By Natalie Robertson, Guest Writer
When I think of pilgrimage, my mind conjures far-off images: Canterbury, England; Mecca, Saudi Arabia; Lourdes, France; Lumbini, Nepal. As far as we know, the practice of going on a pilgrimage—traveling to a sacred space to seek enlightenment, to honor ancestors, or to express devotion—goes back several thousand years. But none of these traditional pilgrimage destinations are anywhere near my new home in northern California. As someone who wants to learn how to live as deeply as possible where I am, wherever I am, I recently embarked on a mini-pilgrimage, to see if I could find places here that resonated with their own sacredness.
Traveling west from Sacramento, I set out with the intent to learn lessons through journeying into outdoor spaces. Because life is busy, and I wanted to make my pilgrimage accessible, I took my pilgrimage on three different days, all on weekends. Entrance to every site of my pilgrimage is free, and 2 of them are wheelchair accessible.
The First Step: Community
The idea of finding sacredness in spaces we're unfamiliar with can be daunting. Because of this, my first pilgrimage day was with a group, through the Yolo Bypass Wilderness Area, led by a docent who helped interpret our surroundings and its inhabitants. While the docent focused on birds, you don’t have to already be a bird watcher to enjoy this tour. Highlights for me included quietly watching reflections shift over the wetlands as the light changed, learning about new hawk species, and having a Great Horned Owl fly about 10 feet in front of me.
Although there were some groups of people who came together, many of us came without a connection to anyone else; to reduce our footprint, we piled into the fewest cars possible, and caravanned. The docent handed out walkie-talkies and binoculars, and narrated the flora and fauna as we slowly rolled through on the dirt roads of the wildlife area. At certain points, the caravan stopped, and we could get out to explore on our own for a little while. The Wildlife area has limited hours that it's open to the public so that it can stay preserved as a welcoming wetland home for hundreds of bird species. The guided tours happen once a month, but you can also check their website for the hours it is open weekly for self-guided tours.
What I found here: Sharing beauty with strangers can be wonderful. While I'm certainly not shy, groups of strangers can be challenging and draining for me. Because of this, initially, I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the wildlife preserve as much as I would on my own. But by journeying through a space I found comforting and thrilling with others who were also there because of their love and interest in wildlife, my own connection and refreshment in the Bypass was amplified.
Family-friendly, and wheelchair accessible.
The Second Step: Ascent
Because pilgrimages often are to a specific destination considered significant, they take place in three steps: the way there, there, and the way back. This means that the middle of the journey is often the "high" point. In my case, the high point was literal—for my second pilgrimage day, I hiked on the Stebbins Cold Canyon Trail near Lake Berryessa, which is rated "strenuous," with an elevation gain of 1500 feet. (Note that there is an easier trail that gives you lake access rather than vista views, called Smittle Creek Trail.) An athletic friend who's hiked it before introduced me to the trail, and I couldn't have had a more gracious guide.
Water flows freely in Putah Creek during winter, and the trail crosses it at several points along the lower points of the hike, which means that if you want to keep going, you have hop across on rocks. Even to start, you have to follow the water through a graffiti-adorned underpass, which acts as a gateway to the mountains. For backpackers and through-hikers, the combination of rocky dirt trails and intermittent chunky wooden stairs might seem luxurious. For the occasional hiker (me), this felt like a climb most of the time, and a scrabble at others—and I loved it! But it required being patient with myself and my limitations, especially because I twisted my ankle at one point on the way up. I had to weigh the challenge and appeal of pushing myself to finish the loop with the risk of injuring myself more severely. Ultimately, after taking a short break to evaluate my ankle, and with the warm support of my friend, I decided it would be better to turn back. I'm grateful that I got as far as I did, because the seasonal transformations of the California foothills and mountains is particularly glorious in winter, when the deep green chaparral is joined by dazzling yellow-green grasses.
What I found here: Balance is crucial, even when I'm pursuing a goal that is for my good. One of the benefits of creating my own pilgrimage, versus going on a set pilgrimage, is that I knew this wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I can—and will—go back when my ankle heals. It also means that the pressure to make it to a set point was mitigated by the attention I was paying to details along the way, to how my body felt at each point, and to pacing myself so that the journey was sustainable. I also re-discovered how vitalizing it is having a compassionate friend who's also seeking balance.
Family-friendly for older kids who can take robust hikes, and not wheelchair accessible.
The Third Step: Solitude
I'll be honest: as a woman, finding solitude outdoors can sometimes be fraught. For me to move from simply being alone to delving into solitude, I need to feel physically safe. One of the more accessible ways I've found to do this is by walking places that strike a midpoint between being remote and being populated. The UC Davis Arboretum balances this perfectly, with enough people around to provide a sense of security, but without being so crowded that peacefulness is eclipsed. The Arboretum is also a favorite biking experience for locals, but I loved the experience of taking it in at a slower pace by walking for my third pilgrimage day.
The Arboretum is organized into gardens, collections, and groves; the gardens include the Native American Contemplation Garden and Garden of California Native plants, and the collections have plants from several regions of the world, from an East Asian collection, to an Australian collection, to a Mediterranean collection. But it was in the tree groves that I found my solitude, as I weaved my way in and out of the enormous oaks, acacias, and redwoods, often touching the diverse varieties of bark as I passed. There is something about looking up to the sky through an enormous oak's crown spread that gives me a profound sense of centeredness. I'm looking forward to returning in the spring, when the acacias will be dressed in their vibrant yellow blooms. While each of my pilgrimage days had their own delicious, earthy scents, the scents along the Arboretum are intoxicating. Since we’ve recently had rain, the native California sages and grasses were especially aromatic—a precious experience in a region with frequent droughts.
What I found here: The line between feeling negatively overpowered and positively humbled can be thin, and pursuing solitude can feel risky for many reasons, both internal and external. Being quietly alone is not always comfortable, especially if it's unfamiliar and if you're in a setting where you don't feel safe. Finding this place where I could let my guard down, and focus on being small in relationship to the trees made solitude an invigorating, freeing experience.
UC Davis Arboretum and Public Garden
Family-friendly, and wheelchair accessible.
Pilgrimages offer us ways of seeing our worlds differently than we usually do. Rather than empty voids we travel through on our ways to more important destinations, pilgrimages invite us to search for the sacredness of every space, and then to bring ourselves into a full presence while we’re there. What kind of pilgrimages can you make where you live?
