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.)