“The area we’re passing through now is all a protected part of the national seashore. There’s a lot of seabirds that can only nest here.”
“Got it, so no people allowed.” The water sparkled like turquoise jewels under the expanse of a clear blue sky. “I’m kind of glad. It’s beautiful to see what untouched land looks like.”
“Agreed. It reminds me a lot of Costa Rica.” Tim glanced over to his right. “We’re almost there.” He turned the minivan down an unmarked road surrounded on both sides by yet more trees. It bumped along until coming to a stop in a deserted clearing.
“Here we are!” He glanced at the clock. “Right on time too. The warmest part of the day is when they’re the most active.”
Gemma unlatched her seat belt. “When what’s active?”
“What we’ve come to see—monarch butterflies.” Climbing out of the car, he rubbed his hands against his forearms. “We’ll come back for the picnic supplies. For now, all you’ll need is your jacket.”
Her heart dropped, and she swallowed hard. They were going hiking? Would she be able to keep up with him? Why hadn’t she asked what they were doing beforehand? It was her own fault. Now, all she could do was hope that the trail wouldn’t be too steep.
“Um, Tim?.?.?. how far are we going?”
“Not far, maybe a half mile.”
“Uh?.?.?.” She chewed on her lower lip.
“Don’t worry, I thought about it. The part of the path we’re taking is all flat,” he reassured her. His eyes locked with hers. “We can take it as slow as a sloth, if you’d like. If it’s too much for you, I can give you a piggyback ride.”
“I think I can manage.”
“If your hip starts to ache, will you let me know?”
She nodded.
“Pinky promise?”
She exhaled. “Pinky promise.”
They took a slow, cautious pace over the dirt path. The scent of fresh pine and mud overpowered them. Between the trees, rays from the sun warmed her cheeks. In the distance, she could hear the trickle of water.
“Where are we?”
“The Pacific Cove State Lookout area. This part of the park is an estuary. Think of it as the transition or buffer zone between the beach and the mountains. Where the mouth of the Sequoia Valley River meets the Pacific Ocean.”
“I love the way you explain things.”
“I have alittleexperience with putting things into layman’s terms.” He chuckled.
“And you said that we’re here for butterflies?” she asked. “Is there an open field where they all gather? It looks like a lot of tall grass and trees to me.”
“Nope, but good guess.” He didn’t elaborate, and Gemma knew that he was waiting to surprise her.
They walked another few minutes in silence. Tim’s eyes scanned the tops of the pine, eucalyptus, and cypress trees. “Aha, got you,” he muttered under his breath.
They stopped walking. She glanced at the top of the tree, wondering what he’d seen.
“Okay, bear with me here. Do you see that long orange-and-white thing that resembles a party streamer?”
Gemma stared at the tree. She saw leaves, branches, but no streamer. “No.”
Taking hold of her hand, Tim gently repositioned her to where he stood. From around his neck, he removed a pair of binoculars. “Look again and try these. I forgot I had them on. They’re nestled near the top. There’s about three or four hundred of them.”
He pointed to a long, flowing ribbon-like structure. Pressing the binoculars against her nose, she gasped. “Are those?.?.?.”
“Monarch butterflies. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
