Calero and Conversation

A friend reached out for an easy hike today, and was game to visit Calero County Park when I proposed that. My regular hiking buddies would be there, too, but on a different (more challenging) loop.

What I had in mind was the first section of the hike I'd extended in April; I noted the distance from a couple of turn-back points in case we opted to cut it even shorter.

There was plenty of wildlife to enjoy, from butterflies and birds to a curious pair of deer. Just above us on the slope next to the trail, they were more interested in munching (on poison oak!) than running away.

We followed the Cottle Trail from the Rancho San Vicente entrance, and made it to the farthest point I'd mapped out (the last views of the reservoir before the trail would turn away). Retracing our route, we covered about 6 miles.

It was a glorious day for a hike, and I learned that my hiking companion has a keen eye for spotting tiny creatures—and is patiently willing to indulge this amateur naturalist's curiosity!

Feathered Friends

As many times as I've done this ride, I've always seen something different. First up today was a black-necked stilt. Somehow I think I would have remembered those long red legs, if I'd seen this bird before.

Expecting to find good viewing at the Shorebird Egret Rookery today, I had invited a few friends to join me. One was new to this adventure, so I explained that we would be stopping along the way whenever I spotted an interesting bird.

As usual, there were other people gazing upward at the rookery. It's fun to educate casual observers, and (as usual) I managed to surprise them with a cast-off eggshell I found in the grass. I needn't have looked so hard, as I later found two that had been carefully set aside (and added mine).

The chicks were raucous! A fellow bird-lover remarked that there were more nests this year than she'd ever seen here. Continuing the trend I've noticed, there were many more black-crowned night heron nests.

Surely that's a mark of success? If a nesting site works, stick with it.

Snowy egrets were plentiful, so I was particularly delighted to find a great egret showing off some fancy plumage.

When I set out this morning, I wasn't sure how I'd manage. By riding to (and from) the starting location, I basically double the distance (for a total of 51 miles, with about 1,000 feet of climbing). Taking the most direct route home, I didn't expect I'd be dodging my way through a beach-traffic-jam (so late in the day!). But with at least two alternate routes toward the coast still blocked for repair from last winter's storms, this may be the theme for the summer of 2023.

Luckily I can get around on my bike.

Deflated

An Amazon van rolled up, taunting me. “That thing you wanted? It's right. In. Here.”

A floor pump? [I think. Not.]

The driver had stopped at the park to take a break and use the restroom.

Tools and bike bits spread around me, I sat in the shade. There was that, at least.

My problem was self-inflicted. It was a warm day, and I really didn't need to inflate my tires close to the rated maximum PSI. Really.

I was enjoying my snack in a shady spot near the hens, when ... Pffft! Parked in the rack, basking in the sunshine, a tube burst. [In the rear tire, of course.]

Luckily just one tube blew, because I don't carry two spares.

It's been a (long) while since I've needed to repair a flat on this bike, away from home. At least I was in a comfortable spot.

Step 1: Let some air out of the tube in the other tire, lest it suffer the same fate.

Repair Attempt 1: Use C02 cartridge. [Fail.] I thought the inflator was compatible with Schrader valves. I guess not.

Attempt 2: Use pump. [Fail.] Clever design, easy to use. If only I could unscrew the cap to pull out the hose.

Fallback Option 1: Phone a friend. [Fail.] Text message. No response.

Option 2: Call AAA? [Likely to be sitting here, waiting, for hours.]

Option 3: Wander through the neighborhood, begging for a floor pump?

Attempt 3: Keep trying to unscrew the cap on the pump. [Yes, I'm the stubborn, self-reliant type.] Success!

After gingerly riding the first three or so miles, my confidence grew that I would make it back home under my own power.

On these tires, 85 PSI should be plenty. Maybe more than enough. [Really.]

Lesson learned.

Tree Cover

After a mini-hike a few days ago, a friend was eager for something longer. He suggested eight miles; we compromised on a route just short of seven.

I might have done a short hike in Sanborn County Park years ago; he had never visited. Our destination was “The Peak;” quite a bit of elevation gain to reach Skyline from the valley, but the drive to the park gives a good head start.

We had to re-route almost immediately; the trail I'd intended was closed. Navigating through the fallen trees that we met along the way, I can't imagine what's come down in the closed section. The winter rains and winds had been brutal.

We didn't make it to The Peak; my hiking companion ran low on water, so we turned downhill onto the Sanborn Trail from the San Andreas Trail—completing a loop of 4+ miles.

Hiking in the forest was the right choice for a warm day.

A Coastal Stroll

Though this would be a short visit, I had ample time to amble along the coastal trail in Pacific Grove each day.

The skies cleared (briefly) on Friday afternoon, and the iconic ice plant was in full color at Perkins Park.

Ever-changeable weather! Enjoyed a treat from a café with some local friends on Saturday, taking shelter from a rain shower under a convenient tree.

Sunday morning greeted me with mist (bordering on drizzle). Should I skip the walk to Asilomar State Beach before heading back to the Bay Area? [Of course not.]

I would have missed this charming doggy lending library for tennis balls and sturdy sticks!

The local deer have fully adapted to the residential environment and are generally untroubled by passers-by.

A key trail segment at the beach was closed—unrepaired damage from winter storms, I presume—but my time was limited, anyway.

The Coastal Bush Lupine was magnificent.

Would I ever tire of these views? [I think not.]

Meet the Aquarists

Here for an early morning visit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, a “Caution: Wet Floor” warning near the Rainbow Trout habitat puzzled me. The floor was dry ... until a staff member tossed handfuls of food overhead, into the water.

The ensuing feeding frenzy splashed onlookers as well as the floor. We learned that these fish can transition between living in salt or fresh water habitats—something I hadn't known before now.

Many of my visits have been evening tours, so it has been a while since I strolled through the aviary.

My eyes were drawn to a handsome Black-bellied Plover, a shorebird unfamiliar to me.

The jellyfish are always mesmerizing. I focused on the Spotted Comb Jelly, for a change.

But the big (and I do mean, big) surprise was a Japanese Spider Crab.

For perspective, those are whale vertebrae nearby. [Yikes.]

No trip to Monterey would be complete without stopping by the Aquarium!

More than a Walk in the Woods

Having not exhausted myself on yesterday's ride, I agreed to join a friend for a modest hike today.

I was content to meander slowly along the trail; I was surprised at how many wildflowers were blooming here, but I'm not certain I've hiked this trail before—much less at this time of year.

Having recently enjoyed a few sessions about our local geology, flora, and fauna (sponsored by our county parks system), my eyes are open to so much more on my forays through the forest.

Now well aware of California Buckeyes in bloom, I had been amused to recognize them dotting the hills of Almaden. So many trees here keep their leaves year-round that I'd sadly assumed they were blighted oaks and wondered why they hadn't been felled to reduce the risk of fire. [Ha.]

The air was much hazier than I expected on a relatively cool day.

Our destination was the intersection of the Woods Trail with the Barlow Road trail, but my hiking companion ran out of steam; we covered a little over 4 miles (out and back).

Ever tantalizing, the cube atop Mt. Umunhum beckoned; we drove to the top and found that the marine layer obscured the Pacific. I couldn't help noticing, however, how the landscape changed as we climbed—from chaparral to conifers. So much more for the curious to appreciate in the world around us!

Lunch with the Girls

It's been a while. A while during which I missed two of my most favorite biking events.

I managed to catch a head cold—first time I've been sick since The Before Times—and it was a doozy. A scratchy throat that I'd chalked up to gasping for air on steep climbs was the harbinger.

If I took it easy, I figured I could manage a simple local route today, with a sandwich to sustain me. Though maybe I'd still need a nap when I got home ...

There was some aerial drama on the way: First, a crow harassing a red-tailed hawk; tables turned a mile or two later, with a mockingbird harassing a crow.

There's always something new to see, if you pay attention.

Pecking order is on full display at the ranch; the smallest hen wears a protective shield on her back because the bully who rules the roost keeps plucking out her feathers. Her neck is pretty bare, too.

The surprise for me was a doe, contently grazing next to the historic house and none too bothered by my presence. A regular visitor, I'm guessing, as a loud chorus of “Deer!” had rung out when I shared this site with dozens of excited schoolchildren on a field trip a few weeks ago. (She high-tailed it out of there, that day.)

Wild kingdom, right here on the suburban fringe of San José.

I Care Classic

This was definitely not your grandma's I Care Classic ...

I hadn't signed up for this ride since 2007, when I rode the 100-mile route. That was memorable for an epidemic of punctures (induced by goathead thorns). Biking along, the route heading into Gilroy was lined with cyclists fixing flats. At the next rest stop, I discovered that I had one, too. I remember one rider who abandoned, having flatted both tires (twice). Being buffeted by fast-moving semi trucks on Highway 25 was also unforgettable.

The designated routes have changed since then. The 100k route now incorporated two familiar, nasty-steep climbs; determined not to walk, my heart rate flirted with its maximum on the first one (Estates Drive, 15% grade), followed later by a stretch exceeding 12% on Mantelli Drive. I saw three people doing this route on ElliptiGOs; they told me they made it because they do have low gears.

Before 2007, I had done the metric route twice (2005, 2006). That route was ... friendlier. (Though I will say today's short climb up Roop Road felt like nothing after Estates Drive.)

When I reached the rest stop at Santa Teresa and Watsonville Roads, set up right at the (congested) intersection, I thought “You've got to be kidding me.” Traffic was backed up in all directions. It's a four-way stop, but impatient motorists don't necessarily wait their turn. I ran into a cyclist I know, and we had the same thought: the safest way to make the left turn was to walk the bike across the road.

A mile or so later, two cyclists flagged me down. They saw only a red arrow for the 100 mile route on the pavement. With the route on my device, and knowing the area, I was able to reassure them that we had not gone off course.

The day was heating up, and by the time I got to the last rest stop (also awkwardly placed, tucked around the corner at the Oak Glen intersection), I just wanted to be done. Having already taken my own pit stop at the Uvas Reservoir, I blew past. (I'd considered taking a short-cut up Willow Springs Road, but figured I'd cause a ruckus by going off-course past that rest stop.)

Thus, I finished with the expected 62 miles and some 2,400 feet of climbing. (As you've probably guessed, I won't be signing up for this event again.)

Wild Flowers

I had been meaning to catch up with a former colleague for the past few months; today was the day!

We settled on a hike, and I suggested Santa Teresa County Park for the likelihood of wildflowers. With an eye on the ominous sky, she had wisely donned a rain jacket. (Fortunately for me, it barely drizzled on us.)

On a weekday, I've become accustomed to having a park to myself. This was the first time I've shared a trail here with horseback riders!

We also passed some artists in the brush. [Pun intended.]

Some kindred spirit had left a sticky-note on the park map near the trailhead, designating where the blooms would be found (and, the intel was spot-on).

We had fun trying to match the flowers we saw to the park's brochure. Without clues to size or foliage, that was often quite challenging. Serpentine leptosiphon struck us as the most peculiar name.

Here's looking at you, Liz(ard)! I would have missed you, were it not for the keen eye of my hiking buddy. A California Alligator Lizard, methinks.

We found patches of Checkerbloom,

Owl's Clover,

and Tomcat Clover.

My hiking companion and I were well-matched today, because ... if you aren't into wildflowers, you will likely be frustrated hiking with me when the bloom is on!

We covered about 4 miles and something under 800 feet of elevation gain, with lots of good conversation, flower appreciation, and one more Pix in the Parks along the way!

The Workhorse

I'd been intending to take my classic old bike somewhere for maintenance; it was overdue. A flat tire (on the rear, of course) spurred me to take a closer look. That tire was ... done. And if I had been more attentive, I wouldn't have trashed the rear cassette by riding (how many miles?) with a worn-out chain. [I know better.] After 31 years of reliable riding, I really can't complain. (I had already worn out, and replaced, the shifters.)

This bike is a comfortable old friend, well-suited to casual rides. Though my days of bicycle commuting are behind me, I've nonetheless been racking up the miles on my trusty steed.

Too heavy to load into my car, I had pedaled it to a well-regarded family-owned shop for some TLC. A shop with a mechanic that would happily get it into shape, not frown and try to sell me a new bike.

Gone are the chronically misaligned, shrieking brake shoes. Also gone is the mismatched 8-speed rear shifter (it's a 7-speed cassette, but I guess that's all a previous mechanic had on hand when he replaced it).

This mechanic commented that the hubs had absolutely no grease in them. [Hubs are something of a mystery to me, and evidently had been ignored by all those who had serviced this machine, till now.]

Biking it back home seemed effortless. I hadn't had a sense that there was anything wrong about the ride, before; but there certainly was a difference now.

And I knew just where I wanted to stop for the glamour shots my old friend deserved!

Checking Out Chico

Road trips for cycling events are welcome opportunities to explore new areas. Given the popularity of the Chico Wildflower, I was surprised that the city was so far off the beaten track.

There was a two-day festival at the fairgrounds, with the opportunity to test-ride a variety of cycling contraptions.

And there were adventure-types launching spins and flips. [This one didn't land it.]

Thanks to a lucky meeting with a Bay Area friend on Saturday, we learned that there was a cycling-inspired exhibit at the Museum of Northern California Art—and we had just enough time to seek it out.

Most of the artists were local, like Stevi Mittman. “Silver Streaker” was eye-catching (though not rideable).

Karen Mason's whimsical prints, like “Family Out for the Day,” made me smile.

But the show-stopper for me was Katelyn Fitzgerald's “The History of the Bicycle,” a black-and-white piece composed entirely of the written word. Study it closely and you'd find a description of the history of the bicycle, the Tour de France, the lyrics to Queen's “Bicycle Race” (and more).

We settled on the Sierra Nevada taproom for dinner, along with a contingent of young people in formal attire (prom night).

Sunday (post ride), we stretched our legs on a stroll through the lower section of Bidwell Park. A couple of frenetic butterflies caught our eyes (Black Swallowtails, I believe).

We saw a few cyclists cooling off in the swimming area of Big Chico Creek (if only we'd known ...), and watched a couple of teens clinging and swinging with a log teetering on the edge of a low waterfall. Plenty of flow, especially given the warm weather (we were lucky that it was cooler on ride-day than Saturday, when we arrived).

We wrapped up with a visit to the Chico State campus. I was mindful not to photo-bomb any of the soon-to-be-graduates (and their families) posing for photos. One friendly group invited me to be in their picture when they realized I was politely staying out of the frame! (I declined.)

I was surprised to find so many brick buildings throughout town—an uncommon sight in California (land of earthquakes). Evidentky Trinity Hall has been standing for 90 years, so perhaps this region is less susceptible to shaking than much of the state.

We didn't manage to explore the downtown area. Maybe next time?