Author Archives: Jack Rawlins

Caliente Loop

Distance: 44-mile loop
Elevation gain: 4320 ft

(A Best of the Best ride)

If you’re like me, you think Bakersfield is flat, which is what you see driving through on Hwy 5.  But a Friend of Bestrides wrote in to say I had to overcome my prejudices and try the area.  It turns out that Bakersfield, while it is smack in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley, is at the Valley’s southernmost tip, so it’s surrounded closely on 3 sides by mountains like the Tehachapis, and there are good roads in those mountains.   The Caliente Loop is the jewel in the crown.

But there’s a problem: I can’t decide which direction is better.  I rode the loop counter-clockwise.  Most locals ride it clockwise.  I’ll describe my ride; then we’ll weigh pros and cons of the two directions.

The loop (called Lion’s Trail by the locals) is essentially three different rides: a gentle meander through a small, rocky creek canyon; a flat and rolling leg across a wide valley dotted with horse farms and sagebrush, and a descent of epic proportions with vistas of the canyons on both sides of the road.

Caliente Creek Road in October

This is a ride you want to time correctly, and the window is small: ideally you’d ride in the spring, when the creek you’ll follow for the first 20 miles is babbling and the grassy fields of the second leg are green.   But spring means spring run-off, and any significant run-off closes the road, because Caliente Creek Rd. has several places where high run-off water flows right over the roadway.  I’d expect to find a “road closed” sign and ford some streams any time before the dry season.

Summer poses its own problems.  Bakersfield in the summer is hot and often windy, and the middle leg through Walker Basin is totally exposed.  On a typical summer day I’d start early enough to get through Walker Basin by 10 AM.

One more word of warning: you will notice the road surface is sprinkled with the remains of dried cow patties. Cows put them there.  This is open range, and you may meet cows standing in the middle of the road at almost any point.

Caliente Creek Rd, with typical creek crossing

Park in the “town” of Caliente, which is a tiny post office and around 20 unprepossessing houses.  On the way there, assuming you’re driving from Bakersfield, you’ll see the turn-off to a road with one of my favorite road names: Weedpatch Highway.

The first 16 miles or so from Caliente are easy, but conserve energy, because you’re going to climb almost without interruption for 22 miles, and the last 6 miles are taxing.

Ride the 3 miles to the Y of Caliente Creek Rd. and Caliente Bodfish Rd.  (clearly signed, as Cal Creek Rd and Cal Bodfish Rd).  Turn R onto Caliente Creek Rd.  It’s an easy grade up through a scenic and charming little canyon—my favorite part of the ride.  It’s a classic desert canyon, with bold rock formations, sycamores, and impressive cottonwoods.  

The canyon is almost people-free, but at “Lorraine,” which is only an intersection with Indian Creek Rd. (signed), the canyon widens, the area becomes more domesticated, and houses become common.  The land gets flatter and more open and the population and affluence level keep increasing until Twin Oaks, when you’re in the land of high-end “equestrian” training facilities.  Twin Oaks is a real community, with a general store (now closed), a second-hand store, a school, a cafe (Tog’s, which I couldn’t find), an absurdly large contemporary church, and even a town sign.  Everything but residential streets (everybody has a ranch).

Walker Basin Road

Around Twin Oaks the pitch increases substantially, and from there to the summit at 22+ miles in you will work.   The summit follows a series of false summits, but it’s unmissable: Piute Mtn. Road takes off to the R (signed), and signs tell you that Cal(iente) Creek Rd is ending and Walker Basin Rd is beginning.

Walker Basin is a large open valley surrounded by hills—classic high desert, mostly unpeopled but with a few hardscrabble ranches.  After the summit you descend to the valley floor, which is relatively flat and straight and the scenery OK or great, depending on how you feel about sagebrush desert.  

The descent on Cal-Bodfish Road—MUCH steeper than it looks

At mile 29 you have your first significant intersection since you turned onto Caliente Creek Rd., a 90-degree L turn from Walker Basin Rd. onto Walker Basin Rd.—clearly signed, just like that.  Take it.  In 3 miles of easy riding you T into Caliente Bodfish Rd.  Go L.  You’ll do a 2-mile, 700-ft climb (tough this far into the ride if you’re as tired as I was), roll for a couple of miles across the summit, and drop into the descent, which takes you all the way back to the Caliente Creek/Caliente Bodfish intersection, which you rode through before.

View from the descent

This descent is simply astonishing, a seemingly endless series of steep-to-very steep esses, sometimes on a ridge spine with breath-taking views of the canyons on either side of the road, sometimes deep in gorgeous tree-and-rock-wall forest.  It would be one of the top descents in Bestrides were it not for two problems: 1) early and late it’s magnificent, but in the middle miles it’s so steep all you can do is grab your brakes and pray they don’t overheat—not much fun if you still have rim brakes; and 2) the road surface is often badly broken up, so you’re constantly having to abandon your line through a turn and improvise a new one, which means you have to go slow—again, not much fun.  Joe in the comment below says the lower half has been repaved, which helps. As it is, it’s still pretty mind-boggling.

From the intersection with Caliente Creek Rd it’s 3 miles back to the Greater Caliente Area and your car.

Which way to go?: See the vigorous debate about this in the comment section, with me on one side and everyone else on the other.  Make your decision by the kind of climbing you like to do.  Clockwise puts all the climbing in two pitches.  The first, 3 miles in, is a monster—7 miles with lots of 10% stuff.  The second is a more moderate climb out of Walker Basin.  Everything else is down.  Counterclockwise spreads the climbing over 24+ miles of route, so the pitch averages less than half that of the other direction, and the climbing is never brutal.  Wind direction may also factor in your decision, since Walker Basin is open and largely flat and the prevailing westerly is in your face on the counterclockwise route.

Shortening the route: Start at the intersection of Caliente Creek Rd. and Caliente Bodfish Rd.  Ride to the Indian Creek Road intersection.  Turn around.

Adding miles: Bestrides commenters offer up several great suggestions for routes below.  Other local routes are at https://kernwheelmen.org/routes/, though the heartless Kern Wheelmen require you to join the club (in other words, pay them) before you can access the site.  Popular rides are Breckinridge Rd. and Hwy 155/Evans Rd from town to Greenhorn Summit, both big climbs.  Hwy 155 is a moderately tame road and I don’t find that I need a ton of it.  A shorter version of the Hwy 155 ride starts in the town of Woody (named for a guy who last name was Woody) and immediately goes uphill for 6 miles of moderate work.  Those 6 miles are a hoot coming down, so it makes for a nice 12-mile, one-hour+ outing (see photo below).  

The area around and north of 155 is full of roads all worth riding: Portuguese Pass, Hot Springs Road, Sherman Pass Road, and everything near to or connecting them.  The drawback is, everything in this area is geologically and botanically similar (rolling grassy hills and small canyons dotted with rock outcroppings and oaks), so one road is much like another, and after a while I want to see something else.  I’d suggest going with the smallest road I can find, but that’s me.

One quirky little road I really like and you’re unlikely to find on your own is the 9 miles of Woody Rd between the town of Woody and Tule Rd.  It’s deserted, with a road surface that’s a bit beaten up but totally rideable, a wonderfully random contour, and some dramatic rock clusters I found nowhere else in the area.  To the west you have a vista overlooking 30 miles of featureless grassy mounds.  Don’t take the road’s name literally—there isn’t a tree anywhere near your route, so don’t ride it on a blistering summer day (see photo below).

Deserving of mention for sheer audacity is Deer Trail Drive (aka Deertrail Drive and The Bear, for obvious reasons), a climb on private property that’s 9 miles long and averages 10.6%!  I haven’t done it and have no intention of doing it.

Highway 155
Cows are an ever-present possibility on the Caliente Loop
Woody Road

Parkfield Grade

Distance: 19 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 2770 ft

This is another of those rides that has location going for it.  What else are you going to do if you’re stuck in Coalinga?   It’s a classic climb from the lip of the Hwy 5 corridor up 10 miles through hardscrabble hills of grass, rock, and oak.  The scenery is quite lovely in its way.  It’s at its best in spring when the grassy hills are green.    Grand vistas of the San Joaquin Valley below abound.  The road surface is sound (which is all you can ask, since no one uses this road save the rare ranchers who run a few head of cattle on the hills), and, while the pitch is a tad monotonous, the back-and-forth contour is constantly stimulating.  It’s a fair amount of vert (2000 ft in 6 miles), but it’s just a steady moderate effort, never steep enough to be a grind.  The road turns to dirt at the summit, which will keep most cars out of your playground.  All in all, a thoroughly rewarding little outing.

Avoid this ride (and Hwy 189) during periods of hot sun—it’s fully exposed.  In summer, ride only in early morning.
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East Carmel Valley Road/Cachagua Road

Distance: 61 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 5860 ft

(A Best of the Best ride)

This is a fairly big, pretty ride through two lush valleys and over three moderate summits. The cumulative elevation gain is substantial, but except for those three ascents the climbing is pretty mellow.

East Carmel Valley Road is the name of Carmel Valley Road east of Carmel Valley Village.  You could add miles by riding the first 11.5 miles of CVR, starting at Hwy 1, but it’s all 4-lane, fast, aggressive, over-developed, trafficky shoulder riding.  Pretty unpleasant, and, while the scenery is nice, it’s nothing compared to what’s on our route.  East of the Village the valley narrows, the valley walls steepen, the traffic lessens and slows down, the people thin out, the foliage gets denser, wetter, and prettier, and the road dwindles until it’s finally a centerline-less, shoulderless back road of exceptional beauty and charm.  The road surface varies from good to poor, often poor enough to be a hamper on your riding pleasure.

Traffic is an issue here.  Traffic isn’t heavy (3 cars/mile perhaps on a Friday afternoon in spring), but local drivers are hostile and impatient.  Sightlines and passing lanes are poor and there’s no shoulder.  So timing is everything.  The last time I did the ride, on a beautiful Sunday midday in spring, I saw 1 car in 15 miles.  Traffic lightens the further east you go, and, as always, the worst time for traffic seems to be 4-5 pm.

Cachagua Road (which means “place of grass” in—you guessed it—Mapudungun) is an alternate to 12 miles of CVR which takes off from it, crosses into the parallel valley to the south, rides along the valley, then climbs and descends the tall ridge that now separates the two valleys and returns to CVR.  It’s as pretty as CVR at CVR’s best, it’s quieter, smaller, and windier, and the road surface is better, so you definitely want to take it unless you’re tired and want to get home as easily as possible.  It adds about 4 miles and one substantial climb to the route.

Calvin, in the comments below, makes the point that there are no water sources on this ride.  So you’re looking at a long day without a refill.  You may have to drop a water bottle at the Tassajara Rd. intersection or knock on some doors.  Except for the leg from the summit to Arroyo Seco, the entire route is largely in forested shadow, however.

East Carmel Valley Road west of the summit

Begin in Carmel Valley Village, a charming little upscale artsy community with friendly folks and good, unpretentious places to eat, if you like towns where every shop is a wine tasting salon, a spa, or a fine arts gallery (22 wine tasting rooms in a very small town, according to the town map).  There are no public bathrooms in the village proper, but there are three bathrooms west of town: at the Chevron at the west end of town, at the visitor’s center/community center/museum/city park complex a bit further west, and Garland Regional Park still further west.

Ride east on East Carmel Valley Road to its end at Arroyo Seco Rd.  The first few miles do not impress.  You’re still in the Greater CVV Area, and it’s busy.  The further you ride, the lighter the traffic becomes, the smaller the road, and the prettier the scenery, until you get to the summit 18 miles in (Mile 30 on the mile markers, which start at Hwy 1).   These first 18 miles are mostly all up, but almost all of it is mellow.  (Reader Bruce points out that the MWGPS map erroneously goes off-route briefly at mile 3.7—ignore it.). At Mile 10 you get the first and only laborious hill on the ride out (1 mile).  Shortly after Tassajara Rd. goes off to the R (remember you saw it), you lose the centerline and things get really good.  The canyon is small here, the woods are deep, and you’re riding alongside the creek, crossing it repeatedly on little bridges.  It’s all up but never steep.

East Carmel Valley Road east of the summit

At the summit you have a decision: turn around or not?  The rest of the ride is very different from what you’ve been through.  This is the lee side of the hill, so instead of lush, dark oak canopies in a narrow creek canyon, you get down-at-heel ranches scattered on open, grassy hills and moderate vistas.   By the time you get to the turn-around, you’re practically in California desert.

The Cachagua climb—2.5 miles of perfection

Ride back to the Tassajara Road intersection.   The last 6 miles of the climb back to the summit are work.  The road from the summit to Tassajara is all blissful down.  Take Tassajara L, which is the only way it goes.  In a short while take Cachagua Rd on your R.  Cachagua descends very  gradually for a few miles through pretty woods and low-key farms along Cachagua Creek, then does a major climb—2.5 miles of c. 7%—through lovely woods, as you climb over the ridge between Cachagua and Carmel Valley Road.  The road meanders constantly and is never boring—a peach of a climb.  After summiting and cruising on the flats for a bit, you are treated to a 2-mile, 10% plummet back to CVR.  It’s fun, but it’s a lot of braking, so with rim brakes it’s stressful—I imagine with discs it would be a hoot.

Turn L on CVR and ride the 4.3 miles back to the Village.

Looking up the Cachagua descent (steeper than it looks)

There is an argument to be made for riding Cachagua in the other direction, west to east.   Instead of a moderately taxing climb and a steep descent, you would have a tougher climb (2 miles at 9-10%), followed by a wonderful descent at high but manageable speed.  It’s up to you.

Carmel Valley from the Cachagua descent

Shortening the ride: There are several ways to ride only a part of this route and still preserve the charm and the beauty:

1. Ride to Arroyo Seco Rd. and back on Carmel Valley Rd (57 miles).  This skips the big climb on Cachagua.

2. Ride to the summit on Carmel Valley Rd. and return, either via Cachagua or CVR.  This skips the climb back up to the CVR summit.

3. Ride to Tassajara Road and take it, then Cachagua, turning the ride into a lollipop that skips the CVR summit in both directions.

4. Since the best legs of the route are Tassajara to the summit and Cachagua Rd., the shortest route that bags both of them is, start at the intersection of Tassajara and Carmel Valley Rd., ride to the summit of CVR, return, ride the Tassajara/Cachagua/CVR loop.  That’s the short route I’d do.

Adding miles:   At the turn-around at Arroyo Seco Rd. you can continue on Arroyo Seco in either direction.  To the L/northeast, there are dramatic views of eroded hills for a few miles.  Ride until the landscape isn’t interesting any more, then turn around.  To the southwest the road is paved and the scenery dramatic until Arroyo Seco Campground, about 5 miles one way.

To the west of our ride, you’re only 5 miles down Carmel Valley Rd. from the jewel that is the Robinson Canyon Rd. ride. and about 14 miles from the Carmel entrance to the Seventeen-Mile Drive.  You’re about 3 miles east of Laureles Grade, an up-and-down pass locals ride constantly and I hate—hot, dull, trafficky shoulder riding full of debris.  Good vistas, though.

Buzzards on the north side of the Cachagua summit

Tepusquet Road

Distance: 30 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 3170 ft

What is more delicious than discovering a great ride where you thought there was none?  Tepusquet Road, surely one of the better road names in Bestrides, was suggested to me by a Friend of Bestrides who has local knowledge of Santa Maria.  It’s a delightful surprise.  Rising out of the flat, dry, dusty agricultural fields, it climbs easily and steadily up through lush, shady canopies of riparian oaks to a pass, then makes a joyous little descent into the valley on the other side.   Rewards include grand vistas, lots of banked switchbacks, and a ton of solitude.  Not a life-changing ride, but a very good one, made all the more pleasant by how little you were expecting (or did I ruin the surprise now?).

This is an excellent ride for through-riders, because there’s good riding on either end—see Adding Miles below.

The oak canopy

Start at the intersection of Tepusquet and Foxen Canyon Rd.  (more on Foxen below) and follow the one and only road to its end, where it T’s into Hwy 166.   This being farm land, there are huge dirt shoulders to park on at the trailhead.  Immediately start climbing, and climb without interruption at a moderate pace to the summit pass at 9.6 miles.  The climbing is consistently mellow, and the trees are beautiful, but it is 10 miles of nearly unaltering pitch, which gets a little monotonous.  That lack of variety in the contour is the only negative about the ride.   There are houses (at least I saw a lot of mailboxes), but they’re unobtrusive, and the traffic drops to nearly zero soon into the ride.

Just over the summit looking north: your road is dead center

At the obvious summit, you could turn around, but I warn you, the ride back is straight enough and shallow enough to be thoroughly pleasant but not thrilling.  For thrill, keep going.   The back side of the ride is a notch steeper and much curvier for the next 3 miles, with some very nice banking in the constant switchbacks.  Here you can really practice your cornering skills.  You’re on the drier north side of the divide now, so the landscape is harsher, but the payoff is, great vistas of the grand valley before you and the hills beyond.  You can see your own road ahead of and far below you—always a thrill.

Climbing the back side: drier, curvier

When the descending peters out, it’s a short, mellow roll past backcountry ranches  to the dead-end at Hwy 166.  Turn around, do the challenging but not nasty 3-mile climb back to the summit (7-8%), and cruise back to your car at a descending pace so leisurely you’ll probably pedal a lot of it for grins.

Shortening the ride: Ride to the summit and turn around, from either side.  The north side gives you a more challenging climb and a much better descent, the south side gives you prettier greenery.

Adding miles: As I promised, you can keep riding in either direction.  At the southern end you’re on Foxen Canyon Road, a beloved-by-locals (but to my mind fairly ordinary) cycling route that runs to Los Olivos.  In Los Olivos you’re in the heart of the Solvang cycling network, discussed in the Mt. Figueroa ride.  Cat Canyon Rd. and Palmer Rd. are also reputed to be worth riding.

At the other end, Hwy 166 is a highway but not a frantic one, and you can ride west, then take surface roads paralleling Hwy 101 to the riding around San Luis Obispo, represented in Bestrides by the Huasna Road ride and the Prefumo Canyon Road ride.

Love those oaks

Maricopa Highway

Distance: 44 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 4900 ft

This road goes by several names: the Maricopa Highway, the Jacinto Reyes Scenic Byway, and Highway 33.  The road contour isn’t fascinating.  It’s a “motorcycle road,” designed to be exciting at 60 mph but at 12 mph is fairly tame.  This ride is mostly about the scenery and the solitude.  It’s a remarkably isolated, stark, and rather grand high desert landscape, with varied and striking rock formations and large vistas, land that seems untouched by Man and so harsh that you understand why.

You can do this road several different ways.  You could ride the entire road as an out and back, starting at Meiner’s Oaks on the outskirts of Ojai and turning around at the intersection with Lockwood Valley Rd., giving you a 70-mile day with about 8000 ft of vert—big but doable.   But the southern 13 miles, from Meiner’s Oaks to Rose Valley Rd., are monotonous going up and not particularly exciting going down (about a mile north of Rose Valley Rd. there’s a small overlook where you can see several miles of what you’re in for heading south).   There’s one moment of interest, Wheeler Gorge, a small rock crevasse bisected by two tunnels, that you’ll be missing if you skip it.  You could ride the entire road one way from south to north, which starts the ride with a 30-mile climb and leaves you with the problem of shuttling back to your car.   You could ride the entire road one way from north to south—certainly better than south to north, because it minimizes the climbing and turns the southern 13 miles into a painless downhill—but you still have the shuttle problem.  The best route is the way I’ve mapped it: start at the Ozena Fire Station just south of the Hwy 33/Lockwood Valley Rd. junction, ride to Rose Valley Rd. and turn around.  This gives you all the good scenery, one good, short climb and one good short descent, and a lot of moderate rolling.  Of course this does leave you with the problem of how to get to the intersection of Hwy 33 and Lockwood Valley Rd, so the second best route is my route starting at the southern end, which involves you driving 13 miles from Ojai to Rose Valley Rd. and back.  Every route has its own inconveniences.

Park in the Ozena Fire Station parking lot.  You begin with a brisk but not killer climb (1500 ft in 5 miles), so you may well want to warm up first by doing some flat miles on Lockwood Valley Rd. (for which, see Adding Miles below). Then it’s rollers, mostly gradually down, to the turn-around.  You’ll do c. 2000 ft gain in the return to the summit (in 17 miles).

Looking south from just north of Rose Valley Rd., at the 13-mile climb I skip.

You can’t get off the road, so navigation is effortless, and there are no services, quaint country stores, or historical markers along the route, so there’s nothing to be on the lookout for, except the scenery around you.  Don’t miss the rock strata exposed by the cut at the very summit (see photo below).   If you are through-riding from north to south, do a lot of looking over your shoulder on the climb to and at the summit—by far, the best vistas are behind you.   As mentioned, a mile or so before Rose Valley Road there’s an informal pull-off spot with a stunning view of the next 10 miles of so of road (see photo)—it’s hard to miss.

We’re not talking Zion National Park or Bryce Canyon.  This isn’t limestone, so it doesn’t sculpt, and the native plantlife is brushy scrub.  Check the photos to see if it’s to your taste. I like it a lot.

Be self-sufficient—there’s nothing out there but rock.  When I did this ride I saw 3-4 cars.  It can get windy out there, and the predominant wind direction is from the north, which can make for a slog getting back to the summit, so check the weather and ride early if a northerly is predicted.

Shortening the route: Reread the route alternatives at the beginning of the post.  To shorten the route as I’ve mapped it, drive to the summit and ride south to the turn-around.

Hwy 33

Adding Miles: Lockwood Valley Rd., at your starting point, is a ride worth considering in its own right.  For about the first 20 miles from the Maricopa Highway intersection, it’s a desolate, isolated road with a constantly changing contour through desert country of surprising interest.  It’s primitive—the road surface is often poor, and there are several flash-flood gully crossings that are impassable after rains.

Strata at the summit

Paskenta Loop

Distance: 52-mile lollipop
Elevation gain: 1790 ft

This is another of those rides worth doing if you happen to be in the area, but probably not worth driving any great distance to do.  It’s a pleasant roll through typical, often quite pretty westside (west of the Sacramento River) landscapes—orchards, cattle farms, small valleys, and  up into the first bumps of the Coast Range.  Its primary selling point is that it’s a few minutes’ drive off Highway 5, so it’s one of those rides in Bestrides you can use as a break while you’re driving between Oregon and Southern California (others being the Old Siskiyou Highway, Del Puerto Canyon Road, and some others).  It’s flat or gentle rollers throughout (2500 ft gain in 52 miles on my computer), but if you want to climb, a simple extension of the route will give you all you could ask for (see Adding Miles below).   Traffic is minimal, since there’s nothing along these roads but a few small ranches—my last time I saw 4 cars in the first 20 miles.

Two caveats: 1) for me, this is a spring-only ride.  In summer the hills are burned brown, the heat is intense, and the creeks are dry.  Once the rainy season begins the gravel leg (see below) can be a muddy quagmire.  In the spring you get almond orchards in bloom, green grass on the hillsides, running streams, and happy cows.  2) There is a 4-mile stretch of gravel, as notorious for Chico-area riders as is the pavé of Paris-Roubaix for Europeans, smack dab in the middle of the loop.  There’s no alternate route around it, and it can be unpleasant.  The gravel is completely loose, so you slide around a lot.  If the road has been regraveled recently, it’s like riding in rocky sand.  If there has been recent rain, the road becomes a bog.  Suffice it to say, timing is everything here.  If you’re determined to avoid the gravel, at the end of this post I’ll show you two gravel-free out-and-back routes.

You can start this ride anywhere along the route, and it’s equally good in either direction.  I start at the intersection of Corning Rd. and Black Butte Rd. because it’s the spot closest to Hwy 5, and I ride in whichever direction gives me a tailwind on the Black Butte Rd. leg, which is the straightest, flattest, and least scenic (read: most boring) leg of the route.  My description goes clockwise, since the prevailing winds are northerly.

The spring show: almond blossoms along Black Butte Rd.

Ride Black Butte Rd. to Newville Rd., passing almond orchards whose blossoms are spectacular for about two weeks in late February or early March.  Note the buffalo ranch on your R, with grazing buffalo in season.  Mt. Shasta is to the north, smack dab behind you and prominent on a clear day.  Mt. Lassen is to the east, over your shoulder on your L.  At Newville Road go R. You’re paralleling the shore of Black Butte Reservoir, but don’t expect lake views.  After two impressive rollers, the climbing for the ride is over unless you add the optional extension of Round Mountain Rd. (see below).

Coast Range in spring, from Black Butte Rd.

Cross a small bridge and begin the most bucolic leg of the ride, through a gallery of oaks along the lip of a small open valley.  You’ll pass the Newville Cemetery, with gravestones from the 1870’s.  Around mile 20 the road character changes from smooth, wide two-lane to battered country track, and you do 1.2 miles of nasty patches and potholes.

Newville Road

At 21.5 miles you cross another bridge at one of the ride’s more scenic spots and the road turns to gravel for the next 4 miles.  It’s mostly gradual uphill, which might be an argument for riding the route counterclockwise.  These 4 miles are not without their rewards: on your L along the length of the gravel is a valley walled by masses of small round mounds that look like the work of gigantic gophers.  Geologically fascinating and quite lovely in its way.

The infamous gravel

At 25 miles the gravel ends at a T at paved Round Mountain Rd.   Here you have a choice.  You can go R, skipping the out-and-back lollipop stick, thus avoiding some climbing and lopping 7 miles off the route.  But I go L, because that takes you up a draw through those round mounds you’ve had on your L for the past few miles, and I think it’s the best riding and best scenery of the entire ride.   The road rolls easily up and down and back and forth for 3+ miles, then sets in for a very long, uninterrupted, rather grim climb into the heart of the Coast Range.  There are great views of the Northern California Valley behind you, but not much else to offer besides exercise.  My route turns around at the base of the climb, at about 29 miles in.

Coast Range mounds at sunset, from Round Mountain Rd.

Retrace your steps to the intersection of Round Mountain and Newville and continue straight on Round Mountain to the hamlet of Paskenta, which is nothing more than a pleasant little country store where you can reprovision with ice cream or soda.  Stay on the main road through Paskenta and continue on what is called Corning Road after the Flournoy store until you close the loop at Black Butte Rd.  Check out the views of Mt. Lassen directly ahead of you as you ride.

Shortening the route and/or avoiding the gravel: There is no way to loop the ride and avoid the gravel, so you’re limited to riding out and backs on either side.  On the north side, begin at Black Butte Rd. and ride to Paskenta and up Round Mountain Road until you’ve climbed as much as you want, then ride back.  If you turn around at our turn-around point, this will give you 44 miles.  If you want less, start at Flournoy.  On the south side, I’d start at Black Butte Rd. and Newville (skipping Black Butte itself) and ride to where the road turns rough and return, for a total of about 22 totally pleasant miles.  If you’re doing this version, leave Hwy 5 at Orland and follow the signs to Black Butte Reservoir.

Adding miles: There is a lot of worthwhile riding nearby, none of it as easy as what you’ve done.  You can continue on up Round Mountain Road past our turn-around point for about another 5 miles of uninterrupted, substantial climbing before the road turns to dirt  (in a normal spring, you’ll hit impassable snow before that).  There is a similar road that climbs up into the same hills from the Paskenta intersection, Toombs Camp Rd, for about 12 miles of similarly uninterrupted, substantial pitch.  If anything, TCR is even more featureless and interminable than Round Mountain Rd.  Again, closed by snow until summer.  Serious locals do a hard training ride in which they ride one road to the dirt, then ride the other.

A whole other kettle of fish is Rd. 306, which heads south (on your L) shortly before Newville turns to gravel.  This road continues south for many miles, through Elk Creek, along Stony Creek, and through Stony Ford, Lodoga, and Leesville.  You can even continue on from Leesville to Bear Valley Rd, which turns to ridable dirt, goes through world-famous wildflowers in the spring, and passes charming Wilbur Hot Springs (which recently suffered major fire damage).  It’s all essentially flat except for Leesville Grade, and the spring scenery is excellent, but it’s not popular, for one reason: the road surfaces are often horrid.  My cycling club used to run centuries out there, and people would bring mountain bikes.

Honey Run to Centerville Road

Distance:  22 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 1014 ft 

Update 11/18: The Camp Fire raced through this canyon on 11/8-9/18.  The area is much changed.   Much of the understory burned off, which makes the landscape more open, so Butte Creek and the canyon walls are actually prettier because you can see more of them.  Most of the big trees seem to have survived.  About a third of the houses burned and are now being rebuilt in some form.  The covered bridge burned to ash.  It’s a different ride, but I think it’s better, especially in the spring when the loss of canopy results in an abundance of spring wildflowers.  JR

This is the only ride in Bestrides I can do from my front door.  It’s a perfectly charming meander with pretty scenery and a road contour that is ever-changing.   In 11 short miles you get a number of bonus features: mid-Nineteenth-Century rock walls, a lively creek lined with stately sycamores, tailings left by the Gold Rush argonauts and their placer mining, a grand little canyon with dramatic rocky bluffs, a small back-country museum, a working flume, a great piece of cycling sculpture, and the remains of one of California’s finest covered bridges.  So the ride keeps you interested.  In addition, the elevation profile is perfect for your legs: a few miles of gentle rollers, then a little moderate climbing, then more rollers, then a bit more extensive climbing to get really warm, a short recovery period, and finally a 1.5-mile brisk climb to put all that warm-up to use.   With the final climb, the ride’s a good work-out; without it, it’s an easy stroll.

(RidewithGPS doesn’t acknowledge that Centerville Road turns to dirt at our turnaround.  It does.  I’m right, it’s wrong.)

Park at the south end of the Steve Harrison Bike Path where it intersects the Skyway.  Appreciate the Bike Path’s gateway arch, in the form of a chainring, made by a local artist to honor Steve, a beloved local cyclist who died tragically.  Head east on the bike path bordering the Skyway for 50 yards and merge onto Honey Run—not “Honey Run Road,” as non-local maps insist, just Honey Run.  Local lore tells several tales about the origin of the name, but it’s a sweet, flowing ride from the get-go, so let’s pretend it refers to that.  You’re leaving the flats of the Northern California Valley and heading east through Butte Creek Canyon into the first ripples of the Sierra foothills.

useHoney Run used to be back-country, but like everywhere else the back roads of Chico have been built up, so traffic can be irritatingly dense for the first 5 miles.  The road is moderate-sized two-lane without shoulder, but motorists are used to your presence and behave civilly.  Even so, I’d try to not do this ride during morning or late afternoon rush hour.

For the first 5 miles, Butte Creek keeps you company—quite dramatic in times of high water, and still bearing along its banks the boulder fields left by 49er gold mining.  Observe how the bluffs build on both sides of the canyon as you continue into the canyon—the walls will keep building until they’re 2000 ft above your head.  Note the power lines crossing the road—they come all the way from Lake Oroville 20 miles to the south and go north to I don’t know where.  Watch for rock walls, built by miners and farmers (not Chinese laborers, as all California school children were taught) in the late 1800’s from stones gathered in the fields, on the north side, and large sycamores, identifiable by their nearly white, smooth bark, to the south.  The houses you pass fall into 3 periods of architecture: pre-60’s shack, when living here was as outback as living in the Yukon; 60’s and post-60’s Hippie back-to-the-land sweat lodge; and 90’s and post-90’s rich-person’s McMansion.

The Covered Bridge

The Covered Bridge (no longer there)

4.2 miles in you hit an unmissible fork in the road.  To the L is our route, Centerville Rd.  The fork  to the R (still called Honey Run) crosses Butte Creek on a modern bridge.  50 feet downstream from the bridge was a piece of California history, the Honey Run Covered Bridge, built in 1886.  It burned to its foundations in the Camp Fire.  There’s a water bib by the outhouses nearby that seems to work even when the bridge rec area gate is closed, so you can do the rest of the ride out with very little water and resupply here on the way back.

Butte Canyon bluffs

Butte Creek Canyon bluffs

Once on Centerville Rd., ride to where the road turns to gravel.   After the fork the road is less trafficked and the landscape even prettier than before.  You leave the creek, the houses thin out, the bluffs grow grander.  About 8 miles in you hit a series of 3 very short pitches, the Three Sisters, then descend to what locals call “the Steel Bridge” even though there is no visible steel because it replaced a bridge that had a steel superstructure that was destroyed in flood waters one winter.   Cross Butte Creek (it’s pretty there, and the swimming hole is pretty good) and do the one real climb on the route (7% average) for 1.5 miles to the end of the pavement, where you turn around and ride home.

The Three Sisters

The Three Sisters

Just as you start to get into the climb, you pass the Centerville-Colman Museum, a classic back-country one-room neighbor-tended museum that used to be the local one-room schoolhouse.  It’s only open on weekends from 1 to 4 pm, but if you’re there then it, like all such places, is well worth a stop, not so much for the museum collection as for the folks who care for the place, who are always a treasure—serious, knowledgeable, friendly, generous, unpretentious, and passionate.

At the turn-around point, the road crosses an old Power Company flume.  Like all flumes, it has a maintenance footpath along one side, which you can explore on foot or mountain bike if you’re willing to ignore the half dozen signs telling you not to.  The flume used to run water, but I haven’t seen it do that since the Camp Fire.

The ride back is just like the ride out, squared, because it’s a splendid 1.5-mile descent followed by a lovely, relaxed, up-and-down-back-and-forth saunter made nearly effortless by the imperceptible descending.  It’s especially gorgeous in later afternoon when the light is low, the foliage is back-lit, and the bluffs are in chiaroscuro.   The Three Sisters, when you hit them, are one of the world’s great 20-second descents—there are two blind corners, but trust me, they’re both completely safe, so stay off the brakes throughout, or you’ll wish you had.

Shortening the ride: If you don’t want to work, turn around at the Steel Bridge…but you’ll miss the best part of the ride.

Adding miles: At the Covered Bridge fork you can cross the creek and continue up Honey Run.  In 5 miles you’ll be in the large village of Paradise, which was obliterated in the Camp Fire.   If you go this route, the first 2 miles are mellow, then you have 3 miles of demanding, dramatic climbing through constant tight switchbacks over rough pavement.  Going up is a grind, but coming down is worse.  It’s too rough, too steep, and too curvy to be much fun.  Consider doing the first 2 miles as an out and back 4-mile add-on to Centerville.  Most locals who ride up the Honey Run climb loop around back to Chico by means of Neal Road, which is boring but smooth.

If you’re on a gravel bike, you can continue on Centerville Rd. when it turns to gravel.  It will climb gradually up through the same canyon until you come out on the Skyway above Paradise.  It’s a fairly boring ride but the views are grand.  One reader says the road is or was washed out part-way up, but I suspect that was temporary.

As of 6/24, Chico has a lovely little 3.5-mile recreational trail that takes off about a mile from the start of this ride.  It’s Humboldt Rd., and the story of its creation is a doozy:

Humboldt Rd. runs parallel to Hwy 32 heading east out of town, just a stone’s throw to the south of the highway.  It’s a road with a lot of history—it’s the old wagon road heading east out of town, and wagon ruts in the lava cap are still clearly visible running beside the south shoulder.  With the building of modern Hwy 32 it fell into disuse (it runs back into the highway and disappears 3.5 miles from Bruce Rd.), it became a hang-out for drinking parties, the county saw no reason to maintain it, and it generally went to hell.

Enter one of Chico’s most sterling and respected cyclists, who gave the city and the county his own money to have the road repaved and gated off from motor vehicles.  Presto!  A dream come true—a charming, meandering, moderate climb up through the valley oaks, on glass, free from traffic.  It’s a lovely ride to do on a day when you don’t want to work, or you can add it on to the Centerville ride without getting in over your head.  The fun starts at the intersection Bruce Rd. and Humboldt Rd.  There is shoulder parking.  The gated section is 1/4 mi up Humboldt.

Lumpkin Road

Distance: 61 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 6610 ft

A Best of the Best descent

This is a fine ride through Sierra foothills and forests whose virtues are three:

1. Solitude—the last time I rode it, I saw two cars between the summit and Lumpkin Rd. (20 miles).

2. A 30-mile descent of extraordinary variety—the ride back from the Road 27 summit (28.5 miles) is almost entirely descending, and the road contour is never the same for long.

3. 8.5 miles of the most whee-inducing, roller-coaster stretch of road I know.

The route climbs steeply for 8.5 miles through tiny mountain communities, then traverses the deserted spine of Lumpkin Ridge, then descends for 2 miles to Little Grass Valley Lake, then returns.  The scenery is fine without being special: classic Sierra foothill scrub, then pretty madrone-and-conifer forest, with some views into the forested canyons of Fall River (the stream that supplies the water for world-famous Feather Falls) to the west and the South Fork of the Feather River to the east from Lumpkin Ridge.  the ride out is pretty much 30 miles of climbing, but after the first 8.5 miles it’s never particularly hard.  There are three sensible turn-around points along the way that reduce the work load while preserving the roller coaster, which is in the last 8 miles of the return route and the high point of the ride.

This route (like the alternatives in Adding Miles) is simple to navigate on the road (there are only two turns) but confusing on any map, so follow my directions carefully and ignore what any paper or web map is telling you.  To add to the confusion, all road signage is absent, ambiguous, or hard to see until the summit, 28.5 miles in.

From the intersection of Lumpkin Rd and Forbestown Rd, drive 4 miles down Lumpkin to the Enterprise Bridge and park just beyond the bridge—there’s a small dirt road with parking on the R.  It’s possible to ride from the intersection of Lumpkin and Forbestown, but if you do you’ll begin with a 3.5-mile drop down to the Enterprise Bridge, which will leave you with a tedious, 3.5-mile uphill slog at the end of the ride, which, after 6500 ft of vertical gain, I don’t need.

From the bridge, ride 8.5 miles of complex, often taxing up-and-down stuff through nice foothill scenery and old-school foothill infrastructure (houses, ranches, a school, a grange hall, a “saloon”).  The road is ever-changing—you can rarely see more than 1/10 of a mile of road ahead of you.  On the return, these 8.5 miles will turn into something magical, but on the way out they’re mostly just hard—consistently 8-12%.  In the first 4 miles you gain 1350 ft. in elevation; in the first 10 miles you gain 2460 ft. in elevation.  Most of the work of the ride is right here—the next 20 miles, to the summit, are steadily up but at pitches from imperceptible to moderate.

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Absurdly fun stuff in the first 8 miles

At 7.5 miles you pass the turn-off to Feather Falls.  The road isn’t named, but two signs clearly read “Feather Falls.” If you take it, the road doesn’t take you to the falls—it takes you to the trailhead.  The trail to the falls is a substantial hike, best left for another day.

At 8.2 miles you come to the first of two intersections where you have to pay attention.   While the main road seems obviously to continue straight ahead, a paved road enters on the R.  It has a stop sign (which has painted on its back side “A-line” and B-line”), and there’s a large sign that mysteriously reads “A Line” in freehand just before it.  Take that road.  If you miss the turn, no worries—the “main” road (which is still Lumpkin Road, unsigned) will turn to dirt in 1/10 of a mile, and you’ll know to backtrack. The new road (unsigned) is Lumpkin Ridge Road (Mapmyride also labels it “Mill Road”).  From here on, the traffic should be next-to-nothing.

Lumpkin Ridge Rd. scenery: good, not great—note typical pothole

LRR at first climbs at a fairly stiff pitch for a mile or so, but then it mellows out and climbs at a mostly gentle rate through pretty woods to mile 15.3, where there’s a prominent intersection and you need to make a decision.  An unsigned dirt road goes off on your L at 7 pm.  What appears to be the main road, unsigned, continues almost straight ahead at 11 pm—it’s Mill Road, Forest Service 94 (22N94), which we’ll discuss in Adding Miles.  An unprepossessing road goes R at about 3 pm.  A small post marks it as 22N27.  That’s Forest Road 27.  Take it and ride 13 miles to a summit at 28.5 miles into the ride.  Or turn around and enjoy first a sweet, fast descent, then 8.5 miles of roller coaster.

Some of the canyon forest is pristine

Road 27 is mostly stair-steps—short climbs with little descents or flat stretches between.  The road surface is the opposite of Lumpkin Ridge Rd., which was smooth chipseal.  Logging trucks have been busy destroying Rd. 27, and the result is smooth pavement scattered with jagged potholes.  It’s a mine field.  The potholes are easy to see and, with one or two exceptions, easy to ride around/between.  I didn’t find them intrusive on the climb, and on the descent I found them an absolute hoot, turning the ride into a game of high-speed dodge ’em.  I’m not sure everyone would share my view.  Some good samaritan has written “bad spot” before the particularly broken sections of road, which you won’t need going up but which prove quite helpful going down.

Somewhere in here you meet a Y where both forks look equally attractive.  There’s a small post with an “22N27” sign on the L fork telling you to take it.

Dyslexic’s warning: bad spot of pavement ahead

At 28.5 miles you pass two roads entering from the L—first Mill Road, Forest Service 94 (22N94), then something I can’t find a name for.  Both roads have prominent signs pointing the way to Little Grass Valley, and FS94 has a small sign reading “22N94.”  Ignore both roads.  Immediately after, you reach a Y or T, whichever you prefer.  Take the R fork and descend for 2 miles to Little Grass Valley Reservoir and our turn-around point.  But before taking that fork, consider: the 2-mile climb back to the summit adds 510 ft. to your total elevation gain—not a tough climb (roughly 5%), but do you want more climbing?

Up, down, up down...

The roller coaster

The ride from the summit to your car is unbelievably easy, 28.5 miles in which you will have to work at climbing perhaps twice, briefly.  The descending comes in all imaginable forms (including pothole slalom), so you’ll never get bored.

Once you’re back on Lumpkin Rd., the roller coaster begins.  It’s a bucket-list ride, a rollicking, absurdly diverting 8.5-mile series of turns and drops and little climbs, with your momentum allowing you to hammer up those climbs and maintain your speed.  You’d wish you could do it two or three times.

Shortening the ride: After the first 8.5 miles, the rest of the ride is all good but all pretty much the same degree of good.  So turn around as soon as you like, but be sure to include those first 8.5 miles.

Adding miles: If at the first intersection of FS 94 and FS 27 you go straight ahead onto 94, 5 things will happen: 1) you’ll rejoin Rd. 27 just before the summit; 2) you”ll add 15 miles to the ride out, or 30 miles if you take 94 out and back; 3) you’ll almost double the vert, from a vigorous 6610 ft to a downright grim 11710 ft out and back;  4) the road will become even narrower and more isolated than Rd. 27; and 5) the road surface, which on our mapped route is mostly fine, will vary from OK to wretched.  This is a true adventure ride, spectacular in its way but not to be attempted without fat tires, emergency supplies, and a copy of your itinerary left with a trusted friend back home.

FS 94 gets small

FS 94 gets really small

Whichever route you take to get there, from the summit where 94 and 27 reconnect you can take the other route back to make a 74-mile loop of it.

You can loop this ride another way.  From our turn-around point, you can continue along the south edge of  the lake on Little Grass Valley Rd., the first half of which is rideable dirt, the second half good pavement and nice riding, for 5 miles.  Then Little Grass Valley Rd. ends at Quincy-La Porte Rd.  Go R.  Quincy-La Porte turns into La Porte Rd.  Take the Challenge Cut-Off to the R, which connects with Forbestown Rd., which passes Lumpkin.  Take Lumpkin back to your car (75 miles if you take FS 27, 89 miles on FS 94).  This is all good riding, almost Bestrides-worthy, and especially nice downhill.  Of course returning this way means you give up a glorious 30-mile descent and the roller-coaster section of Lumpkin, so if you go this way you might want to ride counter-clockwise.

If you’re into serious miles, when you hit Quincy-La Porte Rd., go L and ride to Quincy. For a detailed description of the ride, see the Added Miles section of the Oroville to Forbestown ride.

Lumpkin Rd. at its southern end intersects the Oroville to Forbestown ride.  See the latter’s Adding Miles section for a discussion of other rides in the area.

The Feather Falls trailhead is about a couple of miles down the nameless road you passed 11 miles into our ride.  If you brought a mountain bike or hiking shoes, it’s one of the west’s great trails.  It’s a loop, with the Falls at the far end.  The left trail is steep and prettier, the right is smooth and built for mountain bikes and mellow walking.

Lower Lumpkin Ridge Road—the only photo of me on a bike in Bestrides? Photo by Byron

Camptonville to Sierra City

Distance: 69 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 5018 ft

This ride goes through some of the prettiest scenery in the Sierra hill country.  It’s 31 miles of climbing, but I promise it’s doable, typically 1-4% and only momentarily over 5%. If that’s still daunting, it’s an easy route to edit—see Shortening the Ride below.

One caveat up front: I strongly recommend you do this ride in October, for two reasons: 1. the leaves of the maples and aspens are changing, which jacks up the gorgeousness level about ten-fold. In spring and summer the forest is just, well, green. In winter you’ll hit snow. 2. Hwy 49 can be busy, and, while the road isn’t narrow so passing is possible, I find the traffic (fast, aggressive) noisome. Downieville is a zoo in the summer, thanks to its excellent mountain biking, and Indian Valley is a string of popular campgrounds. October, almost no one is up there. In October, this ride is A-level; any other time, I don’t think I’d do it at all.

Our route begins with some nice fir/pine forest, does a very sweet 3-mile descent, follows the north fork of the great Yuba River for 10 miles, sees some good rock, climbs easily to the charming mountain community of Downieville, then does 12 miles of easy-to-moderate climbing to the equally charming but less touristy town of Sierra City. The road is consistently shoulderless but wide two-lane, roomy enough to allow safe passing, with a good road surface, and varying from fairly straight to fairly curvy. The riding is never exhilarating—even the descending is mellow—but it’s continuously charming and gorgeous (in October).

Despite its whopping elevation total, this route has something that’s very rare among Sierra mountain rides: flatness.  For 10 miles along the river (20 miles round-trip), there isn’t a single significant pitch.  For most of those 10 miles the climbing is imperceptible, and the occasional short rise is never worse than 2-3%.  If you keep finding mountain rides in Bestrides that sound delicious but have off-putting elevation gains, that ten-mile stretch is for you.

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Del Puerto Canyon Road

Distance: 49 miles out and back
Elevation gain: 3200 ft (from RWGPS)

This is another of those “best in the area” rides—not a life-changing ride but one worth doing if you’re in the neighborhood.  It’s in the midst of a network of southeast Bay Area roads that cyclists ride all the time and which I find sterile and barren: Mines, San Antonio Valley, Tassajara, Highland, Altamont Pass.  All rolling grassy hills.  But in the midst of this desert is Del Puerto Canyon Road.

On a map it looks like it would be featureless like all the others, but it’s through a little canyon of considerable charm.   It winds niftily along a little creek (dry in summer), which means riparian plant life, canyon walls, lots of turns, and some shade.   It’s also predominantly next-to-flat  (the first 16 miles average 1-2%, and almost all the elevation gain is in the two miles before the summit), which the others aren’t, so it’s ideal for a day when you don’t want to work.   Where RWGPS gets that elevation gain total, I don’t know.  You can in fact control the effort precisely—the pitch goes from flat to imperceptible to moderate to steep, and you can just turn around when you’re worked as hard as you want to.

In addition, DPCR has one virtue that no other ride in Bestrides can claim: it’s 50 feet off Hwy 5, so from now on when you’re making that tedious drive from SoCal to NorCal or vice versa you can pull off midway and do a refreshing little out-and-back on the bike.

In Patterson, CA, on Hwy 5, take the Sperry Ave/Diablo Grande Pkwy exit, go west under Hwy 5 and take the immediate R turn onto Del Puerto Canyon Road.  Park anywhere on the shoulder.  Ride to the T at the end of the road, then ride back.  You can begin at the other end, but the first 21 miles are uphill from the Patterson/Hwy 5 end so I ride it that way so the work is in the middle of the ride, not at the end.  Straight off you see an eerie sight: a large, mature orchard where the trees are all dead.  My guess is someone cut off their water.

Best to ride Del Puerto Canyon in the spring

After a couple of miles of moderate rollers through open grassy hill country, you enter the canyon and stay there until the summit at mile 21. A stretch of road has become graffiti central—as usual the messages range from “Love is…” to giant phalluses—but it’s short-lived.   As with most desert riding, the beauty around you may not be immediately obvious, and I encourage you to take the time to get into your surroundings.  Watch for hawks playing games with each other in the air above you.

After those initial rollers, the pitch increases gradually.  For the first 14 miles, it’s imperceptible.  Then it’s noticeable.  At about 17 miles it’s substantial.  The last 2 miles to the summit are downright hard (8-10%), made harder by the deterioration of the road surface.  If you’re out for an easy day, turn around when it gets tough, knowing that you won’t be missing anything important.  Someone has painted large mileage markers, large but so artfully incorporated into the centerline that they’re hard to see, to tell you exactly how far in you are.

In the canyon

In the canyon

If you continue on past the summit, the road descends the back side of the pass for 3 more miles, then dead-ends on Mines Road.  Skip it if you don’t want to climb back up, though it isn’t steep.

I don’t enjoy the first three miles of the return from the summit, because steep descents over rough pavement suck.  After that, it’s a nearly effortless ride back to your car.  Every time I’ve done it I’ve had a easterly wind in my face, even when there was a strong northerly on Hwy 5, so I suspect that’s the norm.

Nearing the summit

Nearing the summit

The downfall of this ride may be the traffic.  The first time I rode it I saw 2-3 cars total.  The second time I met about 100 motorcycles head-on over a stretch of 10 miles.  The third time I saw 4 cars. All rides were on weekdays.  In addition, there are a very large municipal park,  Frank Raines Regional Park,  and a OHV playground about midway, both of which are closed in the off-season.  I have no idea how busy the area is on a weekend when they’re open.

Mile markers so big they’re hard to see

Even though it’s in a canyon, this ride is still dry and hot in summer, so I recommend doing it in spring, fall, or early morning.  See Russell’s excellent comment below for info on traffic and water re-supply.  After a very wet spring I did it in mid-April and the hills were already beginning to brown up.

Adding Miles: at the turn-around point you’re in the midst of a classic Bay Area ride, the “Mt. Hamilton Rd. out, Mines Rd. back” loop.  To the R, Mines Rd. goes for miles, then ends near the southern-most point of our Morgan Territory Road ride.  Mines Rd. was even on the Tour of California route one year—I remember standing on a climbing corner and watching a hard-working Lance Armstrong pass by me an arm’s length away.  To the L, San Antonio Rd. climbs the back side of Mt. Hamilton and ends at the turn-around point of our Mt. Hamilton Road ride.  I consider both rides tedious, and I don’t know anyone who has ridden up Mt. Hamilton from this side, which says something (but see Andrea’s comment below).

Afterthoughts: just across Hwy 5 from Del Puerto Canyon Rd. and unmissable is an Amazon “fulfillment center,” surely one of the largest one-story buildings on earth.  Well worth a gawk.

A few miles into the ride, a large iron door is set into the rock wall.  Thoughts of the mines of Moria are unavoidable.  Can anyone tell me what it is?  Perhaps it’s the eponymous “Puerto.”

"Speak, friend, and enter."

“Speak, Friend, and enter.”