HIKING : Just a Short Walk : Santa Paula Canyon Trail offers temptations--oranges hanging over the fence--and hazards underfoot.

You’re world-weary. You’re asphalt-weary, and computer terminal-weary. You’re tired of life in the work force, of playing your humble role in turning the wheels of justice and/or education and/or business and/or the fast-food industry.

Winter is over and summer has closed in. The time is ripe, but where to go when you only have a small slice of time? You decide to head for the hills--of Ojai, that is.

But where to go? There is always Santa Paula Canyon Trail, a saga in itself. You park in a dirt lot off California 150 and wend your way up the road around St. Thomas Aquinas college, veering off on what, for a brief stretch, looks like a country lane called up from Central Casting.

Then come the oil fields that turn-of-the-century oil baron Edward Lawrence Doheny built. At long last, you hit Santa Paula Creek, which, after the rains, seemed more like a river. The trail out of civilization finally begins.

Yes, but what if you’re a novice hiker with limited time and sweat to give? What if you are one of those who like the idea of hiking and escaping the urban environment but have trouble leaving the nest? What if, basically, you’re a would-be hiker, an armchair naturalist?

For the Reluctant Novice, the first two obstacles are inertia and fatigue (or fear of fatigue).

The third seems to be finding a trail. Ask any hiking guide you happen to see (i.e. the “Day Hiker’s Guide to Southern California” by John McKinney, or “Mountain Biking the Coast Range” by Mickey McTigue), and maps indicate that Foothill Road will take you out of Ojai and provide a good trail head.

But no longer. Signs at road’s end now tell the would-be hiker, in no uncertain terms, that parking/hiking/trespassing are prohibited, punishable by God knows what. The road you want is Gridley, on the far side of town. You can head to the top to catch the Foothill trail.

Better yet, for novices, there is the Shelf Road trail--really a closed-off fire road halfway up Gridley that stretches between Gridley and Shelf Road. A tidy hike of less than two miles, with only a slight variance of elevation, and with views of the Ojai Valley that validate its Shangri La mythology: This is the trail for you.

You head up after work, figuring that sundown will provide a nice excuse to keep the hike short and sweet. The view from the trail is to die for, with a lush blanket of orchards stretching leisurely south of Ojai.

Ah, to realize the dream of all true Southern Californians--to forget, momentarily, where you are and bask in a bucolic illusion. Ah, to catch a glimpse of some collective memory that most of us have no legal rights to.

But you digress. And that’s the point.

Locals know about this jaunt. They walk it with friends, family and neighbors, and dogs and sometimes horses (the latter two can make for obstacle No. 4. Watch your step).

Suddenly, along the path, there appears a row of sun-kissed orange trees with limbs extending out over the barbed-wire topped fence and into, presumably, public property. You, being a proud member of the general public, can barely resist plucking this forbidden fruit.

You rationalize that these tasty fruits would not be picked and would rot were it not for your interest. You peel and taste of its sweet goodness, and you hear the voice of God. But you can’t make out the words--is it a blessing or the voice of scorn?

Still, you eat. You run into a sign offering a $1,000 reward for information about avocado rustlers. You gulp, feeling guilty, but figure that avocado rustling is grand theft on a big scale ‘round these parts. A couple of oranges liberated from excess branches won’t be missed.

Later, you wonder if you should be confessing this misdemeanor in a widely respected family newspaper of record. What kind of example is this to set? Then, as you ponder the question of public versus private property, you realize that you really haven’t escaped from the concerns of ordinary societal turf.

You stop to smell the orange blossoms and take in the postcard view. You feel a spring in your step, especially when a huge bumblebee whizzes past your ear and puts the fear of pain in you.

There and back, it takes one hour from car door to car door. You come away with no bruises, only sticky fingers and conscience from the oranges of sin, a bit of obstacle No. 4 on your shoe sole, and a big bead of sweat running down your earlobe, which turns out to be an unidentified insect on a stroll.

Thank goodness for the regenerative splendors of nature. And thank goodness for fire roads from which to safely view them. You think that maybe next time, you might graduate to an actual trail. Then again, maybe the back yard will do.

* THE PREMISE

There are plenty of things you have never tried. Fun things, dangerous things, character building things. The Reluctant Novice tries them for you and reports the results. After all, the Novice gets paid to do them--and has no choice in the matter. If you want to tell the Novice where to go, please call us at 658-5547. If we use your idea, we’ll send you a present.