Entire Blog - Display the entire Blog for all years. This is a large file!
|Cumulative climbing:||30 feet|
Low-Tide Beach Walk, December 26, 2015 - Alice Mestemacher and Ron Bobb hosted a group of friends (Ron, Alice, Bill, Marianne, Jules, Paula, Dave, Katie, and Anna) on a low-tide beach walk from Rio Del Mar to Capitola and back again. Since low tide was forecast to be at 1730, we started from Rio Del Mar at almost 1600, which had us returning in almost complete darkness but for the light of our flashlights and of the occasional streetlight that shone down from the neighborhoods atop the cliffs. We walked briskly to stay warm.
Although we had had some decent rain storms come through earlier in the month, all of the streams that flow naturally over the beach into the ocean between Seacliff and New Brighton had gone underground, such was the quantity of sand deposited on the beach by the recent storms. Even the rocky tidepools below the cliff near Capitola had been mostly filled in with sand, making the walking easy, even in the dark. Only one spot where a pine tree had fallen from the cliff, blocking most of the way, required us to time the waves to scoot past.
After we returned to Rio Del Mar we retired to Sawasdee Thai for a hearty meal that warmed both our bodies and our palates.
|Cumulative climbing:||1960 feet|
Purisima Creek Open Space Preserve, September 13, 2015 - Stella had come down with a cold, and Frank was fighting what he thought might be Stella's cold, so I was on my own today. Frank had proposed a few candidate loop hikes in Purisima Creek Open Space Preserve, and after mulling over the routes I settled on the mid-length route that traversed the center of the preserve. Near the end of the loop I would have the option of hiking the out-and-back down lower North Ridge Trail.
When I arrived at the North Ridge Parking area, the lot was packed due to a running event that appeared to be finishing nearby, and cars were parked tightly along Skyline Blvd. I drove through the lot in case a space had opened up, but I found none. I found a place to park a couple tenths of a mile north on Skyline Blvd. at a nice, wide siding alongside the road. The extra distance was not too great but neither was it insignificant.
I started down North Ridge Trail that descends steeply to a junction with Harkins Ridge Trail. I turned left and continued on Harkins Ridge Trail. The temperature was warm, slightly humid, and the air still. As I descended into the forest the temperature cooled slightly but was still warm enough to be comfortable walking downhill in short sleeves.
As I looked northwest I could see that the higher layer of overcast was smoke, presumably from wildfires burning elsewhere in the state. Sunlight filtered through brownish clouds, casting a yellowish light. The top of Montara Mountain poked into the smoke, suggesting that the bottom of the smoke layer was around 1800 feet. As I descended into the preserve I could no longer smell smoke.
On a nice Sunday I was not surprised that I did not have the trails to myself. The exception was during one half-hour stretch mid-way along the Craig Britton Trail where I saw no one. The Craig Britton Trail descends from Harkins Ridge through a series of switchbacks on a tree-less hillside before plunging into a cool redwood forest.
At the Craig Britton Bench I stopped to sit for a few minutes and listen to the sounds of the forest. I heard those, but I couldn't find the freedom from manmade noise that I have experienced along Butano Ridge. It must have been a busy day for landings at SFO.
At the lower end of Craig Britton Trail where it connects with Purisima Creek Trail, two guys were looking at the trail sign and discussing where to go. They had hiked down from Skyline Blvd. and looked unprepared for a long hike--no water or packs--so I stopped to chat with them, showed them my map, and suggested they hike a ways out on the Craig Britton Trail, the most scenic section.
I continued down Purisima Creek Trail, passing other hikers every few minutes hiking uphill. The big leaf maples in the canyon were in color early this year, perhaps due to dryness from the drought.
I took a quick break at the lower Higgins-Purisima Trailhead before starting up Whittemore Gulch Trail. Whittemore Gulch Trail climbs steeply high above the creek below. It was on this section of trail I encountered the only biker I saw all day in the preserve.
As the trail zig-zagged its way up the north wall of the gulch I noticed myself slowing down. I didn't feel hungry, but I suspected I was running out of breakfast energy. Yet I pressed on at a slower pace, not finding a comfortable place to sit and eat lunch. I planned then to eat lunch at the end of the hike.
When I arrived at North Ridge Trail I felt tired and decided to leave exploration of lower North Ridge Trail for another visit. If I had eaten lunch earlier I might have felt like adding the extra miles, but I was starting to feel a little bonky. I hiked slowly up a particularly steep section of North Ridge Trail before arriving at the top of Whittemore Gulch Trail that climbed more gradually in parallel with North Ridge Trail.
From this point North Ridge Trail remained nearly level for the next half-mile back to the junction with Harkins Ridge Trail. Just before this junction I found a nice log to sit upon and rest and eat a late lunch.
Since I had just eaten I opted to climb the more gradual grade of the hiker's trail back to the North Ridge parking area, where I arrived shortly before 1500.
Visiting Len in Santa Cruz, September 8, 2015 - I spent a hot afternoon visiting with Len Scoggin, an old friend from my undergraduate days at UC Santa Cruz, who was himself visiting from his home in Lowell, Massachusetts, family and friends who live in Santa Cruz and the area.
We met at the Hinds House, a nicely-restored Victorian that has been pressed into service as an 11-room lodging facility with more charm than a typical motel or hotel (and at significantly lower price) that offers rooms with shared bath on a nightly or weekly basis.
On our way back from lunch we did a little grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, put the groceries in the common refrigerator, then went to visit with his mom, Analydia, and sister, Sandy, who had just driven down from Oakland.
After another hour or so Len and I took a short mostly driving tour through the quiet UCSC campus, being waylaid at Stevenson College for a few minutes by a curious turkey hen who found my van irresistible.
Upon returning to his mom's house, we found both Sandy and Analydia gone. They had left a message on Len's phone to meet them at The Crepe Place for dinner. We arrived just as Sandy was wheeling her mom into the restaurant.
|Cumulative climbing:||3550 feet|
Black Mountain, September 6, 2015 - The air was warm and still at the small parking lot at the Rhus Ridge Trailhead a short distance off Moody Road. Frank Paysen and I climbed up the steep trail to the top of Rhus Ridge at an even pace, neither too fast nor too slow.
Our relief upon arriving at the pass that leads to the Windmill Pasture was brief. We continued to the right onto the Black Mountain Trail without pausing.
On the traverse of Rhus Ridge we passed a couple of other parties hiking down the hill, and a large hiking party came out of Hidden Villa just as we started up the main part of the climb. We started up hill, maintaining the maximum pace that still allowed us to hold a conversation. As we climbed the air cooled and a slight breeze kept us from overheating.
When the trail broke into the open on the wider upper Black Mountain Trail that doubled duty as a PG&E access road, the grade steepened, yet we continued almost at the same pace, or so it felt.
When we arrived at the group of sharp rocks that mark the summit of Black Mountain we found a small crowd of people from three different hiking or biking parties all claiming the more comfortable rocks to sit upon. Never before had I seen so many people atop Black Mountain, but then it was a holiday weekend with nice weather. In addition we enjoyed remarkably clear air with views extending far north into Sonoma County. I imagined I could see the Sierras to the east through a gap in the east bay hills near Sunol, but I suspect it was merely haze over the Central Valley.
As we descended I suggested to Frank that we return through Rancho San Antonio, which meant taking the Quarry Trail and the zig-zagging route back to Rhus Ridge instead of the direct route we had climbed. After looking at the map I could see that it would add about 3.5 miles. We had made good time on the climb and had more than enough time to finish the hike before evening.
Frank did not express an abundance of enthusiasm for my proposal, yet neither did he voice an objection. When we got to the junction of the Quarry Trail he led the way with grim determination, neither pausing nor discussing the matter further. In fact, we did not stop again for rest, not even at the comfy bench with a view beneath the PG&E tower until we arrived back at the Rhus Ridge Trailhead, by which time I was quite tired. I suspect Frank wanted me to suffer a bit for suggesting this longer option, and if so, he succeeded.
Although the summit of Black Mountain enjoyed a cooling breeze, the canyons had become hot and still as the day wore on. Our climb up the Chamise Trail was hot and stifling under a full sun.
But, overall it was a good training hike on familiar trails for our upcoming Mammoth trip.
|Cumulative climbing:||3140 feet|
Sunol Wilderness Regional Park, August 30, 2015 - Although weather was expected to be no hotter than "warm", no one (other than the principals) showed any interest in joining us on this hike.
We got a slightly late start onto the trail at about 1000, but we made up for lost time by keeping ourselves moving as much as possible, pausing only briefly for photos or to take care of other necessary functions.
Our first goal of the day was to surmount Flag Hill, the impressive plateau that rises north of the park headquarters area, named, I suppose, for the striations capping its summit that bear a faint resemblance to stripes of a well-known flag.
The trail to Flag Hill rises quickly to the summit. The high point of Flag Hill, its east summit, stands behind us in this photo. The middle summit of Flag Hill is capped by a rock pinnacle that is easy to climb but makes for a dizzying perch. The south side of the pinnacle enjoys a sheer drop of 30-50 feet. I only stood atop the rock long enough for Frank to snap this photo.
A less-dizzying but equally dramatic summit lies to the west at the high point of a cliff band that extends for some distance north. The west summit is what one sees from Calaveras Road that winds up the slope on the opposite side of the valley.
After enjoying our first goal we pressed on down the Flag Hill Loop Trail and then the Welch - Flag Hill Trail, a gradual descent through varying terrain of steep slopes, wooded riparian corridors, and broad meadows, terminating at the lower reach of Welch Creek Road.
We then climbed up Welch Creek Road where traffic was unexpectedly heavy for such a narrow not-through road.
Our plan had been to take Lower Maguire Peaks Trail toward Maguire Peaks, but a sign warned that the trail was closed due to storm damage. We considered pressing on that way in spite of the sign, but further discussion raised concern that the way really was blocked, forcing a retreat. Not knowing what we'd find, we opted to continue up Welch Creek Road to the next access point to Maguire Peaks area, Maguire Peaks Trail.
Since we'd be hiking the entire loop around Maguire Peaks we decided to go counter-clockwise as doing so would allow us to climb on the shadier side of the mountain.
As we moved to the north side of the Peaks, a vista appeared of San Antonio Reservoir and Mt. Diablo beyond. At the top of the Loop Trail a bench had been installed allowing hikers to rest while enjoying this view. Behind the bench a narrow foot path climbed to west Maguire Peak, the higher of the two peaks.
Without pausing at the bench we pressed on up the steep footpath, stopping occasionally to snap a photok or to catch our breath. When we arrived at the summit I found some comfy rocks to sit upon on the southeast side of the peak. Here we ate lunch.
After lunch we retraced our steps down to the bench, then continued our circuit of the Peaks until we arrived back at Maguire Peaks Trail. We exited the Maguire Peaks area by taking Upper Maguire Peaks Trail back to Welch Creek Road.
At this point we discussed how to proceed. Frank had planned our route to include a climb up Vista Grande, but we had already hiked extra distance due to our forced detour. While a path straight back to the car was seen as too short, we decided to keep our options open by starting on the short route, then decide at High Valley Camp whether we had it in us to add back any distance.
We started down Welch Creek Rd. to High Valley Trail that took us to High Valley Camp, where we found water, toilets, trash bins, and other minor comforts. A nearby picnic table was pressed into service as a relatively comfortable napping bed.
After our break we chose to extend our hike slightly by traversing to Indian Joe Creek Trail that we descended back to the park headquarters, where we arrived at about 1630.
|Cumulative climbing:||1140 feet|
Meadow View Peak, August 22, 2015 - My cousin, Bo, invited his California relatives for a weekend at his country refuge (that he calls "Church of Pi" or "Pi" for short) in northeastern California in the Diamond Mountains, north of Truckee and northwest of Reno, a remote area that is nominally within the Sierra Nevada range. While I was there, I took a half-day hike with the goal of climbing Meadow View Peak.
Meadow View Peak was close enough to Pi that I could reach it on foot, and it offered a decent view from its summit but was not so far away that I'd be out for more than half the day.
At first David wanted to join me, but I suggested that the distance would be longer than he'd be comfortable, and that if he did come along, he wouldn't have energy or time afterward to socialize with the rest of the family. We set up the two-way radios, and Bo gave me a pilot's SOS beacon that I could activate in the unlikely event I should need an air evacuation to a hospital. The SOS beacon also updated my location via satellite to a central server so that Bo and others could observe my progress in between my periodic updates by radio. I also carried two cell phones. It was in this state of maximum connectedness that I departed Pi.
I started from Pi by heading down Bloomer Lake Road to Frenchman Road that I took north through Little Last Chance Valley. The road rose gradually with minor undulations, and I made quick progress in the cool morning air.
Sugarloaf, the nearest peak to Pi of many in this volcanic region, passed by on my right as I quickly walked north. I thought of climbing it, but decided to defer a decision until after I had summited Meadow View Peak. The western approach to Sugarloaf looked to involve a bit of bushwhacking and maybe some class 3 terrain near the summit. I was leery of getting into class 3 terrain when hiking alone, and I didn't want to wear myself out bushwhacking before achieving the summit of Meadow View Peak. Maybe the eastern side had an easier approach.
At the junction with Doyle Grade Road I turned right and walked another mile until I came upon the Meadow View Campground. Two or three parties had set up camp at the small campground. It was here that I first encountered a couple of other vehicles on the road.
Just past the campground was the shuttered forest service station. And, just past the field in front of the office I turned left onto the four-wheel-drive road that would take me to the top of the ridge connecting Meadow View Peak to the large plateau to its west.
I climbed steadily, noticing the moderate altitude for the first time (about 6000 feet), as I tried to hold pace. The road deteriorated as I climbed, almost fading into the vegetation a couple of times. It was clear this road was seldom driven upon.
At first the walking was easy over mostly stable jumbles of volcanic rock and dry brush. About half way from the road it became clear that I was heading for the lower south summit that was mostly clear of higher brush. The true north summit was obscured by scraggly juniper pines with pointy branches at about eye height. Meanwhile the terrain became steeper and more difficult to walk, the rocks tilting as I stepped on them.
I carefully picked a path through the trees and over the "klinkers" and found myself within sight of what appeared to be the summit marker, a tall cairn at the high point.
Before long I found myself at the summit. I stopped to take a selfie, a 360-degree panorama, and a zoomed shot back toward Pi. The air was hazy and somewhat smoky from the wildfires burning in northern California, although smoke was never thick enough to smell. The view would be better on a clear winter day, no doubt.
Radio contact with Pi was a little noisy, but usable, the VHF signal refracting over the ridge to the north of Pi. I updated them with my progress and planned descent route, which after observing the terrain around the summit pinnacle, I decided would be easiest to the east, a direct descent through grass and sage to the road on the eastern side of the peak.
I was correct about the terrain. While I saved myself the risk of injury from a twisted ankle or a poked eye, I hadn't considered that the grassy slope would be filled with foxtails and other small sharp debris that found their way into my shoes.
When I got to the eastern road I found a shady spot under one of the few trees and spent the next half-hour picking sharp debris out of both socks and shoes. While I was stopped three parties drove by on the road, staring at what must have been an unusual sight, a lone person with wide-brimmed hat, sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere, smiling at passers-by. One of them stopped to ask if I was alright.
With shoes and socks picked clean I began the trek back to Pi. The break had been refreshing.
Yet, when I got back onto Doyle Grade Road and started to retrace my steps back to Pi, I felt the heat of the day bearing down on me. At this point I dismissed the idea of climbing Sugarloaf. It would have to wait for another visit. No longer did I feel the slight breeze I enjoyed earlier higher on the slopes of Meadow View Peak. Yet with a conscious effort I managed to maintain a quick walking pace.
A couple of vehicles passed me on Frenchman Road, the last approaching from the south carried two people, the driver of which looked like my sister, Laura, with a larger man on the back who even from a distance didn't quite look like her partner, Michael. I stared as they approached, my brain attempting to resolve the cognitive dissonance. As they drew closer I could see that the driver was definitely not Laura. They stopped to ask if I was OK, to which I replied, "I'm OK. I'm OK. Thanks.", the repetition, so I thought afterward, likely giving the impression that I might be a bit off. The sight of someone walking on these remote roads appears to be unusual and a matter of concern to passers-by.
I pressed on, stopping only a couple of times under the sparse shade along the road and arrived back at Pi at about 1430, just as the heat of the day reached its maximum.
|Cumulative climbing:||2470 feet|
Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve, August 16, 2015 - Frank had urged me more than once to put this hike on this year's schedule, and I, too, wanted to hike this preserve. I had only visited the area once before in 2002 when Ron Bobb and I rode up Penitencia Creek Canyon on Alum Rock Falls Road as far as the gate to Blue Oak Ranch. Upon our return into Alum Rock Park we got scolded by a bleary-eyed park ranger who appeared to be more upset at having his routine disturbed, no doubt, by some officious person who had espied us riding upon the road. For obscure reasons the public are proscribed from traveling on this road but for a short segment within Sierra Vista Open Space.
This time Frank planned and led the hike. After a bit of hand-wringing over whether we should even do this hike during a heat wave, we settled on a plan to start the hike as planned but to start earlier than usual to beat the worst of the heat, perhaps to cut the hike to the minimum distance, and to finish around lunchtime.
We managed to get ourselves on the trail by about 0830 where the sun had already been beating down on the exposed hillside for a couple of hours. The air was warm (low-80s F), still, and slightly smoky from the forest fires burning in the northern part of the state. We were already sweating profusely. This part of the trail, a steep slope with southern exposure, would surely feel hotter as we climbed back to the trailhead later in the day.
The route started with a 1000-foot dip to Penitencia Creek before climbing slightly further to a minor summit at the southern end of the preserve. Our planned return route was much the same, although we reserved the option to explore the Upper Calaveras Fault Trail if we felt comfortable doing so upon our return.
The Sierra Vista Trail descends gradually along a steep slope that plunges into Penitencia Creek Canyon. After the first mile, the trail becomes a fire road that descends through an old ranch near the bottom of the canyon. We continued onto Alum Rock Falls Road for a short distance before turning left onto Lower Calaveras Fault Trail that descended briefly to a bridge over Penitencia Creek before climbing atop a ridge that led to our summit goal.
Frank reached the forlorn picnic table atop the summit where we stopped to enjoy the smoky view. A slight breeze made sitting in the full sun bearable, although we did not linger long. A small herd of cattle were sensibly taking shelter in the shade of some oak and eucalyptus a short distance from the summit.
After climbing back through the old ranch we decided to take the longer Upper Calaveras Fault Trail that led to another trailhead along Sierra Road where I considered returning along the flatter road instead of the trail that dipped about 300 feet back into the canyon before climbing up to the car park. I was starting to feel the heat and noticed that the skin on my arms was no longer glistening with sweat. In spite of that I decided to continue on the trail back to the trailhead.
After we returned to the car Frank pressed on and hiked the Aquila Loop Trail north of Sierra Road while Stella and I waited for him by the car and sipped on Gatorade that Frank had had the foresight to pack in a cooler. It was a good thing I had stopped when I did as my 3-liter bladder went dry as I took one last sip from it.
|Cumulative climbing:||1760 feet|
Los Trancos Loop, August 8, 2015 - David Bushnell (Dad), Ron Bobb, and I hiked counter-clockwise, the short version of the Los Trancos Loop at Foothills Park, Palo Alto.
Weather was warm but comfortable. A breeze on the sunny and usually hot northwest side of the loop made for pleasant hiking.
We were surprised to see running water along some sections of Los Trancos Creek. At the Torin Bench, the creek held enough water for David to scoop up a hat's worth of cold water and dump it over his head.
The Anniversary Bench was occupied when we arrived at the summit, but we waited just out of earshot for its occupants to move on and allow us to take a brief seated break. We could see smoke hovering along Skyline Ridge, but a stiff southwest breeze kept it from our location, and we could not smell any smoke.
Our walk down the hill to the car proceeded without incident.
|Cumulative climbing:||180 feet|
Franklin Point, August 1, 2015 - David Bushnell (Dad) and I hiked a loop along the San Mateo County coast that we had never hiked before.
We started at a small, two-car parking area just south of the CA1 Brewery at Gazos Creek, then walked down to the southern end of Gazos Creek Beach.
Weather was sunny and warm with a breeze from the northwest, but neither a cold nor strong breeze. It felt hot out of the wind.
We hiked south on the beach toward Franklin Point. We encountered a few other intrepid beach-goers, one larger party with chairs and umbrellas, and a few surfers enjoying the gentle waves.
I'm glad I had researched the tides ahead of time and knew that the tide would be going out during our hike. The beach had topography that suggested it might be completely inundated as far as the edge of the dunes at high tide. The sand was highest just short of the surf, but sloped down away from the shore. The sand "barked" as our feet plowed into it and showed evidence of having recently dried, suggesting that the most recent peak tide had reached far inland.
At the southern end of Gazos Creek Beach we climbed up the dune immediately behind Franklin Point, then walked out to the large bench that had been constructed near the point itself. Signs instructed visitors not to stray from the trail to minimize erosion and to protect other features.
After we enjoyed the view from Franklin Point that swept from Point Año Nuevo at the south to Pigeon Point, we continued along the Atkinson Bluff Trail. At first the trail tediously climbed and descended a couple of dunes in deep sand, climbing that is not reflected in the statistic above. Then the trail followed along the edge of the bluff, past various pools and inlets, including Smuggler's Cove, where we stopped to admire an unusually ornate sandstone feature.
Pressing on we came upon a veritable crowd of beach-goers enjoying a narrow patch of Whitehouse Creek Beach, including what appeared to be preparations for a wedding.
After climbing back onto the Bluff we continued on the trail toward Cascade Creek Beach. This southern end of the trail was less interesting, traveling most of its distance tediously across a flat coastal plain with a couple of zig-zags to avoid ravines, and one ravine crossing. The trail appeared to be making for two tall cypress trees that I've noticed many times while riding my bike south on CA1.
South of the cypress trees, the trail continued a short distance before depositing visitors on the beach into the now dry outflow of Cascade Creek. Unlike Gazos Creek Beach Cascade Creek Beach was almost level from the high tide surf line to the dunes. Yet fresh kelp deposited on the beach gave evidence that the highest tide did indeed reach almost to the base of the dunes. We hiked south along this empty beach on firm sand and saw only three surfers enjoying the waves at the southern end of the beach.
A large flat rock, Table Rock, marks the southern end of Cascade Creek Beach. We climbed up the low sandstone wall to the top of a ledge that took us around a point to a swampy inlet. David stopped there while I continued across the inlet to the other side, only to encounter the edge of the Natural Preserve area and a sign forbidding further progress south.
As we had already hiked 3.7 miles, the prospect of turning back was not too disappointing.
We returned the way we had come, opting to hike the tedious trail across the plain rather than along CA1. In hindsight we probably could have continued on the beach as the tide was low enough to allow dry passage.
When we arrived back at Whitehouse Creek Beach, the wedding preparations were further underway. Well-dressed guests had begun to arrive, and someone had placed temporary plastic steps on the tall steps down to the beach to lessen their height.
After climbing out on the north side of the beach we decided to return through the Costanoa Resort rather than hike the soft trail over the dunes again. We crossed CA1 then walked up a busy Rossi Road. Slow-moving cars and campers, some with long trailers were a nearly continuous stream on the narrow road. It was a busy weekend at the Resort.
We continued through the resort past the vegetable garden at the rear, then onto a remnant of the old coast highway for another half mile until the parked van and its upholstered seats came into view.
|Cumulative climbing:||60 feet|
Palo Alto Baylands, July 25, 2015 - David Bushnell (Dad) and I hiked a short loop at the Palo Alto Baylands. This was my first hike of the season, and my first season in many with new shoes that needed to be broken in.
We started at Byxbee Park and proceeded around the levee loop in the clockwise direction. We enjoyed a strong tailwind blowing from the northwest on the outer levee. On the paved path between Shoreline Park and East Frontage Road we encountered a fledgling seagull walking quickly down the middle of the path as if out for some exercise. We thought it might be ill as it did not appear to be visibly injured.
On our return trip we climbed to the top of the Byxbee Park Hills, a section of the park that has been reclaimed from the old Palo Alto Landfill that had recently opened with new trails. The view from the top of the hill was expansive since nothing else in the area gains such elevation.
After the hike I had one incipient blister on my right foot's small toe, and my legs felt shredded as I hadn't done any hiking in several months. My leg muscles took about a week to heal, but after they healed, I felt stronger. I was surprised that I felt no heel discomfort as my new shoes were mid-height with better ankle support than I had with my old shoes. I usually found mid-rise shoes to rub uncomfortably at my heel or ankle until I could break them in.
Fathers Day in Santa Cruz, June 21, 2015 - Kay, David, Laura, Michael, Bill, Kumba, and Jack met at Laura's place in Santa Cruz where Laura had prepared a bag of goodies for David (Dad). We (Laura, Bill, Kay, David, and Kumba) then walked the two miles from Laura's place along East Cliff Drive and through Capitola to Dharma's Restaurant, where we enjoyed an outdoor Fathers Day brunch. After lunch we walked back much the same way, stopping for a few photos and to watch the surfers on the mild swell.
Run to Dharma's, April 12, 2015 - I took a break from my loop bike ride to Santa Cruz and back, meeting Laura at her Santa Cruz house. She and Jack ran to Dharma's, while I rode alongside.
Jack acted crazy as I rode alongside. He howled, barked, and pulled hard on the leash (even with his prong collar), and even tried to grab me through the fairing. Laura thought maybe Jack believed I had been seized by the Big Yellow Beast, and he was trying to "rescue" me.
I took a few photos as Laura and Jack ran alongside.
Laura told me later, "Everyone was looking at us!" I'm so accustomed to being stared at while I ride my bikes, that I hardly notice it any longer.
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