Here a Bird, There a Bird

Egrets or your money back! (I promised.)

But first, there were many other shorebirds to see. White Pelicans, American Avocets, Cliff Swallows ... hmm, there's an idea.

We did see egrets (both Snowy and Great) hunting in the shallows. And a stately Great Blue Heron.

I led us off-route on an impromptu detour to view the cliff swallows nesting on Google's fancy new building adjacent to Moffett Field. I wasn't sure how that would play out, but I was prepared to beg forgiveness. [No issues.] After all, we were just a bunch of bird-brained cyclists milling about and peering up at the mud nests. Three chicks peeked out of one, chirping frenetically until a parent swooped in with lunch.

At the rookery, the Black-crowned Night Herons were deep in the foliage, too well-camouflaged for inexperienced eyes to pick out. The egrets, however, did not disappoint. I even managed to find a blue eggshell in the brush, much to the delight of my little tour group.

The chicks are pretty big now; we witnessed some furious feeding action, whetting our own appetites for lunch. [And, as I've found on every one of these outings: Zareen's was a hit, with one enthusiastic rider proposing that we should plan some future rides just for lunch.]

One more bonus awaited: Back at the start, it was the last day to score some fresh apricots from Sunnyvale's Heritage Orchard.

A couple of riders had biked to the start; with one headed in my direction, I enjoyed a little company for some of the ride home. A fun time was had by all; and for me, a hearty 53 miles with 1,020 feet of climbing.

Most Pleasant

A little mid-week jaunt, with our small group gathering for coffee before heading back. A few stronger riders detoured for an extra steep climb [in both senses, that] along the way.

As always, it seems, I brought up the rear. The other riders were good about regrouping, and sent me off the front for the descent of Mt. Hamilton Road. Trailing me, they likely didn't catch sight of the pair of fawns that crossed in front of me. There was no sign of mom, so I suppose they were old enough to be on their own—but they still had their spots.

A most pleasant ride through summer's golden hills: 30 miles with 1,160 feet of climbing.

Bluebird of Happiness

I spied with my little eye ... an unusual pair of deer in the brush while climbing Alpine Road. Never be surprised to be surprised!

The northern end of our route today was more than “misty.” By the time we reached our turnaround point, we were windblown and our sunglasses speckled with drops. I considered heading back to intercept our remaining two riders, but once we stood with our backs to the wind we agreed we could stay the course.

We were fortunate to arrive early enough to lounge alongside the lavender at the Pulgas Water Temple; by the time we left, they were closing off access to the grounds for a private wedding.

We had parked our bikes nearby in the grass, where a California Bluebird commandeered my handlebar as a handy vantage point for worm-spotting.

We wondered how some of our comrades had fared today on their route to the coast; we learned that several had turned back, but the one we met at our rendezvous point was fully decked out in his winter gear, the very picture of determination (and preparation). Content to be the fair-weather riders we are, we had wrapped up 33 miles, 1,740 feet of climbing—finishing dry, with a tailwind.

Coalition Coffee

Our regional bicycle coalition has reached out a few times, seeking to engage with local bike clubs. Normally I couldn't get involved, as they always want to meet up on weekdays. My “summer vacation” presented a rare opportunity.

I suggested that we might attract a few folks from our club if we met for coffee in one of the smaller towns or neighborhoods (as opposed to downtown San Jose), as we're not really urban cyclists.

My expectations were low—I thought I might be the only participant. Much to my surprise, four other cyclists turned out.

The conversation played out more or less as I anticipated. The coalition's mission is to get people using bikes for utilitarian trips (e.g., errands, commuting); our club is about riding recreationally, in groups. Sure, some of our members do ride their bikes solo for more than just staying fit or having fun; but that is not our purpose. The coalition is an advocate for infrastructure that we don't use (and sometimes even avoid).

I raised a few of my pet peeves (to no beneficial effect): Bike lanes that get created with much fanfare and then not maintained, like the stretch on Highway 9 between Los Gatos and Saratoga that has been narrowed to about 8 inches (swallowed by the encroaching hillside). Protected lanes, bordered by curbs or dotted with bollards, that leave no room to dodge an obstacle or to pass a slower cyclist—and which gradually accumulate piles of leaves and litter.

They did talk about an upcoming initiative with the local water authority, which is seeking creative ways to help the public appreciate our dwindling reserves during the drought. Our rides frequent many of the local reservoirs and creeks, so I offered to help put together some routes. I reminded them, though, that getting near any of our reservoirs will likely involve more elevation gain than the average casual cyclist could manage.

My return route passed some percolation ponds (a couple of which are completely dry); there is still water flowing in the creek. In the end, this was an opportunity to complete a utilitarian bike ride (13 miles, less than 300 feet of climbing), to be social, and to enjoy a slice of marble pound cake. [In no particular order.]

Bird Scout

On Tuesday's outing, a rider asked whether I would lead another visit to see the egrets. [Hmm. It's been a while.] We set a tentative date for the ride.

I knew the nests would still be active, but wasn't sure if there would be any surprises on the 25-mile loop I'd developed for that ride. One way to find out ...

I took the most direct route to reach the starting point; following my nose, I managed to find the same turns I'd optimized a few years back.

Available restrooms? [Check.] No scheduled detour at the stadium? [Check.] Connection to the Bay Trail? [Oops. Not through the dump.] Route through the Google campus? [Revise.] Lunch stop? [Check.]

Egrets? [Of course.] For variety, I captured a shot of a Great Blue Heron along the Bay Trail instead.

With no need to complete the loop today, I stopped for a bakery treat on the way home. After 56 miles and ~1,200 feet of climbing, I'd earned a sweet reward.

South County

Today presented an opportunity to join a group of friends in southern Santa Clara County who have been meeting and riding together for years. So many years that, when they gather for a post-ride lunch, the people in the café know them by name.

The day would be a hot one, leading to some uncertainty about the planned route. [We forged ahead.] I was puzzled to see four strong riders join the group—until their plan to add a short, steep climb emerged. [Not for me, today.]

Before heading to the end of Redwood Retreat, we paused at Chitactac-Adams Heritage County Park. I didn't explore the educational center; I expect the rest of the group has been there, done that.

I was surprised to find us spinning along at 17 mph (or more) at times, giving me an average speed of 13.3 mph over 27 miles (though with less than 1,000 feet of climbing). My comrades have clearly been making the most of their retirement years!

A Misbegotten Hike

We had a plan, and that plan would include exploring some territory unfamiliar to me. My chief biking buddy invited me to join a small group hike at the Fremont Older Open Space Preserve.

But the best laid plans ... were shredded by the local mountain biking community. [Being road cyclists, we were clueless.] I'd never seen so many vehicles near the bottom of Parker Ranch Road. [Turns out there's a trailhead there.] A veritable parade of cars snaked up Prospect and circled the parking lot at the top before heading back down.

Plan B was hatched: we headed for the Picchetti Ranch Open Space Preserve instead.

My biking (and hiking!) buddy recommended the Zinfandel trail, having been here before. We caught a glimpse of water in the drought-afflicted Stevens Creek Reservoir.

The other end of the trail dropped us at a familiar spot along Stevens Canyon Road, where we often stop for a break after biking to the end of the pavement.

The creek has not gone dry. [Yet.]

A cheeky Western Fence Lizard narrowly missed being trodden underfoot as we returned, surprisingly not darting into the brush when I stopped to snap a photo.

Hiking a little over 4 miles, I developed a better understanding of some local terrain: from Montebello to Stevens Canyon, through the woods. All good.