Just Right

Although we'd hiked just two weeks ago, and my former colleagues weren't expecting to plan a December hike, this date turned out to work well for many of them. Really well. I joined twelve people for a bite-sized hike (4 miles). Several were folks I hadn't seen in many months (or longer).

This hike is not too challenging—neither too long nor too short. The Zinfandel Trail descends gradually toward Stevens Creek, mostly under tree cover, and affords a clear view of the Stevens Creek Reservoir.

When we returned to the historic Picchetti Winery, one of the resident peacocks was perched and preening. [Not something you would expect to encounter on a hike ... unless you've been here before.]

It was a joy to be reunited again! For many years, we were a tight team; some moved on (by choice, or not). Now we hike together, volunteer together: hopefully for many years to come.

Revisiting the Redwoods

There were only four of us today, but one had made the trip from San Francisco to trek through the redwood forest with us!

We enjoyed colorful leaves on the valley oaks (and no mist) this time of year.

Someone had a little fun with the sawed end of a fallen tree!

I was surprised when our group was game to extend our planned hike (same loop I'd hiked a few months ago) to continue to the summit. That added quite a bit more uphill (plus 2 miles). We were disappointed not to be rewarded with a scenic view at the top. [Oh well.] Now I know.

I was “rewarded” with blisters on the bottom of both pinky toes. Maybe wool socks aren't the best choice for a long hike?

Daylight was fading and the moon rising as we made our way back to the parking lot. I was surprised when a few people passed us, heading up the trail so late.

We'd made the most of our day (7.4 miles and plenty of good conversation): the gate was closed and the ranger onsite to account for the stragglers.

Those blisters? Totally worth it.

Turkey Trotters

This year marked the 19th annual edition of the Silicon Valley Turkey Trot, a fundraising Thanksgiving morning tradition. When I realized they needed volunteers in the days leading up to the event, I signed up for a weekday slot. Because, I can.

I knew about this event, but had no idea how big it was: Fielding something like 21,000 participants entails distributing a lot of bibs (race numbers) in advance. And after so many years, the organizers were, well ... organized.

When two people were needed to staff a number look-up station and only one hand went up, I claimed the second spot. Good decision, as it turned out my partner had experience—same role, second volunteer shift.

People could also register at our station, and a few did. We were there to shepherd them through the sign-up process, if they got stuck. One woman explained that while she's normally part of a family group, there would be only two of them this year. “Will you be there?” she asked. No, I explained; I'm not a runner. “You could walk. Next year!”

True enough. The 5k would be easy.

Next year?

Be the Change

I pulled into the parking lot where I would meet my friends, frowning as I passed three large pieces of litter. Well, I would take care of that in short order.

Not wanting to touch the rumpled tshirt, I snagged it with my hiking poles. As I raised the lid on the nearest trash bin, one of the guys who had been loitering near his motorcycle approached with the other two items! I thanked him; he replied “Thank you, it's not even your trash!” I smiled. “I always try to leave a place cleaner than I found it.”

Not having hiked these trails until today, I was surprised to get a glimpse of Monterey Bay (blanketed in fog).

Our trek would have been more peaceful on a weekday, I reckon. It's been years since I've biked up here on a weekend, and now ... I learned that I shouldn't. Sports cars and motorcycles driven by wanna-be racers evidently rule the road, with no enforcement in sight. Roaring engines made it challenging to hear anything else. And I don't think I've seen a discarded beer bottle along a trail—until now.

My companions and beautiful weather made for a good hike (4.7 miles), anyway.

Yes, I carried out (and recycled) that bottle. [But not the Beetle.]

San Juan Bautista

I headed south with my chief biking buddy for a non-cycling adventure. Destination: San Juan Bautista.

We took an unplanned detour out Salinas Road and San Juan Grade, having missed the turn for the trailhead we sought for the Juan Bautista De Anza National Historic Trail. My buddy insisted (correctly, it turns out) that we had biked up that road. I had no memory of it, probably because I had been so unnerved by that day's stretch along Crazy Horse Canyon Road. One thing is certain: the road is in no better shape now than it was in 2015.

The trail was popular with local hikers and runners—likely more so now in the cooler weather than the heat of summer, given the lack of tree cover. The hills were golden and the sky was clear.

There were many Gray Buckeyes fluttering about, no doubt searching for some nectar. Very few plants are blooming this late in the season, but there were a couple of fuller's teasels hanging on—and the butterflies found them.

After hiking a little over four miles, we headed into town. We meandered along the main street, but of course no trip here would be complete without a visit to the historic mission. I'll always think of my friend Steve here, who made sure I didn't miss the plaque for El Camino Real back in 2007 when I visited for the first time on a club ride.

New adventures mix with the old, not to be forgotten.

Be Fit

A nice fall day for a bike ride—a test ride after a recent bike fit. Nothing too adventurous or far astray—a fast 27 miles on a familiar route. For the first time (ever) I felt comfortable riding with my hands on the hoods, instead of drifting back to my customary intermediate position on the bars.

Years ago, some time after I'd started cycling regularly, I'd heeded advice to get a proper bike fit. As I'd become more fit, stress points on my body had surfaced. “You were enjoying this?” remarked the fitter as he raised my saddle a full 1.5 inches. On my very next ride, my knees stopped hurting.

Over time I realized that the fit wasn't quite right, and this had become abundantly clear over the past year as I spent less time on a road bike and more time upright on a more-forgiving casual bike. Without habitually over-stretching my arms and shoulders to reach the road bike's hoods, doing so now was painful. [You were enjoying this?]

I finally indulged in a full-on professional bike fit, and it was worth it. Worth it for my body. Worth it to enjoy my best bike. Totally, worth it.

Once the fit was mostly dialed in, I was surprised to find how quickly I picked up on tiny tweaks that went in the wrong direction. I was amazed that I could I be so sensitive to a change of mere millimeters, bringing to mind the story of the Princess and the Pea. Chalk it up to greater body awareness and thousands of miles of biking, I guess; I'm definitely no princess!

Post-ride, I met up with a friend for a late lunch and an impromptu trip (not by bike) to take in the sunset atop Mt. Umunhum. Any residual soreness was the result of engaging, rather than straining, muscles in my back and shoulders.

Totally worth it.

Spirited Silliness

Halloween is nearly here. Last year's adorable pop-up kitten was not on display at the local elementary school this year. [Bummer.]

There was one person ahead of me as I surveyed the scene this morning. The hall was festooned with webs and fake spiders, in preparation for a special event (I presumed). Then I noticed the woman at the intake table, her hair in plastic rollers and her face smeared with cold cream. [Yes, I'm old enough to know what that's about.] She checked off my name and offered a chocolate truffle. Right after breakfast? Sure, why not ...

“Albert” approached—a man with wild white hair, a bushy mustache, and a name tag noting E=mc² explained today's Blood Drive Olympics: estimate how much time it would take to donate your pint (within seconds) and win a gift card.

This was not your run-of-the-mill blood drive.

There was a flapper in a sequined sheath, and a reverend. Perhaps he frightened Count Dracula away? [Not a single vampire in sight.]

Apparently this group of volunteers has been hosting this event for many years; a couple of them spent hours, last night, decorating the hall. A dealer was set up at a blackjack table to entertain any waiting donors if things backed up.

My time estimate fell short, but following a consultation between Einstein and the reverend, I was granted a dispensation and awarded my prize.

The “special event” was us!