.Take a Hike: The Watsonville Slough Trail

It can be ethereal to walk in the redwoods in the fog, to feel a Middle Earth majesty that seems too perfect for this world. But as we endure the shortest and darkest days of the year, sometimes Seasonal Affective Disorder can dampen the dance in a dark redwood forest.

As the decrease in light throws my circadian rhythm off, lowers my serotonin level and I fall into a downward spiral of I-could-of-should-of-would-of remorse, I was so depressed I decided to end it all. I sat in my garage while running my electric car. Nothing. The whole week was one big failure.

In my case, maybe it’s time to talk to someone, but if you find yourself carrying the weight of dark winter clouds on your shoulders, I find an effective fix is to walk my SAD vibes off in an open space.

Waters below Ramsay Park between Watsonville and the sea, where the land is filled with sloughs that flow through slow-moving water channels to the mouth of the Pajaro River. PHOTO: Richard Stockton

Even as black clouds fall on me, the quickest way I know to increase my serotonin level is to walk, preferably where I can see into the distance. It doesn’t take long for dark thoughts to start grooving to the rhythm of feet. Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine and arguably the first hippie, said, “If you feel bad, take a walk. If you still feel bad, take another one.”

Dr. Lily Yan, a professor of psychology and neuroscience at Michigan State University, talks about how to deal with dark-sky depression: “Simply going outside can improve your mood… an excursion will boost your mental health.”

I’m singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain
What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again

When you’re depressed, these are the most obnoxious lyrics in the English language. I understand that Gene Kelly was singing about being in love, but my point is he moved, he danced and swung around a light pole, and that must have helped.

What does movement do for your head? Increases blood flow to the brain. Bingo. The best thing we can do for our mental health is flood our brain with oxygenated blood. It ramps up serotonin, assists neuroplasticity and gives you the head room to process your thoughts, to be with them, self-reflect.

Still Crazy? Work Harder.

If I’m on a walk to quiet my maniacal brain and my mind continues to chatter chaotic, negative thoughts, that just means I’m not working hard enough. If I pick up the pace, elevate my heart rate and deepen my breathing, I reach a degree of physical difficulty that stops my brain and stops the flow of troublesome words.

If I hit my stride hard enough, my brain shuts down and I can focus on the task at hand, pushing against gravity. I can’t even remember the bullshit that was banging around in my head. I’m only lining up the bones for the next step, emptying the lungs for the next breath. I can see clearly now; it feels like I’ve gotten my brain cells down to a number I can manage.

Get Back, Honky Cat

It’s a gas to walk around town, swinging around lamp posts, enjoying what’s in the store windows and particularly digging when we see our self-reflection in the glass. (“When I suck my cheeks in, I could pass for a mannequin.”) It turns out that walking in nature is mentally healthier than walking in cities. Researchers report hiking in nature helps decrease negative, obsessive thoughts.

If our stunning redwood forests are too dark and damp for your mood, where do you walk? In south Santa Cruz County, there are miles of trails along the sloughs between Watsonville and the ocean.

Walking the Watsonville Slough

It’s a Monday; I’m gloomy and choose the easiest slough to get to. I pull into the Ramsay Park parking lot on Harkins Slough Road. I see a 1968 Volkswagen Bus that has a message written on its side:

With climate change we become frogs in a pot of water on the stove. The older frogs say, “That the boiling water thing is the younger generation’s problem, but for now, the rising heat just helps with the arthritis.”

For the sake of this column, I check out the park restrooms and can report that the new facilities are first rate and clean as a whistle (although Henry David Thoreau suggested that hiking is an opportunity to water selected plants along the way). I cross Harkins Slough Road from the Ramsay Park parking lot and enter the trail that runs along Watsonville Slough. It starts out as broken pavement, but wheelchairs would do fine here.

The trail runs between housing developments and Watsonville Slough. While portions of the slough look like a drainage ditch, it is the backbone of the system that drains all of the sloughs. PHOTO: Richard Stockton

Depression Flies Away

I poke along, barely lifting my feet, lost in brooding. The trail veers close to the slough and I’m startled by two huge white pelicans that take off from the water. Their enormous wings lift them high above the slough and then they stretch them out and glide away.

I look them up on my phone; they are American white pelicans, flying from Alaska to Mexico for the winter and need the fresh waters of the Watsonville sloughs to rest, feed and have their young. The website reports that about a third of all bird species depend on wetlands.

I see a small duck with green and blue feathers on its wings take off, a stunning creature. It is a blue-winged teal and as it flies, it shows a powder-blue patch on its upper wing. When I start walking again, I try to resume my dark ruminations but can’t get the birds out of my mind. I know something was bothering me, what was I thinking about? 

Walking the wetlands got me through a tough week. I got kicked out of my yoga class for misinterpreting the pose “half-moon.” I pumped hard on the trail until my brain cleared and I thought, “It’s no big deal, I have had more derrière show when I was a plumber.”

A volunteer docent points out invasive species like Scotch broom and and non-invasive plant species like pickleweed (it reportedly tastes like a pickle). Scotch broom was introduced during the Gold Rush era and has taken over much of the area. The tulles in the foreground are native, and were used by the Awaswas to make boats. PHOTO: Richard Stockton

What Is a Slough, Anyway? 

If you do hike one of the Watsonville slough trails, know that the sloughs you are walking beside are remarkable, unique bodies of water. It’s where freshwater meets the sea. Bryan Largay, the Land Trust Santa Cruz County director, told me that a slough is a name for tidal freshwater—a freshwater area that has tides.

I thought tides came from the ocean.

Largay says that there’s some flow of freshwater that pushes the ocean water away. “And yet enough of the influence of the ocean is felt to make the tides seen further inland.” Largay says, “Sometimes, not enough water flows down the Pajaro River and then the ocean’s tides have an impact way upstream. There are both freshwater and saltwater tides.”

How to get there: There are slough trails all over the area. Today’s walk was along the Watsonville Slough. Drive to the south end of Ramsay Park, 1301 Main St., Watsonville. Park in the lot and then walk south across Harkins Slough Road to the trailhead, right next to the Ramsay Park Tennis Courts. For other amazing slough hikes, AllTrails.com can get you to Elkhorn Slough, Struve Slough, Harkins Slough. I love them all.

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