Sounds of Spring

Oh, that enticing ribbon of road! One rider claimed to see the snow-capped peaks of the Sierras in the distance, but there was too much haze for me. I was tempted, oh-so-tempted, to head down the other side of Patterson Pass, but that was not part of today's plan.

Another rider matter-of-factly identified the repeated trill of a nearby western meadowlark. They'd seen peacocks, too; I had recognized their cries but I didn't catch a glimpse. None of us could miss the spectacle of hundreds of red-winged blackbirds swarming in a brushy field we'd passed. What a cacophony!

Frogs croaked, goats bleated, sheep baaed, wild turkeys gobbled, cattle mooed, cyclists panted.

By the time I reached the base of Morgan Territory Road, I had recovered enough to make the turn with the rest of the group. Why not?

Why not? Because I had climbed the front side once before (and I remembered it well).

But, here I was, again. When I met an SUV coming down the steepest section, I stopped debating whether to attempt it. [I walked.]

I wondered at the rocky peak in the distance, so clearly visible from the park where we'd stopped, just past the summit.

The green hills will fade to gold all too soon, and the poppies will shed their petals and seeds.

Our return via Collier Canyon Road was unfamiliar, and unexpectedly lovely—a very pleasant surprise.

I've been commuting by bicycle with more determination, and it is paying off. My most challenging ride of the year: 43 miles, 3,090 feet of climbing, with no regrets.

Evil Twig

You know the old superstition that bad luck comes in threes?

First, one of the riders in our group broke his chain. [Fixed.]

Flying down Old Santa Cruz Highway, it sounded like I'd suddenly caught a piece of paper in my wheel. Strange, I didn't remember seeing anything like that on the road.

I slowed and stopped. Nothing there. Maybe it came loose. Maybe it was a leaf?

I started rolling again. Something wasn't right. Was something rubbing? Another cyclist pulled up behind me. He spun the rear wheel, listening. “Oh look, it's flat.”

I pulled out a fresh tube and set to work. There was a suspicious cut in the tire—all the way through. Which, sure enough, corresponded to the hole in the tube. “This is weird,” he said, as he folded the old tube. “Feel that? There's something inside the tube.”

As we loaded our bikes at the end of the ride, a minivan pulled up and dropped off a solo rider and his bike—which he proceeded to load into his car. Evidently he'd needed to hitch a ride back, unable to recover from his mechanical issue. (It comes in threes, I tell you.)

Our group of four had cycled a mere 18 miles (with 1,905 feet of climbing and more than our share of breakdowns).

Back at home, I sliced the tube and pulled out ... a piece of a twig, similar in size to the shaft of a pencil and roughly tapered at one end.

That pierced a tire? And tube? And lodged itself inside?

Off with both Mavic Yksion (Comp) tires, on with the Continental GP4000S tires I trust.