Top of Reseda & Down Rogers Road
Sunday
03-19-2006
 
Unlike on Saturday (scroll to bottom to read his report), Uncle Louie did not grace us with his incitefully humorous verbiage regarding Sunday's ride and so I guess it falls on me to fill in the blanks.  Actually being down here, most thing do fall on me....but that's another story.  Fortunately the weather cooperated on Sunday with "sunny, clear skies and with temperatures reaching around 60 degrees."  Eight of our number arrived at the top of Reseda and we "promptly" set out for The Hub.  From there we headed on towards Rogers Road which we descended, noting that it was in surprisingly good shape.  We stopped at The Oaks for a break.
 
At The Oaks: DavidR, Brian, SteveW, Mitch, Rod, Joe, John
 
After some bites of bars and bits of banter, two of our number had to bid adieu and return from whence we had come--Steve and Mitch had family duties to attend to.  Thus it was only 6 of us that continued on down Rogers Road Trail.  Again the trail was in superb condition and we were treated with some beautiful views of the ocean.
 
Joe heading towards the Pacific
 
We soon arrived at the point that overlooks The Bridge.
 
David, Brian and John wait below at the bridge
 
A closer look reveals a woman stretching on the approach to the bridge as the riders chat
 
If you pan from left to right you will see a view from the switchback down to The Bridge with views of Santa Monica
 
At the bottom of Rogers Road Brian showed us a new (to us) singletrack trail that led us down to Sunset Boulevard.  From there it was pavement across and up to Sullivan Ridge for the long trudge up the dirt fireroad to Mulholland.  I was exhausted, beat, and tired and thus was very happy when we finally rolled back to our vehicles with over 22 miles and 3000 feet of climbing.  While John, Joe, and Brian headed for home, David, Rod and I headed on over to the Greystoke Grill for some nourishing food and banter.
 
Have a good week.
 
Robco Baggins

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Saturday March 18, 2006

Uncle Louie Reports:


You know what the worst job is in Southern California?  Reporting the weather.  The minute they have to get away from the standard “sunny, clear skies and warm with temperatures reaching (fill in your favorite temperature here), they start to sound like those psychics from the National Enquirer, et al who wrongly predict 12 months of events at the beginning of each year.  Today they claimed we were to be hit by another Pacific Storm that didn’t materialize.  Lucky for them I don’t hold a grudge, particularly when their inability to accurately predict the weather results in another day in the saddle.

 

And today was particularly special for me.  Last week I dug my old Canondale CAD-3 hardtail frame out of hibernation and had Bicycle John rebuild it for me (Mom, a hardtail is a bike that has no rear shock, is a bit lighter than a full suspension bike, and tends to be more nimble with the added perk of being uncomfortable on the ass).  When I picked it up, I felt like a kid getting a bike for his birthday, only I had to pay for it.  And pick it up.  And bring it home.  Oh, and I wasn’t surprised.  Still, I felt like I was my own Dad giving me my first bike!  It occurs to me that there are several years of therapy in that sentence.

 

So it was that I arrived at the appointed time and the appointed place for the appointed ride on my new/old bike, but only four of us showed up at the end of Moorpark.  We waited and waited and waited.  Finally, Reuben suggested that it being a particularly marvelous, rain-free day, we should ride Sycamore, and we (George, Matthew and I) unanimously grumbled our agreement.

 

Not long after we were barreling along the trails leading to Sycamore Canyon.  I hadn’t seen George’s bench in quite some time and I was pleased to see that it is not only weathering well, but is graffiti free too.  We headed on down into the virtually dry canyon and I marveled at the beautiful trees taking their winter naps, wondering what they could possibly be.  Brainiac that I am, near the end of the ride I realized that they must be Sycamores, once again proving to my friends what an observant idiot I am.  Ah, the laughs they had at my expense.  Again.

 

George suggested that we take the Overlook trail, which is a relentless climb into the heavens, but my hardtail tackled the task with gusto and aplomb.  Regrettably, I was in the saddle, so the bike actually did better than I did.  Still, we both had fun, particularly on the downhill singletrack plunge we took together back down to the valley floor.

 

I do not have the words to describe the vistas and views, let alone the colors, tones, textures and sounds that permeated the canyon this fine morning.  I had the words, but I left them in my car with the top down and someone took them.  But if you just close your eyes and think of the most majestic place you have ever seen on earth (or if you are Warner, whatever planet you come from), this was more beautiful than what you are now seeing in your minds eye.  You may open your eyes now.  Of course, how would you know to do that at this point in the report?

 

At the end of the ride, after climbing out of the canyon and back to the real world, on Reuben’s recommendation, Reuben, Matthew and I headed on over to a restaurant called Ali Babba’s, which is not as bad as you might think from the name.  We enjoyed a delicious meal of . . . actually, I have no idea what we ate, but it was good and best of all, it has not made a return trip.  And it tasted like chicken.  After eating this unidentifiable substance, we went to Sundance to check out their sale.  The sale was amazing and all three of us saved a veritable fortune by buying nothing.  We actually could have saved even more, but none of us won anything during the raffle.

 

I hope to have my hardtail and my soft butt out on the trails again tomorrow for some more fun.  The weather promises to be sunny, clear skies and warm with temperatures reaching around 60 degrees.

 

Uncle Louie

 

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