I'm not sure there'll be a lot to write about this trip. It's not that it wasn't interesting, but it was fairly straight forward with not a lot of twists and turns. What it gets down to is that, as a resident of Los Angeles, I've been looking to use local transit systems to extend my cycling and hiking without having to drive.
So, I got up a lot earlier than normal, got on my bike and rode the half mile trip to the Glendale Metrolink Station, bought a ticket and got on the first train to Lancaster, in the Antelope Valley, in the high desert. I had been following weather forecasts, and realized I had a brief window for cycling when it would be warm rather than blistering hot, and breezy, rather than windy enough to blow things over.
Metrolink has a car with spaces for bikes, (And surfboards.) Because I was the only cyclist, and because I was going to the end of the line, I was able to tie up the bike without having to worry about blocking someone in. Nice, since It allowed me to sit on the upper level, where the views are better. Normally I wouldn't care all that much, but it is a two hour trip, and it's best to have something nice to look at.
It was a quarter to nine when we arrived at the station, about fifteen minutes after the posted arrival time. Over the years I've taken Metrolink a number of times, and on time, give or take fifteen is about average. I got off the train, got on the bike and headed north on Sierra Highway, headed for Mojave, small town, rail yard, and truck stop. Also the home of an airplane junkyard, and an airport where work is being done on private spacecraft, a weird mix of the down, the out, the past, and the future.
My plan was to take one of the side roads off of the Highway. While I've never really explored much of the area in any fashion, I did know that this section of the Antelope Valley has roads laid out in a grid. The blocks are pretty big, but I figured, right angles, what could go wrong? I passed a couple of roads before I decided on Avenue E. As I rode east, I noticed that the northern side of the road followed a fence with signs every few yards. I got curious, so I cut across the road. The signs were a warning about trespassing, posted by the U.S. Air Force. I was riding right next to Edwards Air Force Base. I had gone a bit too far to bypass Sierra Highway by going east then north, so at 30th Street East, I made a right turn, and headed back in the general direction of Lancaster. I hadn't given up on the idea of riding to Mojave, but I did want to explore some of the desert not adjacent to the well traveled Sierra Highway.
Many people think of the high desert as being desolate, and it's true that the landscape can be pretty monotonous. But, I like deserts. There are a lot of things, both man made and natural, to see. Before I came west, I had never seen the roadside shrines to accident victims, and I passed more than a few on my ride. I can only image, it's late at night, long straight roads, with no street lights; moonless, perhaps too much speed, or one drink too many. A sudden veer to the right, the sandy shoulder, and the car rolls. Benny Serrano's memorial showed him to be a Raiders fan. His was the one I stopped to really examine, but there were others. Too, I passed a long section of road with a lot of debris. Furniture, clothes, and lots of toys. None of it was broken up, and hadn't faded from the sun. My guess was that someone was moving,perhaps that morning, and the tarp came off the back of the pickup truck.
At Avenue G, I headed east. I figured I'd go for awhile, turn north back to Avenue E, and then head back to Sierra Highway. One of the things about the high desert is that even when the weather forecast is breezy, well, that doesn't have the same meaning as it does in L.A. Too, the winds have a tendency to swirl around up there, so it's possible to have a head wind while going one direction, then a few minutes after having turned to another compass point to hit another head wind. And that's what happened to me. It seemed like I spent the whole day fighting the wind.
As I rode down Avenue G, I passed, open desert, Joshua Trees, abandoned buildings, and even a working farm. (Alfalfa, I think.) Normally, I would have poked around the old buildings, and wandered down some of the dirt tracks, but that would have meant a loss of momentum, so I limited my stops to take a few pictures,and then moved on. Too, I didn't know how long it would take me to get to Mojave, and then back to Lancaster. If I missed the last train, I'd be stuck there for the night.
Anyway, I gave up on Avenue G, and turned north on 70th Street East, returned to Avenue E and the long ride back to Sierra Highway. There were a few houses along the north side of the road, but it didn't take long before I was once again paralleling Edwards Air Force Base.
Back at the Highway, I turned north to Mojave. It wasn't that far until I got to the town of Rosamond, a depressing collection of run down building, industrial parks, and, if I counted correctly, seven marijuana dispensaries. And that was just along the main road. There were a few blocks on either side of Sierra Highway, but, even though it wasn't yet noon, I was still thinking about time. If nothing else, there were gas station convenience stores, and a small market, I was getting tired of drinking warm water from the hydration pack, so I stopped off for something sweet, cold, and fizzy to drink.
I had been on a long, slight climb ever since leaving Lancaster, but beyond Rosamond, the angle kicked up a notch. It wasn't that steep, but the wind was also a lot stronger, so I had to change gears and stand up on the peddles. After cresting, things leveled out a bit, or at least became less steep. I was more or less paralleling Route 14, the four lane highway that went to Mojave and beyond, and I could see a gap between a couple of hills, so I figured, if nothing else the wind would be less after that. I was right about that, but then I came to the end of Sierra Highway. At least the paved part, there was a dirt road beyond a gravel pile that was headed in the right direction.
It was pretty clear that the 14 had replaced that part of the road. I had driven the 14 plenty of times, so I was sure I was close to Mojave, so I took my road bike with it's skinny tires off pavement and on to dirt. It didn't take long until I dismounted and began pushing the bike. There were parts I could have ridden, but after a few yards, the route would become sandy and I'd lose traction, or covered in rocks, and impassable. Rather than riding a bit and pushing a bit I just pushed. Eventually, the dirt track passed over Purdy Road. I was tempted to get on the 14. It was still four lanes, but Purdy Road crossed all four lanes of the highway. It seemed to me that with cross traffic, the 14 was no longer a limited access highway and it would be legal to ride. But, I had to face a harsh reality. I could take off for the desert on a weekday because I only work part time. I can pay my rent and other bills on what I earn, but not if I get a $200 fine for riding where I'm not allowed. I was hoping I'd run into a cop in Mojave and get a clarification. Why is it that I only see the police when it's inconvenient, and never when I need some help?
So, I kept pushing, and ended up at the edge of the Mojave Rail Yard. I was certainly not allowed on the tracks. There were plenty of signs warning me of all the laws I was violating, so I put the bike on my shoulder, sprinted across the tracks and was finally in downtown Mojave. I was hungry, it was lunch time so I settled for some fast food, got on the bike and started the return trip to Lancaster.
As I was going back towards the dirt track, I saw the a trailer park and the Full Gospel House of Prayer on my left. I could see that a dirt road headed south from the side of the church so I took my life in my hands, crossed traffic in front of a truck, and went exploring. It didn't take long for the road to become a tire track across the desert, but the dirt was compacted, so I kept riding. As it began to curl towards some chemical tanks and a small industrial site, I dismounted and carried the bike back to the dirt track north of Purdy Road, When I hit that route, I decided to take it. It was paved, so it seemed like a good idea to see where it went. Not far actually, but where it ended, United Road began. From there I hit Reed Road. There were houses, and trailers, and when I saw a school bus unloading kids, I began to think I would get back to Sierra Highway. And I did, but not before turning onto Lone Butte, then Sopp Road, and then the Highway, just a few miles north of Rosamond.
I could have stayed on Sierra Highway and been in Lancaster with plenty of time to catch my train. On the 14, the two towns are less than thirty miles apart, so as I had worried about time on the way north, I was confident about time on the way south. I turned off the highway on Avenue E. On my earlier explorations, I had passed Division Road, it looked like it headed to Lancaster, and if nothing else there wouldn't be as much traffic. As far as traffic went, it was a good decision but the road was so torn up, that I had to slow down and navigate around all the potholes. As time went by, I began to pass houses, scrap yards, and eventually, I passed into Lancaster proper. At Avenue I, I saw a designated bike lane, the pavement wasn't turning back into a gravel road, so I headed back to Sierra Highway and the railroad station.
But, I had a two hour wait for the 6:30 train. On my ride up, I had noticed an actual bike path along the rail tracks that seemed to connect Lancaster with the Palmdale Metrolink Station, so I ended up riding even further. When I finally got to Palmdale, I still had a good hour to kill, so I rode around the local streets, and, except for an antique mall that I would have enjoyed visiting, which was closed, I didn't find anything really interesting. So, it was back to the station, the two hour train ride home, and a notion that my next ride would be better off in late April or early May, rather than the first week of June.
I do keep a computer on the bike. Total miles, including the ride from my apartment to the Glendale Station and my circling the block in Palmdale, 87.85 miles.
Showing posts with label Los Angeles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Los Angeles. Show all posts
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Small Death In the Verdugo Mountains
How shall I describe the Verdugo Mountains. As mountain chains go, the Verdugos aren't all that impressive. They only rise to an altitude of around 3,000 feet; there are no imposing forests; in fact most of the vegetation is chaparral, the scrub that once covered all of Los Angeles. And there it is. What makes the Verdugos so interesting is that they rise up from the second largest metro area in the United States. Surrounded by Burbank, Glendale, and Los Angeles, a dirt road along the crest, and radio antennas. Also hawks, deer, coyotes, and the occasional mountain lion. It's also the perfect place for southern California hikers and mountain bikers who don't have the time, or money, to go further afield than the city itself.
I was in the Verdugo Mountains this afternoon. I started from the northern side of the mountains, off La Tuna Canyon Road, walking one of the few true trails. As I neared the crest, and the dirt access road used by people who service the antennas, fire fighters, and mountain bikers, I came across a small death. A snake had struck at a lizard. But the snake had made an error in it's search for food. The lizard's lower jaw was in the snake's mouth, but the upper jaw had a firm grip on the snake's head. I got down on my hands and knees to get a closer view. There was a very small drop of blood where the snake's left eye had been. The snake, for the most part, was absolutely still, while the lizard kept turning itself over, trying to free itself from his predator's grip. I thought how easy it would be for me to save the lizard's life. All I had to do was reach behind the snake's jaws and apply enough pressure to force his mouth open, releasing the lizard. But then I thought that, perhaps, without this meal, the snake might not have enough strength to save itself when another creature tried to eat the snake. After about ten minutes, the snake lifted the front third of it's body off the ground, with the lizard still in it's mouth, and slithered off into the brush. And that was it. Game over, and another small death.
I was in the Verdugo Mountains this afternoon. I started from the northern side of the mountains, off La Tuna Canyon Road, walking one of the few true trails. As I neared the crest, and the dirt access road used by people who service the antennas, fire fighters, and mountain bikers, I came across a small death. A snake had struck at a lizard. But the snake had made an error in it's search for food. The lizard's lower jaw was in the snake's mouth, but the upper jaw had a firm grip on the snake's head. I got down on my hands and knees to get a closer view. There was a very small drop of blood where the snake's left eye had been. The snake, for the most part, was absolutely still, while the lizard kept turning itself over, trying to free itself from his predator's grip. I thought how easy it would be for me to save the lizard's life. All I had to do was reach behind the snake's jaws and apply enough pressure to force his mouth open, releasing the lizard. But then I thought that, perhaps, without this meal, the snake might not have enough strength to save itself when another creature tried to eat the snake. After about ten minutes, the snake lifted the front third of it's body off the ground, with the lizard still in it's mouth, and slithered off into the brush. And that was it. Game over, and another small death.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
When Things Go Wrong, Looping Through the San Gabriel Valley
In the past couple of weeks, I've been riding a 100 mile loop through the San Gabriel Valley. Starting off with the only real climb of the trip, and an easy up hill at that, and ending as the sun went down over southern California, despite the summer heat, and distance, I had found a wonderful ride, that with a few rest stops, was very doable, and a great work out. But, the one thing about getting out there, whether it's on foot or a bicycle, is that things go wrong. Yesterday, with an earlier than usual start, I thought I would speed along and get home at a more reasonable hour, with plenty of day light to spare. Instead, I found myself getting back to my apartment after fourteen hours, dirty, exhausted, and ready to fall into bed.
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With a 7:30 start, about three hours earlier than I usually get going, I rode across my neighborhood, knowing that just five miles in I would be done with the only steepish climb of the day. Using a route I've already described in my post of 6/22/09, "Riding Along the San Gabriel River." I quickly rode into Pasadena, and then headed east towards Rancho Cucamonga, my turn around point. Not wanting to add a second climb through the main Monrovia business district along Foothill Blvd., I cut down Santa Anita, and then turned onto Colorado Blvd. While Colorado in Pasadena is the main business drag, lined with stores, fast food places, and Pasadena City College, in Monrovia, it has the look of a forties or fifties small town. Since I thought I might write about this loop, I had clipped my small, palm sized digital camera to the Camelbak hydration pack. At the old Monrovia high school, a white concrete building with an old fashioned copula on it's roof, I stopped, unhooked the camera to take a picture and got an exhausted battery message on the screen. A little thing. After all in the first version of this blog, I rarely added pictures. Of course, had I known that that would be the first of a long string of problems, I might just have given up and headed home right then and there. But I didn't of course. I just shrugged and carried on.
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Moving east along Colorado, I passed through a much smaller, and except for the new condos, a much older business area than the one on Foothill, then to Colorado's end at a nice, shaded, public park. With southern California's shortage of open space, it's always nice to run across one of these older parks from when a town like Monrovia was a stand alone community with farm land between it and the next small town over. Around the park, and then along the Duarte Bike Path, something else I wrote about in the 6/22/09 post, and then across the foot bridge to the San Gabriel River Trail. The first time I did this loop through the San Gabriel Valley, I did what I hadn't done when I rode the San Gabriel River Trail to the ocean at Seal Beach. I headed north, to it's beginning where the San Gabriel River comes out of the mountains. Flat then a series of bumps as the route goes over flood control barriers, it goes under conveyor belts that are used to move river rock from the quarries, past an abandoned and water filled quarry pit, and then to a road which I would use to get back down to Foothill Blvd., which I would then use all the way to Interstate 15. One of the necessities of a long, summer ride in southern California, is to stay hydrated. I had wanted to use the water fountains along the trail, and save the water in the hydration pack, just in case. But, the fountain I was planning on using had a line of the homeless, filling up their water bottles. For those who complain about such things, I would remind them that we have decided that lower taxes are more important than finding shelter for our fellow Americans. That might change when enough of the middle class lose their homes to foreclosure.
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Back on road, I was headed back to Foothill, when I noticed that the bike was feeling kind of soupy in it's handling. I've had too much experience with flats not to recognize a tire that was loosing air, fast. Oh well, flats are part of cycling, and when I ride one of my bikes with clinchers, I always bring along, depending on the distance, one or two spare tubes. After a quick change, I forced enough air with the hand pump to get moving, found a gas station, put the Presta/Schrader valve adapter on, and filled the rear tire. Well sort of. I run 115 psi on my bike, and the gas stations pump stops at about 80. Why didn't I turn around then and there? It's possible to ride, and ride well, with an under inflated tire, but it's also slower, and a lot more exhausting. It's not like riding in sand, but it requires harder work, and with a weather forecast in the mid 80's, and for California, high humidity, it would have made sense to have gone home.
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A quick note on Foothill Blvd., which might help the reader in making sense of some of these descriptions. Foothill runs from San Bernardino County to Sierra Highway, near Santa Clarita. If it ran continuously it would be one of the longest city roads in California. It doesn't. It disappears, reappears in a different spot, and can be quite confusing for those who haven't travelled it. My guess would be that when it was first laid out, it wound it's way around hills, and streams which have since been leveled or filled in. Foothill may suddenly change names, but there is another street named Foothill five or six blocks north or south. Usually.
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But, I didn't turn around. I headed east on Foothill, which changed names to Alosta and then, became just plain old route 66, at least informally. Funny, but when the old route was decommissioned, no one gave it a second thought, and now cities and towns are trying to revive it and make money off of it's fame. Fine by me, I like old roads. And then, suddenly, the signs all read Foothill Blvd. again. There are lots of things to recommend a particular route to the cyclist. It can be scenic, technical, or might be lightly used. Foothill isn't really any of those things. What it is is wide, with a designated bike lane for much of it's length. There are lots of places to stop for a quick bight to eat, or places to get cold drinks. The road undulates, but most of the climbs would be best described as minor. If it's hot enough, or if there is a head wind, they can be pretty tiring, but once at the crest, it will either become flat, or a nice long downhill will follow. Those down hill sections aren't steep. The cyclist won't build up a lot of speed, but it's possible to do a few miles at a lick with not a lot of effort. Headed east, once past the city of Upland, the route becomes an easy ride to Rancho Cucamonga.
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But not for me. Once again the ride was becoming soupy. The first flat was the rear, and now it was the front tire that was slowly draining. I didn't really give it much thought. The fact is, there is a lot of broken glass, thorns, pieces of metal and all the other weird junk of city life out there. I had already rode by empty balloons, high heeled shoes, underwear, and dirty dishes. If I had been riding a little slower, who knows what sort of junk I would have seen. I actually thought of myself as being somewhat lucky at this point. There is an REI in Rancho Cucamonga, and I was only about a mile away. It would only be a matter of putting in the second spare tube, and then I would buy a couple of more spares, just in case. I've always had a policy of saving a tire after it's first puncture, repairing it and then putting it in the emergency rotation, and then tossing it after the second flat. When I had started this ride, I was rolling on two patched tubes, so the new ones that I would buy were something I had on my to-do list anyway. The guys at the store even let me use their floor pump to inflate both tires to the proper pressure.
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After finishing up with all the flat repairs, I continued east, passed under interstate 15, and then made my turn around at Etiwanda Ave. I would only be on Etiwanda for less than a mile, before I turned on to Arrow Route, another nice wide road, with plenty of space, and a designated bike lane. But as I made my turn something didn't feel right. It was as if my rear wheel was sliding out form under the bike. I stopped and pressed my finger into the rear tire and felt it give way. I couldn't believe it. I was loosing air in a tire for the third time.
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This is where I rant. It was becoming clear this wasn't just bad luck. My three month old tires, albeit tires with about 800 miles on them, were worn out. This is the rant: I'm old enough to remember when all Continental tires were made in Germany. I'm old enough to remember when all Vittoria tires were made in Italy. They aren't anymore. I was riding Continentals, made in south east Asia, and they just don't last as long anymore. For years, I rode nothing but the German made tires on all of my bikes. A couple of years ago, on my main ride, I gave up on the Continental sew-ups when they started, just blowing for no good reason whatsoever. They weren't going flat, they were BLOWING UP from the inside out. I went to Vittorias, also made in Asia, which haven't blown, but they puncture a lot easier than the older, Euro manufactured tires.
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Was I glad I had purchased two new spare tubes at the REI! I changed tubes, and turned north on a side street back to Foothill. Arrow Route doesn't have a lot of businesses right around the I-15 and if I wanted to use a gas station air pump, I would have to go back up to Foothill. After I had enough air in the tires to ride comfortably, I cut back down to Arrow for the ride west, back towards home. I've ridden this section of Arrow into a head wind, and even though it's not a steep uphill, it can be tough. The wind, yesterday, was coming form the side, and it dried the sweat, and worked as a natural air conditioner. After passing back into Upland, I got off of Arrow and onto an off road bike path. Following an old red car trolley right of way, this path, if ever completed, will run from Claremont to Rialto, just short of San Bernardino. I got off of the bike path in downtown Upland, took a quick look around the old town center, headed back to the bike path and got another flat tire. It seems like I've spent a good deal of my life around cheap behavior, and as such, I make a real effort not to swear around people I don't know, who might be offended by such language. I couldn't help myself. I let loose a real tirade of every obscenity I could think of. After venting my anger, and after getting a few dirty looks from passers by, I installed the last spare tube. There is a Metro Rail Station in Upland, and I thought about going to the station and buying a ticket back to L.A. One of the nice things about Los Angeles area mass transit is that it is very bike friendly. Trains and light rail allow bikes and buses have bike racks on their front bumpers. But, I'm either stupid or stubborn. I thought that if just rode carefully, and kept my eye out for anything that might cause a flat, I could nurse myself the last 30 or 35 miles home. What a mistake. Eventually I cut down from Arrow Route to Arrow Highway (Almost as confusing as Foothill.) and stopped for a quick bight to eat before continuing on my way home. When I got out of the Del Taco, my front tire was flat as a slightly curved pancake.
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That was it. the ride was over. Even if I could have found another tube, it would be for naught. I was in San Dimas, and it was a long way home to Atwater Village. The buses along Arrow Highway went to El Monte, but the buses along Foothill went to Pasadena, and there is a bus from Pasadena to within four blocks of my apartment. I pushed the bike back through the old town section of San Dimas, and then up San Dimas Ave. to Foothill. I didn't bother to look at the bike computer to see how long the walk was, but it took about 45 minutes. If I wasn't so tired, it might have taken less. I've got to say though, my fellow cyclists are a good bunch. I had two different riders stop and offer me a spare tube. It was tempting, but it would have been taking things under false pretenses. My days ride was over. Luckily I didn't have long to wait for Foothill Transit bus number 187. I had a pleasant conversation with another bus rider about his experiences with mass transit in L.A. county. I wasn't so lucky form Pasadena to Atwater Village. A young, drunk, or maybe stoned, rider shouted out about getting bit by a pit bull, called African American riders, black skins, accompanied by whooping sounds, and harassed the women riders. At least it was only verbal. At 9:30, 14 hours after I left home, I opened my door, showered off the dirt, and went to bed.
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My actual route: Glenhurst Ave. to Tyburn St. to La Clede Ave. to Fletcher Dr. to Eagle Rock Blvd. to Lincoln Ave. to Ave. 54 to Buchanan St. to Aldama St. to York Blvd. which becomes Pasadena Ave. which becomes Monterey Rd. to Fair Oaks Ave. to Walnut St. which becomes Foothill Blvd. to Santa Anita Ave. to Colorado Blvd. to Shamrock Ave. to Lemon Ave. to Bradbury Rd. to Orange Ave. to Buena Vista St. to the Durate Bike Path to it's end to Royal Oaks Dr. to Encanto Parkway crossing the visible bike/pedestrian bridge across the San Gabriel River to the San Gabriel River Trail north to it's end, exiting on San Gabriel Ave. to Foothill Blvd. which becomes Alosta Ave. (Route 66) and then becomes Foothill Blvd. to Etiwanda Ave. to Arrow Route to Rochester Ave. to the intersection with Foothill Blvd. returning on Rochester to Arrow Route, to the bike path in Upland to Euclid Ave. to Arrow Route, to Claremont Blvd. to 1st St. to Indian Hill Blvd. to Arrow Highway to the intersection of Bonita Ave. and Arrow Highway, then on foot, Bonita to San Dimas Ave. to Foothill Blvd. and then on bus to Atwater Village. Total mileage riding: 75.33. Of the three times I've tried this loop, the longest was 102.13 miles. Had I been able to continue, I would have stayed on Arrow Highway to Live Oak Ave. to Longden Ave. to San Marino Ave. to Huntington Dr. to Fair Oaks Ave. to Monterey Rd. which becomes Pasadena Ave. which becomes York Blvd. to Eagle rock Blvd. to Fletcher Dr. to Riverside Dr. to Glendale Blvd. to Glenhurst Ave. This is the route that I used on the second of the three trips.
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With a 7:30 start, about three hours earlier than I usually get going, I rode across my neighborhood, knowing that just five miles in I would be done with the only steepish climb of the day. Using a route I've already described in my post of 6/22/09, "Riding Along the San Gabriel River." I quickly rode into Pasadena, and then headed east towards Rancho Cucamonga, my turn around point. Not wanting to add a second climb through the main Monrovia business district along Foothill Blvd., I cut down Santa Anita, and then turned onto Colorado Blvd. While Colorado in Pasadena is the main business drag, lined with stores, fast food places, and Pasadena City College, in Monrovia, it has the look of a forties or fifties small town. Since I thought I might write about this loop, I had clipped my small, palm sized digital camera to the Camelbak hydration pack. At the old Monrovia high school, a white concrete building with an old fashioned copula on it's roof, I stopped, unhooked the camera to take a picture and got an exhausted battery message on the screen. A little thing. After all in the first version of this blog, I rarely added pictures. Of course, had I known that that would be the first of a long string of problems, I might just have given up and headed home right then and there. But I didn't of course. I just shrugged and carried on.
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Moving east along Colorado, I passed through a much smaller, and except for the new condos, a much older business area than the one on Foothill, then to Colorado's end at a nice, shaded, public park. With southern California's shortage of open space, it's always nice to run across one of these older parks from when a town like Monrovia was a stand alone community with farm land between it and the next small town over. Around the park, and then along the Duarte Bike Path, something else I wrote about in the 6/22/09 post, and then across the foot bridge to the San Gabriel River Trail. The first time I did this loop through the San Gabriel Valley, I did what I hadn't done when I rode the San Gabriel River Trail to the ocean at Seal Beach. I headed north, to it's beginning where the San Gabriel River comes out of the mountains. Flat then a series of bumps as the route goes over flood control barriers, it goes under conveyor belts that are used to move river rock from the quarries, past an abandoned and water filled quarry pit, and then to a road which I would use to get back down to Foothill Blvd., which I would then use all the way to Interstate 15. One of the necessities of a long, summer ride in southern California, is to stay hydrated. I had wanted to use the water fountains along the trail, and save the water in the hydration pack, just in case. But, the fountain I was planning on using had a line of the homeless, filling up their water bottles. For those who complain about such things, I would remind them that we have decided that lower taxes are more important than finding shelter for our fellow Americans. That might change when enough of the middle class lose their homes to foreclosure.
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Back on road, I was headed back to Foothill, when I noticed that the bike was feeling kind of soupy in it's handling. I've had too much experience with flats not to recognize a tire that was loosing air, fast. Oh well, flats are part of cycling, and when I ride one of my bikes with clinchers, I always bring along, depending on the distance, one or two spare tubes. After a quick change, I forced enough air with the hand pump to get moving, found a gas station, put the Presta/Schrader valve adapter on, and filled the rear tire. Well sort of. I run 115 psi on my bike, and the gas stations pump stops at about 80. Why didn't I turn around then and there? It's possible to ride, and ride well, with an under inflated tire, but it's also slower, and a lot more exhausting. It's not like riding in sand, but it requires harder work, and with a weather forecast in the mid 80's, and for California, high humidity, it would have made sense to have gone home.
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A quick note on Foothill Blvd., which might help the reader in making sense of some of these descriptions. Foothill runs from San Bernardino County to Sierra Highway, near Santa Clarita. If it ran continuously it would be one of the longest city roads in California. It doesn't. It disappears, reappears in a different spot, and can be quite confusing for those who haven't travelled it. My guess would be that when it was first laid out, it wound it's way around hills, and streams which have since been leveled or filled in. Foothill may suddenly change names, but there is another street named Foothill five or six blocks north or south. Usually.
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But, I didn't turn around. I headed east on Foothill, which changed names to Alosta and then, became just plain old route 66, at least informally. Funny, but when the old route was decommissioned, no one gave it a second thought, and now cities and towns are trying to revive it and make money off of it's fame. Fine by me, I like old roads. And then, suddenly, the signs all read Foothill Blvd. again. There are lots of things to recommend a particular route to the cyclist. It can be scenic, technical, or might be lightly used. Foothill isn't really any of those things. What it is is wide, with a designated bike lane for much of it's length. There are lots of places to stop for a quick bight to eat, or places to get cold drinks. The road undulates, but most of the climbs would be best described as minor. If it's hot enough, or if there is a head wind, they can be pretty tiring, but once at the crest, it will either become flat, or a nice long downhill will follow. Those down hill sections aren't steep. The cyclist won't build up a lot of speed, but it's possible to do a few miles at a lick with not a lot of effort. Headed east, once past the city of Upland, the route becomes an easy ride to Rancho Cucamonga.
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But not for me. Once again the ride was becoming soupy. The first flat was the rear, and now it was the front tire that was slowly draining. I didn't really give it much thought. The fact is, there is a lot of broken glass, thorns, pieces of metal and all the other weird junk of city life out there. I had already rode by empty balloons, high heeled shoes, underwear, and dirty dishes. If I had been riding a little slower, who knows what sort of junk I would have seen. I actually thought of myself as being somewhat lucky at this point. There is an REI in Rancho Cucamonga, and I was only about a mile away. It would only be a matter of putting in the second spare tube, and then I would buy a couple of more spares, just in case. I've always had a policy of saving a tire after it's first puncture, repairing it and then putting it in the emergency rotation, and then tossing it after the second flat. When I had started this ride, I was rolling on two patched tubes, so the new ones that I would buy were something I had on my to-do list anyway. The guys at the store even let me use their floor pump to inflate both tires to the proper pressure.
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After finishing up with all the flat repairs, I continued east, passed under interstate 15, and then made my turn around at Etiwanda Ave. I would only be on Etiwanda for less than a mile, before I turned on to Arrow Route, another nice wide road, with plenty of space, and a designated bike lane. But as I made my turn something didn't feel right. It was as if my rear wheel was sliding out form under the bike. I stopped and pressed my finger into the rear tire and felt it give way. I couldn't believe it. I was loosing air in a tire for the third time.
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This is where I rant. It was becoming clear this wasn't just bad luck. My three month old tires, albeit tires with about 800 miles on them, were worn out. This is the rant: I'm old enough to remember when all Continental tires were made in Germany. I'm old enough to remember when all Vittoria tires were made in Italy. They aren't anymore. I was riding Continentals, made in south east Asia, and they just don't last as long anymore. For years, I rode nothing but the German made tires on all of my bikes. A couple of years ago, on my main ride, I gave up on the Continental sew-ups when they started, just blowing for no good reason whatsoever. They weren't going flat, they were BLOWING UP from the inside out. I went to Vittorias, also made in Asia, which haven't blown, but they puncture a lot easier than the older, Euro manufactured tires.
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Was I glad I had purchased two new spare tubes at the REI! I changed tubes, and turned north on a side street back to Foothill. Arrow Route doesn't have a lot of businesses right around the I-15 and if I wanted to use a gas station air pump, I would have to go back up to Foothill. After I had enough air in the tires to ride comfortably, I cut back down to Arrow for the ride west, back towards home. I've ridden this section of Arrow into a head wind, and even though it's not a steep uphill, it can be tough. The wind, yesterday, was coming form the side, and it dried the sweat, and worked as a natural air conditioner. After passing back into Upland, I got off of Arrow and onto an off road bike path. Following an old red car trolley right of way, this path, if ever completed, will run from Claremont to Rialto, just short of San Bernardino. I got off of the bike path in downtown Upland, took a quick look around the old town center, headed back to the bike path and got another flat tire. It seems like I've spent a good deal of my life around cheap behavior, and as such, I make a real effort not to swear around people I don't know, who might be offended by such language. I couldn't help myself. I let loose a real tirade of every obscenity I could think of. After venting my anger, and after getting a few dirty looks from passers by, I installed the last spare tube. There is a Metro Rail Station in Upland, and I thought about going to the station and buying a ticket back to L.A. One of the nice things about Los Angeles area mass transit is that it is very bike friendly. Trains and light rail allow bikes and buses have bike racks on their front bumpers. But, I'm either stupid or stubborn. I thought that if just rode carefully, and kept my eye out for anything that might cause a flat, I could nurse myself the last 30 or 35 miles home. What a mistake. Eventually I cut down from Arrow Route to Arrow Highway (Almost as confusing as Foothill.) and stopped for a quick bight to eat before continuing on my way home. When I got out of the Del Taco, my front tire was flat as a slightly curved pancake.
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That was it. the ride was over. Even if I could have found another tube, it would be for naught. I was in San Dimas, and it was a long way home to Atwater Village. The buses along Arrow Highway went to El Monte, but the buses along Foothill went to Pasadena, and there is a bus from Pasadena to within four blocks of my apartment. I pushed the bike back through the old town section of San Dimas, and then up San Dimas Ave. to Foothill. I didn't bother to look at the bike computer to see how long the walk was, but it took about 45 minutes. If I wasn't so tired, it might have taken less. I've got to say though, my fellow cyclists are a good bunch. I had two different riders stop and offer me a spare tube. It was tempting, but it would have been taking things under false pretenses. My days ride was over. Luckily I didn't have long to wait for Foothill Transit bus number 187. I had a pleasant conversation with another bus rider about his experiences with mass transit in L.A. county. I wasn't so lucky form Pasadena to Atwater Village. A young, drunk, or maybe stoned, rider shouted out about getting bit by a pit bull, called African American riders, black skins, accompanied by whooping sounds, and harassed the women riders. At least it was only verbal. At 9:30, 14 hours after I left home, I opened my door, showered off the dirt, and went to bed.
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My actual route: Glenhurst Ave. to Tyburn St. to La Clede Ave. to Fletcher Dr. to Eagle Rock Blvd. to Lincoln Ave. to Ave. 54 to Buchanan St. to Aldama St. to York Blvd. which becomes Pasadena Ave. which becomes Monterey Rd. to Fair Oaks Ave. to Walnut St. which becomes Foothill Blvd. to Santa Anita Ave. to Colorado Blvd. to Shamrock Ave. to Lemon Ave. to Bradbury Rd. to Orange Ave. to Buena Vista St. to the Durate Bike Path to it's end to Royal Oaks Dr. to Encanto Parkway crossing the visible bike/pedestrian bridge across the San Gabriel River to the San Gabriel River Trail north to it's end, exiting on San Gabriel Ave. to Foothill Blvd. which becomes Alosta Ave. (Route 66) and then becomes Foothill Blvd. to Etiwanda Ave. to Arrow Route to Rochester Ave. to the intersection with Foothill Blvd. returning on Rochester to Arrow Route, to the bike path in Upland to Euclid Ave. to Arrow Route, to Claremont Blvd. to 1st St. to Indian Hill Blvd. to Arrow Highway to the intersection of Bonita Ave. and Arrow Highway, then on foot, Bonita to San Dimas Ave. to Foothill Blvd. and then on bus to Atwater Village. Total mileage riding: 75.33. Of the three times I've tried this loop, the longest was 102.13 miles. Had I been able to continue, I would have stayed on Arrow Highway to Live Oak Ave. to Longden Ave. to San Marino Ave. to Huntington Dr. to Fair Oaks Ave. to Monterey Rd. which becomes Pasadena Ave. which becomes York Blvd. to Eagle rock Blvd. to Fletcher Dr. to Riverside Dr. to Glendale Blvd. to Glenhurst Ave. This is the route that I used on the second of the three trips.
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