Tom was right. It was an amazing day for a ride...so I took a few Crackberry pictures.
Did the usual start to my ride, past the ugly new fences, past the kids with the shovels, me yelling out "Don't get caught!!" as I sped by...
Back to the top of the hill, where I pondered the weather, knowing full well that if I ventured south of the creek, I was apt to get caught out in the rain. What the hell. Got that whole side to myself.
Snapped a series of Baja-posed pix. Down the hill to the creek.
This was once a truck trail. Back to sweet singletrack by virtue of time.
Across the creek, up the hill, and out to this spot. It's a dead end, but I like the seldom-visited view from the rocks.
Back down a trail I usually go up. Stopping here to pile up some rocks to protect the little dudleya plant in the foreground from gettingb crushed. I like 'em.
Back across the creek.In this direction, I don't mind stopping for a photo at the nearly idyllic crossing. Nice shade in summer. Totally covered in poison oak in spring. Great job by the bridge builders!
Hmmm...grinding back uphill, I can see carlights and mist to the west. Now it's drizzling. Now it's raining. Screw the Baja pose, drop the bike in the middle of the trail and dig out the rainjacket, although i'm already soaked.
The rest of the ride back, the rain was steady. Going down my favorite serpentine toward the lake, I was getting a mixture of rain and old sweat running out of my helmet, down my face, and off my mustache into my mouth...hmmm...salty. And nasty. Tucked my tail and back to the car, just like a wet smelly old dog.
Mmmm. Damn, it's almost gone. I will miss that bottle!