Category Archives: Dirt Trails

Caution: If you think hunting is a barbaric activity that has no place in the modern world, you might want to stop reading now. Because this post is about shooting ducks, and I’m not talking about shooting with a camera.

Strictly speaking, I’m not a birdwatcher. But I live and work near San Francisco Bay, a major stop on the Pacific Flyway that draws in an amazing assortment of birds: great blue herons, snowy egrets, red-tail hawks, white pelicans, skinny-legged avocets and ring-necked pheasants (my personal favorites). If you walk, run or ride on the bay trails you can’t miss them.

Of course, there are ducks too. And wherever you find ducks, you find duck hunters. Even today, in the middle of the second largest metropolitan area west of the Mississippi, there are duck hunters and legal duck hunting just minutes off the 101 freeway, right in the heart of Silicon Valley.

On Sunday, Dick and I took an easy ride on the baylands where we met a group of hunters coming in from a morning hunt. The duck blinds on the salt ponds are open to the public on a first come, first serve basis, organized by a clipboard at the trailhead. As with all hunting, there are licenses and fees and lots of strict limits. But now the salt ponds are open to all, not just members of exclusive duck clubs, like it used to be.

Now, I’m not a hunter and I can’t see myself killing animals for sport. Yet as a meat eater, I don’t feel right criticizing those who kill the meat they eat. Hunting is a highly charged issue that brings up strong emotions on both sides.

What I find most interesting about hunting on the baylands is how hard hunters have worked to maintain access against formidable public outcry. Hunters are about as popular with birdwatchers on the bay as cyclists are with hikers on trails or drivers on the road. Maybe their slogan should be “Share the marsh.”

What do you think of duck hunting in a wildlife preserve? Does the advocacy work that hunters have done to keep wilderness undeveloped offset the fact that they’re killing wildlife?

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I like pumpkins. I like the way they look, all orange and round (or not). I like the way they taste, whether sweet and spiced or roasted and savory. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin ravioli. Pumpkins make me smile at a time of year when it’s getting colder and darker by the day.

So it only makes sense that I would look forward to the annual Pumpkin Ride hosted by ROMP, the local mountain bike club. The ride starts at about 3000′ on the ridge line, then drops down to a pumpkin farm on the coast where we select as big or as many pumpkins as we’re willing to haul back up to the ridge. Costumes are strongly encouraged, as if hauling pumpkins uphill on a bike wasn’t silly enough.

The record pumpkin weight dragged back up to the top is an unbelievable 112 pounds, made possible by a BOB trailer. This year’s winning weight was a mere 38 pounds, strapped directly on the bike with some engineering ingenuity and duct tape, of course. Still outstanding.

The next day, as Dick and I headed out for a brunch and grocery shopping ride I wondered: how do my overstuffed grocery runs compare to the winning pumpkin haul? With Dick along, I was able to buy a lot more than usual, including a full bar restock at Bev Mo and full soda restock along with a modest amount of other items at Trader Joes. The numbers: 35 pounds for Dick, 21 pounds for me. Not 112 pounds carried up 3000 feet, but it was no sweat even without a trailer. I could have even added a medium pumpkin or two.

What’s the most weight you’ve carried on your bike?

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Before anyone wonders why this post about a mountain bike ride doesn’t talk about the ride at all, here’s a video of the best part–the totally awesome loooong descent down Wittemore Gulch with over a dozen switchbacks sharply cut into the hillside. I can see why the downhillers shuttle this run.

It was a dark and foggy night, when mountain bikers gathered and unleashed their true nature, with food and drink, stories and laughter, and devilishly naughty deeds. Who else could be behind this madness but my friends Charles and Patty, proprietors of Passion Trail Bikes, the bike shop with a cult-like following of the most passionate mountain bikers on the San Francisco Peninsula.

I do not make these claims lightly. Passion Trails has the hand-picked gear, the expert advice and the individual attention that makes the shop top-notch, earning it an exceptional 4.5 star rating on Yelp. But it’s their commitment to our community that sets them apart. From leading weekly group rides to spearheading trail building to advocating for trails with our local open space authorities, Charles and Patty are there with passion and it’s contagious.

Who did you hang out with on Halloween this year? Are your bike friends your party friends?

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Ugh! Sometimes a ride just doesn’t turn out as planned. It can start out just fine, then an issue or two later, the whole ride is completely derailed. We survived a navigational error only to succumb to the flat tire that couldn’t be fixed. Two tubes, three CO2 cartridges, a half dozen mountain bikers, and a helpful neighbor with an industrial sized air compressor later, we called it a day. But it was nothing that a good beer, a juicy burger and an iconic biker restaurant (and I mean Harley bikers, not mountain bikers) couldn’t fix.

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The other day, Facebook reminded me of a status I posted two years ago: “Wondering if I’ll get any cool footage at tonight’s cyclocross skills practice. The holy grail: a perfectly executed, perfectly captured, no-hop remount.” I had just purchased my iPhone 3GS and was anxious to test out the video camera. In fact, I think I was more excited about the video camera than practicing cyclocross skills that night.

My friends and my iPhone came through that night, and I did capture the holy grail. With a little help from YouTube I added a soundtrack with absolutely no video editing skills. The finished product:

Fast forward two years. The video camera on my iPhone 4 is much better and I’m no longer racing cyclocross. Why not? When it comes down to it, I’m just not that competitive. I found the skills aspect of cyclocross fun and challenging: dismounting without breaking stride, throwing the bike on my shoulder to run up a hill, and jumping back on without losing momentum or hurting my delicate parts. That was fun. But busting a gut to catch the woman in front of me? Meh, not important.

What I miss most is the vibrant, crazy race scene, which is totally my style. Where else do elite bike racers dress in costume? Cyclocross racers are serious bike racers that don’t take themselves too seriously. What’s not to love about that? And I love a race that’s actually just a rolling costume party.

Photo credit Lynne Lamoureux

Especially a race where a wrestling match breaks out between some of the top local men and women’s Masters racers, dressed as Mexican luchadores. Yep, Masters racers means grown-ups. In this case, the 50+ age group variety. That’s me rolling by unphased by the fight at around 0:18.

What do you think: do serious sports have room for this sort of goofy antics? Or does this kind of behavior relegate the sport to the level of professional wrestling?