I abandoned my quest and headed to I-5. There, on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley, I reencountered the 117-mile-long Delta-Mendota Canal, which between the San Luis Reservoir (on Highway 152) and Tracy parallels the California Aqueduct--two shining ribbons of concrete-encased lifeblood: water for us to drink, and water for our food to drink. At Tracy are two pumping plants, each of which ministers to one of these conduits, hoisting water 200-plus feet from the Delta and sending it on its way south.

At Antioch I found myself high in the air on a toll bridge that connected me to the leveed islands of the agricultural Delta. Looking down, I saw the spot where the San Joaquin flows gracefully into the Sacramento, and from there into Suisun, San Pablo, and San Francisco Bays.

My trip wasn’t finished yet, though. Peter Vorster had told me that if I wanted to see what the San Joaquin might have looked like near its mouth before its water was stolen for agriculture, I should visit the 46,000-acre Cosumnes River Preserve. The 80-mile-long Cosumnes River is the last remaining unregulated river on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada. As such, it continues to flood each year in its natural cycle, and it still supports thousands of acres of wetlands, along with native upland vegetation and wildlife.

At the Preserve, just north of Galt, I took a loop walk, enjoying the diversity of plant life. Cottonwood, willow, ash, and other flood-resistant trees edged the river itself, and valley oak riparian forest gave me a glimpse of flitting birds. Near the visitor center, a bridge allowed a view of a seasonal slough. A large proportion of the Central Valley’s greater sandhill crane population stops at the Preserve, and river otters ply the current of the Cosumnes--though the only mammal life I saw was in kayaks.

The lush tangle of greenery, both in the slough and along the river’s banks, was such a contrast to the ordered neatness of the walnut orchards and wheat fields of the tamed rivers of the valley, not to mention the tire-marked stretch of sand labeled “San Joaquin River” on Highway 152. I felt grateful for this preserve, for providing a hint of what once was. And I felt hopeful for the Chinook salmon that, perhaps before too long, will again find water to swim in all the way to Friant Dam. Their ancestral home will never return, no; but we can at least create an environment that is healthier, and more sustainable, not only for the fish but for us as well.