Dirty Way to the Top: Mt. St. Helena

After Santa Rosa I dropped into Calistoga, one of the jumping off points for the Napa Valley vineyards. The population is small, but the main street was crowded with little shops; a town for tourists and transients (a much different transient population than Santa Rosa's young travelers waiting for the bus). But I wasn't here for the wine, I was here for the mountain that lay next to this quiet town -- Mt. St. Helena. At 4,300 ft, only Mt. Hamilton stands taller in the surrounding Bay Area. The big difference though is that the only road to the summit is a gravel service road for the tower.

The vineyards before I got too high.

At about 11 AM with the sun harshly beating down I set off for the summit, carrying as much water as I could, as there would be no water on the way up. The entrance to Robert Louis Stevenson park was up on Lake County Highway, which heads to, you guessed it, Lake County. The highway climb was nice and quiet thanks to one lane construction that bottlenecked traffic, which I would avoid by letting it pass, then ride the open road. After what at the time seemed like a long climb, I saw the first sign for Robert Louis Stevenson State Park (named after the Bay Area author, who spent his honeymoon on this mountain, the remnants of his cabin are still on the hiking trail, but I was on a bike). At the apex of the climb, I swung left on to the dirt. It was time to start cranking.

The trail dissecting the mountain.

The climb was pretty straightforward, just hammering away at the gravel. The shade helped at first, but was short lived. The sun was now baking me at the hottest part of the day. I pushed into the granny gear and made sure to keep my butt in the seat as to not over exert myself. I grabbed what little shade there was along the way and stopped frequently. I was amazed to see hikers coming down with little to no water and wondered how they did it. After about an hour, the park (which was more an open space lacking rangers, water, or any sign of life) was  desolate. I could look up and see the radio tower coming closer. It was about here that the 'road' ramped up and I was glad to have the On-One Midge Bars, sitting in the saddle and pulling away at the ends was super powerful and kept my weight back to keep my rear wheel planted -- could not be happier. Unfortunately, I could only get so much power and the last section was super tough where I pulled and pushed until I could no more and walked the final section.

The view stretches for a while.

The top was so worth it. Apparently on a clear day SF is visible (probably need binoculars though), unfortunately the haze kept it hidden. Instead I looked East to the Sierras over the lakes. Then I looked down at the dot that was Calistoga. The summit was just the radio tower and some maintanence, there was no one there but me and my bike and a 360 panaramoic view. It was a grueling but worthwhile struggle.

The totals of the climb was bottom to top: 4,241 ft, 6.1 percent average grade, over 12 miles. The off road bit was 2,204 ft at 7.6%, over 5.1 miles (my new Garmin eTrex makes mapping and detailing my ride so much more fun).

Breaking Down Barriers

Last week passing through the Planet of the Apes was a bumpy somewhat off road adventure that was a total blast. But I remember at the top when meeting those other cyclists, before I stopped I heard one of the guys on a mountain bike mention "The roadie is most likely going that way", referring to me pointing down the mostly paved section that drops out to Highway 1. It was weird, because I feel like a huge anti-roadie, taking my bike everywhere, hopping curbs, riding in the rain, dirt, mud, but for whatever reason, most likely my thinner tires and drop bars had me mistaken for a roadie. So since then I've decided it's time to get back on the trail I've been craving for; I saddled up and headed for the Ridge Trail in Redwood Regional Park.

This dude followed me all the way up Snake.

The Ridge Trail that connects the Redwood staging area with the Lake Chabot staging areas in Redwood Park has been often designated as a "beginner fire road". I had taken the Western section before to the observatory and remember it being not so bad, so I decided to head in that direction, as opposed to the East.

These Salsa Cowbells are meant for light trail, but don't function all that well on them.

Do Redwoods ever stop being cool?

With unBay like 70 degree sunny weather (especially in the hills), Redwood was packed. When I arrived at the park dog walkers and joggers were everywhere, but few bikes. The lone cyclist at the trailhead I rolled my 28 mm onto the dirt and started heading south along the contours of the hills. The beginning section wasn't so bad, my bike bobbed and bounced, but nothing too crazy. There were a few points to dip back out to the road, but I was feeling daring and pressed on, shooting up some short steep climbs and back down the other side.

This woman had trouble getting down this steep hill. I had an even more troubling time, but I kept rubber side down!

I still like distant hills.

It wasn't long before I had reached the observatory once more and decided to see what lay beyond my last stopping point. Little to my knowledge the trail gets a little rougher here. Still considered a fire road I suppose, with a wide gerth, but a lot of the trail is very rocky and on top of that some parts are incredibly steep. As much as I wanted to ascribe to the idea of any bike anywhere, there were points where I was clearly ill equipped for this kind of terrain, my Salsa Cowbell bars were my biggest disadvantage. Riding on the hoods gave me great control and no braking or I could ride in the drops with good braking but poor handling. I switched back and forth between the two several times, until I figured out, not having braking ability is terrifying, and faced these downhills in a low position in the drops. There were points where I was almost certain I was going to bail and of course these are always at the points right near hikers, no one ever falls when no one is watching, right?

Creek at the end of West Ridge Trail. This was near where I saw all the Mountain Bikers unloading their bikes from their SUVS.

Tilden Park creek. I sat here for a long time, feeling miles away from the city.

Despite the challenges of the bike, the trail was quiet and scenic and this is why I'm trying to get back on trail. Sure there are definitely roads that can lead to solace, but nothing like a trail can. There were no cars passing by and at points nothing could be seen but the trail and the backside of the hills blanketed in green trees. That's what I'm in search of and why I still am in love with this place, because these places are so close. There weren't even crazy hardcore mountain bikers to tear up the trail and ruin the mood, it was just quiet. I was so in love with this ride I repeated a shorter one to Tilden the following day to a silent creek near Lake Anza. These places are so close and it's becoming obvious almost any bike can take you there. Now that the weather is breaking and trails are drying up along the West Coast there's no better time to try getting out on trail and if your bike isn't quite suited, so be it, hike and bike are better than dealing with motorcycles up your ass.

Breaking the N+1 Model.

Everyone always talks about their "n+1", buying their third bike, planning on buying their fifth bike, the 650b mountain bike to match their 29er and 26 in hard tail mountain bikes. Almost any serious cyclist talks about it. It reminds me of guitarists who have sixteen different guitars and when you ask why, they pick them up and say "this one is a little more bluesy" play it, then pick another, "this is a tad more jazzy" and they play it and it sounds exactly the same. That's what n+1 feels like to me.

While I'm not saying that my Surly can do everything, it certainly can't, I've had some knuckle gripping "holy shit, I shouldn't be doing this," moments, but it does a lot. With the Surly I have the ability to swap around pieces and parts to create different incarnations. The bike was originally built for bike touring, but with commuting in mind (partially why I have it over the Long Haul). Before the racks and burly touring tires, the Cross-Check handled well getting across town, even daring the snow from time to time (if properly fitted with tires at the time it might have handled better). Then when the weather broke I built it to tour and took it from ocean to ocean.

Everything + The Kitchen Sink = Heavy.

Once that tour was over and I planned on settling down, that's when I started thinking of my own personal n+1. I watched the carbon frame guys zip by me up Mt. Diablo and I said to myself, "I want one of those." I peered down the trails of Marin as duders bobbed around on 29ers and again I said to myself, "I want one of those." Dads pulling kids, groceries, and a full load of lumber on a single cargo bike and I said "I want one of those." You get the point. I felt inadequate trying to do all these things with one bike, but the money just wasn't there for a new bike, especially when I just kept planning to get back to touring.

All it took was a change of tires and my possibilities reopened up. Slapping on 40mm tires made trail manageable (with a change of bars, a lot more might have been possible, but I digress). I was now riding an adventurous off-road bike focusing on some possible NY snow (which I never saw). That's all it took was a change of tires and I had my n+1 for almost no cost.

Not only can swapping parts change the bike, but changing the aesthetic helps too. Currently, I am in the process of building a rando-esque, casual touring bike. It needs some help (I swear I'll buy a matching white tire soon! I agree it looks goofy). The plan is maybe some chrome fenders and chrome racks (lighter weight, less steel than the Surly rack), the bike once again transforms (look for some nice stickers too soon, maybe).

So when someone starts telling you about their N+1 maybe you should start thinking of all that OT you'd need to work for a mountain bike instead of widening your tires. The next time someone makes fun of you for your ugly cretin looking touring bike, just slap on the right color fenders, tires, and stickers and smile as you gleam down the road.

Briones

My Marathon Mondials are in their final death throes, so before I replace them and most likely return back to 28 mm tires, I want to try and push these as far as I can, plus with an incoming wet storm, it was time to take advantage of some dry trail and go off-roading. I was also inspired by Rivendell's video on the Diablo foothills, I knew I just had to get away from the pavement for a bit. I checked a book on California's mountain biking trails and set my sights on Briones Regional Park.

One of the silliest things I've always found about mountain biking books is "recommended parking" or "how to get there" where they give you detailed directions by highway. It is definitely my snobbish bike purist showing, but I always prefer to ride to the rides, the times I've summitted Diablo I rode to the base from my house (although after the decent I usually took the Walnut Creek BART back). The ride to Briones was not planning on being a cake walk and I made it even tougher.

I decided to favor a steeper climb to get me over the Oakland Hills quicker through Tilden, choosing the more direct but steeper Claremont Ave. over Old Tunnel Road, which sends me off to the South of Tilden. For some reason, maybe it is actually the tires, but these steep climbs seem much rougher than they were in the fall when I first started riding them, maybe not doing sixty + miles a day had finally worn off my legs. Nevertheless, I pushed and spun over the top into Lomas Contadas once again, to drop down Wildcat Canyon Road.

Skyline Panorama

A view from the top

At the base of Wildcat Canyon Road sent me another challenge, one of the three bears, and it was Papa bear, a steady high climb which helped whip me into shape climbing over it. Luckily I only had a taste of Mama bear before I cut off into Briones Regional Park.

The reservoir from Bear Creek Road.

The beginning of the Briones Road Trail. The pavement didn't last long.

Now that I was in the park the fun began. I started out on Briones Road Trail, I'm assuming what used to actually be a road that connected Briones to Orinda, but now is part of this protected park for cattle ranching and general recreation. The trail turned off into Briones Ridge Trail, the one I chose to ride. Being a ridge trail it, of course, had to climb up, so up I went. The green hills rolled around me until some trees appeared arching over the trail, briefly, as they let back out to California grazing lands. I passed a few cattle guards and made it to the "pass", essentially, where looking back I could see the rolling hills of Briones park and looking forward I could see San Pablo Bay, Martinez, and to the right a cloud covered Diablo. The wind whipped through me on top of that pass. The microclimates in the Bay Area are enough to drive one mad, so far I'd gone from chilly in the clouds to warm in the sun to back in the chilly shade and would jump between those a few more times during the course of the day.

People don't like the Robin's Egg Blue Surly, but it contrasts green so well.

The top of the Ridge

The final section of trail, going down?

From there the trail bobbed up and down on bumpy trail, seemingly patted out by cow hooves in the mud hardened in this dry winter. I could definitely tell I was on a fake hard tail 29er, feeling my arms bounce on the steep downhills and hearing my chain rattle around. Either way, it was worth it. The ups at times were difficult, but I hammered through em. The biggest obstacle though was a group of cows hanging out dead center of the path. I hopped off and walked around them (I'm terrified of getting kicked by a cow or horse, for whatever reason). Crested a few more times bouncing along until the final decent which was the only single track and steep as hell. I squeezed the brakes almost the whole way down and even walked some of it. But I made it. Now it's just Papa Bear and the Oakland Hills one more time. If only that were easy. By the time I had reached the Centennial Drive drop my legs were toast. It was good to get that far of a ride in with a lot of elevation, but I really should master a mountain someday soon.

Finally, I'm Back, or Finally, Single Track

Well, here it is, my first post in a good couple of weeks. After my vacation in Florida, my life has been in that strange, weird, stressful cousin of vacation called unemployment, and like a vacation I wasn't living in my own place, I was essentially homeless for a bit there (hopping from couch to couch). But one thing turned around, I found a great place in North Oakland, but unfortunately, the job thing hasn't been going so great. After spending one day begging people for money (i.e. canvassing), I quit. And when I quit I let out my disappointment and rage into the pedals, riding like a psychotic messenger, weaving in and out of cars as I raced top speed through lights. Luckily, I made it home alive and spent the rest of the day as I've spent my last month here in Oakland, filling out job applications.

If you ever want to know what desperation feels like work a day canvassing with a near goose egg in your bank account, woof. All this job garbage has really gotten me losing hair, worrying about rent, or food, or what have you, but there is one fall proof plan to make me feel better, get on the bike and go.

I've been planning on replacing my 40 mm Schwalbe Marathon Mondial's for something a little slimmer (my 28 mm Marathon is still kicking all the way from Chicago, so I want to match that). I've been leaning towards the Vittoria Randonneur Trail, but that's a story for another time. The point is that with those wide nobby tires I should hit trail before I can afford to change them (although I will certainly hang on to these fatty's for some trail touring in the summer hopefully).

Turkeys!

This is a political statement about the city and death of public place. Or it's a picture of Oakland through a  fence.

Marin County may be the  beginning for mountain biking, meaning single track left and right and bike access to nearly every trail. East Bay on the other hand, full of those granola munching hippies from Berkeley, fight to keep steel and aluminum off their trails (even the fire roads in Berkeley don't allow bikes). There are some exceptions when you get beyond the hills, but in the hills there is only one place to go for single track, Joaquin Miller. I was inspired by this video, so I set out for the Cinderella Trail.

Rubber on dirt.

West Ridge Trail, so shady.

Pretty wide fire roads for the most part in Redwoods Regional Park.

I had to get there first. Living somewhere new means a new way into the Hills, a sort of nice way. It doesn't seem as quick coming from West Oakland, unfortunately, but I no longer have to contend with Broadway Terrace, but instead get Tunnel Rd, right away, both old and new, plus Tunnel Rd. has a dedicated bike lane with a roomy buffer zone. Getting into the climb I remembered how much I adore Old Tunnel Rd. mashing my lower gears towards the top with an aggressive cadence, as opposed to grueling out those gears on Claremont or Centennial Dr. Once up top it was the fire roads of Redwoods Regional to get to the other side, where Joaquin Miller is. The fire roads of the West Ridge Trail were fun, but they seemed to only be a prelude for what was to come.

I can see something that can see a lot more than I can.

Single Track!

The West Ridge Trail doesn't necessarily end at the Chabot Space Center, but that's where I quit it. This was where I dropped down from the telescopes toward Joaquin Miller, the sprawling track that rings freedom for bikes. I wasn't sure of the directions of the trail systems, but I was apparently on Castle Trail. On this trail it was beautiful single track. I dashed in and out, the trail dropped (most of Joaquin Miller is on the slopes of the hill, not rounded around the top like most others) and I kept squeezing my breaks in my drops to keep a hold of the bike. If you noticed in that video they had real mountain bikes and full on face protecting headgear, I was on a cross bike with a regular road helmet, yikes. This could be dumb. But I pressed on. I almost lost my tire once in a water divet, thankfully I stayed calm and carried the rear right on through. First day back in single track and no scars to account for.

The blue matches the forest well.

Castle Trail eventually becomes unrideable.

Castle Trail let out to Castle Drive, a descent that seemed like it could be a blast if I knew it, but being new it was mostly brake hugging the whole time. Once out it was back through Montclair down into that weird Berkeley and Oakland border (like really they couldn't just pick one road?) across town back to North Oakland for a brilliant day back on the bike and my first time on single track since I was maybe 14.

Let's Get Technical

Since beginning my foray into off-roading, I haven't done much technical riding. East Bay Regional Parks mountain biking is mostly old fire roads, rarely getting a chance to touch single track which split off the fire road in every direction along parks such as Redwoods. I completely understand this and am not complaining at all. As an avid hiker too, I would be very annoyed if I was hiking along and someone on a bike comes rocketing at me full speed.

Before the trail I found this sweet old fashioned looking utility building, reminded me of Buffalo/Niagara.

The East side of Old Tunnel Road before Quarry Road.

On my ride the other day, it started out that this was the same. From Grizzly Peak Blvd. I always eyed this road that went straight up the East Ridge, I was curious to find it. So after some Googling, I found it, Quarry Road. Part of the old quarry that is now Sibley Volcanic Regional Park, Quarry Road goes straight up the side of the West Ridge. It was a brutal ride up it, but once there I hopped along some fire road that was flat along the top of the ridge, but what is up, must go down. This was one of the most intense fire roads I've ridden since my experiments on gravel. Quarry Trail, a fire road as well, dropped down back to Quarry Road on a fairly shallow drop, but on gravel with a cliff to your left, this is a lot hairier than the incline leads to believe.

The West Ridge.

I guess these are the volcanoes?

Quarry road switchbacks, plus no traffic! Yum!

Then from there I was able to rocket down the wall that is Quarry Road. Now I was in the valley and had to find my way back up to the West side of the West Ridge, how to? From where I stood a trail led up to the Skyline Staging Area of Sibley Park, other than that, it meant backtracking, but why backtrack? I've got the tires why not?

The beginning of Skyline Trail.

This was no fire road. A single track that crossed dry and not so dry creek beds, bumping up and down over tree roots, this reminded me of the true mountain biking I did as a kid in Rocky Point. Going over technical bumps and popping over the trail, the trail decided it too wanted to go straight up. At first this wasn't so bad, but with the cover of trees dropping their fall foliage, as well as being wet, this meant my tire had nothing to grip on to. I hopped on the bike, pushed, but to my dismay the tire only spun, I put my foot down. I really wanted to prove I could ride this, tried it a few more times, but nope, wasn't happening.  I got out and carried the bike up this ridge.

Damn leaves!

I hopped back on, going through some more mud (no fenders this time, means no stopping!), but it wasn't long until up came again and this time mud was the culprit, Round Two of walking it up. Luckily this was the last defeat, from there on out I was able to grip some and push up to the Skyline staging area, almost a straight line up the ridge in shrouded single track that was totally worth the struggle for, and for once, it was an up that I'm more excited to go down than a down I'm excited to go up.

Diablo Part Deux

I'm trying a new regiment of waking up early to ride, so I can have the rest of my day to bask in unemployment (this blog is quickly turning into an ode to not having a job). Today was my day set for a long ride though, so riding was the main focus. At 7 AM, my alarm went off. Rolling out of bed before I changed my mind, I rapidly threw on my jersey and shorts, grabbed an energy bar for breakfast, and hit the road.

Today was not about the Oakland Hills, so I'll spare the discussion of those roads I've written about on here incessantly. Nonetheless, I cut into Moraga, followed the Lafayette-Moraga trail into Walnut Creek, where it ends, not in Lafayette, like the name would suggest. From here I rode through the outdoor mall that is the WC. Beelined straight to where I want to go unlike last time.

It was cloudy in Oakland, but on the other side of the Hills, Pinehurst was sunny.

Lafayette-Moraga Trail.

Last time I ended up in this same spot, except my tires were 12 mm thinner and much smoother. Now I came prepped for the trail. Unlike the earlier mentioned bike path, the Briones-Mt Diablo Trail actually does connect the two places in its name. I headed west towards Diablo, growing larger and larger with every pedal stroke. The trail had some technical bits at first, including a straight drop down that was mostly jagged exposed rock. I bumped down it and then sped along on mostly hard packed Fire Roads. Diablo kept growing the closer I got. Eventually I was staring it right in the face from the top of one of Diablo's foothills. Erected base to summit, I could take it all in from that spot.

Mt. Diablo-Briones Trail, where I gave up last time.

The Diablo Foothills are surprisingly a lot higher than the towns below.

Forests are great, but the way the trees stand out so singularly here in the hills is pretty majestic.

It wasn't until I actually crossed into Diablo State Park that things truly revved up, literally, up. Coming out of Pine Canyon, the last drop on Burma Road before the climb back up Burma Road. Unfortunately my granny gear was giving me trouble (road riding with no added weight means I never use this gear), so I gave up and did something that would make any road rider sick, I pushed it. But today I'm no road rider. The hope is to make it all the way up to the top by trail.

40 mm Mondials at home on trail.

Cheating the weather, clouds over Oakland.

Pine Canyon

That was quickly defeated. Once I crossed pavement at the junction of Burma Road and North Gate Road the trail kept going up. 7 miles from that point to summit. I'd be there in no time at all. Well, 7 miles means the way the crow flies and that's their advantage, they can defy gravity, I can't. Burma Road was a wall. I've hardly seen hiking trails go up as steep as this one. I decided to get off and carry my bike up seeing if it levels out after this climb. I pushed with my toes, as the physics of it made it impossible to do otherwise. My calves burned and the grade stayed. There was no let down. This was it. Carry the bike to the summit or turn around and ride the road.

Well, frankly, riding sounded better. I almost felt like turning back with 30 miles in and about 10 of that on trail, but I was there, I should summit. Up I went. North Gate was the same road I took up last time, a no holds-bar, elevation busting, gut-wrenching, gear spinning climb. I settled in to my cadence and pressed on. I started around the 1,000 ft elevation thanks to the some bit of climbing on trail. The 2,000 mark didn't seem to come much later. I had my legs under me, for now.

Once I reached the junction my legs were starting to give a little, but hell, push through it. Since I couldn't summit by trail, my new goal was no stopping. Like most mountains, Diablo gets steeper closer to the top. After the junction I minimized out my middle ring (even though I did fix my granny gear on the road) and spun and spun and spun. I kept around 7 mph for the final 4.5. Just focusing on time not distance helped me over come the mental block, and before I knew it, it was my second summit of Diablo. I enjoyed the views, chatted with some folks doing the same, then began the descent.

The view from the top.

The descent was down South Gate as it let me out further West and I was hoping to ride home today, with not getting lost like last time. The South Gate descent was as fun as the North Gate descent, except a little more hair-raising. It reminded me of the last couple miles of the Big Horn descent in WY, where the road just drops off to nothing at times, meaning I hugged those brakes. I swooped around the bends and once the road flattened out I was in the town of Diablo, then turning due north through Danville and Alamo. With a dead GPS I didn't really know where I was, but I knew the hills to my left were the Oakland Hills, so I figured I'm heading north. Unfortunately, I was heading Northeast, so I ended up back in the WC. Not wanting  to get lost again with no GPS I grabbed BART back. 60 mile days before 4 PM aren't so bad anyway now are they?