All is Not Lost

What if the club schedules a ride, and no one shows up? I arrived early for today's outing in Carmel Valley, and waited for 30 minutes past the scheduled start time with no sign of a fellow rider. Having traveled a long way, I set off to climb Robinson Canyon Road on my own.

Before I moved to California, I fell in love with nearby Pacific Grove. Once here, I would quickly realize that the residents shiver all summer under the influence of the cold, gray marine layer. I regretted not bringing a jacket, but knew I would warm up on the climb.

Fifty yards from the turn onto Robinson Canyon, I recognized my mistake. There was the Safeway parking lot with the coffee shop and the gas stations ... I had parked in a different Safeway parking lot, with a different coffee shop and gas stations.

The sun was breaking through at the summit of Robinson Canyon Road, and I descended into a lovely valley. Almost instantly, I was too warm; I rolled down my arm warmers and continued exploring. Having studied a map of this area last summer, I had a vague memory that I could follow another road back to Carmel Valley. Stopping to take a photo on the way up, I observed that the edge of the road really is the edge of the road: a few inches of dirt next to the pavement, then a sheer drop into the canyon several hundred feet below. I was enjoying my little adventure, but exercising caution. Out in the middle of nowhere, alone—best not to risk any mishaps.

Question: If you are passed by a FedEx van, are you really out in the middle of nowhere?

Happily, MyTracks on my Android phone showed me exactly where I was, and I confirmed that I was looking for Rancho San Carlos Road. I continued to a shady redwood grove for lunch, and was surprised to see that I had missed my turn. The reason would soon become clear: like the other side roads along the way, it was gated. Private. This land is all part of the cleverly-named Santa Lucia Preserve, which looks like a wonderful place to visit ... if you happen to be one of its 300 residents.

And so I would retrace my path back to the start. The marine layer had thickened at the summit, thanks to the prevailing onshore wind. A nervous quail skittered into the brush when I stopped to pull up my arm warmers. I completely overlooked the raptor in the tree above me until I clipped in and it took flight. I caught sight of what was likely a ferruginous hawk, just a few feet overhead. I was not disappointed to descend Robinson Canyon.

Sometimes, being lost is a good thing.