Fuhgeddaboudit

November 16, 2018

Fuhgeddaboudit

Say it as if you are all out of breath, on the ragged end: "You... know... that's against... the law... right? Ever since he who... must not be named... became... someone's President... you... can't demoralize old folks... on... mountain bikes... anymore." They, those young gun runners who wanted to pass me as we climbed Burbank Canyon, thought it was funny. They thought I was joking. Oh well, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. So I laughed too.

What was funny, in a pathetic kind of way was that, while I don't consider myself old, for a second time this week I had left home for my Friday afternoon ride without some essential item - in this case, my helmet. This moment of forgetfulness forced me to change ride plans - Bonelli was out (I certainly was not going to drive back again). While all kind of curses ricocheted around in my head, bouncing off one side of my skull, then caroming off the other, a thought crept in, undetected - STOP, it said. What about the Claremont Hills Wilderness Park? it asked. Yeah, I haven't been up there since June of last year - I didn't actually know the date, but I did know it had been a long time. So it was a change of plans.

You know something? I had almost forgotten how pleasant it is to just hop on the mountain bike, ride out the front door, and be in the mountains a few minutes later. No driving involved. The Wilderness Park is a big jewel in the city's crown.

And damn, if it wasn't gorgeous up there - almost like old times. It was quiet, peaceful, serene; no hordes. Even the deer were encouraged to be out on the road in Burbank Canyon; I was convinced the herd had been driven out of the Park years ago, but no, there they were, or three of them at least, running down the hillside at my approach. I got to pay visits to many if not most of my old favorite haunts up there - Point of Pines, La Verne Peak, Lone Oak Hill, Top 'o Webb, Leaping Leprechaun, Coyote Howl Point...