I woke up early Saturday morning looking forward to a short 12-15 miles at my local trail. I looked
outside my window, the fog and drizzle were quite thick. I had some things to do before I rode so I
figured I'd hit the trails mid-afternoon.
As I'm running around the house I notice that the fog is lifting but the color is all wrong. I look
outside and see that the sky is quite smokey. Lots of ash falling as well. Having been through fires
that almost burned Laguna ten years ago, I turn on the local news channel thinking that there was a
fire close by. Nope, just smoke from the Ranch Cucamonga fire. Amazing how thick it was considering
the distance.
I decide to ride anyway, even with all the ash falling. The parking area at the trailhead was
virtually empty. There were a couple guys who had just made the climb out resting at the bench
overlooking the ocean. I asked them if it was too smokey to ride, they said it was fine. Alrighty
then, here we go.
The ride itself was of little consequence. Don't get me wrong, it was a great one. My legs are
starting to get back into the swing of things, I'm making the climbs I did six months ago, I'm
hitting the groove on the swoopy singletrack. Super fun...
What made this ride stand out was how spooky it was. The smell of smoke in the air, the sun (when
you could see it) was a sickly orange/pink. It was dead silent out there; no animal/bird sounds, no
wind, nothing. I love the feeling of solitude on my solo rides, but I never have felt as alone as I
did on this one.
Hopefully the winds will turn and the fires that are still raging will soon be a distant memory,
especially for those that are on the front lines.
cg