On Saturday morning, I drove about 30 miles south of Santa Cruz to explore the trails of a place I have heard a lot about, but never ridden - Ft. Ord.
It took about 45 minutes to get to the trailhead. As I was driving south on Hwy 1, I was excited about the prospect of riding in a place that warned of mountain lions, rattlesnakes, and live explosives in public areas!
Ft. Ord, an infantry training center for the first 80 years of the 20th century, is now de-activated for military training and is open to the public. The Bureau of Land Management has created a network of multi-use trails that are free to the public.
It took about 45 minutes to get to the trailhead. As I was driving south on Hwy 1, I was excited about the prospect of riding in a place that warned of mountain lions, rattlesnakes, and live explosives in public areas!
An excerpt from one of Ft. Ord's websites:
>Explosives at former Fort Ord
First, the trails are heavily signed. I couldn't ride for more than a half mile without having to stop to consult the map to see which trail to connect with. In general, I appreciate this because it makes it makes the outdoors accessible to more people, but I found that I could never settle in enough to enjoy the riding. And yeah, I know that I had an agenda for this ride (get to the yellow zone!), so that had a lot to do with it, too.
Second, the terrain was much different. Most of the riding I do is under the canopy of redwoods where I am the smallest thing on the trail. I ride on well-packed, cool soil with rocks and roots to navigate. This day, I found myself the tallest thing on the trail - I was fully exposed to the sun as I rode next to low scrub brush and madrone trees. The trail was sand - loose and deep in many spots. The riding here, unlike at home, did not require strong technical skills - only an ability to muscle through deep sand.
In my head, I started playing a game to minimize the suffering of riding in sand. I pretended that there were unexploded land mines all around me and that I couldn't put my foot down in or I would get blown up. That game ended when I realized that I had to put my foot down in order to stop to check the map to see which connecting trail to take. Aaargh.
The third way that Ft. Ord is different than riding at home is that it was H-O-T. Great for training military troops maybe, but not so good for riding bikes. Less than two miles into the ride, I had salt streaks on my sunglasses and my hands were slipping from the grips. It did feel good to sweat, though, and riding here reminded me that as much physical exercise as I do, I just don't sweat enough. Those people reading this who don't live in Central California may be rolling their eyes right now.
I started climbing again to meet up with more singletrack and work my way towards that ever-elusive yellow zone, but quickly bonked. It was just too hot and I was running out of liquids, even though I had started with a 100 oz. Camelbak with water and two water bottles full of electrolyte fluid. Also, my paper map was disintegrating from being stored in my jersey pocket which was soaked with sweat. So I turned around and enjoyed the downhill to get back on the asphalt and head back to the parking area.
>Explosives at former Fort Ord
While every effort has and is being made to clear dangerous materials, 60 years of military occupation make it possible that live rounds and explosives may remain in public areas as well as posted areas.
DO NOT TOUCH unfamiliar objects, especially metal. Instead, MARK THE LOCATION and CALL THE FEDERAL POLICE at (831) 242-7851 or (831) 242-7924.
After a little exploring, I found the trailhead parking lot nestled between a residential community and some strawberry fields. I grabbed a trail map and plotted a course that would satisfy my two objectives - keep me on as much singletrack as possible AND get me close to the yellow "DO NOT ENTER" section (see map below - I had to cut the map in half to post it here...so imagine that the bottom half is attached to the left of the top half.) For reference, I started my ride at the intersection of G17 (Reservation Road) and Hwy 67.
Less than a mile into my ride, I noticed three ways that Ft. Ord vastly different than the riding do on my local trails.
First, the trails are heavily signed. I couldn't ride for more than a half mile without having to stop to consult the map to see which trail to connect with. In general, I appreciate this because it makes it makes the outdoors accessible to more people, but I found that I could never settle in enough to enjoy the riding. And yeah, I know that I had an agenda for this ride (get to the yellow zone!), so that had a lot to do with it, too.
Second, the terrain was much different. Most of the riding I do is under the canopy of redwoods where I am the smallest thing on the trail. I ride on well-packed, cool soil with rocks and roots to navigate. This day, I found myself the tallest thing on the trail - I was fully exposed to the sun as I rode next to low scrub brush and madrone trees. The trail was sand - loose and deep in many spots. The riding here, unlike at home, did not require strong technical skills - only an ability to muscle through deep sand.
In my head, I started playing a game to minimize the suffering of riding in sand. I pretended that there were unexploded land mines all around me and that I couldn't put my foot down in or I would get blown up. That game ended when I realized that I had to put my foot down in order to stop to check the map to see which connecting trail to take. Aaargh.The third way that Ft. Ord is different than riding at home is that it was H-O-T. Great for training military troops maybe, but not so good for riding bikes. Less than two miles into the ride, I had salt streaks on my sunglasses and my hands were slipping from the grips. It did feel good to sweat, though, and riding here reminded me that as much physical exercise as I do, I just don't sweat enough. Those people reading this who don't live in Central California may be rolling their eyes right now.
All was fine until about mile six. Like an animal that gets distracted by a shiny trinket, I got distracted from my goal of getting to the yellow zone. What distracted me was a named trail - called Lookout Ridge. I figured the views would be great, so I headed in that direction. And that took everything out of me - a 7% climb for just over a mile on a single-speed in the blazing sun. But at least I was on hard-packed soil instead of loose sand. If you check out the profile, you can see the climb at mile six.
After the blood drained from my eyes, I ate two melted Snickers bars while crouching under a madrone tree. Turns out madrone trees don't provide much shade, so I scarfed and barfed in order to get back on the bike and start suffering, I mean riding, again.
I started climbing again to meet up with more singletrack and work my way towards that ever-elusive yellow zone, but quickly bonked. It was just too hot and I was running out of liquids, even though I had started with a 100 oz. Camelbak with water and two water bottles full of electrolyte fluid. Also, my paper map was disintegrating from being stored in my jersey pocket which was soaked with sweat. So I turned around and enjoyed the downhill to get back on the asphalt and head back to the parking area. As I was driving home I realized that this is the second time in a row that I didn't perform well on my single-speed mountain bike. It reminded me that I haven't spent enough time on it recently. So I need to do more of that.
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