How My Life Changed Forever in Boulder Creek

Berry Creek Falls at Big Basin State Park
Photo by Madeline Horn

Winding my way up Highway 9, through a tunnel of redwood trees, past cabin and RV resorts, the community pool, and the hot dog and shave ice stand, it feels like vacation land. The retro red neon Scarborough Lumber sign greets me on the south side of Boulder Creek, with a cartoonish lumberjack wielding a chainsaw whose chain lights up and rotates after dark. Buildings from the 1890s line Highway 9, which runs straight through town - Boulder Creek Brewery, Joe’s Bar, Boulder Creek Fire Department. Look up and you see green, redwood-covered mountains surrounding town, often off-set by a bright blue sky.

I grew up 18 miles from Boulder Creek, but never paid it any mind. I had the ocean and the whole town of Santa Cruz to entertain me. Upon returning to Santa Cruz about a year ago, I started exploring the Santa Cruz Mountains by taking hikes in the redwoods, swimming in the San Lorenzo River, and poking around antique stores. The mountains are a completely different environment from my beach neighborhood. In the mountains, the sky is filled with impossibly tall redwoods, unlike the open skies of Santa Cruz. The air is scented with moist forest soil as opposed to the smell of sand, seaweed, and sometimes fish on my side of town.

Anonymity is not an option in such a small town. People are chatty in the grocery store and genuinely interested in newcomers at parties. Many residents live on isolated dirt roads in the forest, but when they come to town, they all end up in the same bar, pizza place, or gas station.

On Halloween, the streets were filled with families trick or treating. A DJ played music for dancing children dressed as pirates and fairies in the Rec Center. We toured the haunted house, and were terrified by a live midget ape man who howled and shook at us. A man dressed in fur and leather for the Joe’s Bar costume contest told us he planned to wear a squirrel costume to his job as a tree climber the next day, so he could jump from tree to tree in costume.

Redwood forest in Boulder Creek
Photo by Madeline Horn

What got me truly acquainted with Boulder Creek was falling in love this summer with a man who was born, schooled, and raised in the town and who sometimes refers to it as “my beloved Boulder Creek.” His love for his hometown is deep and true. Just yesterday, as he drove up a private dirt road to show me the house his friend had recently built on 10 acres with a view of redwood-covered mountains, he said, “I love showing you new places in Boulder Creek!” He’s taken me to a backyard heavy metal shows, to the hidden cemetery and the trail leading to a waterfall behind it, to a tequila tasting under the full moon on a property overlooking the majestic mountains, to swim holes and swimming pools, Halloween parties, and on hikes, both in state parks, and in hidden spots off the side of the road. Upon reflection, I realize he used the Santa Cruz Mountains to seduce me. 

He’s introduced me to a head-spinning amount of people in the months we’ve been dating. We’ve never walked through town without at least one person, but usually, more like five different people of all different ages, yelling his name and greeting him warmly. I call him the Boulder Creek Ambassador.  

Boulder Creek Cemetery
Photo by Madeline Horn

Gypsy Atlas has been silent since July, but I have the ultimate excuse - I am pregnant with a baby boy! I found out in July and felt so fatigued my first trimester, that blogging while working the 5am-2pm shift 5 days a week was completely out of the question. I fell asleep in the back of my car on my “ten minute” breaks at work. I had to tell my manager very early on so she could take it easy on me when I stumbled back to my desk in an exhausted haze. Most days, I drove home from work and I fell asleep. After my post-work naps I opened my eyes for a short while, maybe ate some dinner, and went right back to bed.

Luckily, my energy is back up in the second trimester, and I am happy to share the news with the world. I haven’t stopped having adventures during my pregnancy, I just haven’t had the energy to write about them. I waited until I’d finished my first trimester to start telling people outside my most intimate circle. Now, at 22 weeks, my belly seems huge to me, and baby is the size of a papaya. Pregnancy has changed everything for me and for my boyfriend. Physically, emotionally and spiritually, I know I’ll never be the same again, and I couldn’t be more excited. 

The blog will adapt to my new life, but I don’t think it will be much different. Exploring my surroundings and finding delight in the everyday and the obscure are as natural to me as eating and sleeping. If anything, I’ll be exploring more with my little one as I show him the incredible things the world has to offer. We may not make it abroad for a while, but one never knows. Mexico is drivable...

The baby will be born in Santa Cruz and brought home to our house by the ocean, where my mountain man has relocated to be with me and baby. We both love the mountains, and will probably move up there before baby starts kindergarten, but we’ll see. Baby boy will be equal parts ocean, from mama, and mountain, from daddy. I know it will make for a good mix.