I admit: I may be just a little obsessed with this year’s Superbloom. It has been an exceptional year for wildflowers, and the last couple of months have brought a celebration of them. Temporary and dynamic, they represent life. Like life, it goes by quicker than you realize, and some seasons are better than others. This Spring 2019 just so happens to be one of the best Superblooms I’ve seen in my life.
While places like Carrizo Plain and Antelope Valley get a lot of attention these days, and rightfully so, you don’t have to travel far to see wildflowers in action. The green, undulating hills of California make the perfect landscape for the Spring bloom. One of the best places on the Central Coast to see them is Toro Park near Salinas and Monterey.
Its steep, grassy hills were uplifted along the San Andreas Fault system over the last few million years, raising sandstone and small outcroppings of metamorphic gneiss to the summit at Ollason Peak, elevation 1,800′. Oak trees, shrubs, and chaparral habitat dominate the landscape. I’ve been following the Superbloom at Toro Park this year. My first trip was in late March; I then returned a few times in April. This is my third update for the season, and you can definitely see the difference in landscape over the last two months.
Enjoy the last of the Superbloom; it’s fading out and soon the hills will be golden again. Make the most of their fleeting beauty, whether a slow stroll, a ripping bikeride, or just a nice place to sit. I certainly can’t get enough of it! Here’s a video of mountain biking down Gilson Gap and Meyer’s Loop Trail.
Wilder Ranch State Park, in Santa Cruz, California, is full of color and activity this time of year. With the Spring wildflower bloom in full effect, this is an ideal time to get outside and enjoy nature’s kaleidoscope of flowers. With sandy to loamy soils that gently wind up ancient marine terraces, equestrians, hikers, runners, and mountain bikers alike are all out in full force these days enjoying the gorgeous landscape.
One of my favorite (legal) trails within Wilder Ranch is Enchanted Loop Trail. It’s a pretty short downhill through a redwood canyon teeming with ferns, clovers, and moss. After the exceptional Winter we had this year, everything is ultra vibrant.
Elegant Cluster Lily (Brodiaea elegans)
Elegant Cluster Lily (Brodiaea elegans)
Though known more for cross-country mountain biking, Wilder is a fun spot that makes up for its infamous ruts with its exceptional beauty. Ocean views, expansive fields of green, and pops of glowing wildflowers beckon you to take frequent breaks and enjoy the scenery. By mid-Summer, it will still be beautiful here, but not like the Spring bloom. This is a truly special, finite time of year.
Golden Star (Triteleia ixioides)
Coast Live Oak
California Goldfields (Lasthenia californica) with Blue-Eyed Grass
Watch out for Snakes in the Trail!
Nice Gopher Snake!
Purple Owl’s Clover (Castilleja exserta)
Golden Star (Triteleia ixioides)
Marsh Woundwort (Stachys palustris)
Baptisia Yellow Bush Lupine
Coast Live Oak
Here’s a video of my ride today down Enchanted Loop. Enjoy this beautiful Spring!
It’s an old saying that means an indefinitely long time, originating from the unhurried, meandering timeframe for cows to return home to the barn at night. It’s a phrase I would see in action on my mountain bike ride at Toro Park in Salinas, California, in late April 2019.
I grew up in Lafayette, California, in a bucolic suburb with expansive cow pastures. My two older sisters and I, and a gang of neighborhood friends, would roam those hills until, as it were, the cows came home. Summer evenings were spent on rope-swings slung over old-growth Oak, after long walks on cowpie-laden trails. It was beautiful out there.
But I was always a little bit scared of the cows. They would just stand there in the trail and stare at us, obstinately flicking flies from their rumps with their fickle tails. Sometimes they would moo at you with a wild look in their eye, or a bull would take a step toward you. They could trample you should they please. I developed a healthy respect for them.
When I went for a ride on Pipeline Trail at Toro Park, I would have to come face-to-face with cows again. Though I’m not afraid of them anymore, I am not totally at home with them, either. As I climbed up Ollason fireroad, I came across a small herd of them in the trail; I shooed them out of the way and continued along. The climb up was so gorgeous with all of the flowers exploding off the hillside, I kept stopping to enjoy the view!
Monterey Bay Views
When I made it up to Ollason Peak, I rested and had a good snack. Then, I set out down Pipeline Trail. Only a few minutes into the downhill, I came across several cows blocking the trail. The terrain is a steep ravine, overgrown on all sides, and the trail a narrow singletrack. I tried to scare them off; I clapped my hands, stomped my feet, and even tried riding my bike toward them. I soon realized there was nowhere for me to pass above or below them. There was barely room for the cows.
I started clapping my hands and directing them along, which most of them were receptive, albeit slow, to do. There were a couple of cows, though, who turned around in the trail, stomped their feet, and mooed that sort of howl-like “Don’t mess with me!” alarm call. I backed off a touch when they did that, spotting the nearest tree to climb up should one decide to charge me. But I stood my ground, kept telling them to Git!, and before I knew it, I was herding them slowly down the trail until an opportunity to pass presented itself. They were tearing the trail up as they sauntered along, which was a bummer to see.
Ollason Peak, 1,800′
After a good half hour or so, I was definitely getting impatient. I learned what the saying ‘Til the cows come home really meant. These behemoths were talking their sweet time making their way along, stopping to eat often. I realized they were probably a little out of their element as well, confined to a balance-beam of a trail.
I finally came across a bend in the trail that crossed over a small creek. The cows were in the corner of the trail, masticating on tall grasses and considering the turn in the trail. If I could just get across the creek, I could get in front of them, but it was steep and overgrown. I neared them slowly until I could make my way down a shallower slope, and made my way in front of them at last! All in all, we’d only slithered about a quarter of a mile down the trail. It’d just gone at a snail’s pace – or a cow’s pace, rather. It was comical, but also somewhat frustrating while it was happening. I was so relieved to clear those cows!
Moreover, the Superbloom is in full effect at Toro Park in late April; it was like biking through a painting! I cannot get enough of all the wildflowers. I love the vast openness of Toro. Only an hour’s drive South of Santa Cruz, it’s a great place to ride.
Here’s a video of the ride and my stand-off with the cows; I filmed them as I tried to scurry them along. Toro Park sure earned its name! I’d heard stories of cows on the trail before, but now I have my own tale to tell.
California’s gotten lucky this Winter. It’s been an exceptionally wet one, with even more on the way. With less than three weeks until the Spring Equinox, and only one week until the start of Daylight Savings Time, Summer’s warm glow is appearing on the horizon. Before the transition to longer, busier days, I cherish the quiet peace of Winter, blanketed by rain and snow.
It’s been a wonderful Winter for both sandy mountain biking in the Santa Cruz Mountains, and snowboarding insanely deep powder in the mountains. With over 25 feet of snow in February alone, most resorts haven’t had many days of full operation. They can barely keep up with all of Mother Nature’s bounty.
When we get such plentiful precipitation, it brings a feeling of security and hope. Knowing that there will likely be enough water to last us through the dry Summer is assuring; knowing that animals will also have enough water in their parched rivers and streams is equally comforting.
We took a roadtrip to Mammoth over superbowl Sunday weekend, which happened to be an intense, bona fide blizzard. Almost eleven feet of snow fell over that weekend, with whiteout conditions so blinding, it just about shut down the whole town. Ron and I barely managed to snowboard on Saturday and Sunday, even though the upper mountain was closed from gale force winds and complete whiteout conditions. We had to sit down in complete blindness at least a dozen times because the snowfall was so heavy. We fared the high winds and vertigo inducing flurries and made the most of it. It was awesome to just float over the copious fresh powder. Though I’d been mountain biking here, it was my first time snowboarding. It was amazing, but I would love to come back when the upper mountain is open. We had to take the southern route home down Highway 395, as all of the Northern passes were closed, which turned out to be a breathtakingly beautiful drive.
Central Valley Rainbow
Central Valley Rainbow
Kirkwood has been delivering on its “highest and driest” claim, if not overwhelmed at times, like all of the other resorts, by all of the snow they’re getting. We’ve had some of our best days possibly ever this season, though are still hungry for more before they close on April 21. We heard a harrowing story from a skier we rode up Chair 4 with, though. He had just gotten wedged into a 20-foot deep crevasse at the top of the big cornice at the top of Chair 4. He was trying to jump it, but somehow slipped into the narrow gash and fell down into it, skies awkwardly wedged and stuck.
It took him about a half hour to get his skies off and carefully climb up to the opening, where he was barely able to wave his ski to alert bypassers. Ski Patrol came and helped him get out, and roped off the cornice. I think he was still in a bit of shock about it; all I could think of was how freaked out I’d be if I’d almost just died. All of this snow is exciting, but I never forget how powerful and scary it can be. Avalanches, tree wells, and crevasses are all menacing forces that kill people every year. He is lucky he didn’t get stuck in there. The story gave me shivers, and reminded me of the real risks of snow, even within the boundaries of a well-managed ski resort.
Beau in snowboard bag
Ron and I are both quick to acknowledge how special our snowboarding trips and mountain bike rides are together, and how much we appreciate them (and many other things, of course). We’ve got to make the most of the time we have now. As time goes on and we are getting older, it becomes clearer how numbered all of these experiences are. My grandmother and old teenage boyfriend both passed away within the last couple months, and, though expected, their passings reminded me how finite our time really is on this Earth. There are no guarantees, except mortality. When I am old and cannot flow over the land or snow anymore, I will look back on these memories with intense love and fondness, perhaps through a virtual reality interface. Which is why we’ve got to keep on making those memories a reality now.
Enjoy the final days of Winter, and Spring will be here before we know it!
His and Hers
Wonderfully Wet Winter
Here’s a video of today’s mellow cross-country ride: