Like many, my parents emigrated to California during the 1960s as teenagers in search of a better life. Ironically they were both born in nearby towns in Ajijic and San Miguel el Alto, MX, but they didn’t meet until later in Santa Ana, California. There, they married, settled, and created their own nest and flock, like birds that migrate in search of new nesting sites and food for foraging to provide for their families.
I feel a deep connection to birds. I feed the Wildbirds, provide water sources, and watch them in amazement for hours on end. I engage with my local crows and corvids; they are incredibly smart. I always feel like they converse back and forth in dialogue. They remind me that their flocks have lived in and around the trees longer than I and that I am on their territory. I always look forward to the spring visits of the orioles, grackles, and mourning doves as they begin breeding in the trees. They are incredibly resilient and ingenious with their nesting skills. I see the growth of their fledglings, and it’s endearing. Some birds migrate, and some are natives. Just a constant reminder that we are in their world.
I am no longer a fledgling. I have migrated myself towards Riverside, and am creating my own nest.
What’s Your Migration Path?
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I felt a turn in the tide when I changed my major to Outdoor Recreation. I did not learn about Outdoor Recreation as a field of study until my second year of college. A family friend asked me, “Hey Esme, have you thought about studying Parks and Rec?” I was quite appalled that I had no clue that the activities I loved to do most were part of something bigger or could be part of a field of study. When I started college, I declared Photography as my major as I enjoyed photographing people and places.
“Hey Esme, have you thought about studying Parks and Rec?”
I grew up in Fort Bragg, CA, a popular tourist town along the California coast, where I would spend hours at the beach photographing the landscapes and sunsets. During my high school years, I took portraits of friends for their senior portraits and started a Facebook page of my photography so that people could see my work and refer me to their friends. It was a “side hustle” that I started for myself and one of my first experiences in entrepreneurship. Soon after, friends from my hometown started asking me if I could photograph them for their Quinceañeras! It felt fulfilling to be present for other people during their ceremony. It is truly a blessing to be able to capture the precious moments of a special occasion.
When we go through life changes, we can almost intuitively sense that we are passing into a new chapter of our lives; I certainly felt that when I changed my major. After practicing photography as a job, I realized that I did not want to do that for a living. I did not like the aspect of sitting behind a computer for hours editing pictures. I just wanted to be outside every opportunity that I got! My favorite part of photography was being outside and just being in the moment. It will always be a part of me, and I will still practice my skills when I get the chance.
This past summer, I was able to practice my photography skills on Black Oystercatchers. I used my 75-300 mm telephoto lens to capture close images of the birds. My observation partner, Dave, guided me towards all the spots where the Black Oystercatchers would be nesting over the summer to lay their eggs, feed, and care for their young. There were about seven different pairs of Black Oystercatchers we would visit weekly. Tracking the weather, seasonal changes, and the state of the Black Oystercatchers’ nests as the chicks grew offered quite a unique experience.
It all began when I was invited by my family friend to volunteer with California State Parks for this Audubon Bird Survey.
It all began when I was invited by my family friend to volunteer with California State Parks for this Audubon Bird Survey. The orientation meeting was held at the California State Russian Gulch Recreation Center, where I learned that this was the ninth year that the Bird Survey was going strong. There were several people who were experienced and some for whom it was their first time, such as myself. As I sat and listened to the presentation about Black Oystercatchers, I learned about the different behavior patterns of the birds and how to navigate along the coast to spot the birds. As I looked around, I found I was not only one of the youngest people in the room but also the only person of color.
As I looked around, I found I was not only one of the youngest people in the room but also the only person of color.
This had not been the first time that this occurred to me. I was used to this in the field, though I do not always feel comfortable in these moments. Yet I know deep in my soul that it is in these moments that personal growth happens. When I step outside of my own perspective to learn from others and about myself, I begin to understand the barriers that hold me or others like me back from these types of experiences. It may be time, finances, or not having the resources to try something new. It is not always easy for people to commit themselves to something outside of their own knowledge or understanding. It takes courage, which is something I believe every person has. Some just need a little guidance to realize their potential.
As the young Black Oystercatchers go through different stages in their life and learn to survive and grow in the environment around them, so too do people.
As the young Black Oystercatchers go through different stages in their life and learn to survive and grow in the environment around them, so too do people. We all need someone to guide us, and it takes time and commitment. Although it is now winter, when I go outside on a walk to the coastal trails I sometimes hear and listen to the call of the Black Oyster. They remind me of the sunny days and the definition of resilience. If they can survive the cold and harsh tides, then so can we.
Esme Plascencia is a first generation immigrant and college student. She was born in Guadalajara, Jalisco Mexico and raised in Fort Bragg, California. Upon graduating Fort Bragg High School, she moved to Sacramento to start her journey in higher education at Sacramento State University. She is currently a senior student majoring in Recreational Parks and Tourism Administration and aspires to become an outdoor educator/guide.
Loalcanzamos? Loaded with meanings, this word stays with me, constantly. At every stage of my life, I’ve discovered different aspects of its significance, complexities unfolding as I ascend deeper and higher into the mountains. For this child of the sun, descendant of Filipino-Mexican immigrants and Spanish-Mexican settlers, alcanzar brings expectation and fear, together with possibility and reaching. Together, these meanings define me. Alcanzo lo que puedo. Sueño en posibilidades.
Expectation and Fear
Born in Santa Monica, California, I spent the first fifteen years of my life near the ocean. Surfing, biking, and swimming ruled my childhood in Playa del Rey, nearly as much as piano practice and extra homework. As my Tata reminded me once: “My little Danielle will be a great doctor or lawyer.” My father would have added “…or concert pianist.”
I’m not quite sure if the expectations on my young shoulders weighed heavier from the memory of recent immigration or our history as Californios. But expectation drove me to achieve in a way that I never questioned and appreciated only later in life. Expectation meant doing well, because no other option existed. It was for this reason that my mother had worked her summer breaks from UCSB in the grape fields. Inasmuch my father seemed to be established in Los Angelino culture, in our church, in our neighborhood, I sensed, deeply, the work he put in. Success wasn’t given: it was earned.
I remember the togetherness of our family’s experiences: annual trips to Mammoth or Big Bear showed me that car trips in the Cadillac could take us to wonderful places. Camping in the mountains of Southern California or gazing out the windows of Yosemite’s Awhawnee gave me a glimpse into a future I never expected I’d embrace.
When life took me to Fresno, in California’s Central Valley, I found adolescent solace in distance runs under the baking sun. I paddled for inner peace in the surf while attending the University of California, Santa Barbara (UCSB). I worked, tirelessly, to make lemonade from the lemons that life had given me.
When my maternal grandmother, who grew up in El Centro, CA, mocked the Castellano accent I’d picked up from studying abroad in Spain after my father’s death, I gazed at the palm trees rustling against an electric blue sky. I belonged out there, with the wind.
“The mountains have my heart, but the ocean owns my soul”.
Possibilities and Reaching
When I moved to Oregon for a competitive corporate job, I had two choices for recreation: volver al mar, a place I knew, or turn to the mountains. Nostalgia me llamó: the mountains held the secrets of my childhood, a happiness I hadn’t known for years. I bought a ski pass. I taught myself to snowboard. It was like surfing, a sport I’d known since 14. My employer had an indoor rock climbing gym; intimidated by the high-tech machines and former Olympic athletes found throughout the rest of the building, I went there to explore. The vertical realm intrigued me.
Six years and six countries later, an urge to explore the upper realm of lo posible has taken me to mountains like the Andes, Cascades, Coast Range, Rockies, Sierra Nevada, and Tetons. I’ve ticked off notable ascents (climbing) and descents (splitboarding aka backcountry snowboarding) not just for the sake of achievement, but often for something simpler. Joy and healing couple nicely with personal growth and empowerment.
My journey to climbing, together with hiking, camping, and snowboarding, didn’t just teach me that recreation could be a declaration of freedom. It was also an act of dissent, a rejection of a broader system and society that often tore me down and betrayed me. It was an assertion to my right for self-care and self-determination. Climbing and snowboarding didn’t just provide the happiness or empowerment many of us seek; they also gave me hope.
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
Audre Lorde
The tiny spark of hope I found hiking on the trail, climbing at the crag, or snowboarding down steep snowy faces turned into something bigger. The fire inside me began to burn brighter, stronger. Si alcancé subir this mountain all by myself, what else could I do? Could I hike by myself, lead climb up a tower, or build a community that supported me, unequivocally, in all I do? Could I put my energy and time into things that really mattered to me, and build a career and life I love?
Mountains give me a lens to see the role choice plays in my life, every single day. From the results yielded by the hours put into training or the support I receive from the community I’ve cultivated, intention guides where my energy goes.
Out here, up here, life looks different, feels newer. I can see that we are just individual musical notes in a symphony beyond our comprehension. So I risk things: playing my own tune, finding my own key. I step out of my comfort zone, often, and find rewards I never thought possible. I risk failure, too, because I know there will always be a lesson.
My experiences in the backcountry have helped me find my truest self and start to realize my greatest potential—whether as an individual or member of a bigger community. This is the joy of embracing that I am part of this ecosystem; this is why I go outside.
En búsqueda de los límites de lo posible o ser parte de la vida que nos rodea: por eso, me voy afuera.
Dani Reyes-Acosta is a freelance brand strategist, educator, writer, and advocate redefining who plays outside and how we build community with others on this planet. She is also a splitboarder, climber, runner, and waterwoman partnering with several organizations to build a better future. Her work explores regenerative economies in the American West, how heritage and adversity inform identity, how inclusive marketing can pave the way to the future, and more. Learn more at DaniReyesAcosta.com.
