A taste of Alpine

Alpine Forest, that is.  It's a development up in the mountains that has a wonderful climb we do fairly often.  The round trip isn't long, about 14.5 miles, but it gains over 1,400 ft., some of it quite steep.  We were on the road about 6:30AM and climbing for gold.  We were done by 9AM and safe from the heat of the day.  The descent?  Sublime!

Summer clouds

Laying low, letting the heat of the day fade, Django and I wander out into the sun for his afternoon stroll.  He loves to cross the street and drop down to a small, dry watercourse.  I sit on a boulder in the shade of the oaks and watch a doe and two small fawns eye us with measured concern.  Django is more interested in visiting with his doggie buddies behind the fence.  The clouds boil and climb into a hot July afternoon.

Different days

Back in June at the pass:

Today at the same location:

Got out on a good 34 mile ride as a thunderstorm system was moving out--high humidity, light winds, clouds providing some cover.  I felt like I was back in the Northeast, riding across Maine and New Hampshire, except, of course, for all the dry grass and sagebrush.  Damn it's good to ride!  If I can't climb rocks, this is a very satisfactory replacement.  On my climb to the pass just a couple of days after my hunting trip for trash, I saw the first new beer can and cigarette box--Bud and Marlboro, the number one choices of American litter jerks.  With all the drinking and driving that goes on, it's a wonder we aren't dying and killing at a much higher rate on US roads and highways.  I think about that sometimes when I'm out riding, but I can't let it keep me down and off the bike.  I refuse to live that way.  Besides, perception is not reality, and, for the most part, smart, aware cyclists are safer than pedestrians in cities or car drivers generally.  Bright clothes, a mirror, and good road sense go a long way to making each outing reasonably safe.  Perfectly safe?  No.  You want perfectly safe?  Stay on the couch, wrapped in foam, and die an early death of cancer, heart disease, and diabetes.  Safety is so over-rated in this hyper-regulated world.  Yell "Safety!" and armies of twittering morons will rush to constrain your freedoms.  We shouldn't be stupid, but straining for a risk-free life is straining for death, if you ask me.  Death of the soul, of the spirit, of what it means to be alive.  Basically, I've got nothing against video games, but my adventures can't be all virtual.  My thing is REAL reality, true risk, true challenge, actual, tangible rewards.  As my good old dad used to say, "Moderation in all things, including moderation."

Another shot from the road:

The big hunt

One of my favorite cycling roads is Banducci, which has great climbs on both sides of a pass with awesome views (see "Hammer of Doom"), but every time I ride it, I keep seeing more and more trash, and I get so angry at the loser idiots who drive it.  Believe me, I don't think cyclists are cranking way up this pass just to toss a 40 ouncer into the sage!  So my frustration and disgust kept growing.  Why doesn't somebody clean this up, huh?  Somebody indeed.  On my last ride, I'd had enough.   I was going to be the phreakin' change I wanted to see, if ya get my drift.  Dirty Harry style, I went out a purchased a .44 Magnum grabber thingy and a bunch of big garbage bags and went hunting for the heinous spore of Redneckius maxiumus americanus.  Here's how the adventure played out.....

The hunting grounds:

 

The .44 armed and ready:

First bottle grab:

Rock 'n' roll on the shoulder:

Many, many cig butts--yikes!

 When the Beatles sang "Why don't we do it in the road?" I didn't think anyone took them seriously.  Ewwwwww.....

The mighty White Hunter bags the limit!

Tomorrow I get to ride that piece of road and revel in the trash-free splendor, at least for a little while.  We gotta look after our sacred places, and for road cyclists, that's the road.