Making a Break for Freedom

September 28, 2014

Los Gatos to Watsonville

The jitters of last night were non-existent this morning. Just eager to get on the road. Good ol' BJ got up with me and drove me to the start point by the Lexington Reservoir in Los Gatos. Not a scenic start: a pullout next to noisy, busy Hwy 17 that runs between Santa Cruz and Silicon Valley, separated only by a concrete barrier. But it gets me to Old Santa Cruz Highway, the former coach road over the mountains that was replaced by 17. It’s now a lightly-traveled winding road perfect for cycling.

It's cool and we can see it's foggy up on the summit. Perfect. Off I go, filmed by BJ. The climbing starts immediately, but since the road was made for horses and oxen and not motor vehicles, it's a doable grade. Not much in the way of views but it was quiet on this Sunday morning. It's mostly second-growth redwoods and they smelled wonderful. Sometimes it was just the sounds of scolding jays, chirping sparrows and my chain making its way through the gears. Not many cars passed me, and hardly any bikes. My first touring cyclist of the trip passed me on his way down, having too much fun to stop.

At the top of Old Santa Cruz, it's a left turn onto Summit Road and some more steady climbing. Whereas parts of Old Santa Cruz had been freshly paved, Summit Road was freshly graveled. Despite the overcast I though it better to put on my sunglasses as eye protection from any flying objects launched by passing cars.

Lunch was at Summit Store, a pit stop for cyclists out for day rides as well as for a motorcycle club and a classic car group. I was particularly taken by the motorcycle club. The stereotypical motorcycle rider of course is a white middle-aged male, maybe with a trendy tattoo, perhaps a ponytail. But why shouldn’t a bunch of Silicon Valley immigrants from the Indian subcontinent put on leathers embossed in Hindi and ride on their Harleys through the mountains? It was great.

Still riding through redwood forest, the climb continued past Summit Store. Traffic died way down. The road followed Soquel Creek, flowing despite the drought. It was quiet enough to hear it bubbling.

Near the last of the climbing a family of three on mountain bikes caught up to me and chatted. They were thrilled to meet someone just starting out on a tour and wished me luck. Mom asked if I was going to ride back. I said I was smarter than that.

Two minutes later I started my well-deserved downhill. Still, couldn’t go as fast as I might because the road is more asphalt patches than asphalt. I was wondering why I didn’t see more cyclists and that answered that. But when Eureka Canyon Road’s pavement smoothed out it was a wonderful downhill completely deserved. I love leaning into the turns.

My only dog incident of the trip happened on this downhill. An attack chihuahua scared the heck out of me as I whizzed past it outside the gate of its home. Daresay I scared it more than me.

Rolled into Corralitos to take care of some business but first was accosted by Mark. I thought he was a biker-biker at first, but he’s really a cyclist-biker. He came over to talk to me about my trike. And all his trikes. And his velomobile. And all the cycle touring he’s done and tips about where to go and stay on my tour. He’s a big fan of ICE trikes, the brand I ride. He also fixes 'em up and sells them. Anyone in the market, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with him.

From Corralitos it’s a quick ride to Freedom, which is nestled in Watsonville. Once out of the redwood-infested canyons it was flat agricultural land. Mostly apples but also berries and grapes. Smelled wonderful.

I got to ride my trike to my motel room since it ain’t easy to push. I'm grateful for ADA rules that made for wider doorways so I can roll my trike into the room. It's blocking the bathroom but you can't have everything.
I was feeling good at the end of day, which I didn’t expect. Because the last 13 miles was so easy I was still full of vim and vigor. At least enough to walk across the street to get dinner then pass out back at the motel.

Me and the wife. Thanks, BJ, for everything, even getting up early.

Pedaling Off

The starting vista on Old Santa Cruz Highway is not spectacular. Separated at this point from busy Hwy 17, its replacement, only by a concrete barrier.

But the road soon gets beautiful: into the redwoods on Old Santa Cruz Highway.

So Quiet You Can Hear the Cranks

A fairy ring, which grow up around old redwood tree stumps.

At this point I'm feeling like this old truck is looking. First day over-pedaling.

Gifts of the road: the most delicious blackberry I ever had was there for the picking (not pictured -- already gone!).

Historical marker for former mountain town of Patchen.

Well now. Made it up to Summit Road. Which for me was not yet the summit of the day.

Lunch stop at the Summit Store. Someone is ready for the Meat Bonanza.

The west side of the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Still wildflowers out in the early fall.

Remains of logging from the 19th century. The base is 8-9 feet across. The holes are for springboards, which the sawyers stood on while using the saw. Hard manual labor. Young second growth trees grow around it making a fairy ring.

Nature always finds a way. Here is a redwood root creating and filling a pothole on Highland Way.

Imagine if you will the smell of apple juice filling the air. Just outside Corralitos, which has a lot of apple orchards.

This is Mark who is a trike enthusiast too. Gave me lots of good tips for the route ahead.

First night is best in a bed. Bathroom is blocked but oh well.

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Today's ride: 29 miles (47 km)
Total: 29 miles (47 km)

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