Day tripping through Marshall Canyon...

One of the advantages of living in a foothill community should be that you have selection of trails you can take your knobby-tired bikes out on and challenge your handling skills in the dirt. If those routes happen to be within riding distance of the garage door, so much the better. Marshall Canyon is a county park in the neighboring city of LaVerne, and connects to our own Claremont Hills Wilderness Park (CHWP) via dirt road, several of them in fact as you find out after a little exploration of the area. Marshall Canyon has what the CHWP lacks, and that is single-track, which makes it an especially popular place with local mountain bikers. The trail, until you start to climb out of the canyon on your way to CHWP stays for the most part down in the oak shaded recesses, following and crossing a small stream. Weekends can get quite crowded with riders, walkers, trail runners, and equestrians, so I like to ride there Friday afternoons when I can pretty much have the place to myself.

Ain't oak shade great!

Normally I will ride up into the CHWP first, get the climbing done and then get to ride down the single-track in the canyon; I am and always have been a climber, not a descender, but I will admit that doing the route in this direction is the most fun. Yesterday, however, I decided to roll it in the other direction, from the low end of the canyon to the top. Normally, in August, I would not consider this a good idea since the upper portion, the connection to CHWP is a mostly hot, full sun exposed fire road. But since the weather has been abnormally cool lately, I took this more challenging option.

This spot is known as "Owen's Plunge" because a handful of years ago my son, on his little 18" wheeled Marin came down that hill at the left and crashed into the mud beside the stream. None the worse for wear, he rides single-track better than me now.

Mind your line; riding off into all that stuff beside the trail might cause profuse itching.

Here comes the sun.

Not yet ripe. Who has a recipe for elderberry wine?

The San Gabriel Mountains; where balloons go to die.

From the archives: Adams and Hegg at Long Beach, 1992...

Kenny Adams of the Spago-Rossin team in front of Chevrolet-LA Sheriff's Steve Hegg during the old Long Beach Criterium series, race #4, I believe in 1992. The Spago team, with various co-sponsors was a major player on the domestic cycling scene in the early 1990s with some high profile riders including Scott McKinley, Andy Bishop, James Urbonas, the Swiss rider Herbert Neiderberger, Nathan Dahlberg, Italian Stefano Bianchini, and Bobby Julich, as well as Adams. They had some quality results, but like most of the domestic teams of the time were often competing in the tailwind of the powerhouse Coors Light team.

Update: it was the 5 of July, 1992 to be exact. Hegg, Adams and Brian Seguin also of the Chevrolet-LA Sheriff team lapped the field, Hegg took the win, Adams finished second.

Hidden bikes...

"...Volunteers and Citizen Army men...They were marching between lines of armed troops and other soldiers on bikes...And Collins was in there too, in among the Volunteers, half a head over them, out for a stroll." And then later: "Three years on a stolen bike. Through wind, rain and bullets. Henry Smart struck strange, hard blows for Ireland and disappeared." Simple lines, with great meaning, written in a book. And the bikes, at once a tool of the oppressor, and then a means of resistance to the status quo. As cyclists we tend to appreciate how bikes can appear in unexpected places. The physical presence of a bike is not even a requirement. A mere suggestion, something as unobtrusive as the written word as in this case, can suffice. The book has nothing to do with bikes, but is set (it is fiction) in a time and place where bikes were a much more predominant form of transportation. And so, while being a pleasant surprise, it is perfectly natural to stumble upon this reference to them.
Oh, and the book, "A Star Called Henry" by Roddy Doyle is quite good.

New/old Campy for the new/old Bottecchia...

Two pleasant surprises waiting for me when I got home tonight. Beautiful condition, both of them, and their arrival is just in time for the weekend.

Hmmm, hmmm...

Rarely do I come across anything written complimentary about lycra-clad roadies these days, a group I have considered myself a member of since the mid-1980s. As cycle-chic and other like-minded blogs extolling the virtues of everyday dress for everyday cycling, utility cycling, slow bike commuting, el al, have proliferated over the past couple of years, the lycra wearers have become more objects of scorn, subject to derision as law breakers, road hogs and wannabe's in clown outfits. And so I took special pleasure in reading this, and will quote in full:

"You can today recognize these sport cyclists by their very toned calves, their bent headed determination and their pointy helmets, as well as the stray pieces of cycling kit they may still wear as they speed their way to and from their places of employ. We owe these men and women a debt of gratitude for helping to stake out a piece of the street for cycles."

That's right, gratitude. I figure 25 years or so of riding, training, racing, commuting and errand running, almost always clad head to toe in the latest team kit (maybe an occasional older one) qualifies me for that group of unsung heroes. You can post up your thanks here. I think I will ride home with my head held a little higher today; but not so high that I would look down on all the cycle chic late-comers.

Some vintage picks...

MAFAC's Racer centerpull brakes were the manufacturer's most common model. The little rack is not really a rack, though I didn't know any better until I looked it up (duh), but is rather support for a handlebar mount basket. MAFAC, began producing brakes, levers and tool kits in France following World War II. Their products were among the more common brake models seen on bikes from the late 1950s through the 1970s. This brake set is on an unidentified frame (there is a raised heart on the downtube, but it does not seem like a DeRosa) at the Velo.

This Olmo is set up as a smart little commuter or errand runner with that rear rack. I especially like that little "army" bell. I gave it a test ride - very comfy. However, with a little alteration this could be a cool cross-bike for certain cyclocross races. Nothing like the details on vintage Italian bikes; check out the great fretwork motif around the seatpost clamp.

Returns...

Well, after an all too short hiatus from the daily commute I rejoined the throng making their/our way into the office. Somehow, at times like this, I always expect to see change, big change. Not change like "the old railroad bridge over Foothill in Rancho Cucamonga has been removed so the city can begin road realignment" kind of change, though that is big change. And yes, that does mean that the PET has a temporary disconnect along its route. I am talking about momentous change along the lines of evolutionary theory which holds that the most dramatic changes in the evolutionary past have occurred in spurts rather than gradually over long periods of time. Somehow I expect to see a major shift in the way people are getting around - bikes flooding the streets, parking lots all but empty, trains packed floor to ceiling. But alas no, reality strikes with a dull thud, the masses are still locked in their old ways, the same couple handfulls making the effort- two wheels are a viable alternative to the same old gridlocked ways. I'm not sure why this fallacy of thought persists; I am a card-carrying pessimist by nature, so there is no reason to hope that things would have dramatically improved. But still, every year after I have returned from vacation that hope is there. Maybe it is a result of time away from the grind, of having been able to relax and disconnect from everyday pettiness that leaves me renewed. At the same time, the nagging reality that nothing had changed nearly kept me from the bike. What's the use; and so I hit the snooze button twice, deciding to sell out and drive. I knew I would regret the decision, so at the last possible minute I threw everything into the messenger bag and rode out from the garage. I was greeted by the sun, the cool morning air, and nods from my fellow cyclists. Glad for the effort.

As an aside, I was able to visit Malibu over the weekend, though not on two-wheels. My sister and her family are down from Seattle and wanted to spend a day at Zuma, so we made the drive out to the coast. Controversy aside, it was great to see so many cyclists out on PCH. It has been a good 16 years (I can hardly believe so much time has passed) since I last rode that stretch. Living in Burbank at the time, taking Mulholland, down Sepulveda and San Vicente, PCH north, and Topanga Canyon back over to the Valley was a pleasure ride, especially on hot summer days. There was always a lot of traffic, but it seems like there are a lot more cars parked alongside the road now, especially in the vicinity of certain businesses. A clear example of private interests, in this case drivers and businesses, getting a free ride on the public's back; free private parking on a public roadway. This is also, of course, one of the more dangerous situations for cyclists, riding between parked cars on one side and moving vehicles on the other. If the shoulders were kept clear, I suspect there would be far less problem. I can hear the uproar, like a fog horn, over the breaking waves now.

Spotted...

A friendly reminder to give a little more business to this bike friendly business,

the Last Drop Cafe, 119 Harvard Ave, Claremont.