Flowers, Eclipsed

Rancho Cañada del Oro was on a list of sites recommended for wildflower viewing. I've hiked here before, more than once, though I didn't have vivid memories. [I do now!]

A friend who hikes here regularly gave me a valuable tip to reach a bridge that would cross a seasonally-broad stream at the beginning of our 4.3-mile loop.

We startled a small pack of deer.

I was really impressed with the views. A couple of people had shared that this was their favorite place to hike, and I see why.

The trails passed through open fields as well as below tree cover.

We arrived at a comfortable vista point, complete with a picnic table, at the time for peak viewing of the solar eclipse in our area. (If I had tried, I couldn't have planned it better.)

Well outside the area of totality, we could nonetheless see what we could see: a dark, curved chunk (blotting out less than 30%) slowly creeping from right to left across the bottom of the sun.

And the reason we could see that was thanks to one of our regular hikers, whose well-prepared partner supplied us with a bunch of the proper ISO-compliant safety glasses.

Oh, and there were some flowers, too—like these California golden violets, as yellow as the sun (with their own dark spots).

San Andreas Lake

It's a good time of year to cycle along Cañada Road—hills are green, wildflowers are blooming. My chief cycling buddy agreed, and we met up in Portola Valley. The area is teeming with cyclists on weekends, much to the dismay of some residents. It's advisable to be on one's best behavior when pedaling through the tony towns.

Our timing was such that the locally notorious massive peloton whizzed past before we rolled out.

Returning along Cañada, I passed a guy who appeared much stronger than I. Clearly faster, he sat on my wheel for quite some time (rather than passing me, in turn). I don't offer much of a draft, but ... whatever. And sure enough, at some point he finally pulled around and powered away.

We could have extended our route, but we were content to finish after 23 somewhat hilly miles. Neither one of us has been cycling enough, and we need to fix that.

Fresh Flowers

Flowers, flowers ... where are the flowers?

We expected more flowers than we found, but hiking this 4.6 mile loop in the counter-clockwise direction promised a strong finish (flower-wise). We've hiked these trails before, but this time we started from a different trailhead in the southwest corner of Santa Teresa County Park.

Maybe it's a bit early for the flowers? (Despite all the rain we've had.) The California poppies, however, did not disappoint. Distracted by the dazzling blooms, watch your step along the rocky trail!

Comrades, Conversation, and Croissants

Former colleagues and friends proposed that we gather for a comfortable hike; I suggested the Los Gatos Creek Trail. And as ordinary as that might seem, we were surprised to spot turtles and black-crowned night herons in the creek bed! Take nothing for granted, in the Bay Area.

Besides, it was a beautiful day.

Thinking ahead, they'd made lunch reservations—and we were happy to eat (and continue chatting), after ambling close to 4.5 miles.

But what about those croissants? After lunch, we were enticed to visit one more location, for pastries.

What's not to like about any of that?

Three-mile Adventure

Although I've visited the Cherry Springs area of Sierra Azul before, if I have no other plans when the next outing is scheduled, I'm in. Like today.

We started with a little bonus walk through open meadows before moving on to the regular loop. A rafter of turkeys was surprised to see us; a male was strutting his stuff to impress the hens (not the humans).

Along the way we passed a dead tree that was studded with acorns—surely the handiwork (uh, “beakwork?”) of our local acorn woodpeckers.

The first time I did this hike, one of the guys had a curiously large backpack. Larger than anything I'd carry on an all-day hike. He joined us again today; when we reached a section of trail that was blocked, he pulled a hand saw out of that pack. A couple of other hikers were prepared with gloves, and just like that(!) the trail was cleared.

Our group included a couple of teens with their family, and I was impressed that they were just as keen to study the flora and fauna as any of us. As they helped to clear the fallen branches, one was excited when he found a newt. We all got a close look, and the newt got some needed hydration (raindrops from a water bottle) before it was returned to ground level.

Go for a hike! A world of little surprises is there for you to discover.

Spring in Our Steps

The beauty of a place shifts with the seasons; return visits always have something new to offer.

The sky looked threatening, but there was no rain. Even the occasional spot of sunshine!

Signs of spring were popping out, though there were few flowers.

The hills (and trails) are fully exposed in the Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve, making it a popular choice for cool-weather hikes. A spell of dry, warm weather will turn the green grasses to gold, and our attention will shift from fields to forests.

Nine of us hiked 4.6 miles, with yours truly trailing ever behind, chasing flowers. Like this lovely little lupine, sparkling with dew.

Totally worth it.

Waterwheel Creek Trail

Some areas of our local open space preserves are less accessible than others. Preserving the space is the primary goal, and making it available for hikers is not always consistent with that goal.

I've biked up Montebello Road enough times to forget the chained-off, permit-only parking lot I pass near the top. When I found a guided hike up there on MidPen's calendar, I was in.

We didn't see a waterwheel, but perhaps there was one when this area was part of a ranch? We didn't see any water, but a few creeks are shown on maps (feeding down into Stevens Creek).

Our docent explained that we were standing on the North American Plate, gazing across the canyon at a ridge atop the Pacific Plate. [Hello, San Andreas Fault!]

Years ago, some of my colleagues would organize an annual bike ride to watch the sun rise from the top of Black Mountain. Which, of course, entailed climbing Montebello in the dark. Being a slow climber, and not an early bird, I always regretted that I couldn't join them.

Now that I've walked along some of the route that extends from the end of Montebello Road to Black Mountain, I realize that I could manage a good part of it on my road bike. Of course, I'd have to climb Montebello first ... [Still, not for a sunrise.]

Today's hike covered a little more 2.5 miles and opened up a new perspective on the wild lands around me.