Ride Together

Look on the bright side: it could have been wetter. Mist, then drizzle, speckled my spectacles. My gloves were soaked, my hands chilled, and I should have worn wool socks.

Today marked the 20th anniversary Best Buddies ride in California, and my 17th. I'd been uncertain about riding this year; it feels like the ride's shift to October in Marin all but ensures wet weather (and slippery pavement). Still, I support the mission. And I hadn't managed to visit the venue's gallery last year.

This year's event included a shorter route, and I was relieved to dial it back. The past two years I'd rolled in at the tail end of lunch, despite pushing myself close to the limit. This year I wanted to enjoy the post-ride celebration.

I was also looking forward to a change in scenery. We escaped the wetness as we headed inland, which afforded some lovely views of the Nicasio Reservoir.

With one rest stop and a couple of photo stops, I managed to roll across the finish line 3 hours, 12 minutes after I'd started: completing 38 miles and more than 1,600 feet of climbing (give or take).

I had plenty of time to get cleaned up and head up the hill for lunch—where, for once, I was an early bird. I was delighted for the chance to chat with Cam Wurf, who provided some hilarious context for our memorable first encounter. He's an all-around nice guy, which is true of everyone I've met through this organization and its events.

A woman at an adjacent table was moved to tears when Best Buddies Amabassador and rapper “Flava Fran” performed the piece she'd written about the impact Best Buddies has had on her life. She wasn't fazed last night when the room erupted in laughter and applause; like a seasoned pro, she waited for the room to settle down and said “I'm not done, there's more.”

Last night, Lisa Loeb(!) followed Fran to perform two of her songs: Stay (I Missed You), and Another Day. When thinking about which songs to share with us, she'd recognized a metaphor in the latter one: for world events at this moment in time, for the challenges faced by folks with disabilities, and for the event that brought us here.

But everybody knows that life can change like the weather
And everybody wants the things they know to stay the same
But we’re not gonna last forever
And nothing’s ever meant to stay
But while we’re on this ride together, let’s do it for another day

Rooting for a Raptor

Was it an omen that today's bird-of-the-day on my Audubon calendar was an owl?

With a bike event coming up this weekend, I needed to get more climbing in; but when I woke up yesterday I realized I needed a rest day. With a bit of a late start, I headed for Bernal (known to some as “IBM Hill” for the private grounds at the top). I made a u-turn rather than stopping at the usual picnic table to enjoy my snack, heading instead for the ranch (Bernal-Gulnac-Joice).

I was surprised to see two ranger trucks there, mid-week; the buildings are open only on weekends. A ranger was unloading an animal carrier, and when I said “good morning” he smiled and asked if I'd like to see a special animal. Well, of course, but the carrier was empty? “It's an owl, we're here to pick it up.”

And there, in the rock-reinforced pit where volunteers had been cautioned not to venture (known to harbor rattlesnakes), was another ranger keeping watch over a magnificent great horned owl.

Those feathers! Those eyes! Those talons! I've never been so close to a live great horned owl. I've heard them hooting at night, and almost certainly have seen them displayed in a nature center (taxidermied).

Was this why a red-tailed hawk had soared overhead, with a piercing cry, more or less on the same route as I? Had it spotted the weakened owl and hoped to dive in for an easy meal, put off (perhaps) by the ranger who stood nearby?

The bird seemed almost in a trance, not reacting at all to our presence. I don't know if it helps, but I spoke to it in a calm, reassuring tone. “It's okay, sweetie, we're here to help.” The ranger carried something soft—an old sweatshirt, I think. He deftly draped it over the bird and eased it into the carrier; it tried to extend its wings, but he gently smoothed them down and closed the door.

Someone had been dispatched to pick up the carrier; likely destination would be the Wildlife Center of Silicon Valley (whose logo, fittingly, features a great horned owl).

What was ailing this bird? My guess is that it had the misfortune to eat a poisoned rat, and was now suffering the effects of the poison. If so, the outlook is bleak.

Please: Don't use poison baits. Just ... don't. (Use snap traps.)

Gratitude

Oddly, I ended up hiking the same set of trails twice in one week! Clockwise on Monday, counter-clockwise today.

As I waited for my Monday hiking pals at the trailhead, a man hiked out wearing a t-shirt with a message that made me smile:

Grateful

I'm not

Dead

Can't disagree, for sure!

Without a parking lot, cars lined the neighborhood streets. I guess the residents are used to that, because this is clearly a popular trailhead for Almaden Quicksilver County Park—even on a weekday.

We passed a clever bench, but didn't feel a need to rest.

More than 100 years ago, a furnace was built near the Senador mine, used in the process of extracting mercury; the concrete towers still stand.

Our clockwise approach led to good views of the Santa Clara Valley.

I so wanted to walk out on the dam, but our Monday group was eager to keep moving. I was happy to have another opportunity on Sunday; our group conveniently paused nearby, though I was still the outlier—no one else cared to get this perspective on the Guadalupe Reservoir.

Clockwise or counterclockwise, the loop is about 4.8 miles, and not too challenging. I was glad I opted in today, even though I'd hiked the same trails just a few days earlier. Different perspectives, different conversations, and what's not to like about another beautiful fall day?

In Friendship

I reached out to my former teammates about repeating last fall's volunteer gig with the California Climate Action Corps. This year's event was more modest: just volunteer, without the speeches, t-shirts, and party.

Given two options, they chose to return to San José's Japanese Friendship Garden.

In addition to weeding (by hand, regrettably without the proper tools), we cleared debris from the still-empty koi ponds.

Before:

Work in progress (debris piled on burlap, for removal):

Last year they seemed to have more volunteers than they knew what to do with; this year, there were just a handful of us. And the spiral wishing well that delighted us last year had since been vandalized, and apparently set on fire.

My disappointment in my fellow human beings is evidently unbounded. But today, some of us gave our time and energy to make this little pocket of the world a nicer place.

Trekking Through the Tarweed

Even though I'd already hiked in the Cherry Springs area, I signed up again when a friend was keen to explore it.

The pond was particularly lovely today.

We began our trek up what remains of the road.

The trail, however, had a surprise in store for us.

Passing through the fallen tree was less straightforward than this might appear—it involved a bit of a jump (off some bouncy branches) on the far side. [No hikers were harmed in the process!]

There is some elevation gain on this hike, but the drive up to the pond gave us a head start.

Our guide pointed out “The Rock,” which I'd missed on our first visit. Peeking out beyond the nearby slope and some trees, it does beg for some exploration. Perhaps there will be path to it, one day.

We paused in the shade for a view across the valley. What a privilege it is to be here, in an area that is minimally disturbed. Even so, I found a piece of litter (which of course I picked up and carried out).

There is always something new to learn! Today: woodrat (aka pack rat) nests.

Almost certainly, I've hiked past nests without noticing them—now, I'll keep an eye out! A docent talked about how they're constructed (taking advantage of the terrain, tucked against a rock or a tree). The pups would be sheltered deep within the nest, for protection.

Another question was about the profusion of fall blooms (hayfield tarweed). Why now? Why not during spring, like so many other flowering plants?

Competitive advantage (pollinators).

There is always something new to learn.

A Rare Breed

Our little group of Friday friends was up for a more ambitious ride today: past the Calero Reservoir, over Bailey to the Coyote Creek Trail before stopping for a treat on the return leg.

A man approached me as I headed back toward the table where we'd gathered for our coffee stop. What was on his mind?

“You're a rare breed,” he said. I imagined he was surprised to see four older folks on bicycles, but that wasn't it.

I gave him a quizzical look. “You waited, and held the door open for that guy!”

“It's the courteous thing to do. I bet you do the same,” I said. He smiled.

By riding to and from our rendezvous point, I finished with a healthy 39 miles and about 1,000 feet of climbing. More to the point, I've been enjoying these relaxed Friday rides. There are times for vigorous workouts, and there are times (and places) to be social and just have a good time. Like today!

Mockingbird Hill

Perhaps it is not unusual that I so often hear mockingbirds when I cruise through Almaden neighborhoods. Seven of us met at an entrance to Almaden Quicksilver County Park that I had not visited until now: Mockingbird Hill. I've often biked past the street that leads to it; I didn't expect such a large parking lot at the trailhead.

Our leader emphasized that we would not be taking the Hacienda Trail. Repeat: We will not be taking the Hacienda Trail. (Evidently it's steep. How steep? I just might have to find out, some other day.)

We made our way to a picnic table in a clearing that looked familiar.

The air was clean and clear, and our route afforded several great vantage points for observing sprawling San José and the Diablo Range across the valley. There were the white domes of Lick Observatory atop Mt. Hamilton; sadly, I have not been up the mountain yet this year. There was a short window of time, between closures for road repairs, when it would have been possible to bike the full distance. I am determined to bike to the top before the weather turns cold, albeit without the lower (closed) section. [Stay tuned.]

Today was a day for hiking, not pedaling. Along the way it's natural for hiking (and conversation) partners to shift around, and I'm enjoying getting to know my pals better. The workout (with views!) was a bonus: 5.5 miles.