Coldwater Trail

The head of the Coldwater Trail. Looking back toward Upper Holy Jim, the Saddleback Valley and the Pacific Ocean. You can see the trail running out the ridge. The I-15 corridor and Lake Matthews are in the distance
Happy Birthday to me. On Friday the 19th, one day after I turned 47, Ron, Chris, Carl and I ventured out to the east side of Saddleback. The mission: to ride the Coldwater Trail. That would be one of the few trails I hadn't ridden in the Santa Ana Mountain range. The mission was an overwhelming success. Scratch that one off the to-do list.

We headed out about 10:30. The temperature was cool but manageable. After a couple errant turns, and despite our guide, Chris, we managed to find the Indian Truck Trail. The initial climb switchbacks gradually above a verdant canyon. It's hard to believe this is Corona (although I'm sure it is blazing hot in the summer and fall). We continued to climb, and after 3.5 miles we were afforded panoramic views of the I-15 corridor and beyond.

The Indian Truck Trail is perfectly maintained, there were a couple landslide sections, but the road is generally smooth and not too steep. After four miles, the scrub brush gives way to shady pine trees. This is definitely not Corona.

The sun greeted us when we hit Main Divide. It was fun to look back toward the west, our usual climbing direction on Saddleback. We rode a short distance on Main Divide, then did a short, intense hike-a-bike along Upper Holy Jim. Carl enjoyed the HAB so much that he wanted to do it again. We denied him the pleasure. Carl is only allotted one grueling HAB per ride.

After a short, chilly lunch, just below Santiago Peak, we started down Coldwater. It is really a magnificent trail. Many of the upper sections are canopied with gorgeous red-trunked manzanita. The surface of the trail is covered with leaves and decaying vegetation, giving it an almost pillow-like texture. No, I don't want to sleep up there, but it was quite fun to ride. We headed down through tunnels of vegetation coursing along ridgelines and around tight switchbacks.

I had a slight mechanical - a broken chain - at about the three-mile point on Coldwater. I caught up with the others around four miles and we rode and walked the last section of the trail. Walked parts because Coldwater gets super steep at the end. Too steep to walk almost, it would've have been easier to ride if I could have. But it is difficult to keep the bike under control on the extended steep sections.

The trail ends near a massive rock quarry. I think we took the wrong route out. Ron did an amazing seat-of-his-pants slide down a graded berm. He has the scraped calves to prove it. He survived, but didn't seemed super stoked about trying it again ( I wanted to tell him that YouTube was calling). When we got back to the car, everyone agreed that the ride was epic. We vowed to ride the Coldwater Trail again before spring. I suggested we start on the Holy Jim side and do an up and over - climbing both sides of the range. The other guys quickly changed the subject.

Phantom Limb

I went on a solo night ride last Wednesday. The air was warm and still. As I reached the the top of Bommer Ridge, I could see lights from Avalon to El Toro. I headed along the ridge, not even thinking about being alone in the dark...and predators. I never worry about predators, but sometimes I think about them. Wednesday was just too perfect for distractions. I kept on to Fenceline and rode the series of rolling single tracks across the back of Crystal Cove State Park. Then I dropped down Lizard Trail, edging into the dark canyon. Lizard follows a serpentine path beneath a canopy of scrub oak and live oak. I whipsawed through the lush and shadowy undergrowth. Lizard is a perfect night trail, completely engrossing, it is easy to lose one's time, one's place and completely succumb to the experience - diving through a sea of dark leaves and branches.

I continued down Laurel Canyon, rolling over rock slides and loose soil. My reservations about riding alone, if I ever had them, seemed distant. I was in my own space, my own time and it seemed impenetrable. It was impenetrable until something from the dark void (that would everything directly outside the beam of my light) protruded into my path. A small, or not so small, branch prodded me. The unseen stick, the phantom limb shoved me off the trail into rocks, boulders, sage and lots of things I couldn't see (ticks?). I wasn't wounded beyond the surface of my skin. I don't like to crash, but I don't stress from scratches. Perhaps I'm in this venture for the scrapes and nicks - my temporary tattoos, reminders of where I've been, what I've seen.

I continued to the flat part of Laurel Canyon, perhaps a bit dispirited, but happy an unseen branch didn't push me into a gully. For now, nature, even unseen, seems to be friendly. Seems? In the lower part of Laurel, I heard large footsteps. Probably deer. This time my mind turned to predators. I kept peddling through the dark, pushing out to the main canyon. I was happy to have some remaining battery, some remaining light, and enough energy to push on home.