along the creek. Yesterday I walked up it, a short distance, to the railway tracks and bridge. I wanted to see El Palo Alto, an old redwood tree, so old it merits a plaque set in a granite boulder at its foot for being "a campsite for the Portola Expedition party in 1769." I don't know what the Portola Expedition was, but it shouldn't be hard to find out: ah it was the first recorded Spanish/European land entry and exploration of what is today the state of California but which was then itself-in-itself/a disputed c16 land grab by Spain (Cabrillo) and England (Drake).
There is a trickle of water, a plaque speaks of steelhead, though the creek, which runs from the hills into San Francisco Bay, is mostly dry in summer. El Palo Alto gets its top spritzed by the city and its roots (shallow) aren't happy during droughts. The creek itself is a nice bit of unprettified wilderness between two suburban towns.