Pedal Pushers

Foxy's Fall Century is a popular one-day bike event that I'd never done, and this year my chief biking buddy and I signed up. Rides like these are great opportunities to see parts of California that we would otherwise likely not visit.

Davis is renowned as a big biking town, and we saw plenty of university students (and others) on the streets and trails.

We headed for the university's arboretum to stretch our legs after our long drive. Blooms are scarce this time of year, though we did pass some common yarrow and California fuschia. Nature's Gallery Court, with its colorful tiles featuring native plants and pollinators, was a lovely consolation.

The arboretum's waterway was dry (under renovation), much to the disappointment of my biking buddy, who was especially looking forward to seeing the lake.

A red flag warning (for gusty, dry winds) had been scheduled to expire on Friday night, but then was extended into Saturday evening. On the drive up we'd seen a grass fire from the freeway, to the east; that smoke wouldn't be a factor, but I did smell smoke (faintly) when we started biking on Saturday morning. That fire was closer, I learned, but contained.

Our route followed mostly rural roads, with very little traffic, past orchards and vast agricultural fields. The middle third of the ride brought us closer to some hills, with a welcome lunch stop at Lake Sonoma. Like many of our fellow riders, we perched on the curb with our sandwiches to enjoy the view.

The winds (headwinds, with occasional gusts) picked up as the day wore on. Despite that, I averaged 14 mph over the course's 62.6 miles. I'm pretty sure that's my fastest pace over such a distance (thanks to very little elevation gain—less than 1,200 feet).

Of course, several pacelines passed me like I was standing still ... but that's to be expected. Unlike so many rides these days, I wasn't passed by a single ebike—I saw only one, all day. What a joy it was to pedal with so many like-minded cyclists!

Can't You Read the Signs?

As I pulled on my hiking boots at Bear Creek Redwoods, a couple climbed out of their pickup truck with a small dog. Thinking that dogs weren't welcome at Midpeninsula's open spaces, I was surprised—and figured that I was mistaken.

Yes. And no. (They're welcome at some preserves, but not this one.)

Fog touched the treetops on the hills, but our trail wouldn't climb that high. I was glad when my former teammates suggested this preserve for our hike today; at this time of year, the forest is an especially welcome alternative to the dry hills. One of the guys was hiking with us for the first time ... along with his friendly dog.

Busy chatting, we passed the usual (brown) sign at the trailhead. Do this, don't do that ... Of the many icons and other text on the sign, what caught my eye was the hiker (permitted, of course) and weapons (not allowed). All of us focused on the bright yellow sign, beneath, about mountain lions. I also noticed a temporary sign announcing that the Madrone Knoll trail was closed, but we weren't planning to hike that anyway.

None of us noticed that dogs are, in fact, not permitted. None of the hikers we passed said a word.

But a ranger was lying in wait, his truck tucked into a spot just off the trail. And he was not pleased. Our colleague got a ticket (not a warning) and was sternly told to “leave immediately.” (We were on the return leg, at that point.) The ranger insisted that we had passed 11 “no dogs” signs. [Not really. Paying close attention, we found four or five that we had indeed overlooked; others are likely placed at paths we didn't follow.] Maybe a couple of the small, dog-specfic signs would be more eye-catching if they were, say, black and white?

Lesson learned. Read the signs, always.