All the Land

I'd hiked this loop for the first time not long ago, before learning that a familiar docent has a decades-long tradition of leading a hike here on Memorial Day. [Which is today.]

Having the day off, some of my former colleagues were keen for a hike; I proposed that they join me for this one. Since the docent-led hike would be short, I offered to follow it with a second hike nearby.

From this vantage point we could see the fog glowing atop Monterey Bay in the distance, and soon after immerse ourselves in a woodland.

How fortunate we are to have great expanses of wild, open land preserved around us! Still, a relatively small fraction of the local population has any awareness of these spaces. How many have no concept of the land that lies on the other side of the hills they pass on the freeway?

Every outing is an opportunity to discover some wonderful new thing, like the northern checkerspots I found descending on golden yarrow in bloom.

After completing our loop at the top of Montebello, we returned to Picchetti Ranch to stretch our legs with a four-mile hike along the Zinfandel Trail. Mindful that the day was warming up, I was glad to notice a water station near the trailhead and encouraged everyone to fill up.

Much of that trail is shaded, but an exposed section affords a birds-eye view of the Stevens Creek Reservoir.

All the land you cannot see ...

Butterflies or Bust!

A docent-led hike focused on ... butterflies?

I hit the jackpot on this hike: Not only were the lead docents impressively prepared to share their knowledge with posters and books about butterflies, it seemed that most of my fellow hikers were docents themselves. If the butterflies eluded us, we would certainly learn about the plants.

As the group gathered, I noticed a bunch of butterflies (variable checkerspots) converging on some nearby bushes. The reason became clear: they favor yerba santa, which was in full bloom. Perhaps we really would see many butterlies today?

Variable checkerspots were plentiful, but another one caught my eye—something lovely that I hadn't seen before. I couldn't offer much of a description beyond “orange” and “small.” Fortunately it didn't flutter away before I got the docent's attention.

A gorgon copper, he happily announced.

Also new to me were the bush poppies.

We spent most of our time on the Bald Mountain and Umunhum trails, covering more than 3 miles (out and back), before driving up to the summit for a little more exploring.

Another well-planned adventure: Our leaders knew where, and when, we would find butterflies. Some even lingered long enough to be photographed!

So Many Berries!

I've done this ride many times (ten, counting today), and I've always crossed paths with someone I know. [Not today.]

Parking was a cinch. The big lot was more than half empty.

It was a chilly ride. After all these years, I finally opted for a cup of minestrone soup at the first rest stop. [Warm, and tasty!]

I was surprised to hear the sound of crashing waves. [I guess the sea has more often been calm.]

I've always gotten up the steep hill on Maher Road before lunch (12% grade). [“Not today,” said my legs.] Clearly I haven't done enough climbing this season. Was I ill-prepared for this ride? I felt tired. I was short on sleep; or was I simply low on fuel? [Maybe both.]

We passed fields of lettuce, artichokes, strawberries (of course), and many other crops.

The lunch tables were mostly empty. As I rolled out, other 100k riders were still arriving. The sun finally started to break through after lunch, and when I stopped for this photo two other riders realized it was a good shot and followed my lead.

At Gizdich Ranch, there was no need to hunt for a spot to park my bike or a place to sit with my slice of pie. I noticed that the bike mechanic was idle; why not ask if he'd take a look at my bike? It hasn't been shifting properly since the derailleur's pulley wheels were replaced. He was delighted to help me, and his adjustment resolved the issue. [Thank you, Bicycle Trip!]

I've always done most of the route with others in sight. [Not today.] Climbing through the redwoods on Hazel Dell, I saw one other cyclist headed in the same direction—and that was true for most of the remaining 10 miles.

It was puzzling. Had I started later than usual? [No.] Early on, I was passed by a few riders, and passed others in turn. Later? Not so much.

Being a bit slower than usual, I finished a bit later than usual. [Not by much.] But, still: There were so few people at the finish. Did they skip the meal (not to mention the eponymous berries, served with chocolate ganache and a dab of whipped cream)?

Maybe this year's steep increase in the registration fee dissuaded people from signing up? [The point is, it's a fundraiser.] And costs keep rising: permits, insurance, food—you name it.

I like this ride: all the friendly volunteers, the live music at every stop, the scenery, the strawberries. If there's a 34th edition in 2025, I expect to return for another 63 miles through the countryside.

Next year, I'll be prepared to pedal up that wicked hill.

Variations on a Theme

So many fun memories bubble up whenever “Bike to Work Day” rolls around. Biking to the office with more than two dozen people trailing along behind me, newbies and experienced riders alike. My co-leader's mobile “Energizer Station” (coffee and donut holes). Receiving a gift of custom, personalized tire levers from that long-time co-leader.

I visited a nearby Energizer Station on my way to meet friends for our weekly ride, chatted with the volunteers, and picked up my bag (and an apple). No more Hobee's coffee cake, alas!

Our little group's regular leader was out of town today, and ... when the cat's away, the mice will play! The rider who stepped up proposed a new game for a regular, very familiar route: each leader should take a turn at introducing a few twists. His first little neighborhood tweak gave us a new hillside perspective. Later we detoured onto the Albertson Parkway Trail, which I've passed countless times but never explored. (Note to self: Explore this again, reading all the interpretive signs along the way.) I accepted the challenge: Next time I'll work that trail into our return-from-coffee-stop route.

It was surprisingly windy this morning, in an unexpected direction: we'd have a tailwind for our return. Thirty-three miles for me, having extended the route by riding from home—a bit shy of the 40 miles I'd log commuting to (and from) the office.

No more biking to work for me, of course. I hope that my colleagues continued the tradition, and that some of the people we inspired over the years have continued to bike to the office when they can.

Spring Along the Trail

We were charmed by a few California Sisters today that were determined to perch on people, reminding me of a summertime experience I had before moving to the Bay Area. If I would pause at my back door upon coming home from work, a friendly Red Admiral would circle in and land on me, often atop my head. I could feel strands of hair moving as it explored. I'd wait patiently, sometimes for several minutes, before it would flutter away. As the season wore on, it lost bits of its wings (to predators, I assumed), until it came no more.

Accompanied by docents, most of the group was focused on spotting spring flowers, but there was no overlooking the butterflies.

Not to mention the occasional vista!

One docent was on the lookout for a particular plant (Broad-leaved stonecrop), and knew just where we'd find it. I loved the mix of colors!

Our hike was short (3 miles), but filled with spring blooms. Get 'em while they last ... summer is approaching.

An Old Favorite

Once upon a time, long before I'd joined any bike clubs, pedaling up Alma Bridge and Aldercroft Heights roads to Old Santa Cruz Highway was a regular route. (As a stoker on a tandem, back then.) The first club I joined would often start rides at the Lexington Reservoir; we'd park atop the dam (legal, back then). The second club I joined preferred to meet south of the reservoir, on the road leading to the Lexington Elementary School. Heading out from there reduced the overall distance and climbing involved (which, I didn't mind).

After a couple of rounds of winter storms in recent years, sections of those roads were closed. Early accounts of passing through sounded sketchy: I didn't try. [Until today.]

When I started up the first incline, my legs rebelled. I know I haven't been doing much climbing lately, but this old favorite shouldn't be this hard! [And that's why I'm here.]

The work isn't finished, but the section I traversed was fine.

I wasn't looking forward to returning the way I came, having less-than-fond memories of a short-but-steep climb approaching the rowing club. I spied a new (to me) bench overlooking the water, which I decided was my reward for making it up that pitch.

Relaxing with my snack, I watched a bald eagle soar overhead—second reward!

A tidy 1,700 feet of climbing spread over some 16 miles—a scenic and efficient workout. I'll be back!

Be Cool

Expecting warm weather, three friends agreed to join me for a hike in the forest today. It's not an easy hike—there are hills to climb (and descend)—but it's well-shaded.

Having no post-hike commitments, I decided to do a little more exploring (albeit, exposed to the sun).

Private estates were once built on this land, later acquired for the establishment of a religious institution (Alma College), and more recently for a nature preserve (Bear Creek Redwoods).

I wandered through what remains (and is accessible), trying to imagine the site in its heyday. The former carriage house is now a habitat for bats, which seemed a worthy use for it.

My additional trekking, added to the usual loop, amounted to more than six miles (and about 1,000 feet of elevation gain). The vibe around the college site felt decidedly creepy—most likely because I was the only person around. Worth it, though, to satisfy my curiosity.