A Walk in a Park

It's been quite a while since I visited Alum Rock Park—in part, due to storm-related closures. Today's route was similar to the one we trekked in 2022 during my “summer vacation.”

The (open) trails were passable ... though we found some tricky bits where loose soil tumbles onto trails. There will certainly be more sliding when wet weather returns.

Hikers (and cyclists) yield to horses. Always.

There were historic elements of this park that I failed to notice on my last visit. This land has been a public park for quite some time (more than 150 years).

Puzzled by some of the features, one of my fellow hikers explained that the park's mineral springs were an attraction in the park's early days. And as soon as she shared that, I connected a distinct odor of sulphur with those mineral stains.

Zigzagging up the South Rim Trail, we crossed paths with a gentleman who told us (unsolicited) exactly how many more switchbacks we'd traverse before reaching the top. [Five.]

There was little color to be found this far into the dry season. One hopeful California fuchsia, budding and blazing red, stood out.

We covered about 5.7 miles, some laden with heavy packs as they prepare for a multi-day backpacking adventure. [Not I.]

The Shore

I've been overdue for a visit to the other coast, and what better time than summer to enjoy the shore?

Gulls are the most common shorebird, but great egrets (and cormorants) can be found in the marshes.

Ospreys, once an uncommon sight, are thriving. Channel markers are popular (and successful) nesting sites.

We cruised past a pair of (docked) clam dredges. Recreational boats outnumber commercial boats, by far.

I connected over a fine lobster roll sandwich with a long-time friend. Crabs are more commonly caught, this far south, but evidently some local lobstering is successful.

Have you wondered why they call these beach cruisers? This density was reminiscent of bicycle-centric Amsterdam. Evidently bike theft is not a big issue here. They're low-value, but ... still. This is not a sight you would see in the Bay Area.

When we broke out our lunches, I was surprised that the gulls were not aggressive. Instead, they waited patiently for a family to pack up and leave before swooping down to search for tidbits dropped by the kids.

I enjoyed a couple of thunderstorms, saw one firefly and my first spotted lantern fly. (This one hopped away, but I summarily dispatched the next two I found.)

One thing I don't miss is the oppressive humidity. A storm rolled through, but brought no relief. Fortunately, it didn't interfere with the weekly fireworks show.

Barbecues, boat rides, birds, beaches. Summer fun at the Jersey Shore.

Lexington Loop

This is why I ride.

We're having another heat wave—topping out at 104°F in my neighborhood, this afternoon. Which is why I was determined to go for a ride this morning.

I chose a lightweight jersey, but questioned my choice as soon as I stepped out of the car into the blazing sun. The material was thin and well-ventilated, but the color was ... not light.

Part of me wanted to extend today's route with a little more distance and climbing; another part of me dreaded slogging uphill on exposed, sun-baked roads on the return.

There was a road crew metering traffic around some tree work. Being the only moving thing on the road (coming, and going), they flipped their sign from stop to slow as I approached. “That's me, slow!” I joked as I passed.

Instead of returning the same way, I decided to pass Lexington Reservoir on the west side. I'd heard that the road had been passable for a while, and now the “road closed” signs were gone. I knew I needed the climbing I would have done on the east side, but not in today's heat. And I was curious. [I didn't stop to snap a photo at the damaged section. Next time ...]

My route adjustment was the right choice. Only a relatively short uphill stretch in the sun; after that, the rest of the (long) exposed portion was downhill. [Woo-hoo!] Fifteen miles and some 1,400 feet of elevation gain (vs. 16 miles and about 1,700 feet had I chosen to return on the east side).

Next time ...

Serendipity

We chose Bear Creek Redwoods for our hike today because it would be cool(er); we also got an early start.

There's really only one loop here; we decided to follow it clockwise today.

And so it was, toward the end of our hike, that we crossed paths with an avid iNaturalist contributor. His unusual camera gear caught the attention of the avid photographer in our group—who normally doesn't join us for these jaunts.

I shared that he'd find quite a few butterflies ahead (like the two pictured above, a painted lady and a Mylitta crescent, feeding on a bull thistle flower).

He, in turn, led us to a plant that none of us would have noticed, otherwise. From the trail, it seemed nothing more than a fading stalk that had already shed its flowers. I wouldn't have given it a second glance.

An orchid enthusiast among us later identified it as a Platanthera transversa.

And I thought I had a keen eye! [Sigh.] And yes, there's a tiny spider at the top. [Bonus points.]

Biking and Birding

Now that's a serious nail.

When I spotted it, I chose walking over pedaling, so I could pick it up. (On yesterday's ride I collected four nails—three of which were rusty—and a large sheared-off bolt.) How do so many pointy things end up on the road?

I was in the mood for a long ride and headed toward the bay. It occurred to me that I could reverse the loop and enjoy a tailwind, but I hadn't plotted out the best route for that. And a fresh fruit tart on the return leg is becoming a tradition.

A giant shadow passed me on the trail along the shoreline—cast by a brown pelican flying not far above my head. The bird was skittish, but I managed to get a few photos.

And of course there were egrets, hunting in the shallows.

I added a bit of climbing on the way home to finish with about 1,300 feet of elevation gain over 45 miles. Another beautiful day of biking and bird-watching!

Forest of Nisene Marks

I hadn't hiked in the Forest of Nisene Marks State Park in ... a very long time. [Two decades.] I decided to head toward the coast in the early afternoon, which gave me a little spare time to go exploring before an early evening get-together.

Our redwood forests are almost fully second-growth, having been heavily logged over a century ago.

On my last visit, we explored some trails in the upper section of the park; today I parked near the entrance station and wandered through some of the lower section. My intended route didn't pan out when I couldn't find the continuation of the Terrace trail on the opposite side of Aptos Creek, but I still enjoyed my time in the redwood groves.

Remembering Keith

This is how I will remember Keith.

My friends were stunned that day when Keith shared his age (less than a month shy of 94). He came out for a ride I led to see the birds; he was on an electric bicycle then, but ... still. If I make it to that age, will I still be cycling?

I remember a presentation Keith gave about a cycling tour he'd completed in Germany. He'd served as a meteorologist with the Army Air Force during World War II, so needless to say he had a full appreciation of weather patterns. When he found himself riding north along a river—battling strong headwinds—he took a boat to the northern terminus of his route, hopped off and biked south. He crossed paths with the rest of the group again somewhere along the route.

Another story stuck with me from one of Keith's presentations. He was touring on his own (in his eighties, then) and found himself in a place that had changed since his guidebook had been published. He was perplexed. A woman in her backyard not only sorted out the route for him, but invited him in for a meal.

The only other time I rode with Keith involved cycling up a pretty steep street. He might have been the last one to the top, but he made it. On a regular bicycle. At the age of 84.

His failing eyesight ultimately kept Keith off the bike. His last ride with the bike club was at the age of 95—he even co-led a 21-mile ride to celebrate his birthday that year.

To celebrate his 100th birthday, we gathered at San Jose's Municipal Rose Garden. He seemed happy to be surrounded by old friends—and with his birthday cake!

Keith has left us, now; but his adventures and good humor will not be forgotten by those who knew him.