Bird Scout

On Tuesday's outing, a rider asked whether I would lead another visit to see the egrets. [Hmm. It's been a while.] We set a tentative date for the ride.

I knew the nests would still be active, but wasn't sure if there would be any surprises on the 25-mile loop I'd developed for that ride. One way to find out ...

I took the most direct route to reach the starting point; following my nose, I managed to find the same turns I'd optimized a few years back.

Available restrooms? [Check.] No scheduled detour at the stadium? [Check.] Connection to the Bay Trail? [Oops. Not through the dump.] Route through the Google campus? [Revise.] Lunch stop? [Check.]

Egrets? [Of course.] For variety, I captured a shot of a Great Blue Heron along the Bay Trail instead.

With no need to complete the loop today, I stopped for a bakery treat on the way home. After 56 miles and ~1,200 feet of climbing, I'd earned a sweet reward.

South County

Today presented an opportunity to join a group of friends in southern Santa Clara County who have been meeting and riding together for years. So many years that, when they gather for a post-ride lunch, the people in the café know them by name.

The day would be a hot one, leading to some uncertainty about the planned route. [We forged ahead.] I was puzzled to see four strong riders join the group—until their plan to add a short, steep climb emerged. [Not for me, today.]

Before heading to the end of Redwood Retreat, we paused at Chitactac-Adams Heritage County Park. I didn't explore the educational center; I expect the rest of the group has been there, done that.

I was surprised to find us spinning along at 17 mph (or more) at times, giving me an average speed of 13.3 mph over 27 miles (though with less than 1,000 feet of climbing). My comrades have clearly been making the most of their retirement years!

A Misbegotten Hike

We had a plan, and that plan would include exploring some territory unfamiliar to me. My chief biking buddy invited me to join a small group hike at the Fremont Older Open Space Preserve.

But the best laid plans ... were shredded by the local mountain biking community. [Being road cyclists, we were clueless.] I'd never seen so many vehicles near the bottom of Parker Ranch Road. [Turns out there's a trailhead there.] A veritable parade of cars snaked up Prospect and circled the parking lot at the top before heading back down.

Plan B was hatched: we headed for the Picchetti Ranch Open Space Preserve instead.

My biking (and hiking!) buddy recommended the Zinfandel trail, having been here before. We caught a glimpse of water in the drought-afflicted Stevens Creek Reservoir.

The other end of the trail dropped us at a familiar spot along Stevens Canyon Road, where we often stop for a break after biking to the end of the pavement.

The creek has not gone dry. [Yet.]

A cheeky Western Fence Lizard narrowly missed being trodden underfoot as we returned, surprisingly not darting into the brush when I stopped to snap a photo.

Hiking a little over 4 miles, I developed a better understanding of some local terrain: from Montebello to Stevens Canyon, through the woods. All good.

The Wright Stuff

Visiting the site of Wrights Station was one of my buddy Steve's favorite routes. He always relished the opportunity to introduce fellow cyclists to its history.

Today I was on my own. Four of us had set out together; one turned back, as expected, after the first climb. I toyed with the idea of following the other two on a longer excursion to the end of Highland Way, but knowing the day would get hotter I reckoned I would lose the motivation to drop down to Wrights Station (and then climb back up).

And I did want to visit Wrights today. I lingered on the bridge, alone with my thoughts. I'd never noticed fruit among the foliage, till now. Bright red orbs, others golden yellow. Maybe I'd never been down here at just the right time, or maybe too busy chatting with my fellow cyclists to look around.

High overhead, something caught my eye: a bright orange dragonfly perched at the top of a thin, bare branch.

Could I get a closer look with my phone's zoom lens?

It was challenging to hold steady enough to focus, but ... color me impressed. My subject was most cooperative, posing with wings spread and staying still.

I climbed back up from the creek, regretfully leaving the shade of the redwoods to return to the hot side of the hill after cycling 18 miles, with ~1,700 feet of climbing.

Hilly Thursday

A mellow social group headed for the hills today, venturing as far as the Almaden Reservoir.

There is an impressive bridge under construction near the reservoir that will change the alignment of the road, when completed. The reservoir was surprisingly full; this riding group stays together, so I didn't pause for a proper photo—just this snapshot of the tail end. (Which would be dry, this time of year, were the reservoir less full.)

A nice little morning ride—a decent 34 miles, with about ~800 feet of climbing.

Apex Predator

A mid-week ride was headed for one of my favorite places in the redwood forest, just over the ridge of the Santa Cruz mountains.

I wasn't a fan of the starting location the leader had chosen, and knowing that they'd leave me in the dust within the first few minutes anyway, I opted to start from a better spot that also cut off a few miles. (The ride leader didn't mind.)

Knowing it was going to be a hot day I also started earlier, and [spoiler] they never caught me. In part because they also tackled a steep climb that I bypassed. Doing that once was more than enough for me.

I'm pretty sure that Stetson must have been an old logging road. It's in terrible condition (has been, for as long as I've known it); but I expect the residents prefer it that way.

I paused, alone, to savor the aroma of the forest and bask in the silence. Lovely, blessed, silence.

We normally regroup at the Skyland Church and I thought the group might catch me there. I lingered in the shade and was treated to a little wild kingdom action. There, at the tippy-top of a very tall tree, sat a hawk. Probably a red-tailed hawk, as those are the most common around here; without binoculars, I couldn't be certain.

A smaller bird, with great determination, repeatedly swooped and dived at the hawk. In this shot, I would characterize the hawk's reaction as “Ask me if I care.” The dive-bomber almost certainly has a nest nearby, likely in that very tree.

The day was warming up, and with a bit more climbing ahead of me, I tore myself away from the avian drama and headed back. In all, a very pleasant (solo, rather than social) 23 miles, about 2300 feet of climbing.

Late to the Party

That sinking feeling ... when you roll into the park where the ride will start and there isn't a cyclist in sight. [Uh oh.]

I'm so accustomed to rides starting at 9:30 a.m., I was running on autopilot. That explains why I happened to notice one of our club members pedaling down a side street as I brushed my teeth this morning. He's getting an early start, I thought. [Nope. He was planning to arrive on time.]

If I'd caught my mistake before heading out, I could have intercepted them en route. [But no.]

I texted my ride buddy and headed for the reservoir; I wasn't planning to ride the steeper sections of today's route, anyway.

After catching her, we rode out past the ever-shrinking Guadalupe Reservoir. Roadwork is in progress (chip-sealing), and I noted that a side road that we “enjoy” climbing [so to speak] was blanketed in a thick layer of gravel.

Having passed a couple of deer on my way to the start, I was wary as I approached the last climb. Good instinct: two more crossed the road ahead of me, then stopped to stare. By the time I fished out my phone to snap a picture, they'd decided to saunter off into the brush.

I finished the ride I'd intended, though not as planned: 23 miles and likely 1,200 feet of climbing.