Busy Birds

It's that time of year again: time to check on the rookery. Before I invite others to visit with me, I always do a preview.

The waters of the bay were higher than I've seen on any previous ride. A fellow cyclist even stopped to remark the same. High tide, sure; but still puzzling. [Until later, as I was riding home and remembered that the moon is almost full—two more days.]

There were birds to see along the way: egrets, great and snowy.

Eared grebes, feeding their ride-along offspring.

There were more fledglings than I expected at the rookery, but I should have remembered that from last year's visit.

With a stiff headwind along the bay (and a full loop of 45 miles with some 1,200 feet of climbing), of course I stopped at for a (now-traditional) fresh fruit tart on the way home. Stay tuned for next week's visit (with friends)!

A Shady Canyon

My former teammates and friends were ready for another hike, but apprehensive about the heat. Uvas Canyon came to mind, and when I was able to secure a parking pass we were in!

I'd suggested that we rendezvous at another park along the way, and I would transport the group from there. While I waited, a perky little gopher kept popping up nearby—and I managed to capture a few shots.

I knew we'd have plenty of cool shade.

Summer is nigh, so I was less confident we'd see the park's famous waterfalls.

I didn't tell them about the stream crossing in advance ... but they were intrepid and sure-footed explorers. Some even more than I!

I'd encouraged them to bring lunches, which I'd stashed in a cooler while we hiked. I shared some brownies, others shared strawberries, and we lingered over lunch and conversation longer than we spent hiking the trails.

A good time was had by all!

Wild Things

You never know what you might find on an ordinary bike ride.

My biking companions missed the great blue heron as we cycled along the Coyote Creek trail.

I stopped, though, for both Pacific gopher snakes (deceased)—so they saw those. The second one might have lost a battle with a foe—I think I spotted a puncture wound. (The first one appeared to have lost its life to a vehicle.)

A pair of grackles made me chuckle. Just like the people relaxing along the shores of Almaden Lake, they'd found a shady spot to enjoy the view.

Forty miles and about 1,100 feet of climbing along the way. [But it's not all about the bike.]

History, Natural and Not

This almost looks like a painting of rainbow trout, but it's the real deal. You can see some reflections in the glass, and if you look closely you might make out the dark figure of the photographer in the center with a fish head.

Last year this exhibit was more fun; they tossed some food into the tank and the frenzied fish gave us a good splashing.

We were enjoying an early morning visit to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, 90 minutes or so before the doors opened to the public. We wandered out when we needed feeding (around lunchtime).

A friend had recently raved about the gardens at the Carmel Mission, so we decided to pay a visit.

The buildings and historical pieces were fascinating; I thought I'd been here before, touring it during a visit with my mom, but nothing looked familiar. I'm fairly sure she picked up a Christmas tree ornament (featuring the mission) for her collection. The garden was pretty, but not outstanding. Kudos to those who faithfully restored the place, which might otherwise have been razed given its state of disrepair when they took it on.

Saving the best for last: no visit would be complete without a leisurely meander along the coastal trail.

I never tire of these views, especially in the late-day sunshine.

Monterey Bay at its fog-free best.

New Views

An opportunity for early-morning access to the Aquarium on Saturday was a good excuse to spend a long weekend in the Monterey Area. [Not that I need an excuse ...] I invited a couple of friends to join me, and my chief biking buddy was happy to head down early enough on Friday to go exploring.

A little research had turned up an unfamiliar state park: Garrapata. How could I have biked past this park on so many rides down the coast, and not seen it? Well, there's no parking lot (and no admission fee); I studied the map to understand where to park along the roadside and hoped we'd find a spot.

In a word: Wow!

I expected coastal views. I didn't expect brilliant flowers. I'm already looking forward to another visit—next spring, if not sooner.

We didn't complete the loop I'd planned along the coastal bluff, heading back across the highway to explore a bit of the inland canyon instead.

Then we headed for another park, away from the fog and into the sunshine: Garland Ranch Regional Park.

Of the potential hikes I'd mapped out, the waterfall loop beckoned. It was a good challenge, and in the counter-clockwise direction we would reach the waterfall toward the end.

I bet it's impressive when the water is flowing; it was barely a trickle now. But I did spot a flower I'd forgotten having seen before (prettyface). Evidently it caught my eye back then, too!

Fauna vs. Flora

It's a season of transition, spring fading toward summer.

The sky was brooding, but no rain would fall on us ('tis not the season for that).

There was more green to be seen closer to the Guadalupe Reservoir. And even on a familiar hike (a little more than five miles), there is something new to find.

I paused to snap a photo of this flower (yellow star-thistle), and was surprised to find it covered with insects. Insects I hadn't seen before (of which there are, of course, many).

The natural world is amazing. Specfically, these were yellow star-thistle flower weevils. That's right: a creature that feeds on precisely this flower. Like the plant, these weevils are non-native—they were deliberately imported to attack this invasive plant. Evidently they're not alone in this job: there are a couple of other types of yellow-star-thistle-hungry weevils, similarly imported. I've seen a lot of yellow starthistle ... but this was the first time to find any of the devouring weevils. (In the Bay Area, the plant seems to be winning.)

Life is full of little surprises—always be looking!

Gold Country Challenge

Looking at the route for today's event, I realized that our inn was right on the route. Having picked up our registration materials yesterday, we could simply roll out in the morning. I love it when this works! The downside, of course, would be that we would need to return (uphill) to the inn after finishing at the fairgrounds (the ride's official start and finish location).

Having been humbled when I added more hillclimbing to my rides recently, I wasn't at all sure I could finish this ride. Looking at the route profile, I realized there was a reason for the word “Challenge” in the name.

I stopped only once to take pictures, on a bridge over the Yuba River.

The water was flowing fast (and cold, I would expect).

Just like last time, I did not stop for a photo when we crossed the river the first time. It's a scenic spot, but I was more keen to use my downhill momentum for a boost on the climb up the far side. [Maybe next time?]

My legs gave out on a steep pitch near the end, where they'd routed us through a residential neighborhood for a break from the main road. “We're almost done,” a passing rider encouraged me. “That's good,” I said, “because my legs are done!” I dismounted and walked up the last bit (over 10% grade). A postal service truck was stopped at the top, and when I got there the mail carrier cheered for me. Smiles do help soothe the pain.

We'd signed up for the “Milder Metric” route, which turned out to be 51 miles and some 5,000 feet of climbing. The full century route approached 9,000 feet of climbing, which accounted for the riders I saw sporting Death Ride jerseys: This would be a good training ride in preparation for mid-July.

We were lucky with the weather (not too hot). Although we could have followed the official route from the fairgrounds back to the inn, that would have entailed more time on a busy road than I'd like. (Not a problem for those who rode it first thing, in the early morning.) The route I mapped out included one steep bit (again, over 10% grade)—but a little downhill momentum helped there, too. [Made it!]

Grass Valley Getaway

When my chief biking buddy suggested we tackle the Gold Country Challenge (bike event), I agreed. Looking at the details, though, I wondered if I was up for it. [This will be fine ...]

As usual, we headed up to the area a day early to see what we could see; for this trip, Grass Valley would be our home base. Setting out to explore the town, we got lucky: the main drag was lined with vendors selling their wares, including fruits and veggies.

I had mapped out a few local hikes and my friend was game to join me. Having visited this area on prior trips, we were eager for some new experiences.

Our first hike, on the Alan Thiesen Trail, was short (not even a mile). I was wowed by the largest Pacific Madrone I'd ever seen. Common in the coastal hills of the Bay Area, I didn't expect to find this tree so close to the Sierras.

Signs had been placed to identify key native plants, and there were other little surprises in store. [Here's looking at you, kid!]

Next up was a longer hike (about 2.7 miles), along the Wildflower Ridge and Rough & Ready Ditch Trails.

Water still flows in this historic canal, originally dug to supply water for gold mining.

When a tree falls in the forest, blocking a trail ... get creative!

Our third and final hike, 2.5 miles along the Wolf Creek Trail, would bring us close to the Nevada County Fairgrounds (where we would pick up our registration packets for tomorrow's ride).

I was distracted by some butterflies, which turned out to be Mylitta crescents. I am now wondering why orange is a common color for butterflies. [Research needed.]

When we pulled into the parking lot for this trail, we both recognized that we'd been here before. The Northstar Mining Museum was open, and we had time to indulge our curiosity. The place was fascinating!

We even saw the Pelton Wheel in motion (no water now, just a manual spin).

A day well spent!

All the Land

I'd hiked this loop for the first time not long ago, before learning that a familiar docent has a decades-long tradition of leading a hike here on Memorial Day. [Which is today.]

Having the day off, some of my former colleagues were keen for a hike; I proposed that they join me for this one. Since the docent-led hike would be short, I offered to follow it with a second hike nearby.

From this vantage point we could see the fog glowing atop Monterey Bay in the distance, and soon after immerse ourselves in a woodland.

How fortunate we are to have great expanses of wild, open land preserved around us! Still, a relatively small fraction of the local population has any awareness of these spaces. How many have no concept of the land that lies on the other side of the hills they pass on the freeway?

Every outing is an opportunity to discover some wonderful new thing, like the northern checkerspots I found descending on golden yarrow in bloom.

After completing our loop at the top of Montebello, we returned to Picchetti Ranch to stretch our legs with a four-mile hike along the Zinfandel Trail. Mindful that the day was warming up, I was glad to notice a water station near the trailhead and encouraged everyone to fill up.

Much of that trail is shaded, but an exposed section affords a birds-eye view of the Stevens Creek Reservoir.

All the land you cannot see ...

Butterflies or Bust!

A docent-led hike focused on ... butterflies?

I hit the jackpot on this hike: Not only were the lead docents impressively prepared to share their knowledge with posters and books about butterflies, it seemed that most of my fellow hikers were docents themselves. If the butterflies eluded us, we would certainly learn about the plants.

As the group gathered, I noticed a bunch of butterflies (variable checkerspots) converging on some nearby bushes. The reason became clear: they favor yerba santa, which was in full bloom. Perhaps we really would see many butterlies today?

Variable checkerspots were plentiful, but another one caught my eye—something lovely that I hadn't seen before. I couldn't offer much of a description beyond “orange” and “small.” Fortunately it didn't flutter away before I got the docent's attention.

A gorgon copper, he happily announced.

Also new to me were the bush poppies.

We spent most of our time on the Bald Mountain and Umunhum trails, covering more than 3 miles (out and back), before driving up to the summit for a little more exploring.

Another well-planned adventure: Our leaders knew where, and when, we would find butterflies. Some even lingered long enough to be photographed!

So Many Berries!

I've done this ride many times (ten, counting today), and I've always crossed paths with someone I know. [Not today.]

Parking was a cinch. The big lot was more than half empty.

It was a chilly ride. After all these years, I finally opted for a cup of minestrone soup at the first rest stop. [Warm, and tasty!]

I was surprised to hear the sound of crashing waves. [I guess the sea has more often been calm.]

I've always gotten up the steep hill on Maher Road before lunch (12% grade). [“Not today,” said my legs.] Clearly I haven't done enough climbing this season. Was I ill-prepared for this ride? I felt tired. I was short on sleep; or was I simply low on fuel? [Maybe both.]

We passed fields of lettuce, artichokes, strawberries (of course), and many other crops.

The lunch tables were mostly empty. As I rolled out, other 100k riders were still arriving. The sun finally started to break through after lunch, and when I stopped for this photo two other riders realized it was a good shot and followed my lead.

At Gizdich Ranch, there was no need to hunt for a spot to park my bike or a place to sit with my slice of pie. I noticed that the bike mechanic was idle; why not ask if he'd take a look at my bike? It hasn't been shifting properly since the derailleur's pulley wheels were replaced. He was delighted to help me, and his adjustment resolved the issue. [Thank you, Bicycle Trip!]

I've always done most of the route with others in sight. [Not today.] Climbing through the redwoods on Hazel Dell, I saw one other cyclist headed in the same direction—and that was true for most of the remaining 10 miles.

It was puzzling. Had I started later than usual? [No.] Early on, I was passed by a few riders, and passed others in turn. Later? Not so much.

Being a bit slower than usual, I finished a bit later than usual. [Not by much.] But, still: There were so few people at the finish. Did they skip the meal (not to mention the eponymous berries, served with chocolate ganache and a dab of whipped cream)?

Maybe this year's steep increase in the registration fee dissuaded people from signing up? [The point is, it's a fundraiser.] And costs keep rising: permits, insurance, food—you name it.

I like this ride: all the friendly volunteers, the live music at every stop, the scenery, the strawberries. If there's a 34th edition in 2025, I expect to return for another 63 miles through the countryside.

Next year, I'll be prepared to pedal up that wicked hill.

Variations on a Theme

So many fun memories bubble up whenever “Bike to Work Day” rolls around. Biking to the office with more than two dozen people trailing along behind me, newbies and experienced riders alike. My co-leader's mobile “Energizer Station” (coffee and donut holes). Receiving a gift of custom, personalized tire levers from that long-time co-leader.

I visited a nearby Energizer Station on my way to meet friends for our weekly ride, chatted with the volunteers, and picked up my bag (and an apple). No more Hobee's coffee cake, alas!

Our little group's regular leader was out of town today, and ... when the cat's away, the mice will play! The rider who stepped up proposed a new game for a regular, very familiar route: each leader should take a turn at introducing a few twists. His first little neighborhood tweak gave us a new hillside perspective. Later we detoured onto the Albertson Parkway Trail, which I've passed countless times but never explored. (Note to self: Explore this again, reading all the interpretive signs along the way.) I accepted the challenge: Next time I'll work that trail into our return-from-coffee-stop route.

It was surprisingly windy this morning, in an unexpected direction: we'd have a tailwind for our return. Thirty-three miles for me, having extended the route by riding from home—a bit shy of the 40 miles I'd log commuting to (and from) the office.

No more biking to work for me, of course. I hope that my colleagues continued the tradition, and that some of the people we inspired over the years have continued to bike to the office when they can.

Spring Along the Trail

We were charmed by a few California Sisters today that were determined to perch on people, reminding me of a summertime experience I had before moving to the Bay Area. If I would pause at my back door upon coming home from work, a friendly Red Admiral would circle in and land on me, often atop my head. I could feel strands of hair moving as it explored. I'd wait patiently, sometimes for several minutes, before it would flutter away. As the season wore on, it lost bits of its wings (to predators, I assumed), until it came no more.

Accompanied by docents, most of the group was focused on spotting spring flowers, but there was no overlooking the butterflies.

Not to mention the occasional vista!

One docent was on the lookout for a particular plant (Broad-leaved stonecrop), and knew just where we'd find it. I loved the mix of colors!

Our hike was short (3 miles), but filled with spring blooms. Get 'em while they last ... summer is approaching.