March Meanderings

A fanciful mural near Almaden Lake appeared some time ago (mirrored by another, across the road). Biking past on a cloudy day, I realized conditions were ideal for capturing it without shadows.

I returned to Rancho Cañada del Oro for my first hike of the month, the usual 4.1-mile loop. Expecting a flooded trail crossing, I tried (unsuccessfully) to lead our group on a parallel path. Fortunately, the crossing was passable. Not up for the extended version of the hike, a couple of like-minded souls stayed with me.

A week later, I took advantage of another opportunity for a docent-led, 4.8-mile loop in Sierra Azul. Clear, sunny skies this time!

Skies were overcast when I joined a friend's group for a hike up Mission Peak. Given the conditions (and the lack of a view), I was surprised how many people were snaking their way to the summit. I don't recall crowded trails when I last hiked here (almost 20 years ago!), but that was a different trail. I was carrying a loaded pack then, training for a hiking tour, and likely didn't aim to reach the summit. I do remember sharing the trail with cattle.

I stopped a few feet shy of the summit today, unwilling to join the long queue of people waiting for their turn to cavort for photos with the post at the top. (Whatever.)

A challenging hike for sure, with more than 2,000 feet of elevation gain over 6.5 miles (out and back).

Open space preserves, county parks, city parks ... we are fortunate to have so many places to explore in the Bay Area! When you think of a city park, a wild place like Alum Rock is likely not what you have in mind.

We reveled in the green hills and enjoyed some early wildflowers on our 6-mile, double-loop hike.

In the spirit of giving back, I signed up for a volunteer project removing invasive French broom from some land in Sierra Azul. I wasn't sure whether I could make a meaningful contribution, but the coordinator assured me I would be useful.

Then I met the Weed Wrench. And the oh-so-satisfying sound of thick taproots being wrenched (literally!) from the earth.

This being another closed section of Sierra Azul, it was unknown to me despite the countless times I've cycled past on the road below. A recent project to clear non-native, fire-hazard eucalyptus trees from the property afforded us a clear view of Lexington Reservoir and the ridge beyond.

Unaccustomed to sharing his territory with humans, a tom turkey paid us no heed as he strutted his stuff.

Rainy days have thwarted many plans for me to bike this month, so I was disappointed when my hiking buddies bowed out for the last day of the month. Looking at the forecast, and the weather radar, I reckoned an afternoon hike would be dry. I settled on a loop through familiar terrain in Almaden Quicksilver, a route that's convenient and popular for so many hikers.

I'd never seen those trails so empty.

As I made my way along the usual 4.8-mile loop, there were buttercups and butterflies, deer and quail, a bald eagle and Henderson's shooting stars. I met another hiker as a smattering of raindrops trickled down.

As I headed home, my windshield wipers got busier. I made it into the house just before the deluge ...

February Forays

February started with a 4.3-mile hike in an otherwise closed area of the Sierra Azul Open Space Preserve, a privilege I rarely skip whenever this turns up on the calendar of docent-led activities.

The forecast wasn't great, but I donned my rain jacket and smiled when a rainbow sliced through some clouds.

Wet weather, this time of year, brings out the newts (and many were sighted). I inadvertently captured a group selfie, trying to get a ground-level close-up. This also had the effect of stopping the newt from moving forward, seemingly transfixed (or puzzled?) by the image on the screen. Are newts self-aware?

We had such a nice day for another hike in Sierra Azul that I convinced a couple of friends to go just a little bit farther uphill (6.7 miles, up and down). Along the way we'd passed a stunning chapparal currant bush in full bloom.

A friend invited me along for a hike on the other side of the Bay, in Coyote Hills Regional Park. This was fresh territory for me, as it's more straightforward to explore the shoreline on the west side of the Bay. Late winter lighting made for some moody reflections.

Our 4.1-mile route was mostly flat (except for the steep bits)!

The domes of Lick Observatory atop Mt. Hamilton were visible above the clouds when we tackled a 5.8-mile loop in a section of Almaden Quicksilver that we visit less frequently.

But it was a visit to the Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve that delivered my favorite image of the month, as the timing and location for the start of our 4.5-mile route deposited us at the edge of the clouds.

Of course, there was some cycling, too; including one special ride to connect with old friends. The guest of honor was a much-loved cycling buddy recovering from some serious health challenges. His t-shirt (“GRUMPA: Like a regular grandpa, only grumpier”) couldn't have suited him less! But it was funny.

January Jaunts

I visited familiar parks in January, sometimes exploring new (to me) trails.

There were some seasonal surprises at Picchetti Ranch, like this lovely fungus that was lit just so.

Our group's usual loop in Almaden Quicksilver afforded a view clear across the valley.

We started our loop through Santa Teresa County Park from the historic ranch (a first for me). I've often watched others hike uphill from there; it's unrelentingly steep for most of the first mile.

It was starkly clear where the edge of suburbia meets the untamed hills.

For our last adventure of the month, we hiked a near figure-eight in Calero County Park.

We passed the Calero Bat Inn (but saw no bats, who were presumably asleep).

It was another picture-perfect day, and we pretty much had the trails to ourselves.

We passed a stone fixture, apparently spring-fed, for thirsty four-legged creatures. (Horses are permitted on these trails).

I'd harbored some doubts about how I'd fare today (longest hike to date, six miles); whenever others paused, I would keep going. Otherwise, I knew I would fall behind.

Good strategy.

Food Rescue

It was time. Time to settle on some way to give back, meaningfully, to the community. It had been a long time since I contributed a significant amount of my free time (50-100 hours per year) as a volunteer.

The catch is, most organizations want people who will commit to a regular schedule. I get it: they need to know that their work will get done. But having spent nearly all of my life tethered to a daily schedule (years of school and many more years of work), I resisted signing up for that. Last year, I volunteered opportunistically. [It wasn't enough.]

I thought about Second Harvest. Having volunteered there many years ago (one time?), and subsequently supported them, I pulled up their calendar of volunteer shifts. [Whoa!] Plenty of opportunities. I picked one.

The scale of the operation was mind-boggling. As a new volunteer, the orientation was a bit overwhelming. Working in a section of a huge warehouse, we would be doing “food rescue.” Checking dates on perishables, discarding spoiled produce, and sorting everything: cans and jars go here, snacks go there, baked goods go here, healthy beverages go there ... on and on. Spoiled produce would be collected to feed farm animals. At the end of our shift, we swept the floors and sanitized our carts and work surfaces.

Second Harvest picks up the food (and other staples, like laundry detergent and paper goods) from retail stores and other sources, and supplies it to local organizations (e.g., community food banks) that distribute it to the people who need it.

I left thoroughly impressed. The work was well-organized. My fellow volunteers were eager and diligent workers. Our impact was huge: sorting through and processing pallets of food that would help hundreds of households. Products that, until a few years ago, would have simply been dumped in landfills.

When I got home, I signed up for my next shift. I can do this.

Looking Back at 2024

Despite some waning enthusiasm for cycling, I managed to pedal more than 2,930 miles and climb some 115,000 feet along the way. More rides (99), more distance, and more elevation gain than I completed in either of the past two years. And I happily reconnected with some of my favorite places to ride.

My annual fundraising adventure involved cycling from Healdsburg to Santa Cruz over the course of three days.

I visited Davis for the first time (to bike, what else?!) and boarded a plane for the first time since The Before Times.

I fit in 58 hikes, mostly with friends, walking more than 262 miles in places new and not, and did my share of citizen science as a member of the iNaturalist community.

I donated 22 hours of my time as a volunteer for various causes. [I can do better.]

A new year starts ... tomorrow.

Ho Ho Ho

Continuing our tradition of a Christmas Day hike, a friend and I headed for some unfamiliar terrain.

I thought the area would be mostly exposed and thus relatively dry. [Wrong on both counts.]

I'm no longer surprised that we're not the only holiday hikers. Though sadly, two boys were tearing up the slick trails on their shiny new electric bikes. [Sigh.]

I was prepared with a route when my friend suggested that we explore the Heintz Open Space Preserve; I'd mapped out a loop some time ago, but it was too short to be interesting for my regular hiking pals. There is scant information online about this preserve (and the adjoining Santa Rosa Open Space Preserve). Trail markers were nearly non-existent; without GPS, we would have been confused (at best) and likely lost.

There is a curious history to this place, part of a former estate given to the town of Los Gatos. An interpretive sign told the story of the property's miniature railroad before we passed the filled-in tunnel entrance.

Past the loop shown as the end of the Vista Trail, we explored a distinct trail that doesn't appear on maps of the area. Not knowing where that would lead, we turned back after a short distance.

We covered a little over three (muddy) miles for my last planned hike of the year, grateful for my hiking poles and for the generous gift of this land.

Infinite Wonders

Couldn't pass up a chance to join docents leading a hike in a closed section of the Sierra Azul Preserve. Although I've joined other hikes in this area, today we would follow an extended (figure-eight) route.

The meadow was already sprouting green after a recent controlled burn, and a fire break that had been plowed along one edge offered a new vantage point.

Thanks to trail-clearing work, we were able to enjoy a path above a steep canyon. Rocks had since tumbled down, in places; keeping this trail open will likely be an ongoing challenge.

The toyon's red berries provide a festive splash of color this time of year.

And just as I was thinking that there is little to discover as winter approaches, a lovely layered fungus set me straight.

We were happy to be hiking at an elevation high enough to rise above the winter smog in the valley. The clouds had shifted by the time we completed our five-mile route, leaving the pond to mirror blue sky rather than gray.

No better way to spend the day!