February 24, 2024

Calero Calls

Joined some former colleagues for a modest hike with an occasional challenging grade (3.8 miles, some 500 feet of elevation gain) in a section of Calero County Park I had not visited before today.
Our trek afforded a clear view of the dam stretching across the reservoir, as well a clear view across the valley to Mount Hamilton and the Diablo Range.
Good timing; the hills were still green and the weather was just right. Our chosen trails traversed open grassland that would be baking hot in a couple of months. Too early for spring flowers, though.

Thanks to a few muddy sections, our charming four-legged companion (Charlie) was destined for a post-hike bath (as were my boots). I think he'd agree it was totally worth it!

February 21, 2024

Engineers ...

[Not] coming soon to a bike shop near you: An upright handcycle?
But, hang on ... the rider's legs were also spinning!

I'm sorry I didn't stop to chat with the fellow who rolled up on this curious machine, but it's a safe bet it was none other than Stanford's Richard Reis. (The “Full Body Bicycle” placard mounted on the front was my clue.)

A good 20 miles from the university, Dr. Reis clearly gets around. If our paths cross again, I'll ask why he didn't opt for belt-drive instead of chains. (Belts weigh less and need essentially no maintenance.)

In any case, I wouldn't want to cruise downhill on that thing ...

February 16, 2024

Bike More

Outlook for the week: Clear schedule. Clear weather.

Plan for the week: Ride bike.

The right moment, the right conditions, and even an ordinary place can suddenly be eye-catching.

I talked myself into another climb up Bernal. (Rainy days ahead!)
One of the advantages of solo riding is the freedom to take in the sights at a leisurely pace. To stop and admire things, like this engineering marvel. (Hard to judge the size from the photo—the nest is more than six inches long.) How did a bird build that?!
I appreciate camaraderie, too: Conversation and a reason to enjoy a luscious lemon meringue tart.

Plan for the week successfully executed: 110 miles, more than 3,000 feet of climbing, and plenty of fun with a bicycle.

February 12, 2024

Running Water

Oh so many years ago, when I was new to the Bay Area, a friend and I ventured to Uvas Canyon County Park in search of waterfalls. [We found none.]
That was likely due to clueless timing—we were probably there during the (dry) summer months. I think we turned back, disappointed, after finding a trail blocked by fallen trees.
Some trees adapt.

When our chief hiking instigator suggested the park for today's hike—for the waterfalls—I knew it was a brilliant idea. Surely they'd be flowing, and maybe the trails wouldn't be too muddy.

Indeed! We met a local who assured us our timing was spot-on: Too soon after a storm and the water would be muddy. Today? Splendid!

Our group has often biked into this park, for the challenge of the climb and to linger over our snacks in a such a lovely place. Parking is limited, so advance reservations are required . . . for those arriving in vehicles. [Today, we carpooled.]
Expecting to spend the day in the forest, I was surprised by the occasional view across the valley—even though we did not climb to the highest point in the park.
For a close-up of Upper Basin Falls, I found sure footing and extended my arm to get a clear shot around that boulder.
We spotted several clusters of Convergent Lady Beetles, an unusual (but natural) phenomenon that I'd not witnessed before. Our world is a wondrous place!
Even though this was prime time for waterfall viewing, we had the park nearly to ourselves—a big perk for weekday hiking. Our clockwise loop led us to the biggest waterfalls near the end, covering about five miles and crossing a wide, rocky stream with no mishaps. Hiking poles, for the win!

February 6, 2024

Oh, Snap!

Well, that's a problem.

I had regretted not riding on Saturday, when the rain arrived much later than expected. I was determined to ride today, but once I got a good look at the menacing clouds, I wondered if I'd chosen poorly. Clinging to the western hills, I hoped they were releasing moisture there (and only there).

Fortunately, I did stay dry. Whenever the sun broke through, I was too warm; but mostly the clouds kept me well-chilled.

Sunday's storm was characterized as a bomb cyclone; I stayed safely indoors. Prepared for the inevitable outage, I lucked out and only lost power for about five hours. Many of my neighbors did not fare so well—some were in the dark (and cold) until this afternoon.

Cruising around today, I was surprised not to see more damage along my 29-mile route: Two fallen trees on front lawns, mostly twigs and small bits of debris in the bike lanes. And then, well, that utility pole ...

More rain tomorrow.

January 30, 2024

Bluebirds of Happiness

With some wild (wet and windy) weather in the forecast, it was high time to tackle a challenging ride: First ascent of Bernal in 2024.
I followed my usual routine at the picnic area: Pick up litter. Place litter in trash can. Which is ... right there. [People!]

I wondered why there were so many birds flitting about. Lots of bluebirds, and a lone goldfinch tucked in a tangle of branches.

Aha! Someone has hung a nesting box in a tree and bluebirds have moved in. A little extra incentive for me to do the miles (29) and the climb (about 1,000 feet, give or take).

I'll be back!

January 29, 2024

Butterflies, Birds, Bunnies ... Bobcat?

To the west, a clear view of the valley and the southern reaches of San Francisco Bay.
Turn your back on civilization and admire Mt. Hamilton to the east.
With some hope that we might see a bobcat, I'd suggested today's hike to a friend who is also fond of felines. [No promises, of course.]

It was unseasonably warm; I wished I'd chosen a lighter-weight shirt. We followed the same route I'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. Ground squirrels were plentiful, but I was surprised when my hiking buddy spotted a bunny! Moments after it scampered into the brush, she spied a bobcat sauntering down an adjacent trail (away from us, and the lucky bunny).

Birds provided the soundtrack for our trek. Amidst much twittering, one intermittent call stood out—almost like laughter. Merlin Sound ID, for the win: a California Quail. [ha-HA-ha, ha-HA-ha, ha-HA-ha.]

Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Always!