End Pavement

The Daily Bulletin is reporting on a ceremony earlier today, recognizing the closing of five miles of gaps in the Santa Ana River Trail (SART): “New segments of Santa Ana River Trail finished”. Now the trail is complete between Waterman Avenue in San Bernardino and Norco city limits.

Work on the new portions of the trail began in late 2006, with construction getting under way in 2007. All the work was completed in December, but rains forced organizers to reschedule the grand opening to May.

Friday’s ceremony at Hidden Valley included a “ride-through” by members of the Riverside Bicycle Club and several equestrians from throughout the three participating counties.

It sounds pretty spiffy:

[The Hidden Valley Wildlife Area] portion of the trail required work on two parallel trails, one horse trail and an asphalt trail for cyclists, joggers and hikers. Both are about 10 feet wide, [Patricia Lock-Dawson, project strategist] said.

“It’s a beautiful section of trail, it’s really the jewel of the whole Santa Ana River Trail,” she said. “The experience is enhanced by the neighboring wetland complex and the views of the mountains. And it’s got no development.”

Thanks to the Press-Enterprise for passing along a warning from officials about a particular blooming plant showing up in burn areas:

The Poodle-dog bush, also known as Turricula parryi, can cause itching rashes and irritation. The San Bernardino County Fire Department issued an advisory this week warning people not to touch or smell it.

• Turricula parryi at Calflora.org
• Photos at CalPhotos
• Turricula parryi at USDA

Photo © Br. Alfred Brousseau, Saint Mary’s College.

Update: there’s a thread over on SoCalTrailRiders about exploring the Chiquita Ridge. One of the commenters mentions getting rashes from certain shrubs, and another links to this page. Someone posted a picture of the results of a run-in with one of the poodle dog bushes. Ouch!

While “creepy” isn’t an adjective you would normally want associated with a hike, this time it’s actually a good thing.

Creepy LA (the “Los Angeles Halloween Blog”) posted yesterday on “Haunted Hikes”, including info on after-dark trips in Griffith Park with the Sierra Club, seeing wolves near Forest Lawn, and more. Check it out if you’re looking for a little more heart-pounding action in your outdoor excursions this month.

Getting the crap scared out of you is a good aerobic activity, right? ;)

I’m finally getting around to posting photos from the February 3rd cycling excursion that ended up rather badly. You can read about that in the February 2007 archive. If you’d like to know more about the beautiful San Timoteo Canyon and its history, check out Images of America: San Timoteo Canyon Road from Arcadia Publishing. The canyon runs mostly between Redlands and Moreno Valley in Southern California.

Part of the flood control section of the river, with a multi-use trail on the side, looking east.

The trail next to the river, with the Sunset Drive hills to the left/north.

Buffalo Meadows Ranch’s cool sign.

At the intersection of San Timoteo and Redlands Boulevard, which actually goes to Moreno Valley.

Also at that intersection, with the arrows pointing to my starting point and current target.

Just in case you need a domesticated pack animal of the camel family found in the Andes, valued for its soft woolly fleece. Of course, every time I see a llama, a voice in my head yells, “¡Cuidado! ¡Las Llamas!”

Typical view in the rural parts of the canyon — it was a gorgeous afternoon, with very little traffic once I got past the Redlands Blvd turnoff.

Some scouts created a display on a wall they built (IIRC), including some historical tidbits about the area. The one above describes the “Old Salt Road” that ran through the canyon in the 1800s.

The historical, one-room San Timoteo Canyon Schoolhouse, at 31985 San Timoteo Canyon Road.

Not just a portrait of the cyclist as a young man — also a harbinger, thanks to lengthening shadows.

You’re cycling along, minding your own business in a rural landscape, when all of a sudden a featureless wall and radio tower appear out of nowhere. Spooky. Never did figure out what was going on here. A religious cult was my first guess. ;D

They were working on widening the road near its eastern end, probably due to all the development, so I went off-road for a spell and enjoyed several trains for company.

Waving to the engineers always solicits a return wave. Sometimes I think trainspotting would be a fun diversion.

Ah yes, the wild golfer in its natural environment. I don’t think golfcartspotting would be nearly as interesting.

The road ends finally at the 10 Freeway. I’ll be taking a left on the frontage road to head back to Redlands. Note longer cyclist shadow.

This little guy and the darkening sky behind provided a last moment of beauty.

Finally! A convenience store meal. Heavy on the carbs and fluids. It was sunset by this time.

The setting sun and its dramatic exit as I hurried towards home.

The next photo on my camera was almost exactly 4 hours later, sitting in the emergency room with my arm in a sling.

From the first hike after the accident, in our oft-hiked Hulda Crooks Park. Click for larger pix.

Denyse and Pharaoh take a break.

Catching a whiff of something on the wind.

You can just glimpse Denyse in the distance as Pharaoh hurtles back and forth between us. It’s amazing how fast he can run, and he always winds up running three miles for every mile we hike. :)

Where most of our hikes take place, the worst we have to worry about are rattlesnakes, mountain lions, and maybe black bears.

For Johan Otter and his daughter Jenna, traveling from California to hike in Glacier National Park in northernmost Montana, a beautiful trip took a tragic turn for a much bigger reason. Their story is being told in the LA Times in two parts, the first installment of which is in today’s paper — “A hike into horror and an act of courage”.

Johan and Jenna had been on the trail little more than an hour. They had just followed a series of switchbacks above Grinnell Lake and were on a narrow ledge cut into a cliff. It was an easy ascent, rocky and just slightly muddy from yesterday’s rain.

Johan took some pictures. Jenna pushed ahead. It was one of the most spectacular hikes they’d taken on this trip, a father-daughter getaway to celebrate her graduation from high school. There were some steps, a small outcropping, a blind turn, and there it was, the worst possibility: a surprised bear with two yearling cubs.

Today’s powerful article covers the attack and rescue, and tomorrow’s will be focused on recovery. I had tears in my eyes reading it earlier, as it was all-to-easy to put myself in the shoes of Johan trying to protect his daughter.

Even if the threats are relatively minor compared to a protective grizzly bear mother, it’s still a sobering experience to think of being out on the local trails, with no idea of what’s around the next bend.

Will something happen to you on any given day? Almost certainly not. But it’s the “almost” that provides motivation for preparing for the worst as best you can.

Update: Part Two was published today: “Pain, gratitude and a long fight back”.

His daughter was safe and he was recovering, but months later, he knew the bear still had him.

His halo was a cage, and all Johan Otter could do was stare out through the carbon graphite rods that pinned his head in place.