When is a wilderness not a wilderness?

When it contains a drinking fountain, picnic tables and slabs of cement, I suppose.

On driving by Wilderness Park, seeing that name on a sign, and some overgrown shrubs escaping a chainlink fence, my hopes were raised. It did look small, but also fairly wild. I took TLOML and P there promising adventure, and a good pine cone harvest.

Perhaps the map in the parking lot should have been my first clue. That's a lot of pathway and campsite for a handkerchief sized wilderness. But maybe, I thought, that's a wide, dirt path surrounded by swathes of beautiful, rampant nature.

Then again, maybe not. There was more concrete than dirt at Wilderness Park. There were almost as many breeze block toilet structures as large trees.

'Look, P, it's just like being in Yorkshire. There's a tree!'

'...and a water fountain'.

A babbling brook, this is not:

Lesson learned. Next time I'm in search of untamed, green, natural beauty (and we're not in Yorkshire) we'll just head to Terranea.

The good news: the pine cone harvest was very good.