Test Flights

When I saw the size of the chicks last weekend, I knew that prime viewing season would soon draw to a close. When I extended another invitation to ride, I was joined by two cycling friends and a neighbor whose horizons I would broaden.

Along the bay, when we paused to watch a black-necked stilt strutting on the trail we found ourselves in the midst of some sort of avian drama, with three of them swooping over and around us.

Not much water flowing from Stevens Creek to the bay, but the banks were abloom.

Along the way, we had seen cormorants and grebes, swallows and ducks, and (of course) egrets.

My hunch was correct: the fledglings were starting to venture out of the nest, like this little black-crowned night heron.

My mind still boggles that these birds, with such broad wing spans, maneuver through the foliage of sycamore trees to establish their nests.

Somehow there is magic to be found on each visit to the rookery: for the first time, today, seeing fledglings extending and flapping their wings.

Opting for a different route home, my exercise for the day was cycling 53 miles (with something under 1,000 feet of climbing).

Honoring Steve

Today's ride honored the memory of a friend's husband, suddenly and unexpectedly lost earlier this year.

Our easy East Bay route included a stop at a park with a unique playground—designed for children with special needs, featuring play areas inspired by regional landmarks. Imagine a swing designed to accommodate a wheelchair!

There was a strong turnout (43 cyclists), and our leaders were attentive to keeping us safe and on track. Being unfamiliar with the area, I appreciated that (despite having a detailed route to follow).

A celebration of Steve's life followed; the luncheon included his favorite dishes—his family joked that he'd always made the menu selections.

My connection was with Judy, Steve's wife; we'd first met at a cycling event 18 years ago. So many members of their cycling club rose to share stories about how kind and thoughtful he was: graciously sweeping group rides, encouraging riders during their low moments, fixing their bikes.

I recalled a moment that Judy shared with me recently, when she arrived at a cycling event and learned that one of the organizers had forgotten his helmet: She reached into her car and pulled out a spare. “Steve always kept a spare helmet in the car,” she explained.

I can't think of a better way to honor his memory. Be kind. Be helpful.

Pollinator Party

On the lookout for another volunteer gig suitable for sharing with my former teammates, I discovered that the Don Edwards San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge was hosting a “weeding party” on a weekday evening at their Alviso location. Not far from the office, that seemed ideal! The idea was to support local pollinators by removing invasive plants from their butterfly native garden.

I spent some time wandering around the marshland before the party started. I realized there were two distinct types of swallow swooping around at high speed; a helpful staff member educated me about the difference between barn swallows (forked tails) and cliff swallows (flat tails).

It was much less challenging to snap a photo of a determined black-necked stilt hunting in the shallows.

Gazing back toward the shore, the Alviso Environmental Education Center building is on the left (though it's presently closed), a landfill (sigh) is on the right, and near the trees in the middle is a small pavilion where (as it turned out) we would be weeding.

Their plans had shifted, but one former colleague and a friend were able to join me. Our assignment was to uproot and remove wild mustard plants, which were in abundance. These invasive plants spread a prodigious amount of seed and develop thick taproots, difficult to pry out of the rock-hard soil even with proper tools. I went hunting for the smaller plants that others overlooked, especially in the cool shade under the trees. I spotted a couple of invasive thistle plants lurking in a tangle of plants next to the pavilion and yanked them out, too.

Working in the refuge after hours, we were privileged to enjoy the early evening light (though, too early for sunset on a summer's evening).

Postscript: We later learned that we removed more than 75 pounds of invasive plants (mostly mustard). Now I can't stop seeing this scourge wherever I ramble around the Bay Area. I find myself tugging them out, or at least breaking off the stems before the flowers set seed. We won't win this battle, but we should carry on the fight.

Calero and Conversation

A friend reached out for an easy hike today, and was game to visit Calero County Park when I proposed that. My regular hiking buddies would be there, too, but on a different (more challenging) loop.

What I had in mind was the first section of the hike I'd extended in April; I noted the distance from a couple of turn-back points in case we opted to cut it even shorter.

There was plenty of wildlife to enjoy, from butterflies and birds to a curious pair of deer. Just above us on the slope next to the trail, they were more interested in munching (on poison oak!) than running away.

We followed the Cottle Trail from the Rancho San Vicente entrance, and made it to the farthest point I'd mapped out (the last views of the reservoir before the trail would turn away). Retracing our route, we covered about 6 miles.

It was a glorious day for a hike, and I learned that my hiking companion has a keen eye for spotting tiny creatures—and is patiently willing to indulge this amateur naturalist's curiosity!

Feathered Friends

As many times as I've done this ride, I've always seen something different. First up today was a black-necked stilt. Somehow I think I would have remembered those long red legs, if I'd seen this bird before.

Expecting to find good viewing at the Shorebird Egret Rookery today, I had invited a few friends to join me. One was new to this adventure, so I explained that we would be stopping along the way whenever I spotted an interesting bird.

As usual, there were other people gazing upward at the rookery. It's fun to educate casual observers, and (as usual) I managed to surprise them with a cast-off eggshell I found in the grass. I needn't have looked so hard, as I later found two that had been carefully set aside (and added mine).

The chicks were raucous! A fellow bird-lover remarked that there were more nests this year than she'd ever seen here. Continuing the trend I've noticed, there were many more black-crowned night heron nests.

Surely that's a mark of success? If a nesting site works, stick with it.

Snowy egrets were plentiful, so I was particularly delighted to find a great egret showing off some fancy plumage.

When I set out this morning, I wasn't sure how I'd manage. By riding to (and from) the starting location, I basically double the distance (for a total of 51 miles, with about 1,000 feet of climbing). Taking the most direct route home, I didn't expect I'd be dodging my way through a beach-traffic-jam (so late in the day!). But with at least two alternate routes toward the coast still blocked for repair from last winter's storms, this may be the theme for the summer of 2023.

Luckily I can get around on my bike.

Deflated

An Amazon van rolled up, taunting me. “That thing you wanted? It's right. In. Here.”

A floor pump? [I think. Not.]

The driver had stopped at the park to take a break and use the restroom.

Tools and bike bits spread around me, I sat in the shade. There was that, at least.

My problem was self-inflicted. It was a warm day, and I really didn't need to inflate my tires close to the rated maximum PSI. Really.

I was enjoying my snack in a shady spot near the hens, when ... Pffft! Parked in the rack, basking in the sunshine, a tube burst. [In the rear tire, of course.]

Luckily just one tube blew, because I don't carry two spares.

It's been a (long) while since I've needed to repair a flat on this bike, away from home. At least I was in a comfortable spot.

Step 1: Let some air out of the tube in the other tire, lest it suffer the same fate.

Repair Attempt 1: Use C02 cartridge. [Fail.] I thought the inflator was compatible with Schrader valves. I guess not.

Attempt 2: Use pump. [Fail.] Clever design, easy to use. If only I could unscrew the cap to pull out the hose.

Fallback Option 1: Phone a friend. [Fail.] Text message. No response.

Option 2: Call AAA? [Likely to be sitting here, waiting, for hours.]

Option 3: Wander through the neighborhood, begging for a floor pump?

Attempt 3: Keep trying to unscrew the cap on the pump. [Yes, I'm the stubborn, self-reliant type.] Success!

After gingerly riding the first three or so miles, my confidence grew that I would make it back home under my own power.

On these tires, 85 PSI should be plenty. Maybe more than enough. [Really.]

Lesson learned.

Tree Cover

After a mini-hike a few days ago, a friend was eager for something longer. He suggested eight miles; we compromised on a route just short of seven.

I might have done a short hike in Sanborn County Park years ago; he had never visited. Our destination was “The Peak;” quite a bit of elevation gain to reach Skyline from the valley, but the drive to the park gives a good head start.

We had to re-route almost immediately; the trail I'd intended was closed. Navigating through the fallen trees that we met along the way, I can't imagine what's come down in the closed section. The winter rains and winds had been brutal.

We didn't make it to The Peak; my hiking companion ran low on water, so we turned downhill onto the Sanborn Trail from the San Andreas Trail—completing a loop of 4+ miles.

Hiking in the forest was the right choice for a warm day.