A Bike Ride...

I finally took some pictures. Therefore, a blog post must be on the way. I tend to feel like I wasn't doing work if I stopped a lot on my ride. Which makes it hard to take pictures. Which makes it hard to post. And I am trying to remedy that, so...

Must be going the right way because the sign says so...

From now on, I won't think of it as stopping to take pictures. I'm going to call it "intervals." All the kinesthesiologists tell me that I need to do intervals if I want to progress. They tell me that resting is work. Hard work.

Signs of incipient precipitation...

So to make the work of resting bearable, I'll bring a camera. Like the way people bring iPods to the gym.

And signs of recent precipitation...

Perhaps someone out there is a photographer who uses a mountain bike to step away from the viewfinder every now and then. If so, we could ride and take pictures together. And it would be hard to tell which one of us is resting at any given time. : p

My riding buddy.

Sunrise on West Fork

No matter what time it is, the sun won't rise until you get to this bend in the road. At least that's true if you are more than two miles in from the road. If you find yourself waking up on the river, as I did recently, you will be in shadow.

My, that's a fine looking bike!

As I headed out towards Hwy 39, I came to an unusual spot where there is land between the road and the river. And a lone picnic table. And most unusually, sun. Suddenly, the picnic table which had seemed so out of place and alone before, made sense. It sits in one of only two spots you might want to sit and warm up. The other spot is similar...

Dam looks as thirsty as I feel!

Once you get out to Hwy 39, there is plenty of sun. Maybe not so much water, but plenty of sun.

Superman Dirt

Somehow or other, they just had a cross-country race at Bonelli. Only two days earlier, I went to Bonelli after the rain to check out the Superman Dirt. If you've never been to Bonelli after a rain, I am not talking about that sweet tacky moist dirt that makes you an invincible downhill pro. I'm talking about that clay that bonds to your tires in such a way that even Superman would need to eat his Wheaties before trying to pry it off.

Sure enough, after a few miles, my tires had transformed from 2.2 inchers to 3.0 inch earthenware monstrosities. I took no photos on the ride, but perhaps this photo can give you an idea. My tires looked at least this ridiculous:

In case you aren't familiar with north-eastern Los Angeles County riding, the photo above was taken near Marshall Canyon. Next time it rains, head there rather than Bonelli...

Lunch Time!

What's wrong with making lunch plans at 10am? Nothing, normally. But imagine, if you will, two rogue mountainbikers sitting in Starbucks in San Dimas, fueling up for a ride. (On a day best described as "Damn hot")

"Today would be a good day for a beach ride." 

"Yeah, but I've got the wrong bike for that. I'd need gears." 

"Why don't we get lunch in Wrightwood?" 

"Cool, let's do it."

You can do any ill-advised ride you want...
...as long as you're flying the Jolly Roger!

So, I'm not sure when we left exactly. But I know it was 12:30 when we left the Off-Highway-Vehicle  Staging Area on Highway 39. In case you are unfamiliar with the area, that's about the last shade we'd see for an eternity or two. We were about an hour away from what we call "Spongebath Falls." Can you guess what we always seem to do at those falls?

Excellent. We wouldn't want cool weather when climbing the switchbacks. Or any possibility of finishing before dark...

This will help me get down to my "race weight"...

One of the best things about remote mountain areas is how much they are able to charge for food. And how willing even a broke-ass like myself is to pay. And how good it tastes. You could probably sell me strips of cardboard for $10 after I rode 60 miles. And if they are moist and greasy enough, I'd come back next week for more.

See, be seen, or don't be seen. It's your choice at the Evergreen Cafe...

In fact, I did go back to this place the next week. And not for cardboard, this food was top-notch! Despite the "Racoon Saloon" on the sign, they didn't seem to have any pitchers to fill with water for me. But they were nice about bringing me refill after refill...

I hope this guy isn't dead!

 Another bonus about remote mountain cycling destinations--you'll find plenty of patients to practice your EMT skills on...

This picture is from another ride...
But ain't it purty?

I have no idea how to end this post. Except to say, " Ride it like you stole it" And by "it," of course, I mean the mountain range.

The Big West Fork Loop

It is such a satisfaction to finally finish a ride! Every time I have gone up West Fork, I have turned around for one reason or another. Not that I was even trying the same ride each time, but wherever I have been headed up there has always eluded me until today.

As usual, I saw real fishermen.
But it was the cartoon variety that I photographed today.

After I got past the 7 mile mark, and the road tilted up, I thought I wouldn't see people anymore. Beautiful tributaries, yes; but people, not so much.

I can't get enough of this stuff...

The next photo is of a place I never got to before. When heading up West Fork Trail (2n25), I hit snow and turned around. When heading up Redbox Rincon Road (2n24), it started to rain. I had a goretex raincoat, a long billed cap, wool socks, knee warmers, and I should have been fine, right? Not without gloves, I wasn't! I'm telling you, white boy be crazy!

We were following the power lines...

Notice how I said "we." That's because I ran into a couple on full squish bikes at the junction of 2n25 and 2n24. So while I thought I was being all hardcore, thinking I'd be all alone up there, all I was doing was catching up to a couple of mountainbikers who have almost two decades on me.

Maria and Jim were fine company.

Except for the part where Jim slashed his tire...
...twice!

It was a great day up there, and I finally did the whole West Fork Loop (as I call it). Plus I met some compadres. The ride was not such a big deal, at only 4000 feet of elevation, but it felt soooo good.

Here is a picture of a tree:

That's a tree, all right!

What are you doing on West Fork?

Yesterday morning I headed out to the West Fork of the San Gabriel River. 11am is still technically morning, right? Anyway, I've been wanting to ride up to Angeles Crest Highway from there, so I gave it a shot.

The first six miles of 2n25 are fully paved and seem flat. Lots of folks were out there for a casual ride or to fish.

The graffiti is mostly close to Hwy 39.
Further off the road = nicer.

Some folks were just out for a ride...

There were plenty of people who combined the two activities. And others who thought walking next to the river was good enough sans bike or rod and reel.

If you zoom in, you'll see a pole extending rearward from the saddle.

This kid is taking Mom for a walk.

Even vintage bikes enjoy a little catch and release.

After almost six miles of false flat, there is a campground. Just after the campground the road tilted up and I stopped taking pictures.

These bikes are camping. Did they forget to bring people?

On my way back, I snapped a few. So I'll put them here--all out of order.

After climbing pavement to the top of Cogswell Dam, 2n25 turned to dirt. And climbed some more...

This is really 2n23, but it gives you an idea.
(NOT! That is WAY smoother than most of the dirt portion of my ride.)

Remember how I said it was a climb up to the dam? If you zoom in on the next picture, you can see that way down below is the water in the reservoir. Maybe that explains how I got all out of breath and stuff...

A totally new view for me.

So, after I rode to the very end of 2n25, I took 2n24 just a little ways. When I hit 2n23, I turned north. North is towards Angeles Crest, so that was good. The bad part was, I also turned down...

End of the line.

The reason 2n23 goes down is that Angeles Crest is on the other side of the San Gabriel River. The same river that Cogswell Dam dams. In other words, I lost almost all the elevation I had gained. And then came upon a briskly flowing river that looked a foot and a half deep at least. It did not seem wise to attempt a crossing.

I know these photos don't make it look treacherous...
...but I swear I thought I would be swept away!

This here is the real West Fork.
No pavement, no people...
...and I was positively cross-eyed!

Part of me is bummed that I didn't reach my destination. However, this way I get to go back!
: )

Fresh Snow

Some folks can think of better things to do with fresh snow than ride a bike through it. I can't. Maybe it's brain damage from the old drinking days, maybe it's my obsessive nature, but snow just makes me want to ride more than ever.

Looking Forward

Sunday, I braved the traffic up Mt Baldy Rd to get here. Glendora Ridge Road. It was closed to cars due to the snow. So the pedestrians and I had a great time.

Looking Back

There was a lot of snow still on the trees. That's what I'm not used to seeing. I usually see the trees with snow under them. But it had snowed Friday night/Saturday morning and Saturday was plenty cold. So by the time I got up there on Sunday afternoon, there was still a lot of snow up high in the trees. But it was melting and falling and causing little landslides. Kind of unnerving when you are riding alone and the road is right next to loose cliffs...

At the Top

What does my bike have in common with Charlie Sheen? They are both winners. Here is my bike at the very top. With lots of snow.

And speaking of water (or snow) altering the landscape (like I was before the bad jokes) here is a graphic example. The same rains that created all that snow, dug a hole in Palmer/Evey Fireroad. Some kind soul put a tree in it, so that mountain bikers and joggers wouldn't fall in. I looked down and it keeps going beyond five feet deep. It just twists and turns so that I can't see the bottom. But I did see a white rabbit...

East Bay Ride

I start a new job soon, but I still have a little time off. Why not take a trip? I know, I'll visit Chris and Karen in Oakland!

Beware of Dog

I don't often see Velocipaptor sculptures in front yards. Or stretch WVs. Or little girls swinging from the living room ceiling on a rope. That's why I kind of like the vibe when I go visit these friends. It's a refreshing change of pace. Probably the result of too much Burning Man, but hey, I don't judge.

Beethoven and Savanah

Saryn

But not everything is crazy at Chris and Karen's place. Little kids still like to play in cardboard boxes.

I feel like a little kid too, when I find that it's only a block to the trail. The picture below is not even a real trail. It's running down the central median of Skyline Blvd. 

North bound lanes on the left

When I follow that trail all the way south, to Grass Valley Rd,  I can turn right down into the city, or left into Chabot Regional Park. The park is huge and beautiful, but it's mostly fireroad. Some parts of it are prone to mud and littered with cattle, which makes riding really fun in a strange way. Go towards Bort Meadows if you're into that kind of thing.

As always, steeper than it looks...

Remember the role Eucalyptus played in the Oakland Hills fire of 1991?

Finally I find the singletrack, and it's got stop signs!

 All in all, I think East Bay riding is really fun. I only interacted with a dozen people at most on the pictured ride, and one (a hiker) asked me what gear-ratio I was running. That never happens back home.

Besides the dirt, the nearby roads were littered with roadies. The gentle grades (6%, I think), shade, and relative lack of cars conspire to make it easy to throw down some miles.

Sunset Ridge

Just a couple pictures for you to enjoy. These are from the Sunset Ridge fireroad that connects Cow Canyon Saddle above Mt Baldy Village to La Verne. I was riding for hours and I only saw two women, two dogs, a baby, and a deer. The mountains were playing peek-a-boo behinds clouds. I guess I was too.

I live for this stuff...

Your humble narrator

I'll be riding into those clouds...

Only one slide forced a dismount...

Beautiful Weather

Yesterday was summer weather in winter. The temperature before dawn was a comfortable riding temp, and if you climbed into the mountains, it stayed comfortable all day long. I had the opportunity to ride with some talented and adventurous riders. It was an 8,000ft day.

Don't ride with these guys...
...unless you want to punish your legs!

Turkeys Ride

There is an annual tradition around here called the Turkey Ride. Every Thanksgiving, a big swarm of mountain bikers descend the Sunset Ridge Fireroad. "Descend" is sometimes used as a technical term to mean "haul buns." I don't own a downhill bike. (You know, those beasts with 7 inches of suspension travel that look like a motocycle without an engine) But what my bikes lack in technology, I make up with poor handling skills. The result is that I prefer to "ride down" rather than "descend."

I know of one guy who rides up Sunset Ridge each year, just to show the "shuttle-monkeys" what they're missing. But I didn't hear from him. So I called my so-called "friend" who often rides with me. "Friend" and I are what you could call "uphill suttle-monkeys." We'll climb just about anything, provided you have a jeep parked at the top to get us down safely. Neither of us had the time to climb Sunset because we had out-of-town turkey feasting plans. So we made plans to do the "pavement shuttle."

The whole premise behind the "pavement shuttle" is the fact that road miles are easier than dirt miles. Some will go so far as to say that one should disconnect their computer (odometer) before riding on pavement. Because ROAD MILES DON'T COUNT.

These miles don't count for MTBers. And roadies don't sag.

The climb from Mt Baldy Village to Cow Canyon Saddle

 As my "friend" and I found out, we were not the only ones riding to the ride. A lot of the folks we saw on Mt Baldy Rd were dressed in club kits. Or at least they were dressed like they knew what they were doing. I really should have handed my camera to someone for a shot of me, because I looked more absurd than usual. I had my Kona "technical pants" on for the snowy climb. Then when we got to the sun-exposed descent, I stripped down to my lycra. Fortunately, the bike fashion police were nowhere to be seen.

A well-dressed cyclist

We are developing frostbite...
 and this guy is complaining that his jacket is making him sweat.

So, we had a great ride. We got cold and hot and muddy and sweaty. I was late for a family obligation, but that is just like a mountainbiker. I arrived before dinner was served, so all ended well.

We're just trying to work off our dinner.
Wait, we didn't eat yet...