May Days

May was a month for docent-led hikes, starting with newly-opened trails in the eastern section of Bear Creek Redwoods.

I can imagine hiking this section in cool weather, as the trails are mostly exposed. It will take another visit or two before I'd be comfortable with a route; there seemed to be many trail junctions, identified only with numbers. I was glad to be following a leader.

My next excursion was to a preserve I may have never explored; if I did hike at Russian Ridge, it was a long, long time ago.

This preserve is outside the “zone” where my my buddies prefer to hike; it's a bit of a drive to get there. But it was worth it. It seemed late for a hike focused on wildflowers, but the higher altitude at Russian Ridge made all the difference.

And with the wildflowers ... butterflies. A silvery blue, in this case, on a pale flax blossom. As usual, I learned a great deal from the volunteer docents.

Speaking of butterflies: My next two docent-led outings were at the familiar Picchetti Ranch Open Space Preserve. Butterflies were the focus of the first visit, but a group (even a small group) is not terribly well-suited to butterfly observing. Quite a few Northern Checkerspots fluttered about and held still for photos, though.

With all the picnic tables occupied at the end of my hike, I was perched on a low fence in the parking lot to enjoy my lunch ... when a Sara orangetip alighted nearby. Was it worth putting my sandwich aside? They typically don't stay put ...

I returned to Picchetti with a docent two days later, this time for the flowers. (White globe lilies, in this case.)

One of the docents leads a hike every year on Memorial Day that starts near the summit of Montebello Road. (Or should I say, near the end of the drivable part of the road.) It's possible to hike here anytime, but access to parking requires a permit.

There were some children on this hike, and they were into it. When the group paused before making the last turn that would take us back to our vehicles, I spotted ants marching in a line, carrying seeds. Perfect! I called the kids over and introduced them to harvester ants.

The marine layer hovered above us, obscuring the Diablo Range to the east. Moffett Field and the southern reaches of San Francisco Bay, as well the suburbs of Silicon Valley, sprawled below us.

May was for hiking (20+ miles), though I did venture out on a couple of easy bike rides (45 miles). My ankle is still not happy, and there is one more May hike ahead. And then, June.

Ready or not, there I will go ...

April Amblings, Part 2

We explored a section of Santa Teresa County Park that was new to me. Not wanting to stress my injured ankle, but also not wanting to skip the hike, I opted to bypass one section of the route. (5.2 miles was enough, for me.) I also thought that, at my slow pace, I might be reunited with the rest of the group along the way.

That didn't happen. They were still way ahead of me, as it turned out. With a couple of folks training for summer backpacking adventures, the pace would have been uncomfortable for me even if I wasn't focused on studying the spring wildflowers. Or other unexpected discoveries, like a clump of freshly-hatched spiders on some blades of grass.

Next up was a leisurely docent-led tour through the area of Bear Creek Redwoods that had been the site of Alma College (and a private estate, before that). Some newly-opened trails in that area afford a view of Lexington Reservoir, to the east.

The route was so short, though, that I crossed over to the other side of the preserve for more of a challenge, finishing with just under four miles. On the way back, I picked up what was probably an old piece of plastic irrigation pipe alongside the trail, for proper disposal at home.

Dismayed about future outings with my weekly hiking buddies, I headed for a preserve I'd been longing to visit: Coyote Ridge. Curious about what I'd find there, I could spend all the time I wanted. [And I did.]

Having plotted the route in advance, I sought to explore the loop in a counter-clockwise direction (to avoid taxing my ankle climbing a steep hill). After checking in with my butterfly pass, I dutifully swept my boots and followed others up the trail. Clockwise.

The vistas were new, though most of the flowers were familiar.

There was abundant grassland, but occasional meadows were dotted with wildflowers. Woodland tidytips were a bright spot on an otherwise gloomy day.

A ranger was idling in the parking lot when I reached the end of my loop; I hadn't noticed that the preserve would close at 4 p.m. I was able to tack on a quick walk along the Overlook Trail and not be the last visitor to exit.

My last notable hike of the month was a return to the Glenwood Open Space Preserve, this time centered on the eastern section.

The pace was friendlier than my last group hike, as we had unfamiliar terrain to negotiate and I wasn't the only one captivated by the wildflowers.

Looking ahead to my own big adventure a month from now, my focus is on hiking rather than biking. Will I really be ready to hike several (hilly) days in a row? And will my ankle have recovered by then?

April Amblings, Part 1

Flowers keep popping up in the meadow where a controlled burn was carried out last fall in Sierra Azul.

Speaking of burn zones, we (unexpectedly) found the aftermath of a wildfire on a hike in the Sunol Regional Wilderness Preserve. Following a trail through there was another matter. (When I met a couple of rangers later, I suggested some signage—even temporary—would be helpful. They agreed.)

I was excited that our group agreed to hike here, well outside our regular territory; most of us had biked to the visitor center many times. We knew there was much to explore, and it was fun to get a different perspective on the Calaveras Reservoir.

Our group split, with some choosing an extended route. One person stayed with me (more or less), on a shorter 4.2. mile version. With one weight-bearing misstep, I'd recently injured an ankle. Flexing my foot to walk uphill is painful; I'd babied it on a recent bike ride, but it takes a lot of mindfulness. Same with hiking.

What am I to do? Sit at home? [Nah.]

Point the foot to avoid the flex; basically, walk tip-toe.

Choose a shorter route, with less elevation gain. We'd heard that lots of flowers were blooming in Ed Levin County Park. And they were ... mostly invasives. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. It was a lovely day, though, and another 4.2 mile hike for me.

My next hike rewarded me with a special find: a checker lily in full bloom. Up to that point, I'd only found these plants budding or fruiting.

Lest you think it's all about the flowers, trees can be magical, too!

Unless, well ... stay tuned.

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.

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.