Wednesday, January 30, 2019
Photos from Joshua Tree
I've written about this hike before and posted some photos, so there will be some repetition, but I'm not inclined to try and do an edit.
Joshua Tree During the Shutdown
I made a brief stop at Joshua Tree National Park during the just ended government shutdown and it wasn't pretty.
Before driving up into the park proper I went to a local supermarket to buy a few snacks to carry with me on my hike. I asked the cashier if business was down because of the shutdown. According to her, no, just the opposite. Business was really booming. She also told me that she was one of the local volunteers who was picking up trash and cleaning restrooms and she wasn't happy. Lots of reports of gunfire, especially at night. She told me that the group she was working with had found a lot of off road vehicle tracks as well.
"What are they shooting?" she wondered. "There's nothing to hunt up there but big horn sheep and they're protected. Are they just blasting away at stuff?"
It wasn't long before I was wondering the same thing myself. I went to the trail head parking lot for the California Hiking and Riding Trail off of Key's View Road. As I changed out of my sneakers and into my hiking boots, a group of about six or seven men walked into the lot. I'd guess that their ages ranged from mid to late teens to mid thirties. They all had jackets on and all had backpacks. As they pulled off their jackets and started loading their stuff into a couple of cars I noticed they all had side arms. I'm not an expert on hand guns, but just from watching television I could tell that they were semi-automatics with removable clips. One of the younger men opened up his backpack and pulled out a shotgun. I watched as he pulled empty shells from a holder attached to the stock and threw them on the ground, so clearly he had been shooting at something. Another man pulled an assault style rifle from his pack. I didn't stick around as the other members of their group started digging into their packs. I wasn't worried about being shot, but I was amazed that they made absolutely no effort to hide that they had been out shooting in a national park.
The California Hiking and Riding Trail is neither difficult to walk nor does it require any great route finding skills. The Keys View Road parking area picks it up somewhere near the mid point and I decided to head west away from the paved road. It's not long after the parking lot that it goes over a not steep rise, descends and continues on in a gentle up-slope for a few miles. Passing plenty of Joshua Trees, and between two mountain ridges it's more of a very broad open valley with expansive, 360 degree views.
Joshua Tree is too near Los Angeles, Orange County and Palm Springs to allow for people free hiking. I've been going out there for years and I've always passed at least a few people on the trail. I once walked there in a huge snow storm and I still passed other hikers. The first group of people I met, coming from the opposite direction, were what I would expect from a national park. An older woman and two younger men. We more or less acknowledged each other with a quick nodding of heads and we all went on about our business. I didn't ask them if they had seen anything out of the ordinary and they didn't ask me anything. If they had I would have told them to look down. Ever since I had got on the trail proper I had noticed tire tracks in the sandy trail. They were too wide for a mountain bike, so they had to be dirt bikes. I had also seen two very thin tire tracks, side by side about three feet apart. I couldn't think of any explanation other than someone hauling a cart. But more on that latter.
As the angle of the trail started to tick up a bit, with juniper trees becoming more common, I hit a ridge line above a deep, broad canyon. I followed the trail as it started down. Steeper than anything I had already walked, but not to the point of being difficult to walk. I got to the bottom, followed the easy to follow trail through some brush, and started up the other side. One of the problems with Joshua Tree is that the times of the year, when it's cool enough to hike through the desert, also has the shortest days. I knew I wasn't going to walk all the way to the top of the other side of the canyon, but the trail has markers every mile, so I just decided to get to a point that would allow a fourteen mile day. Just before I got to my turnaround point I ran into another hiker. Sitting against a rock, listening to his headphones, and eating a sandwich, I decided to ask him if he had noticed anything different about a park without rangers. He told me that he had spent the previous night at one of the park campgrounds. People had been showing up, reservations in hand, expecting to spend the night in an reserved spot, only to find that someone had already made camp.
"People were shouting at each other, There was some shoving, and a couple of fist fights." he said. "But hey, there's no one to complain to." He also told me that quiet time wasn't enforced and a couple of RV's worth of folks were really partying well past midnight.
After a pleasant and uneventful walk back to my car, I started the drive back to L.A. There was an awful lot of traffic that was pretty much as it would have been had the park been officially open and fully staffed. I could see the rock climbers loading up their ropes and padding and saw all the tourists wandering around the roadside parking areas. Apart from the large and growing mounds of garbage around trash cans that wouldn't get emptied until local volunteers swung by, it really was just like any ordinary weekend.
It wasn't late enough for a full dinner so I decided to hit the local McDonald's to feed my Dr. Pepper addiction. I pulled into the lot, parked, and as I walked towards the door, I saw it. A pickup truck, it's bed full of desert plants. And, a two wheeled cart. Mystery solved.
Before driving up into the park proper I went to a local supermarket to buy a few snacks to carry with me on my hike. I asked the cashier if business was down because of the shutdown. According to her, no, just the opposite. Business was really booming. She also told me that she was one of the local volunteers who was picking up trash and cleaning restrooms and she wasn't happy. Lots of reports of gunfire, especially at night. She told me that the group she was working with had found a lot of off road vehicle tracks as well.
"What are they shooting?" she wondered. "There's nothing to hunt up there but big horn sheep and they're protected. Are they just blasting away at stuff?"
It wasn't long before I was wondering the same thing myself. I went to the trail head parking lot for the California Hiking and Riding Trail off of Key's View Road. As I changed out of my sneakers and into my hiking boots, a group of about six or seven men walked into the lot. I'd guess that their ages ranged from mid to late teens to mid thirties. They all had jackets on and all had backpacks. As they pulled off their jackets and started loading their stuff into a couple of cars I noticed they all had side arms. I'm not an expert on hand guns, but just from watching television I could tell that they were semi-automatics with removable clips. One of the younger men opened up his backpack and pulled out a shotgun. I watched as he pulled empty shells from a holder attached to the stock and threw them on the ground, so clearly he had been shooting at something. Another man pulled an assault style rifle from his pack. I didn't stick around as the other members of their group started digging into their packs. I wasn't worried about being shot, but I was amazed that they made absolutely no effort to hide that they had been out shooting in a national park.
The California Hiking and Riding Trail is neither difficult to walk nor does it require any great route finding skills. The Keys View Road parking area picks it up somewhere near the mid point and I decided to head west away from the paved road. It's not long after the parking lot that it goes over a not steep rise, descends and continues on in a gentle up-slope for a few miles. Passing plenty of Joshua Trees, and between two mountain ridges it's more of a very broad open valley with expansive, 360 degree views.
Joshua Tree is too near Los Angeles, Orange County and Palm Springs to allow for people free hiking. I've been going out there for years and I've always passed at least a few people on the trail. I once walked there in a huge snow storm and I still passed other hikers. The first group of people I met, coming from the opposite direction, were what I would expect from a national park. An older woman and two younger men. We more or less acknowledged each other with a quick nodding of heads and we all went on about our business. I didn't ask them if they had seen anything out of the ordinary and they didn't ask me anything. If they had I would have told them to look down. Ever since I had got on the trail proper I had noticed tire tracks in the sandy trail. They were too wide for a mountain bike, so they had to be dirt bikes. I had also seen two very thin tire tracks, side by side about three feet apart. I couldn't think of any explanation other than someone hauling a cart. But more on that latter.
As the angle of the trail started to tick up a bit, with juniper trees becoming more common, I hit a ridge line above a deep, broad canyon. I followed the trail as it started down. Steeper than anything I had already walked, but not to the point of being difficult to walk. I got to the bottom, followed the easy to follow trail through some brush, and started up the other side. One of the problems with Joshua Tree is that the times of the year, when it's cool enough to hike through the desert, also has the shortest days. I knew I wasn't going to walk all the way to the top of the other side of the canyon, but the trail has markers every mile, so I just decided to get to a point that would allow a fourteen mile day. Just before I got to my turnaround point I ran into another hiker. Sitting against a rock, listening to his headphones, and eating a sandwich, I decided to ask him if he had noticed anything different about a park without rangers. He told me that he had spent the previous night at one of the park campgrounds. People had been showing up, reservations in hand, expecting to spend the night in an reserved spot, only to find that someone had already made camp.
"People were shouting at each other, There was some shoving, and a couple of fist fights." he said. "But hey, there's no one to complain to." He also told me that quiet time wasn't enforced and a couple of RV's worth of folks were really partying well past midnight.
After a pleasant and uneventful walk back to my car, I started the drive back to L.A. There was an awful lot of traffic that was pretty much as it would have been had the park been officially open and fully staffed. I could see the rock climbers loading up their ropes and padding and saw all the tourists wandering around the roadside parking areas. Apart from the large and growing mounds of garbage around trash cans that wouldn't get emptied until local volunteers swung by, it really was just like any ordinary weekend.
It wasn't late enough for a full dinner so I decided to hit the local McDonald's to feed my Dr. Pepper addiction. I pulled into the lot, parked, and as I walked towards the door, I saw it. A pickup truck, it's bed full of desert plants. And, a two wheeled cart. Mystery solved.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
From Lancaster to Mojave, California
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.
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.
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.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Cave Mountain in Pictures
The last picture in this group was taken just off of Basin Road, at the north end of Cave Mountain on the day after the other pictures.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)