Rancho San Antonio

As close as it is, I had never hiked in Rancho San Antonio. Many years ago I'd biked through on the road, on group rides, which gave me a limited (distorted) perspective on what the park might have to offer. [Besides too many people.]

Unlike other county parks, admission is free—which likely contributes to its popularity. Even on a weekday, with schools back in session, we carpooled to improve our chances of finding parking spaces. Conveniently bordered by residential neighborhoods, evidently many people will drop in for a quick jog.

Near the little farm area, a curious cycle-mobile was hitched to a bike rack. (Front wheel drive.)

Technically, most of the acreage is the Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve, adjacent to the county park; and there's much more of it than I'd imagined.

We climbed high enough to enjoy a view clear across the valley to Moffett Field, San Francisco Bay, and beyond.

Three of us kicked back at a picnic table for more conversation (and, our lunch) after completing our loop. Having traversed more than six miles, I covered a bit more ground stalking and chasing a determined squirrel that expected a handout. Why forage when all those park visitors feed you?

Time to learn that this visitor is not like the others ...

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park

I've made good use of the county parks pass I bought this year; by removing the friction of paying per visit, I have found myself eager to visit more of our parks. But a state parks pass? I just wouldn't use that often enough to break even.

Yet, I haven't been to a state park in years. We are blessed with so many beautiful places to hike that the price of admission discouraged me.

Then I learned that my library card allows me to borrow a pass that gives me free entry to most California State Parks. What a deal!

I've hiked in the Fall Creek section of Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park several times, but never gave any thought to visiting the main part of the park. Why not, today?

I didn't find an explanation for these carefully-arranged piles of sticks.

The redwood grove, near the visitor center, is the main attraction. One family included a backpack-wearing little girl whose demeanor suggested a scientist/naturalist/park ranger in the making. (Unlike the rest of her peers, who were mostly running around.)

Beyond the old growth trees of the grove, vestiges of logging remind us of what we have lost. Luckily, the CZU fires of 2020 spared this area; I still have not mustered the courage to approach Big Basin.

I made my way to the Observation Deck, where (in addition to the great views) I found a picnic table to enjoy my lunch. This turned out to be an unexpected bird-watching spot: a drinking fountain with a small reservoir of water attracted a robin and a goldfinch while I was there.

The deck offered a clear view in all directions, high enough to see the Pacific (no marine layer, today).

Happy to escape the heat on the other side of the hill, I spent the day meandering slowly along a route I'd mapped out (six miles, more or less). I chose well.

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 ...