Hollenbeck Canyon - 2009-03-08

I sat at Skydive San Diego, waiting for Brian and Wendy. I had expected them around 12:15, so at 11:45, I got out of my jumpsuit and waited. An hour and a half later, they finally arrived. I was slightly miffed that I could have done two more jumps in the time I waited, but that was milk already spilled, so off we went to ride at Hollenbeck Canyon.

The drive from Skydive San Diego was only about 10 minutes through lushly green rolling hills. Once we got to the parking area, we went about getting dressed and prepped.

We started down the access road, and quickly we entered the canyon. After several creek crossings, repleat with black goo that splattered all over our legs and bikes, we started to climb. The climb was not too strenuous and offered intermissions from the exertion as the road turned to singletrack that followed the side of a hill. Below us, was a creek, at times noticable and at times hidden from our view. At several locations the singletrack was retained to the side of the hill by stone walls. It was easy to see how someone might get hurt if they went over the edge as the fall at points would be 20+ feet, with a rock bed waiting to exact a penalty for inattention or lack of control.

We followed the singletrack as it continued to climbed and eventually widened out into a still beautiful, but less exciting widetrack. All around us, the hills were green with splashes of early blooming California Poppies and other wildflowers. Orange, purple, and red flowers greeted us as we rounded each corner or summited each hillock.

The trail vascilated between widetrack and singletrack, almost as if it wasn't certain who it wanted to be enjoying it. But finally, it ended at a major dirt road. The GPS said that we were now in the Cleveland National Forest, but there were no markings on the road to let us know where we were or where to go. We decided to continue to climb, hoping that soon we'd find a singletrack leading off to some hidden bucolic treasure.

After about 10 minutes, with the wind blowing cold even under the bright mid-afternoon sunlight, and without encountering any singletrack, I decided to turn around. Wendy and Brian decided that they would continue climbing.

The ride back to the car was quick and fun.

Little Creek

I met up with Russel, Steve and John, members of the Color Country NMBP, at Over the Edge Sports in Hurricane. We were soon moving down the road to Little Creek. After approximately 15 miles on a paved road, we turned onto a dirt road which lead us gradually upward onto the Little Creek mesa.

This was my first introduction to slickrock and I must say I enjoyed it. We were riding for about four hours over expansive oceans of super grippy rock and sweet singletrack patches of gritty soil weaving through small trees that unlike similar sized trees in San Diego don't bend. In fact, I managed at one point to run into what i thought was a 30cm high shrub that stopped me dead in my tracks. Fortunately, I was able to unclip fast enough to save my body from a hard landing.

Steve, originally from Ramona and then Julian, lead the pack for most of the ride. He was clearly a good rider with a lot of skill and practice in this terrain.

John was usually second and was most often in the gaze of my helmet cam. I shot video of the whole ride and have started to edit it. I'm going to make another music video out of it.

And generally bringing up the rear (and thankfully sweeping me back onto the trail the few times I lost it in the scrabble of rocks.

We rode out to the "North Point", snaking our way along the rim of the mesa, with incredible views, although it was generally recommended to keep eyes focused on the trail and not look out over the cliff. One medium sized error would be all it would have taken at some points to have found flight.

We stopped at a few spots along the rim to gnosh and talk. The conversation was pleasant and it was clear that this group of guys was not of the political and social pursuasion one is told to expect in Southern Utah.

From one of the places we stopped, it was possible to see Gooseberry Mesa in the distance. I'm told that Gooseberry Mesa is much more technical than the ride at Little Creek.

There wasn't a whole lot that was too technical, but it was still necessary to be on for the whole time. We rode waves of stone that had gaps and drops and steps. There were creek beds, and waterfalls and a whole host of great riding.

When the ride was finished, Russel passed around beers and gatoraide. I must say, a cold beer after a ride was very pleasant. I was slow packing up, but I didn't want to hold up the other guys who still needed to drive to Ceder City. So I bid them fair well, and continued packing and changing.

The drive back to the paved road seemed too take much longer than the drive in, maybe because I was able to focus on the scenery rather than the bumpy road.

I took several pictures that I want to stich together into a panarama, but I uninstalled the application a few weeks ago and I forgot to bring the disc with me.

Sitting in the middle of Hurricane

By the time I got up and got myself going, and then going here and there to buy the few little things that I wanted for the trip, I finally made it out the door and onto the freeway at 10:47am. I set the cruise control at 90km/h and settled into the right hand lane for the long haul to Hurricane, UT.

The trip would have been much better to do in the dead of night because at least that way I wouldn't be able to see that there was nothing to see.

Vast expanses of monotonous desert landscape stretched around me without even the suggestion of hidden treasures. The only interesting thing that I noticed were the areas on the freeway tarmac that had multiple skid marks going in every-which direction. There seemed to be too many skid marks to suggest that it had been a multi-car pileup, but on the other hand, the regularity with which patches of cement were dotted with black skid marks made me wonder.

I'm sold on the benefit of driving at 55 mph now more than ever. I left Encinitas with a half tank of gas. When I filled up again, I had gone 80 extra miles on a tank of gas from what I would have used had I been driving at 65. The first full tank of gas had gotten me to 225 miles on a half-tank. When I drove at 65 I would only have gotten to 150 miles on a half tank. It's also a lot less stressful than driving faster because I'm out of that "I'm trying to be first" mentality.

Anyway, I woke up this morning looking forward to riding and enjoying conversation with the Russel from the Color Country NMBP. Then, I rushed though a shower so I could grab something from the free breakfast before it ended. When I opened the door I was greeted with a San Diego winter day. It was cold and raining. Not a great way to start a vacation!

I grabbed some fruit and coffee, headed back to the room and called Russel and we agreed to meet up tomorrow for a ride. Hopefully this storm will blow over by then. Now, at around 1:30 in the afternoon, the rain has mostly ended and the sky is starting to lighten up.

Ready for Moab

It's 2:58am on the 3rd of October. I've got everything packed into the car except the batteries that are still charging, the charger itself, my toothbrush and a few odds and ends that are already in a bag. I was thinking about just leaving now, but I still have a little bit of cleaning and some dishes to do before I can walk out the door. Plus, I'm very tired. So, I'm going to bed, and I'll just hit the road when I wake up.

Next stop: Hurricane, UT for two days of riding. I'll try Gooseberry Mesa and perhaps Thunder Mountain. I'll be meeting up with two of the patrol directors for the Color Country NMBP to learn about their patrol and see them in action as I shadow them as they teach a new patroller.