Arroyo Seco, Indians Road, Fort Hunter Liggett, King City
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My friend Sol wrote:
And just throwing this out there - a bucket list ride for me is to do the
Indians Road loop around the third week of March, which should be a
stunningly beautiful time of year. Anyone want to join?
This ride starts pretty close to Pinnacles, in my observation you can count
on the 3rd week of March having spectacular wildflowers and green scenery at
Pnnacles and in the surrounding areas.
That route was imaginary, I think. Or the guy that rode it had some magical
skills. Sometimes imagination makes for a dream ride. That ride had dream
qualities. The light all day - I rode from sun-up to sun-down, and Peter and
Sol rode until way later - was like the light in a
Mati Klarwein
painting. Look him up, you'll see what I mean; intense, bright, otherworldly.
The Ventana Wilderness feels surreal.
After a few remembered, missed items requiring me to turn around, I was on
the road around 5PM with groceries bought, and I fought through traffic to get
to Arroyo Seco around 10PM, right after Sol got there. My campsite only had one
parking spot. Sol secured a group spot that was free. Patrick, Shea and Peter
got there in quick succession. They had night time plans, mine involved sleep.
Sleep is precious to me. I don't get enough of it, and Friday would be a big
day. I took a sleep pill (diphenhydramine) and went to bed. I guess they had a
little night ride with foxes and shooting stars. Kinda envious, but sleep is
good.
Up at 6, to their site as dawn broke, coffee and
granola/yogurt/blueberries, watching vultures circle overhead. Jokes and prep. Sol shared his delicious rice cakes and Aussie Bites cookies. I took some of each. Thank you, Sol. Somehow we'd all brought Patagonia hooded Capilene sun shirts. Peter brought
two, and lent one to Patrick. With the hoods on, we looked like the spermatozoa in the Woody Allen movie,
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex. Sol wanted to be riding by 7, we were rolling just after 8, after paying
for extra cars. In hindsight, that 7AM start would have been good. It was
already warm, and the forecasted high for our afternoon pass through King City
was 92º.
The first thing we saw, leaving Arroyo Seco Campground
PAVEMENT ENDS
The gorge
We immediately began climbing, and very quickly the climb was dirt. The first
glimpses of the green, rugged peaks of the Ventana wilderness in dawn's early
light were astounding. I used to live in Pacific Grove, thirty plus years ago,
and I'd ride my road bike south to Big Sur, then up a dead-end road
called Palo Colorado, where I'd look into this range with wonder and curiosity. I'd never seen it
from the eastern side, where we were riding. It's stunning. We were surprised
to be passed by a car, and soon caught up to the occupant, Betsy, who was
preparing for a multi-day trail work session. She was cheerful and
encouraging. I bet she has a good life, volunteering and working in that
beautiful place.
It's about 2400' to the first high point, which is just under 3000'
elevation, and looking across the range at it, it's a straight line cut into
rugged peaks that extend west, toward the ocean. We passed springs and
running water, even a grotto filled with ferns and a dripping waterfall into
a metal bowl, just after a landslide. The sage, like many other plants, was
fresh and vibrant, producing aromatic smells that set a tone for the place
and time; five senses working overtime.
Look closely, you can see Indians road cutting a straight line across
this range of mountains
Sol, surveying a kingdom
Santa Lucia trailhead
There were springs and running water at multiple points along the climb.
Spot the human
Photo by Peter
bluewitch nightshade - what an '80s metal band name
What would have made this ride perfect would be a glimpse of the Pacific,
but we never got that; just mountains after mountains. I was happy. Peter
had a self-ejecting seat bag, and during one of its episodes we stopped at a
creek crossing with a swimming hole. Sol and Shea went for a dip, Patrick
and I adjusted headsets and Peter did a bit of fixing and adjusting. It was
here that Peter realized he'd forgotten his ID. We thought we'd need them to
get through Fort Hunter Liggett, and it created some tension, but the
happiness of the views and the company and the ride outweighed it.. At the
top of the climb we filtered water and dunked sun shirts in another (the
same?) creek, then traversed a few peaks to a big rock outcropping, where we
took pictures and hung out for a bit, before enacting a hard-style handshake
to commemorate the parting of ways.
What looked at first like a giant puddle was a giant hole in the
trail.
Shea and Patrick, thinking about continuing further. We went to that
rock outcrop in the middle left.
I think this is black sage. It smelled amazing. We rode through a lot
of it.
Golden-yarrow
Photo by Peter
STOKED on Nerd Clusters, by Patrick
Tree-poppy
Hard-style handshake at the parting of the ways, Shea and Patrick went
back, to the left, and Peter, Sol and I continued on, to the right
She and Patrick went back down Indians Road the way they'd come, while we
continued down the western side. It was amazing; the same long gradient. We
heard and saw a big rattlesnake, stopped to filter water and dunk sun
shirts.
A United States Tobacco Company snuff can lid and a
YACC 81
imprint at the Escondido Campgrounds - we looked briefly for water,
didn't see a source, gave up. I guess there is water, there.
Chaparral whitethorn
Peter's pack ejected again. I lent him a strap and that, plus some creative
use of the existing straps kept it secured for the rest of the day. We
transitioned to rough pavement, still descending, through some lovely
country that looked out of a Steinbeck novel; oaks and grasslands, rock
outcroppings, fields of lupine and poppies. The smell of the lupine - kind
of sickly sweet - was intense.
gray and blue riding hoods
Leaving Los Padres
one of many water crossings
It was so hot. Dunking sun hoodies became a regular practice. Standing in
running, cool water felt great.
Fields of lupine
After some more water crossings we came to a fork in the road. The route we
were following, which Sol had found on ridewithgps years ago, went left on
Red Grade Road, (named "Milpitas Road" on google maps) but the sign on that
road said we'd need a permit, and that travel was otherwise forbidden, and
other military warnings. It was dirt, and went up a slope, while the road
we'd been on, Del Venturi was open, paved and downhill. We elected to leave
the route we'd been following and stay on Del Venturi road.
This was to be the pattern of our continued ride; each time we attempted to
return to the route, we found closed roads, or forbidding military signs. At
one point, in the mid-day heat and blazing sun, Peter wanted to stop and
snack. There was zero shade, bleached white macadam road, chain-link fence
and distant views of the
Julia Morgan-designed Hacienda and the
Mission San Antonio de Padua. It seemed irrational; we should have done this in the shade, and after
we'd figured out where we were going. So we stopped and snacked and baked in
the sun. I think this was the beginning of trouble, for Peter.
A motorcycle rider went by. I flagged him, and he stopped. I asked if he
could could go left on Mission Creek Road. He didn't know, and he went left.
Later he passed us, coming back; apparently not. Sol talked to a woman
exiting the Mission, and she told us we should go right on Mission Road,
then left on Jolon Road to King City, so we did. We passed by some training
facilities, an old tank and some road-side informational signage, before
leaving Fort Hunter Liggett.
Lt. Col Hunter Liggett
two forms of wheeled transport
We went left.
Sol and Peter, in the distance.
It was hot, the shoulder was narrow, the road was rough and the cars were
fast and unforgiving. Sol and Peter were faster than me. I'd been the turtle
all day. I don't think Sol likes cars and traffic, so he took off. So did
Peter. But then I caught Peter, and he said he needed a shade break. He was
looking rough, like heat stroke rough. So I continued on, slowly approaching
Sol, who was slowing. I told him that Peter was feeling bad, so we pulled
into a shady section of road and waited for Peter. Peter needed a fairly
significant break, so we loitered on the side of the road, snacking and
giving Peter time to recover. We were all getting low on water - I had
something like four liters of capacity, in various very-big and just-big
water bottles, and I think Sol and Peter each had a bit less. I'm also much
bigger than they are, so it was proportional. I had electrolytes and
carbohydrates in my water bottles, and had been filtering and filling at
most of our opportunities. I am sure I had drunk more than eight liters at
that point. As we were taking our shade break, I had a half bottle
left.
We were talking about getting to King City, getting Mexican food in an
air-conditioned restaurant. I wanted a Mexican Coke. I was beginning to
fantasize about it. We got to King City, took a rough, little bike path into
town, and began our search for this Mexican restaurant. It was 96º. We found El Taquero Deli, and
while we might have found one with AC, we settled for one that was just a
bit less hot inside than outside, but with good food, aguas frescas,
friendly staff and Mexican Cokes. I got a litro of sandía (water melon) with
lime and tajín on it, and we shared it. I got a carne asada burrito, the
biggest cucumber lemonade and a Mexican Coke. Sol and Peter got tacos and
aguas frescas. Peter could only eat one of two tacos; he was still feeling
bad. I texted the group text, asking Patrick or Shea if they wanted to pick
us up in King City. We all had popsicles, then set back out again. It
was around 6PM at this point. We were way behind whatever schedule I'd
imagined.
Photo by Peter
At a 7-11, I bought two gallons of water and briefly enjoyed the AC
interior. We filled our seven (?) bottles with the two gallons, not even
filling all of them completely. I put the last bit of drink powder I had in
three of mine, and a Gu electrolyte tablet in each as well. I handed out
electrolyte tablets to Peter and Sol as well. There was a guy who pulled up
in a pickup truck. I hailed him, and politely offered him $100 cash if he'd
take us to Arroyo Seco Campground, 25 miles away. He was loading a case of
beer into his pickup. He considered, then said that it would probably not be
worth it, as it would just cover his gas. Our mad king had just launched a
war in Iran, and because no oil was getting through the Strait of Hormuz
fuel prices had shot up to over $7 / gallon. He had a good point. We
calculated that, if his truck got 15mpg, it would cost him $30 in fuel just
to drive us to the campground and back. We began the return to the route,
followed it onto private agricultural property and begin riding northwest
along agricultural roads. We had to hop, or open a few gates, bushwack
through an arroyo seco. Patrick called me. He'd left the campground,
intended to go home and when he got to cell, he saw my message. He asked me
where I was and I sent him my location in GPS coordinates. He informed me
that I was in a field, and I concurred. I told him we were following this
route, and we hoped to get to asphalt, but we didn't know when we would. He
was a bit frustrated with that, and he was driving a car with no bike racks
and no room for people. I told him I'd see him back in our home area, and
said goodbye. So it was unexpected that, when we finally exited the farm
roads to asphalt on Central Avenue, there was Patrick. He couldn't transport
any of us, but we got a chance to catch up and here how his afternoon went.
Sounded much better than ours; an excellent descent down Indians Road and
river time at Arryo Seco, plus campground hangout time with Shea.
Photo by Peter
Patrick, offering trail stories, if not a ride
Shea called, he had also just gotten the message, and offered us a pickup. At
this point, Peter was feeling better and they both wanted to finish the ride,
but I said yes, I'd like a ride back to camp. We all had lights, food, water,
and we all three could have returned, but I'd been recruited to work the next
morning 190 miles away, at Exchequer Mountain Bike Park, at the second race of the NorCal Season. I had to be ready to work at 6AM the next morning, and as it was already
7PM, with 25 miles to go, I was ready to get on the road. So I got in Shea's
car, he drove me back to camp. We saw and shooed a California King Snake off
the road, I had a make-shift shower with my solar shower, after finding all
the camp showers broken, then I
drove across California, getting to Exchequer at 1AM.
We ended up doing a very different ride from the planned route:
My ride:
Peter's ride:
I would do this ride again, but maybe up and over Indians Road, then back. Or
Indians Road - Nacimiento Ferguson Road to the coast, and maybe back. Logistics would require an out-and-back, or a loop, or a car or train on the other end. I was inspired by
Henry Wildeberry and Ms. Cool's Santa Lucia bicycle tour:
This was a first time use for me. It uses a bottle mount to provide a pair of cantilevered bottle mounts, forward of the regular location. I'd bought it for bikepacking trips, to have more, easily reachable water for hot days, with my frame bag installed, blocking the normal water bottle location on the top of the downtube. I hadn't tried it before this trip. Since I'd have the Tailfin frame bag installed, I figured this would work. I installed it the morning of the ride, at camp. The cute little green anodized bolts are super soft aluminum, and I rounded one, tightening it with a PB Swiss allen. I didn't put loctite on them, and by the end of the ride, three of the four button-head green allen bolts were loose. I'll replace them with stainless bolts, and use loctite. There's a titanium version. Hmm...
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