And That's The Way It Was...

The weekend's on the wane, but it's been fun...and draining. Welcome, Spring 2011! We watched you ride a storm front into the Bay Area, raising creek levels to new heights. And as much as we love you, Spring, we'd be good if you could relax the rain for just ONE day this week. But your influence is already apparent.

Yesterday's Diablo Trails Challenge was an epic - anyone who finished the 50K, Half Marathon, 10K or 5K should put the date on their resume should they be asked about their perseverence and dedication. I was the "5K Turnaround", a position for which I volunteered. Pushing through mud and stream crossings for a mile to reahc my station, I was shuttled the remaining three quarters of a mile by a park ranger who took pity. The creek crossings were great, though - the stream through Pine Canyon was a foot higher than last weekend thanks to monstrous overnight rain showers. I was dressed for the occasion, though, and didn't drop feet in the water even once (my technique requires front wheels up while in the water, and feeling my way over the rocky streambed).

Once at the turnaround, I watched as the Half runners, then the 10K, then the 5K folks cruised past. Rain of varying intensity was the order of the day, and being cocooned in rain gear I was in no distress. We sat and cheered the runners along both directions - they passed us on the way back, too. The trail was a thick, gooey muck by the time the 5K sweeper came by, so I packed up and pushed back, knowing the mud would be stuck like some bas relief acrylic to tires, frame, shoes and clothes. Each creek crossing was a gift, enabling a firmer grip on freshly cleaned tires. That brief bit of solace disappeared into "fail" mode once I hit the shore and I took on more mud, though.

As on the way out, though, the friendly ranger stopped to help me in as I wallowed at the mercy of the slippery, sticky trail. Half marathoners and 10K runners still flew past. The rain was a motivator, as the wind must also have been in the higher elevations. We heard from the higher aid stations that the temp had not climbed out of the 30's, and that some 50K runners were experiencing hypothermia. That category of athlete is built from some of the more rugged pieces of The Human Experience, though, and I'm sure all made it home safely.

Fast forward to this morning. I was tired after yesterday, so I slept in until 9 or so. Having been awakened at 3:30 AM by a torrent of wind and rain, I decided to head out to the Mines Road - Del Puerto Canyon loop to see what Nature had wrought overnight. Now, I know we had rain in Livermore...but what must have occurred in the Southern Diablos was incredible - the tiny creeks and drainages had turned to rivers; waterfalls where waterfalls had never been were falling from every notch in the hillsides; entire valleys had become flood plains. Canyon walls had fallen, leaving rocks of all sizes in the road, and testing my Corolla's ability to navigate the narrow passages around them.

The most fun was finding that the two places where the winter - gorged creeks normally crossed the road had become challenges. The water was still less than a foot deep, but velocity and volume were off the charts. Add to that a normally quiet culvert where the creek crosses beneath Mines Rd. had burbled over onto the road, leaving that section of pavement in tatters. A short distance past that last crossing was a large blue oak entangled with a half dozen manzanita bushes lying across the road, blocking the northbound lane. Mines is a quiet road, though, so it probably wouldn't have stopped any traffic. The locals are used to it, of course. The theme seemed to be "these mountains got one HELL of a lot of rain last night." The runoff was unbeleiveable. I drove all the way to the base of Mt. Hamilton before turning around to take on Del Puerto Canyon. Water was everywhere.

I knew the Canyon would be difficult. The walls are vertical most of the way, composed of flaky sedimentary rock and loose topsoil. As expected, rockslides were everywhere. The recent frozen mornings followed by warmer rain probably loosened up the canyon walls a lot. I drove with crossed fingers, half expecting to be ambushed by a 500 lb boulder dropping from one of the walls. Several of that size had found their way to the middle of the road.

Driving wasn't too hazardous if one stayed on the pavement. But one unfortunate 4WD - offroad pick up type abruptly violated the "Rule of Four Wheel Drive Infallibility". I drove past and watched a bulldozer pull the unfortunate large, dual cab, 4wd truck out of the flood - stage level creek at Frank Raines County Park. I guess a flooded creek crossing in a steep canyon seemed like a good idea at the time to someone who will probably still guess wrong going forward. Some people are like that....

The upshot is - this was a heck of a storm, but it didn't dampen the weekend. The ground is beyond saturation, a finding that's somewhat ironic for the First Day of Spring. We expect rain the entire week. And still good things came of the weekend. Bush Lupine blooming next to Bush Daisies were a beautiful accent to Del Puerto Canyon's unforgiving allure. Deer chomped on fresh greens everywhere. A lone jackrabbit just north of San Antonio Valley gave me two ears "up" for getting past the rockslides and flooded streams.

A weekend doesn't have to be sun and warmth to be fun and games. Welcome to Spring, 2011. No matter the weather, it's with us for three months so PLEASE make the most of it! See you out on a muddy trail soon!

Diablo Trails Challenge

For those of you who are athletic outdoors types, check out my good friends at Brazen Racing: http://brazenracing.com/diablo.html

This weekend's excitement is the Diablo Trails Challenge, a Brazen event and benefit for Save Mount Diablo, one of my favorite causes. If you fancy yourself a mud runner, this weekend will be right up your alley. There's an unbelievably difficult 50K, a half, and a 10K / 5K.

I'll be the 5K turnaround, a position I hold close to my heart as I watch Gina, Sabbath and hundreds of running friends pass by. The cruise to the turnaround location might be excruciatingly difficult by itself - I was there last Sunday, a week after any rain had fallen, and there was plenty of mud, as well as a half dozen creek crossings...and it's to rain all week before this run.

And I'm SO looking forward to it! So much support from all, as well as the thrill I get from seeing so many people, some of whom have never run a mile, as they grit teeth and bear down to finish what will be a grueling event no matter the chosen distance.

It'll be wet. It'll be muddy. And it'll be the most fun you can have without breaking any laws. Pine Canyon is gorgeous now, and Stage Road will offer challenges for the shorter distances. The Diablo Regional Trail will carry the 50K route, including the hellish 4.5 mile hill from Round Valley to Morgan Territory. It took me 4 days to roll this trail 2 years ago...these runners will be mere hours from end to end, no matter the conditions.

So think of me slogging through the mud to hang out with you on a wet, soggy trail Saturday, March 19th at Castle Rock Regional Park. Check out the link, sign up if you can and please say "hi" as you run past me or turnaround to head home for the 5K. Hang around to greet the 50K runners as they finish. Most of all, welcome to a real life, real time experience, one you won't get sitting around watching basketball in the morning.

Runners, to your marks - sign up, I'll see you there. My best to all participants. Maybe if I start tomorrow I can finish with the 50K folks....;-) See you there! 

The Kid In The Candy Store

The next two weeks are the 4wheelbob equivelent of a major holiday. We all celebrate The Season in different ways, though. For some, it's sitting on the couch and watching college basketball or pre - season baseball. Others will start getting the garden ready, planting, trimming; maybe you'll clean the house, or the garage....

Not me. After all, it's The Holidays.

Sunday marks the start of Daylight Savings Time, perhaps the most useful creation ever to spring from Congress. The following weekend, or shortly thereafter to be precise, Spring will, well, it'll spring. Wildflowers and animals will be everywhere. As the mountains warm, the snow will melt, filling reservoirs and clearing the way for some high altitude 4wheelbob cruises. And every night, thanks to that extra hour of daylight as well as the lengthening days, will be an opportunity to cruise my beloved trails.

I'm already getting a big time itch for those long, late days. The middle of June will come all too soon, and the longest day of the year will pass as if on a surly wind if we don't take up the call to arms. Get off the couch. Grab the dog, kids, husband or wife and go outside. Leave the car (and save the gas!) and take a walk.

Sunday...Daylight Savings Day...I'll be out as early as I can get up, and will be out somewhere until the darkness returns. So many trails, so little time. Maybe I'll finally do the Coyote Creek Trail from Morgan Hill to Sunnyvale or Milpitas and back. Maybe the Iron Horse Regional Trail, a long standing favorite. Maybe Mt. Diablo's North Peak, a summit I enjoy like few others.

The point is - it doesn't matter. I could tell you about the things you're likely to see but that would ruin your fun. Think renewal, freshness, wonder and amazement. Nature will be just getting warmed up. Watching the transition from winter's stark beauty to spring's restoration and celebration of life will have you in awe if you have a soul. It's free, too....why go anywhere else?

The first day of spring follows a week later, and will almost be anticlimactic. We'll have had a week of late daylight, and the wildflowers will bust out between now and May or June. Our green hills will call us out, to look closely at the tiny flowers that begin the color show at ground level. Mom Nature will put together color shows, the likes of which cannot be duplicated by fashion designers or any other pretentious human endeavors.

And again, I'll be on a trail, rain or shine. The Diblo Trail Challenge run will be March 19 at Castle Rock Regional Park, a perfect way to welcome spring whether it warms or it's gray and damp. You'll see me out there Saturday as well as Sunday while I sit and listen to the springtime jazz concert coming from the birds of the season. Find me, get in touch if you've never experienced this, and I'll take you there. Because everywhere will hold zillions of wonders, beckoning us to enjoy.

Tis the holiday season, after all. It's ours, all of ours to take in. I'm back in the gym getting ready for some really epic early season hikes and climbs. Some won't last as long as others, but the universal reaction will be that of the kid in the candy store - so many good things to take in, to see, to hear, to smell.....and just enough time to be filled with the experiences. Join me. Come out, come along. Get your Spring self on - this is a season unmatched over the coursing of the calendar! See you out there!

True Confessions

This is going to be short, as I am not proud when I make a commitment to do something that I NEED desperately to do, then get sidetracked and hogtied.

This was to be the Week of the Return to the Gym...an epic in 5 parts. I alluded to it in my last post. I felt great every night this week, ready to get back to the extreme workout regimen.

Except - it didn't happen. Instead, events conspired to get me home later than anticipated; illness in the home kept me watchful and available; and now I feel redemption is necessary. Redemption may come in the form of trying to put in several miles during my lunchtime, even on the ugly streets of Silicon Valley. It may mean 30 minutes in the gym at work, if the workload abates and I can find 30 minutes. It may come as a quick "see you Monday" at Noon tomorrow, after which time I'll head to the friendly homelike confines of Sunol Regional Wilderness. To get away for an afternoon, finish a couple of projects and spend enough time in the gym to convince my fragile ego that no, I'm STILL a viable entity. That would be a gas!

There is no crueler tantalization than a gaze out the window on an Almost Spring afternoon, and realizing there is no way in hell to enjoy it. But the call I hear, the one that yearns, in my best William Wallace shout, to cty "FREEEEEDOOOOOOM..." at the top of my lungs out in the parking lot, while high tailing it to a trail.....that's the voice I hear. The working world may simply be too structured for me as I age; my job could ultimately turn out to be that of the sage, watching life in its zillion forms provide the inspirations and motivations so many seek. So let me finish with this - rather than being found keeled over at my desk by an indifferent co - worker, how much more rewarding to meet Mother Nature in Her home, on Her terms, and at Her mercy. Food for thought. Have a perfect weekend, let's meet somewhere and listen to the bluebirds...

No Snow? So What? It's almost Spring!

I've got a serious, horrible case of cabin fever. In order to keep the illness from spreading, I left Saturday morning to see how the spring wildflowers were coming along. Although only a hardy few species had begun blooming, the greening of the East Bay Regional Parks is moving relentlessly over hill and dale (what the hell is a "dale"? Anyone?).....and the unshorn locks of native clump grasses are asserting themselves over everything. Here's the forecast, again - it's going to be an awesome year for wildflowers.

But my attention was quickly diverted as I crossed the bridge over Alameda Creek in Sunol Regional Wilderness - the ever present red shouldered hawks started it. Then, as if tuning up for a symphonic statement, bird after bird after bird chimed in - from hawks to woodpeckers, kinglets to flickers; something was in the cold air this weekend, and I wasn't going to miss out on it for a second.

After being invited to attend St. Mary's College's clinching of the WCC title (I had a seat just behind the west basket), I went home a happy camper Saturday night, feeling as if the game were an omen and pleased in the knowledge that tomorrow would be spectacular.

Sunday didn't let me down. It was cloudless and clear enough to pick out the snowy mountaintops 200 miles away along the Sierra Crest. After a breakfast at the old Byron Inn, we drove across the street and around the back side of the Byron Airport. Red Tail Hawks, Egrets, beautiful, nesting - colored Western Bluebirds, even a Sharp Shinned Hawk, rare in that we were in grassland, not forest where they are usually found. We drove home smiling at the bounty of beauty, and after a short while at home I decided to try out a brand new section of trail that would connect me all the way from the house to Sycamore Grove Park.

The trail was a creation of the City of Livermore, whom I thank for providing the means to enable me to leave the car parked while I wheeled the 4 and a half miles to the park. Along the way were songbirds, mockingbirds, birds of prey, wild turkeys with small turklets - very curious they were, so much so that mom & dad turkey had to herd them away from me as I approached them. A kite flew over, circling, circling until something caught its eye and it went into hover mode - the quick, silent flapping that lets it lie stealthily in the air over whatever it is about to kill. It hovered for several minutes, then flew off, circling higher, effortlessly catching the breeze and gaining altitude...

The new trail was nice. I felt good, but it had been a long time since I'd taken to our civic trails. The rolling of the trail over short, paved hills did nothing but give my winter - dormant psyche a lift. I coasted through Holdener Park, then down the hill toward Sycamore Grove, passing thousands of acres of our fabled Livermore Valley grapevines while maintaining a controllable speed. Small songbirds danced alongside puddles that lined the road. They seemed to be cheering me as I passed, and I reveled in the attention.

Sycamore Grove was beautiful, just weeks before Spring springs forth. I chatted for a minute with Ranger Amy, a member of the wonderful ranger / interpretive staff at The Grove. She offered some fresh highlights of the park, and I took note to get back soon. But I felt a little ragged, even after such a short cruise. I knew I had a lot of "up" to deal with on the trail home, so Ol' Paint and I saddled and "up" we went.

The long haul back up the trail wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Sometimes, a trail seems easier if you talk yourself into thinking it'll be much harder than it is. I cruised up toward Arroyo Road, keeping pace with my idle thoughts; soon I had climbed enough to cross the road and enter the trail to Holdener Park again....it was on this stretch that the trek became grueling...

No, it wasn't because I was fatigued, even though somewhat out of shape. The trail was delightful; the problem was much worse - the splendor of this marvelously sunny day had allowed a longstanding block in my brain to soften. That block had held in forebearance thoughts of a song I'd hoped never to hear again, one that causes me to cringe in fear when driving, forcing me to pull over and look for one of my live Grateful Dead CD's. Here it was, though, making an unwelcome return from the 70's:

That song was none other than "Knock Three Times" by Tony Orlando and Dawn. And I was humming it! The song matched my cadence perfectly. I tried slowing, then speeding up just to throw it off and send it back to Big Hair Purgatory. Nothing worked, until, as if sent by a divine, forgiving force, a Northern Harrier flew just a few feet over my head, looking for a crow to harass. It was so close to me that I could see its beautiful eyes searching for its next lunch. As the bird flew over a rise., I heard the squak of alarm from 3 crows, flying at this moment much faster than crows should fly, with harrier in pursuit. Had I been in Vegas, I'd have known where to put my money.

The song eked its way out of my head as the breeze cooled and with it, my arms. I sped up to try to keep warm as the sun was an hour from setting, by my awkward calculation. I flew up and down, up and down over rolling trail until I reached the Marina Road section. It was now flat, and I was 2.5 miles from home. That was good.

Cruising at a modest pace, modest because by now I had realized how low my endurance level had become during a sedentary week or two, I noted the same kite I'd passed on the way out was still hunting. Kites are a favorite, hunting constantly, appearing to drift and float with the wind once in a while so we'll know they're cool. I watched as she settled over a soon - to - be unfortunate gopher or mole...eventually, the inevitable dive happened, and she flew home with her take out meal. Watching a kite hunt is a celebration of efficiency.

By now, I'd reached Concannon Drive. I was cooling rapidly as well as tiring. Caught up to Mocho Creek, around the school, across South Livermore Ave. and on the home stretch. The last 300 yards were the fastest - although I had a jacket in my pack, I decided to get home as fast as I could to get out of the breeze. Dusk had arrived, the sun was down and I was pleased to be inside. Had I been camping, I'd have cuddled in my warm down bag inside a nice, tautly erected tent and settled off to sleep.

The lesson of the weekend was simple. I need to get in shape again. That starts tomorrow night, as I'll be off to the gym. Summer and mountains will be sending me postcards soon, and I want to be ready. So here's to a weekend of flowers, birds and all the beautiful living things, people included, whose paths crossed mine. My best to all, and I'll be out there to do it again just as soon as I can. Join me, OK? We'll meet again in a few days, just you and me.