July 27, 2013

Toe the Line

Moon setting behind the summit of Mt. Umunhum
Climbing up Mt. Umunhum after biking to (and from) work on the preceding three days is not a recipe for success. I struggled. I was dripping wet. At times, I walked. I admired the alignment of the setting moon with the Doppler weather station, on opposite sides of the Cube.

The good news is that they have patched most of the potholes up there. No longer is it necessary to choose your line up the hill by hunting for connected ribbons of pavement. The bad news is that when you climb as slowly as I do, you are prey. I was buzzed repeatedly by an enormous loud insect that flew circles around me. It may have been just the decoy, though; at one point I looked down and found blood trickling down the outside of my left knee. The hill hurts so bad, I never felt the bite.

My bike leaning against a tree near the "white line of death"
You can only climb so far on this road. On the upper section, new signs have appeared. 1.2 miles to the preserve boundary. A third of a mile later: 0.9 miles to the preserve boundary. [They are nothing, if not precise.] Not that you could miss the boundary: there are multiple “No Trespassing” and stop signs.

And then there is the fabled “White Line of Death.” If you take a look at some satellite imagery, you will see that there is a second white line. It is the second white line that really marks the preserve boundary; beyond it, the road crosses private land on the way to the summit.

View across the valley from the highest legal access on Mt. Umunhum
The last time I made it up here, there was a grumpy guy in a pickup truck on the “No Trespassing” side of the signs. Today, I was alone. I dared to venture the extra few yards past the signs, stopping at the first white line. The view across the valley was lovely.

Hundreds of California Gulls on the Guadalupe ReservoirThe Bay Area is presently burdened with an overpopulation of California Gulls. On my return to suburbia, I witnessed the problem firsthand: hundreds of cacophonous gulls on the Guadalupe Reservoir (and its banks). With the landfill nearby, this must be a veritable paradise for these scavengers.

As for me, there was one more hill to climb in pursuit of sustenance: the club's annual ice cream social. One scoop of Rocky Road, one scoop of Cookies 'N Cream, and lots of toppings: Heath bar crunch, rainbow sprinkles, fresh strawberries and blueberries, a chewy brownie ...

Thirty-seven miles, some 3,615 feet of steep climbing. I earned it.

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