Earlier this year yours truly rented a room in a house whose back porch opened right onto the north trail of Carlsbad's Calavera Preserve. It was quite a treat going to sleep to the sound of the wild almost every night, and enjoying the view of an open stretch of land while nursing the morning coffee before heading off to work, where I'd spend the day dreaming of my days off when I'd get to take the Smorgmobile 2.0 out on the dusty trails in the 'backyard'.
Calavera Preserve has many many trails to explore. Currently just about all of them on the Preserve are open to bicycle. You do have to know the lay of the land quite well before heading out, though, as none of the trails in the adjacent Dept of Fish and Wildlife's Carlsbad Highland Ecological Reserve is open to bike (although I've seen a lot of mountain bikers on it). Generally you are fine if you stay north of the white concrete barrier/fence on the south side of the Cerro de la Calavera.
My pad being on the north side of the Preserve, I generally roamed well north of the boundary.
Most of the trails are quite road-bike-able... until they are not (bwahahaha). You just have to invest a bit in practicing your bike-handling skills, and stay quite vigilant on terrain awareness (so you don't suddenly find yourself in the weed (or rut... or even well hidden drop off!).
Oh, yeah, mtb shoes also work way better than road shoes...
Getting to the Volcano is quite a nice riding skills challenge when you aren't on a full suspension mtb, but the view is quite worth the effort.
Enjoy the view, but never lose sight of what you are riding into!
Top of the Skull
The top of the 'Skull', the Cerro de la Calavera, is a wacky place...
Some rocky fun on the trail.
No matter which set of trails you venture onto, any day on the bike is a perfect day!
One clear day late last autumn I hopped on my bike and headed out to the seemingly empty land between Moreno Valley and San Jacinto, partly to see if the lonely palm tree I could see from the distance was really as lonely as it seemed from afar.
I was spending too much time in the dullest part of Moreno Valley, and it was a relief to escape the confine of the city straight into nothingness as the busy and straight Alessandro Blvd becomes a less-traveled 2 laner and even developed a bend as its' name changes to Theodore Rd. Straying off the main road just then I turned right onto the old Davis Rd, whose cracky pavement soon gave way to a relatively well-graded packed dirt after a gate. No more roars of motor vehicles or city trash blowing about. Just chirpy brushes full of birds that don't seem to realize that they would have gone entirely undetected by me if only they would quit chirping.
After the 2nd car gate Davis Rd becomes indecisive about whether it wants to remain a dirt lane or become a paved one, and short stretches of tarmac comes and goes between the horse ranches. There was really not much to see until I descended a little hill to find the entrance to San Jacinto Wildlife Preserve. It is quite a little oasis in the convincingly parched valley.
I suspect that the place looks quite different now and there might even be water in the basin to the east of the preserve, marked on the maps as 'Mystic Lake'. When I rolled thru there last December, though, nary a drop of water was to be found outside the preserve.
I spent an hour or so happily slow-spinning the preserve trails, stalking water birds and the many hawks and kestrels patrolling the area. It was so nice and peaceful (mostly for me, but probably not much for the fish and little squirrels trying to sneak around under the gaze of all those hungry raptors!).
As the day wore on, though, I rolled back out to the main road and took the cattle-fields-lined Bridge Rd short cut from Ramona Expressway to Gilman Springs Rd in the vain hope of espying some cool game birds along the way, but the only creatures that came out to greet me were a bunch of curious cows munching leisurely on their lunch.
The turn off onto the narrow old Jack Rabbit Trail from Gilman Springs Rd is unmarked. This used to be the main (or rather, the one and only) connection between Beaumont and Moreno Valley before Highway 60 was built. It was practically abandoned once the main highway opened in 1936 (especially once the 60 was upgraded to a freeway in 1956), and is now quite in disrepair with broken up pavement and a few landslid spots toward the crest.
There is only one house along the lonely lane, and its owner came riding down the slope on his touring bike just as I got 1/3 of the way up it. We had a chat and I went on to tag the north end of the trail (Jack Rabbit Trail now ends on Hwy 60, not quite a thru road by bike) before coming back up to meet him again near the crest. His name is Dave Major and he is riding across the States with his daughter Martie, a few bits of it at a time. How cool is that, ay??
Anyhow, I survived the bumpy descent back to Gilman Springs and back to town just before the evening rush hours commenced. That was quite a relief (all the tire marks the many cars left on Gilman Springs from veering unexpectedly onto the narrow road shoulder were getting on my nerves quite a bit). It was quite a nice little day ride to perk up my miserable year in Moreno Valley. That taught me a lesson... there are wonderful views to see even in hell, you just have to hop onto the bike and go find them!
I felt like one of the Danaides, caught in a timelessly futile torment trying to fill a porous jar with water that would wash away the sin of post-forced-marital mariticide. The thing is, there simply was not enough water left in my two bottles to squirt the multitude of hungry flies out of my every exposed orifice. The steep, narrow, and slippery dirt road I was on made me a fish in the flies' barrel. I tried to keep an eye on the road, but only caught flashes of trees and dirt in between the shifting curtains of gnats. My lungs gasped for air, but every other molecules of gas came accompanied by bugs.
The Danaides by John William Waterhouse circ 1903.
There couldn't have been more than a mile and a bit left from the top of
Nate Harrison Grade Road where the trees would thin out and the cooler
alpine air would be mostly free of pesky insects. The closer I got to
the top, though, the distance seemed to stretch out like the magical pear
branches that kept receding away from the starving hand of Tantalus.
Cycling up Palomar Mountain outside of the cold winter months must be
very offensive to the petulant gods of Olympus... and it has much less
to do with the steepness and the length of the slope than whether one
had splattered on sufficient amount of DEET before committing the crime commencing the climb.
After a mile and a bit pavement ends on Nate Harrison Grade.
There are lots of view to see along the climb even on a misty day.
Old tarmac comes and goes, but the constant grind lasts (almost) forever.
That was my first re-visit with Palomar Mountain since last spring when I
rode up and down the standard Hwy 76/S Grade Rd route with the friendly folks from Neighborhood Cyclery. It was a different day, then. I was in
much fitter bicycling shape and had a lot of friends with me on the
road. There was even a SAG support trailer keeping an eye on us up and
down the mountain. This time around I was in a sad biking
fitness and looking for much needed alone time away from civilization.
The former didn't bode well for the steepest barely-roadbikeable route
up the mountain (8.4 miles at 9% average gradient), the latter, however, is a given on Nate's mostly
dirt road.
It took over two hours of constant grinding; about 20 minutes of which was spent in really-bugged-by-bugs purgatory, but I survived to the top and a bit (once you've endured the trial of Nate Harrison Grade Rd on a road bike, you might as well go another half mile up double digit gradient paved ramp to Boucher Hill fire lookout tower!). It is a very different climb from Palomar South Grade Rd. There are 5 or 6 ramps with gradients in the low teens, and there are false flats to catch your breath on. It's just a shame that the final mile of this thing is the steepest mile of the entire road.
The last mile and a bit of Nate Harrison Grade is very steep forested lane.
The burnt elephant stump guarding the road to Boucher Hill.
Boucher Hill Fire Lookout Tower (May 2017).
It had rained three days earlier, so the 6 miles of dirt on that narrow back door to the mountain was mostly dry and nicely firm. What I hadn't quite counted on was how windy the storm that hit the mountain was... The last two miles or so of Nate Harrison (and most of Boucher Hill Rd) was covered in downed trees; and a lot of huge roadside trees looked ready to come down with the next gust of wind (not a reassuring sight when you can hardly go 6 mph up the hill, and have neither the tires nor the brakes to even attempt to descend down the way you came).
I thought about swinging down to visit Doane Pond when I got to the top, but the road was closed due to storm-downed trees. Come to think of it, the rangers probably should have closed down Nate Harrison as well (or at least put up signs about downed trees and trees that might soon be coming down as you drive/ride under them further up the slope). At any rate, my legs were moderately grateful that the Doane Pond option was closed off. They had had quite enough of insect infested double digit gradient slopes for the morning!
Yes, there were still good patches of snow on Palomar Mountain!
A young doe crossed State Park Rd just ahead of me before stopping to give me a second look.
A glimpse of the snaky Palomar South Grade Rd from State Park Rd.
From Boucher Hill, it's three or so miles of paved rollers on State Park Rd (S7) to Mother's Kitchen and Palomar Mountain General Store, and the start of the descent back down the mountain. There aren't many descents in the county as hair-raisingly fun as the combination of Palomar South Grade and Hwy 76 to Jilberto's Taco. Twelve downhill miles (5-9% grade the whole way with just one short
false flat in the middle), only one stop sign, and only two short
straight stretches. A lot of times the descent alone is worth suffering up this big blob of granite for me.
Nate Harrison Grade is off my hit list until next winter, though. There are bugs waiting to ambush pesky cyclists along South Grade and East Grade Roads, too, but at least with those routes I would have the option to beat a retreat back down the hill if it gets too much. On Nate Harrison Grade, if you start up that on a road bike, you are committed to going all the way up in order to come down on the paved roads... unless you are a ninja bike handler on the level with Peter Sagan or his likes, I guess. But even if you can handle the super rough, steep, slippery, and snaky descent, you'll still likely need a couple of new tires and maybe spokes and brake pads by the time you level out again. That's just not quite worth it for me.
