February Forays

February started with a 4.3-mile hike in an otherwise closed area of the Sierra Azul Open Space Preserve, a privilege I rarely skip whenever this turns up on the calendar of docent-led activities.

The forecast wasn't great, but I donned my rain jacket and smiled when a rainbow sliced through some clouds.

Wet weather, this time of year, brings out the newts (and many were sighted). I inadvertently captured a group selfie, trying to get a ground-level close-up. This also had the effect of stopping the newt from moving forward, seemingly transfixed (or puzzled?) by the image on the screen. Are newts self-aware?

We had such a nice day for another hike in Sierra Azul that I convinced a couple of friends to go just a little bit farther uphill (6.7 miles, up and down). Along the way we'd passed a stunning chapparal currant bush in full bloom.

A friend invited me along for a hike on the other side of the Bay, in Coyote Hills Regional Park. This was fresh territory for me, as it's more straightforward to explore the shoreline on the west side of the Bay. Late winter lighting made for some moody reflections.

Our 4.1-mile route was mostly flat (except for the steep bits)!

The domes of Lick Observatory atop Mt. Hamilton were visible above the clouds when we tackled a 5.8-mile loop in a section of Almaden Quicksilver that we visit less frequently.

But it was a visit to the Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve that delivered my favorite image of the month, as the timing and location for the start of our 4.5-mile route deposited us at the edge of the clouds.

Of course, there was some cycling, too; including one special ride to connect with old friends. The guest of honor was a much-loved cycling buddy recovering from some serious health challenges. His t-shirt (“GRUMPA: Like a regular grandpa, only grumpier”) couldn't have suited him less! But it was funny.

January Jaunts

I visited familiar parks in January, sometimes exploring new (to me) trails.

There were some seasonal surprises at Picchetti Ranch, like this lovely fungus that was lit just so.

Our group's usual loop in Almaden Quicksilver afforded a view clear across the valley.

We started our loop through Santa Teresa County Park from the historic ranch (a first for me). I've often watched others hike uphill from there; it's unrelentingly steep for most of the first mile.

It was starkly clear where the edge of suburbia meets the untamed hills.

For our last adventure of the month, we hiked a near figure-eight in Calero County Park.

We passed the Calero Bat Inn (but saw no bats, who were presumably asleep).

It was another picture-perfect day, and we pretty much had the trails to ourselves.

We passed a stone fixture, apparently spring-fed, for thirsty four-legged creatures. (Horses are permitted on these trails).

I'd harbored some doubts about how I'd fare today (longest hike to date, six miles); whenever others paused, I would keep going. Otherwise, I knew I would fall behind.

Good strategy.

Food Rescue

It was time. Time to settle on some way to give back, meaningfully, to the community. It had been a long time since I contributed a significant amount of my free time (50-100 hours per year) as a volunteer.

The catch is, most organizations want people who will commit to a regular schedule. I get it: they need to know that their work will get done. But having spent nearly all of my life tethered to a daily schedule (years of school and many more years of work), I resisted signing up for that. Last year, I volunteered opportunistically. [It wasn't enough.]

I thought about Second Harvest. Having volunteered there many years ago (one time?), and subsequently supported them, I pulled up their calendar of volunteer shifts. [Whoa!] Plenty of opportunities. I picked one.

The scale of the operation was mind-boggling. As a new volunteer, the orientation was a bit overwhelming. Working in a section of a huge warehouse, we would be doing “food rescue.” Checking dates on perishables, discarding spoiled produce, and sorting everything: cans and jars go here, snacks go there, baked goods go here, healthy beverages go there ... on and on. Spoiled produce would be collected to feed farm animals. At the end of our shift, we swept the floors and sanitized our carts and work surfaces.

Second Harvest picks up the food (and other staples, like laundry detergent and paper goods) from retail stores and other sources, and supplies it to local organizations (e.g., community food banks) that distribute it to the people who need it.

I left thoroughly impressed. The work was well-organized. My fellow volunteers were eager and diligent workers. Our impact was huge: sorting through and processing pallets of food that would help hundreds of households. Products that, until a few years ago, would have simply been dumped in landfills.

When I got home, I signed up for my next shift. I can do this.

Looking Back at 2024

Despite some waning enthusiasm for cycling, I managed to pedal more than 2,930 miles and climb some 115,000 feet along the way. More rides (99), more distance, and more elevation gain than I completed in either of the past two years. And I happily reconnected with some of my favorite places to ride.

My annual fundraising adventure involved cycling from Healdsburg to Santa Cruz over the course of three days.

I visited Davis for the first time (to bike, what else?!) and boarded a plane for the first time since The Before Times.

I fit in 58 hikes, mostly with friends, walking more than 262 miles in places new and not, and did my share of citizen science as a member of the iNaturalist community.

I donated 22 hours of my time as a volunteer for various causes. [I can do better.]

A new year starts ... tomorrow.

Ho Ho Ho

Continuing our tradition of a Christmas Day hike, a friend and I headed for some unfamiliar terrain.

I thought the area would be mostly exposed and thus relatively dry. [Wrong on both counts.]

I'm no longer surprised that we're not the only holiday hikers. Though sadly, two boys were tearing up the slick trails on their shiny new electric bikes. [Sigh.]

I was prepared with a route when my friend suggested that we explore the Heintz Open Space Preserve; I'd mapped out a loop some time ago, but it was too short to be interesting for my regular hiking pals. There is scant information online about this preserve (and the adjoining Santa Rosa Open Space Preserve). Trail markers were nearly non-existent; without GPS, we would have been confused (at best) and likely lost.

There is a curious history to this place, part of a former estate given to the town of Los Gatos. An interpretive sign told the story of the property's miniature railroad before we passed the filled-in tunnel entrance.

Past the loop shown as the end of the Vista Trail, we explored a distinct trail that doesn't appear on maps of the area. Not knowing where that would lead, we turned back after a short distance.

We covered a little over three (muddy) miles for my last planned hike of the year, grateful for my hiking poles and for the generous gift of this land.

Infinite Wonders

Couldn't pass up a chance to join docents leading a hike in a closed section of the Sierra Azul Preserve. Although I've joined other hikes in this area, today we would follow an extended (figure-eight) route.

The meadow was already sprouting green after a recent controlled burn, and a fire break that had been plowed along one edge offered a new vantage point.

Thanks to trail-clearing work, we were able to enjoy a path above a steep canyon. Rocks had since tumbled down, in places; keeping this trail open will likely be an ongoing challenge.

The toyon's red berries provide a festive splash of color this time of year.

And just as I was thinking that there is little to discover as winter approaches, a lovely layered fungus set me straight.

We were happy to be hiking at an elevation high enough to rise above the winter smog in the valley. The clouds had shifted by the time we completed our five-mile route, leaving the pond to mirror blue sky rather than gray.

No better way to spend the day!

Great, Not Snowy

When I spied some birds hunting in the shallows, of course I had to stop.

The light reflected off the glistening mud flats might look like snow, but of course it's not. Nor was the egret a snowy (Great, instead).

Before taking wing and perching in a tree on the opposite shore, a great blue heron seemed more focused on preening than hunting.

The day started out cloudy and chilly; I was glad I'd donned a proper cold-weather jacket at the last minute, this morning. But by the time we stopped for lunch, the skies had cleared and we were eager to peel off our outer layers. My thermal capris had become too warm. I'd already swapped my winter-weight gloves for lighter long-fingered gloves; I should have brought a fingerless pair, too.

Such are the challenges of late season cycling in the Bay Area. [Ha.]

A good day to ride some 32 miles, with a touch (~900 feet) of climbing.