Feel the Bernal

It was warmer than I thought it would be. The first hill was harder than I thought it would be. I will skip the second hill, I thought.

But I've been pedaling too much within my comfort zone, rarely climbing any hills.

I'd cooled down by the time I reached the base of Bernal. [Just ... do it.]

There was the evidence of a recent controlled burn in Santa Teresa County Park, and a slight breeze at the picnic table where I paused to enjoy my snack (in the shade).

I uprooted some invasive star thistle and picked up many pieces of litter. [People. There is a trash can. Right. There.]

Twenty-nine miles and some 1,200 feet of climbing. (I took the flat route home.)

Many Shades of Green

At some point I learned that county residents get free admission to the the Hakone Estate and Gardens, once a month. I marked the dates on my calendar; today, I decided, was the day.

I remember visiting only once before, arriving on the back of a tandem bicycle—maybe 20 years ago. [We walked up the steep driveway.]

Unfortunately it was not a place for quiet contemplation today, with a group of children scampering about. They were mostly interested in the koi, though.

I explored every path, high and low. By the time I made it to the bamboo garden, I had that calm, rustling space mostly to myself.

I was surprised by the towering redwoods on the slopes above the traditional features of a Japanese garden. On a warm day, I appreciated the cool shade they offered.

Invasive species, like bull thistle, are making incursions on the margins. Managing these gardens seems like a daunting endeavor.

I was grateful to be nothing more than an idle visitor.

Turkeys Trot

I set off with a friend (and former colleague) who was game for another hike.

No, that's not us!

Looking for something on the mellow side, with good tree cover on a warm day, I remembered an impromptu choice from last summer—the Zinfandel Trail in the Picchetti Ranch Open Space Preserve. The water level in the Stevens Creek Reservoir was much healthier this year!

We took a bit of an unplanned detour when I steered us left instead of right, but all's well that ends well: We found ourselves flanked by tangled vines of ripening blackberries along the banks of Stevens Creek, and did our part to reduce the spread of this invasive species by plucking and eating an abundance of juicy berries (and their seeds, bwahaha).

Birds of a Feather

Flock together.

Evidently there's a seagull convention in town. Hundreds of birds have descended on Lake Almaden, for the past several days. As for this old bird, I joined a smaller gathering—with three old friends who rarely ride with our old bike club, if at all. They just get together and ride on their own, and today I managed to join them.

When I had learned that these long-time club members had struck out on their own a couple of years ago, they told me they were too slow. I encouraged them to lead some slow rides, as this was something I'd been hearing more and more from other members. “If you post them, they will come!”

They were not persuaded.

In a sense, I get it. Maybe you just don't want the responsibility any more. Or you might post a slow ride, have fast riders show up (chasing leaderboard stats), and end up not riding as a group anyway. It's easier just to ride with a few like-minded buddies.

I was delighted to catch up with old friends, folks with whom I'd shared many ambitious rides in years gone by. Riding to (and from) our rendezvous point gave me about 30 miles for the day, less than 600 feet of climbing, and a pretty decent bagel at our coffee stop.

What's not to like about that?!

A Bit of a Slump

I haven't been cycling enough, especially up hills. Time to find some motivation and course correct.

I got up the first hill; certainly not my best time, but not my worst, either. Having started in the late morning, I felt comfortable about heading out Hicks Road on my own—expecting to avoid the unease I'd felt on an evening ride, passing sketchy characters that seem to hang around out there.

I was wrong.

As I approached Reynolds, a car passed and then did a u-turn at that intersection. Why, I wondered. Why drive on this road unless you have a reason to travel through? Near the dam, another car lingered behind me; I moved to the right when I could, only to have the driver pull into the same space and (you guessed it) make a u-turn.

What's going on? Were they meeting up with the motorcyclist I'd seen loitering on the opposite side of the road, miles back?

I decided to linger awhile at my u-turn spot (just before the grade kicks up close to 14%). With a little delay, I was hoping to avoid encountering any of those guys on my return. I paused for a close-up view of the section of pavement that had collapsed last winter, adding a second one-lane section to Hicks. Will they ever repair this road?

I felt somewhat reassured when I began to see cyclists heading in my direction. And, invasive as it is, I stopped to appreciate the beauty of a perfect Bull Thistle bloom. [If I'd had clippers, I could have prevented this one from going to seed. Reminder: Pack clippers.]

Climbing an adjacent hill on the return, my short (15-mile) journey entailed about 1,200 feet of elevation gain. Must do more of this ...

To the Tree (and Beyond)

Hiking up (and I do mean UP) the Kennedy Trail on a hot day did not seem like a natural choice, but we gamely followed our leader. The pace was brisk! I guess folks wanted to be done before the day really heated up. [Trust me, it was already hot enough.] I chose to lag behind.

As foretold, I could see the pond at Cherry Springs. And as I trudged along, I realized I had fixed my gaze on slope above the Kennedy Trail, yesterday—wondering, then, at the patches of reddish-brown mixed with green on the hillside.

There had been some chatter before we set out: Would I hike to the trail junction (as I typically do), or to “the tree?” I had no answer for that, not being familiar with the landmark. [Now I am—twinned oaks in the middle of the trail, about three miles up.]

We regrouped in the shade and agreed to continue a little bit farther before turning back, somewhat shy of seven miles when all was said and done. And we were done, indeed.

Cherry Springs

It was a stroke of good fortune that I learned of, and was able to join, today's hike. As we would be visiting a closed area of the Sierra Azul Open Space Preserve, participation was limited—by reservation only. As the date grew closer and spots remained open, I alerted two cycling friends (who eagerly joined). One, in particular, has biked up the road we'd take to reach our starting point more times than she could count. Having often wondered what lay beyond the locked gate, today we'd all get to explore it!

We carpooled up the hill and began our trek near a pond related to the eponymous spring, which flows perennially.

We learned that a developer had planned to build estate homes on this land over a decade ago, but backed out when the economy soured. Now it's protected: A conservation organization snapped it up when it returned to the market.

Escorted by volunteer docents and one open space district ranger, we learned about the land and (of course) the plants, both native and invasive. [Yes, even here, some invaders have taken root. As I did my best to obliterate some star thistle, I wished I'd added a pair of small clippers to my hiking kit.]

When I mentioned that I planned to hike the Kennedy Trail with some friends tomorrow, one of the docents told me that I would be able see the pond from there.

It was a short loop (about 2 miles)—but exciting to trek in a place where few have gone before us, to be treated to new perspectives in all directions.

Not to mention doing our part to curb the spread of an invasive plant by consuming as many ripe blackberries (and their seeds) as we could tug free, near the pond!

We were reminded that the mission of the open space district is to preserve the land (and thus the health of the ecosystem); their objective is not to make it all available for people to visit, as much as we might like that to be so.