I had never heard of Robyn’s Egg Trail, formally known as Monastery Trail, until I was looking one day at Google Maps to find another trail in Uptown. That was when on the map, I saw the squiggly line coming out of Pioneer Park in Mission Hills.
After the rains finally stopped last month, we set out to find it, beginning at Pioneer Park. Old pepper trees with outstretched branches made long shadows on the lush green grass. Black Phoebes flitted from tree to tree, joyous in their search for insects. Tiny daisy flowers had sprung up, happy with the razzle-dazzle sunshine after a week and a half of gray, cold and dripping skies.
We headed for the set of stairs that led down from the south side of the park onto the street below, sure that it would lead us to the trail. But the GPS on my phone went wacky. We walked for ten minutes, the directions constantly changing, when finally it became obvious we had to get back into our car to find the elusive trail. The GPS in our car again went berserk, sending us on a crazy mouse ride all over Mission Hills. Finally, we found two different people who lived in the area, and they instructed us to go back up to Pioneer Park.
This time, the GPS led us doglegging around street corners, eventually sending us right across from Pioneer Park. We turned at the corner of Randolph Street and Washington Place and went west about a quarter block down when, as clear as day, I saw a trail marker. Funny thing is, in the 40-plus years I have lived in San Diego, the first few of them right in that area, I had always wondered about the grove of beautiful trees at the top of the canyon. There have always been a couple of signs indicating that the space was for City Officials Parking only, confusing to anybody except those who know the immediate neighborhood.
As soon as we got onto the trail leading out from the sidewalk, it was obvious that we were heading into a lush canyon. The trail makes a long descent; at about a quarter of the way down is a natural archway of tree branches and vines, a perfect spot for portraits.
Further down, the trail got muddier but we braved it until we came to the first stream of water over which we had to rock-hop. I found myself humming, “Slip Sliding Away,” as we walked, bending down low under a couple of eucalyptus trees that had fallen quite a while ago. It was fun walking beside the nearly neon-green canyon cliff sides. We saw the bright red berries of Toyon, green-gold lichens, the purple and white flowers of wild radish; we heard the high-pitched scream of red-shouldered hawks, locating them high above chasing each other among the eucalyptus trees.
One point, about half a mile down the trail, became precarious because of the slippery mud and steep ravine, so we had to turn back and then drive down to the bottom of the trail. When we arrived on Titus Street, we stopped to ask a guy walking his dog how to find the other end of the trail. You’ll find the trail between two apartment buildings, he said. Good thing we opted to drive the next six blocks; the streets become as hilly and steep as any in San Francisco. As we parked the car near the tip-top of Titus Street, it felt and looked as though we were going to slide backwards down the street.
Off in the distance a giant cruise ship slowly moved away from the Embarcadero into San Diego Harbor. We started up the trail with Song Sparrows chirping at us from jade bushes with white-as-snow flowers. Just as the sun was making its quick descent, we walked the rest of the trail to the point where we had to turn back because of the steep, muddy ravine and slippery slope.
Robyn’s Egg Trail, which nobody we talked to seemed to know the origin of its name, is a great trail to explore. It’s good for some lung-expanding exercise, too, especially once the rains have stopped.
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— Cynthia G. Robertson has been an award-winning local freelance writer and photographer for more than 30 years. She has also penned a novel, “Where You See Forever.” Her website is cynthiarobertson.com.