another outcrop of colorful rocks jumbled in a mass thirty feet tall pockmarked with holes,solution pockets, and alcoves where cliff swallows make their nests, Mike decides to testour knowledge of geology....how did these boulders get here? What caused their