Couser Canyon

The week started well. Monday morning's commute saw the dawn edge earlier to my departure, and I found it on the east side of the Buena Vista Lagoon.

Things moved along through the early morning quiet in Carlsbad Village to the coast, and a brief stop at the beach gave me a chance to capture my trusty XO-2 with another scenic background.

In those early morning hours, with auto traffic light but with the frequent company of others running and walking in the calm of the early day, despite the chill, I reaped the reward of my early rise and departure. Further on down the coast route, just past Palomar Airport Road, there's one of my favorite places to survey the coastline, and this is how it looked that last morning of February:

There's this guy who drives a perfect condition, mid-70s Datsun B-210 on the coast route, and he parks it in places tempting for me to photograph. Unfortunately, he's always sitting in the car, so I haven't snapped a pic yet. Next time I see him, however, I'm banging on his window and getting permission. That car takes me way back.

In the meantime, here's a car that parks at the Encinitas Coaster Station nearly every dang day...and in a way that seems to make some sort of statement:

However, at the end of the week, I thought I'd try something different. However, what I did was different, but unintended: I lost my keys. Along with them, I lost my sense of confidence in venturing away from home, and my plans for a weekend ride in the country went astray. Fortunately, my commute, due to its length, forces one to stay in touch with their inner adventurer, and after a week of successfully commuting without losing any additional keys, and a Saturday spent watching a locksmith restore my access to my mailbox (at a princely sum!), I was truly ready for something different.

That something different was to go on a bike ride that didn't involve a train station or a place of employment, nor a bike that had a rack and mudguards. So, on a foggy Sunday, I set out to rediscover some favorite roads. Riding east, away from the coast, one finds that the terrain is quite different.

This descent comes at the end of Gopher Canyon Road, which is a fun ride except that the road has access to the I-15 freeway and many motorists use the road as a warm-up to driving at highway speed. Early Sunday morning is not so bad, however, but this signed descent sharply drops to not only where the road ends in a T at the bottom of the hill, but also where it crosses under I-15. Once one negotiates past the motorists itching to turn left in front of you, and makes the stop at the bottom of the hill, the ride really mellows out. Continuing east, one climbs Circle R Road, one of my favorite climbs, ascending or descending.

A canopy of live oaks is a fine sight, but mostly it's citrus and avocado groves here. Despite the agricultural nature of the groves, it is a relief from the palms and eucalyptus of the coast. Circle R summits, and meets West Lilac Road (which, this time of year, one finds appropriately named), passes Munster Platz (I had no idea they lived here!), then tees with Lilac Road. A minimal climb summits, and the real fun begins.

This descent is broken into three parts, and the first part on Lilac Road sets the tone. A steep drop into a series of left-right switchbacks on irregular pavement with no guardrails gets the party started, sending one down and finally bottoming out at the oak hollow at Keys Creek. Out of the hollow, the road rolls over a rise, then a dip, and then intersects with Couser Canyon Road. Immediately, the road shoots up with a steady and steep pace. It's only about a mile, but the summit has the circumstance that would allow a KOM banner, and the crossing leads to drinking, sunglasses mounted, and arm warmers (if in season) pulled up.

This second part is much like the first, fast right-left turns through citrus and avocado groves, then it empties out into an oak hollow. This hollow has a horse ranch on the right hand side, which is indicated by a life-size statue of a horse in the oaks. This statue does nothing but make the passing rider think that there is a loose horse next to the road, and since horses are startled by cyclists into either stepping into their path, or depositing a slippery, smelly, semi-solid substance onto the road, it's a little alarming to approach at 40mph. Still, once past that, the road is slightly downhill, and one can hammer a big gear through the hollow until a right-hand bend rises up to a left-hand corner which leads to the final third of the descent.

From there, its another winding, guardrail-less descent down to the San Luis Rey River valley. It's a great descent, allowing one to truly ride their bike, but one has to be aware of the avocados that dot the road--guacamole is slippery! The descent ends in an idyllic, pastoral landscape, and the last half mile to hwy 76 allows one to relax, stretch, and prepare for a change in scenery and tempo. I'll leave the description of the next portion to another time, but I did snap this pic...

I always thought that Thornton Wilder was writing about this Bridge of San Luis Rey. Sadly, he wasn't, but I still think there's a little literature in my weekend rides...

Fighting Complacency

Before the rain started last Friday, and despite the raging tailwind, I was starting to think about how routine my commute was becoming. The excitement of returning to this kind of riding/commuting was wearing off, and since I count the number of times I've ridden this route in the thousands, it's more than a little understandable. However, having sheets of rain descend on you as you try to negotiate your path in an increasingly saturated state, then having one of your tires start to have air pressure issues (in this case, the front tire), tends to upset the routine a little.

Once I was able to recover from last Friday's adventure and retrieve my trusty XO-2 from Carlsbad, I could get down to the preparations for the following week. I returned the Heron to my locker at the Melrose Sprinter station, walked home (it was a beautiful, post-rainstorm day, and you could see the snow on Mt San Gregorino and Mt San Jacinto from the station), and set out to make the XO-2 roadworthy again. A good cleaning, then chain lubing got the process started, but I needed to solve that air pressure issue. It was easy to spot the thorn that had caused the puncture--yes, the dreaded Tribulus terrestris--but a more careful inspection found two more thorns embedded in the tire, waiting to cause me more misfortune. I patched two tubes, but one of the issues with not riding for a while is not replenishing your patch cement supply. The cement I used seemed almost half-way to dry, so my confidence in the repair was low. I put one repaired tube in, inflated it, but an hour later, I wasn't happy with the firmness, so I installed the other repaired tube. It seemed to hold, so I went to bed Monday night, after a three day weekend...and dreamed about deflating tires.

Sure enough, upon waking Tuesday at the god-awful hour I do, I went to the garage to find a deflated front tire. I suppose it says a lot about me that at 4:30am I put a new tube in the tire since I was bent on riding to work. Still, I had no confidence in a brand new tube, but I took off anyway in the pre-dawn dark, convinced that every feeling I had was that of a punctured tire. However, a pinch of the tire at every red light suggested otherwise, and soon I was in the brightening dawn on the coast route.

I thought that maybe Donald Trump was building a sandcastle, but it's another sewer project that'll soon better direct our sewage. That's the "warm water jetty", where the cooling water from the Encinas Power Station used to come out, and it was a great place to body surf because the ocean was like bath water. The only problem was when a set wave would come in at ocean temperature--it would shock the system.

This is where the coast route is really obviously on the coast, and the sounds as one rides by in the otherwise quiet dawn are quite refreshing. Surf crashing and sea birds singing are almost a lullaby. By this time, I was more confident in my tubes and tires, and I focused on pushing south. I focused on appreciation rather than complacency and rolled to Swami's, which is a good place to change lenses on the glasses and to take a picture.

Lenses changed, passing Coaster waved to, and commute resumed, I pedaled into that week beginning Tuesday. And I found 65 cents on the way.

Again, the forecast said rain on Friday. I plowed through my freeway commutes during the week, hoping the Friday forecast would recede, and just like the previous Friday, the forecast pushed the rain back. However, this time, while I was at SIO Friday afternoon, I took a pic from the dive locker which, since I could see Dana Point, let me realize that the rain was pretty far off.

So, like the idiot I am, I took off towards home. My start wasn't early, but the wind was an almost perfect out of the southwest. This is the interesting sky time of year here in North San Diego County, and I kept stopping to snap an interesting pic of the sky. The best I could do was at the San Elijo lagoon.

It took a while to snap that pic, since there was a lot of car traffic at the time. Once I did, I noticed the southbound Coaster going by, and I was calculating. I really didn't want to ride all the way home, but that's not a good place to see the southbound Coaster if you want to catch the northbound at Encinitas. I had a tailwind, and I took off, but to no avail. I was cycling all the way home.

Like a lot of the shit that goes down after an injury, occasionally one is confronted with an obstacle to be overcome. Earlier in the day on Friday, I met with the surgeon who fixed my hand a year ago, and there are lingering issues, but the fact that I can ride a bike the way I can are a testament to his (and my) success. So, pushing on into the night was a total, "what the fuck--I'm happy to be able to do this" sort of thing.

I made it home, and I wasn't overly traumatized by it all, so I can't wait for next week!

Change in Weather/Bikes

I'm just about recovered from riding all the way to work on Monday morning, so that must mean it's almost Friday.

That was written before I passed out last night. Sweet dreams ensued, but morning still brought the realization of the previous night's weather forecast. Rain, starting late, with strong winds out of the south. "Strong winds out of the south" is a very good forecast to me for riding home, but "rain, starting late" could mean anything. I rode the short ride to my Sprinter station, prepared for multiple combinations of return trip variants (all the way home was the preferred variant), looking to the eastern sky whenever I could. I thought of the old Fixx song, "Red Skies", but these were the sailor's warning--red skies in the morning. Are they also a cyclist's warning?

Previously, on Monday--the first of the bookend days--I again rode all the way from home to work. I left a couple of minutes earlier, felt a little better, and had better riding conditions...and still managed to ride slower. It could be because I switched bikes. Instead of the 700c wheeled Heron, I rode the 26" wheeled XO-2.

It's a 1993 Bridgestone XO-2, and, as you can see, it's been highly personalized over the years. That is a cellulose-based composite storage unit mounted on the rear. Lightweight, versatile, and sustainable. This bike has been through a lot, and been ridden to and from a lot of places, but its main use has been to transport me from home to work and back (or at least some portion of that trek). Over the years, it's done a more than adequate job.

It's also my best bike for when the weather turns nasty, and that it did this week. Yep, the spotless, kick-ass, winter weather we'd had since the new year turned, and I had to start thinking about alternatives to cycling. A storm blew in Wednesday, and rained strictly during the commute hours. I was out and about at Scripps Institute of Oceanography and snapped the incoming afternoon storm.

A typical San Diego day looks like this:

I took pride in my maturity because I didn't ride that day, and since it rained during both my morning and evening commute, my pride was reinforced. The storm blew out that evening, and a usual commute ensued on Thursday, and then weather.com was watched constantly. A storm was due to blow in Friday evening, but when? It forecast for noon in the early morning, but as the morning wore on, it was pushed back, back, back, until it was not forecast to rain until 7pm. I started on my campus rounds at 1pm, knowing I could leave when I finished, and the wind was howling out of the south. I was licking my chops! School of Medicine, School of Engineering, then S.I.O., the wind kept up, but odd sprinkles emerged, off and on. I got back to the store, wrapped things up, and at 2:40, headed north.

Things went great. A 15-20mph tailwind wisked me across campus, across the Torrey Pines Mesa, down the Torrey Pines grade, past Torrey Pines beach, to the climb into Del Mar. No problems, a couple of sprinkles in town, but still that tailwind was driving me on. It continued through Solana Beach, and into Encinitas. I was delighted that there were no surfers parked at Cardiff Reef, and thus, no opening doors and no surfboards being moved around in the bike lane like a bad Laurel and Hardy routine. However, there were also no bikini sightings (sigh).

In Encinitas proper, things started to change. The rain became steadier, but I pressed on, thinking that it was maybe a fluke. I plowed on into Leucadia, and past Leucadia Blvd, the coast route floods. While negotiating the pools of standing water in the bike lane, I noticed three 1960's era Volkswagen microbuses passing me. Whose idea was that? One was totally early 60's with the Quarter-sized taillights that were barely visible 50 yards away. At least they were dry inside; I was getting drenched. I passed La Costa Blvd and into Carlsbad, then rode around the construction at the Bataquitos Lagoon, and I made it into the new neighborhoods by the state beach. Still, the rain that wasn't supposed to start until 7pm was pouring on me before 4pm.

I took a break under the Palomar Airport Rd overpass to make sure my phone was okay, then pushed on into Carlsbad proper. Right when I got to Tamarack, I thought: if I'm going to have a puncture, this would be the best place.

I had a puncture.

I limped into the Carlsbad Village Station, because they have bicycle lockers that I can use. I pulled all my stuff out of the cellulose-based composite storage unit, and stuffed my bike in the locker. I walked into the station where I could shelter and change into dry clothes. There is, how shall I say, an on-going gentleman's club that meets there, and the gentlemen have varying control over their faculties. I was offered dry clothes, but I carried a dry wool sweater and that, along with wringing out my wool socks, gave me more than enough sartorial warmth to carry on.

The Coaster would take me to Oceanside, but I'd have to wait a while for the next Sprinter. However, a very late 101 bus showed up, and I got on. In soaking wet cycling gear, holding a helmet with a light attached, I fit right in on that bus! I realized that this bus also wouldn't catch the Sprinter in Oceanside, but then I realized I could get off at Oceanside Blvd and catch the Sprinter there! I watched the bus driver come back during a long traffic light and make sure that a certain veteran was aware of where he was at. His care for this passenger really made me feel good on a stormy, dangerous day. I got off at Oceanside Blvd, and waved at the driver as he went by, then crossed to the Sprinter station. As it worked out, I only waited about a minute for the train.

As usual, the Sprinter sped me across north county with only minimal singing by my fellow passengers. I got to my stop, and pulled the Heron out from the locker where I'd left it on that red sky morning, and rode it home. Getting home after a commute like that feels mighty good, and the beers one has at home taste unbelievably good!

Cutting Through

Accepting the grinding nature of bicycle commuting is yet another stage of my return to it. Friday afternoon gave me a good dose of the grind. The first rides after a protracted absence always seem wonderful, and all the indignities of sharing the road are easily forgotten. However, reality is that cycling is not a perfect commuting solution, but rather it has advantages over others. Being able to overcome those situations where it is not advantageous is the key to success.

The weather was typical San Diego-fine Friday, but checking weather.com told me that I would be facing about a 10mph headwind on the ride up the coast. I've had worse, but I was younger too. I searched for the mental image to guide me (I also searched for the right music to listen to beforehand. Oddly, I chose the Monkees. Say what you will, but "I'm a Believer" will get you over a hill or two. Oh, I listen to the music before I leave. I don't listen when I ride. It interferes with my singing), and it was that one from wood shop class in junior high. The shop teacher always says the same thing when you are sawing a piece of wood--let the saw do the work. That is, as you move the saw back and forth, you don't also need to press down on it. So, as I grind along into the headwind, I think, "let the bike do the work".

I didn't really burst into the ride, and auto traffic was pretty backed up on the coast. It's a little like riding in a tunnel when it's like that, with the added danger that the left-hand wall can suddenly turn into your path! I negotiated my way with only a few minor scares, and once I was through Encinitas I started to feel okay.

In fact, the rest of the ride was quite good, though quite dark, and visions of the two Stone Lukcy Bastartds in my 'fridge were driving me on. Now, a new week dawns, full of indignities and irritations that I'll try my best to see as challenges. If I can collect enough Lukcy Bastartds during the week, it might just end with another happy Friday!

All the Way, Baby!

The stars aligned, I got early release, I'd listened to enough Richmond Fontaine, and it was just plain about time.

I left work Friday afternoon and rode my bicycle all the way home.

Yes, instead of careening down the I-5 shoulder to the train station, I braved crossing Revelle, Muir, and Marshall (Third) colleges, then exited the University and braved old highway 101.



Ah, the open road...such as it is. However, a closer inspection revealed this:




Yes, that's right, I was entering Encinitas' photo enforced tsunami danger zone. While I could have stayed there for hours contemplating government bureaucracy gone haywire, I was racing the sun and I was getting hungry and thirsty, so I braved the danger of a tsunami-based citation and pressed on north.

I haven't done this whole ride since, well...one of the reasons I keep this blog is to remind me of when stuff happens...so, sometime in late 2009. Since then I've discovered that:

1. The guys on my former cycling team, Swami's, are a lot faster.

2. Encinitas is now more dangerous than Del Mar.

3. I really no longer give a fuck about how fast I ride.

Nope, not anymore. Too many dreams about cycling when I couldn't have altered my perception of it. As much as I like the atmosphere, companionship, and scenery of the afternoon Coaster train, there's nothing like being able to stop on a whim and take in all that's around you. Especially when it's familiar pleasantries that you've been without for a while.



However, the sun sets on everyone, and it set on me in South Carlsbad. From here, the ride got serious. Carlsbad Village may be a joy during bikini season, but it is otherwise a nightmare of jaywalkers...then there's the State Street/Hwy 101 merge to negotiate. Oceanside is skirted through pretty quick, until the harrowing Crouch St. descent to Oceanside Blvd. If you pick the right line on the potholed descent, you can hit 50mph, but there's always a line of cars wanting to both turn left and right in front of you at the bottom of the hill. At night, it's just that question rattling through my skull, "does *anyone* see me??"

Once on Oceanside Blvd, I felt okay, and as one goes east, the calm increases. When I got to Melrose Station before the 6:22, my competitive side was assuaged a little. From there it was all downhill to the Stater Brothers, where they had food and just enough beer to get me through the evening.

Yeah, I admit, I jumped up and down a few times when I got to my garage and I'd realized that, yes, I did it. I could then eat and drink like I deserved it, and sleep a sound sleep. Today, there were hours spent in the garage with the bikes, and more will be spent tomorrow, because, since I rode home Friday, I have to ride back Monday.

See this space for details...

Freeway Conditions

When my mind drifts, as it often does, it drifts to cycling. Specifically, to being far and afield, and going up a monster climb. Unfortunately, the reality of my current fitness precludes me from realizing my mind's drift. Still, North San Diego County's a pretty hilly place, as is evidenced by the Queen Stage of the 2009 Tour of California, and hills are a way of life for the local cyclist.

So, I do get to go up a climb on my truncated commute, but it's this one:



Yep, the I-5 shoulder. The collection place of the debris spewed from a zillion cars which is given to us cyclists to get from here to there. It is very satisfying, on the verge of smugness, to climb past all the stuck-in-traffic vehicles, particularly if one of them is the shuttle bus I would be riding on if I weren't cycling. However, the climb is relentless, and there's a merge to deal with at the top of the Genesee off-ramp. Then, the route to and across campus still keeps going up and up. If I ride the 30 miles from home, there's about 1000 feet of climbing, but this 3.5 mile ride has 500 feet of it!

Also, you may note that this picture shows the ride to be in shade, and since the climb starts right from the train station with no warm-up, and since being a Southern Californian means I have no tolerance to cold, this is a real challenge (but not really an existential one, thank goodness. If it was, I'd miss a lot of work). Despite the near-Arctic conditions, however, I've been able to endure and even thrive on this. It bodes well for future endeavors, but I still gotta figure out how to take a picture on the downhill side of the day to show you what that looks like. I can assure you that zipping away from work at 40mph in the sunny late afternoon looks a lot better than the above!

Resuming

A six-month break from cycle commuting has ended. A multitude of reasons exist for the break, but let me sum by saying I was not ready to resume cycling as a daily grind, while at the same time the break inspired me to do what it took to resume that "grind".

Prior to resuming my minimal cycle commute, I took the opportunity to walk to my train station from work. The highlight of this walk is a very steep descent from the Pfizer complex to the station itself. In this pic you can kinda get a sense of the steepness (that's a mountain biker walking down in front of me) of the trail and also a birds-eye view of the Sorrento Valley Coaster Station.

However, cycling to the station is much more time efficient, even when including the time to change into silly bike clothes. The route profile reveals the reason for this efficiency.

Of course, the opposite profile greets the morning ride, but isn't that how it should be? A struggle to arrive at work, but a gravity-fueled release when the work day is over?

And when it is, the bike has to be secured for the evening, and I secure it in locker #17 on most evenings (I have a thing for prime numbers). During my hiatus, I got a new electronic locker card since my four-year old one was worn out, and I have more confidence leaving my bikes in these lockers--and being able to retrieve them! These are BIKELINK lockers, which operate differently in the Bay Area than in San Diego, but are superior to the eLockers that they replaced.

As for my bike, well, after years of racing and trying to ride fast, I've left that behind me. Now, I try to ride a bike that inspires youngsters to call me "sir" and wannabes to cross their AT to catch the old guy on the bike with fenders...not that I think about competitive things like that anymore...

Commuter Prologue

I went for my first bike ride since my accident yesterday, and I realized right away that riding a bicycle is still a lot of fun!

Before setting out on the day's modest adventure, I felt I had to at least be able to perform a particular piece of bicycle maintenance--changing a tube--and after successfully performing that task, I felt comfortable enough to take on my first challenge--a ride to my train station. I live a little more than a mile from it, so that ride seemed an ideal way to start my return. If I punctured, well, it's not too much of a walk...

I've done this ride a zillion times, but usually with the imperative of having to catch a train looming over me, which gives the ride the feel of the individual time trial. Also, I usually do it early in the morning, which means the synapses aren't firing at full strength yet. Yesterday, however, I left home midday, fully aware, on a warm, sunny spring day, and in that atmosphere my return to cycling was nothing but enjoyable.

My destination was the Melrose Drive Station which is one of the NCTD's Sprinter train stops. I didn't pay exacting attention to my departure time from home, but I must have developed a certain timeliness because I made it to the station in time to comfortably catch a westbound Sprinter had I wanted to.



Here is ol' 4008 posing for a picture. Sprinter trains are inviting, unpretentious, and have a friendly feel (even if some of the passengers don't). The entrances are like an elevator's, so bikes, baby carriages, and wheelchairs roll right in with no fuss. Also, Sprinters have no competing traffic on the line, so their on-time performance is quite good.




See ya later, 4008!





While bikes are welcome on the Sprinter, I prefer to leave mine at the station in a bike locker. I have access to lockers at both ends of my commute, and they are of two different types. At Melrose, the NCTD has keyed lockers which are not shared. Locker #3 is mine because I was the third person to ask for one. I also think I am the last to ask for one at this station, since I haven't seen #4 used yet (actually, I've only seen another one--#2--used once).



Here's my bike in storage position. The lockers open on either end, and a diagonally placed sheet of wood separates the lockers. I suppose you could sleep in one, but hopefully it doesn't come to that. I like that this saves me having to bring a lock and remove a wheel to lock up securely. Also, sometimes my commute results in having to leave a bike in a locker for a couple of days which is safer than leaving a bike locked up outside. Drier, too.

Satisfied that I could ride to the station and secure my bike, I started my return home, but it was such a great day, I thought why not go for a little ride? I took a broader loop home, testing the performance of my left hand by making left turns in traffic. Since I don't set my bikes up like the Italians (as demonstrated here by Mario Cipollini), my left hand operates the front brake, and it feels little bit mushy. The tendons I severed are essentially repaired, but I also severed the Ulnar nerve, and that heals much more slowly. Hence, like early morning brain synapses, not all the hand muscles are getting the signals from my brain. This makes the ones that do get the signal have to do all the work and it fatigues them rapidly. While my legs feel great, my riding isn't limited by them but rather on my left handed squeezing stamina.

Still, it was fantastic to see the world from the saddle again and feel that unique feeling of freedom that cycling provides. I'm even looking forward to Monday morning when I'll resume my early morning diminished-capacity time trial to catch a train (don't worry, Mom; I'll leave a couple of minutes earlier).

It Starts With a Hand

This is intended to be a blog with a broad view of a narrow focus--bicycle commuting on the North San Diego County coast, but it all starts with a hand...



I've considered inflicting my thoughts about this on the web for some time, and now misfortune has given me the opportunity. The day before the Super Bowl, I had a (non-cycling) accident, of which I'll spare all of us the details, but the result was a severe laceration of my left wrist. Now, after surgery, numerous doctor visits, and about 25 occupational therapy sessions I am just about ready to get back on my bike and return to commuting on it.

However, until then, a bit about me and my commute. I've been a cycle commuter since 1985. Some periods more intensely than others, but about half the time since then I've lived without a car, so the idea of driving to work seems a little odd to me now. Until 2000, I rode to work every day, but then I moved up here to extreme North County, and so I started using the Coaster train to help cover the distance. Currently, my one way commute is 30 miles by bicycle, and at my best I make six of the ten one-way commutes by bike each week. The other commutes are a complex combination of bicycles, bike lockers, and trains.

However, at this moment, I drive to my Coaster station, ride the train, then take a shuttle bus--one I often passed on my bike--to my final destination. From the train, I see my commute and all the other cyclists, so my determination to return to the status of rider is constantly fueled. When I return, I'll have to start small, but the final goal is the 60-mile round trip...a couple of times a week.

The route I take is roughly an inverted L-shape, and base of the L is the hilly one-third from the home to the coast. The other two-thirds is along the coast on old highway 101, which I think of as "the show". The terrain is undemanding, but the road is busy with cars, pedestrians, tourists, girls in bikinis, surfers and their surfboards, and 50-something cyclists trying to live up to the pedigree of the bicycles that they're riding--all of which are a challenge to the cyclist who strives for efficiency.

However, on my commute I've seen a lot of great sights, met a lot of great people, had some great conversations (with others or just with myself), and gotten a really good feel for the area where I live and work. I can't wait to get back to riding it, and I look forward to sharing my observations and memories with you. Until then, I'll be stretching tendons, training nerves, and practicing puncture repair in preparation. Happy Trails!