The beauty of Butte County
“It’s just so beautiful!” I exclaimed, thinking about the endless sky filled with billowing clouds, the wildflowers and orchards lining the one-way stretch of freeway, the stacked layers of the buttes. Grabbing a drink with a former professor, I was still in awe of how beautiful my college town was after three years away. “I don’t think I truly appreciated how special this place is when I lived here.”
I know the stretch of Highway 99 between Sacramento and Chico like the back of my hand: every curve, every drive-through Starbucks, every speed trap. I drove it countless times during my four years at California State University, Chico: zoning out after wrapping up finals, daydreaming about the guy I wished I was dating, texting about parties that night, ignoring the speed limit with the windows down and radio blasting.
I usually referred to Chico as a town in the middle of nowhere, the drive as a necessary boredom. I always got stuck behind a slow truck–or, God forbid, an actual tractor–on the one-lane sections. My hometown of Sacramento isn’t much better: the capital of California is a cow town, the unimpressive skyline rising like a mirage out of the flat, agricultural valley.
Sure, I enjoyed some of what nature had to offer while I was a student: bike rides through Bidwell Park (the third largest municipal park in the United States), reading magazines in the sunshine at One Mile swimming hole, hiking up Feather Falls. Honestly, though, in college you could usually find me one of three places: in the library, at the gym or at a party. I got my sunkissed glow from a dreary tanning salon, my wanderlust satiated by glossy magazines.
Sometimes we miss out on the beauty that surrounds us, shrugging off the striking landscape as ordinary. We ignore the wonder of a vast expanse of unused land in this world of suburban tract housing and polluted skyscrapers, dreaming of cosmopolitan cities, white sand beaches, snow-capped mountains. We’re so impressed by what’s different that we forget to appreciate what we have.
As I drove up to Chico for a reunion with sorority girlfriends, I thought about all the journeys I took in Vietnam, Australia, France. I’d stick in my iPod and simply look out the window, amazed by the beauty and diversity of the landscapes. The scenery in California is no less varied and extraordinary: those orchards feed the nation, that river carries snowmelt into our faucets, the cerulean skies are postcard-worthy.
I’m embarrassed that I had to go halfway around the world to appreciate the beauty of my backyard, ashamed that I wasted four years with my face in a book or a beer instead of exploring the region’s natural wonders. Then again, maybe you only truly know how good you have it once you’ve left, once you can return and see it anew.
