T
Todd Bryan
Guest
Sunday, 5/23/2004, was a day for a ride. Unfortunately I had no fellow
riders lined up, but to make up for the lack of companionship en route,
I arranged to meet friends at a winery in the Santa Ynez valley across
the coastal mountain range from Santa Barbara. My early morning departure
would allow an early afternoon wine tasting and comraderie.
After packing sandwiches and water, I rolled out of my driveway in
downtown Santa Barbara and pedaled west along the coast for a few miles.
At this time of morning, about 8:45 or so, there were many other cyclists
out: some solo, others in twos or threes. Several of us exchanged cheery
greetings as we all headed to wherever we were heading for the day.
After a few miles I arrived at my first jumping-off point, the base of
the old San Marcos Pass road. San Marcos Pass is one of three major
passes across the Santa Ynez mountains and it carries the 'super two'
lane highway 154. Bicyclists and others, though, can experience the
special treat of traversing this pass by an older stagecoach route.
The older roads are little used and offer magnificent vistas as one
climbs to and a little above the 2300' pass.
Both cycle and car traffic dwindled to nothing as I started up the
lower half of the climb. Gradually the magnificent view of the South
Coast emerged, and I could see from Goleta to Carpinteria and out to the
Channel Islands. But despite the clear air near the sea, the pass and
its surrounding peaks were shrouded in clouds and mist. I looked forward
to riding in the overcast for a while. Overcast in the mountains always
reminds me of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the Tennessee/North Carolina
border, on whose peaks I took many a childhood hike.
At the halfway point, one can look down onto the coast before crossing
busy state 154 and continuing on the beautiful Painted Cave Road.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1669.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1670.jpg
While the climb steepens, the road becomes smoother, narrower, and
even more dramatic. As one works over a spur into Maria Ygnacio Canyon
and up into the small hamlet of Painted Cave, dramatic rock exposures
and stunning subpeaks all range into view. The wild curves provide an
ever-changing direction in which to look, and the updrafts in the narrow
canyons often support circling hawks or at least the ubiquitous buzzards.
I soon cruised past the Chumash Painted Cave, home of renowned Chumash
glyphs, past the gnarly hairpin curve, and onward through the village.
Fog shrouded the homes and ranches and no breeze stirred the windmills
here. Wanting a drink of water, I quickly hit East Camino Cielo at the
ridgetop and coasted down to the (still defunct) Cielo Store where the
faucet provided a nice draught. Scuttlebutt is that the store will
reopen soon, but today it was locked tight so after my drink I again
crossed 154 at the peak of San Marcos Pass and took the tiny, twist
Kinevan Road down to West Camino Cielo, my route for the next 20 or
so miles.
The first three miles is mostly a climb out of the pass, and views are
limited. Although there are many popular picnic, climbing, and shooting
areas along the road, traffic still was non-existent so I enjoyed a
peaceful and quiet climb, sometimes inside a cloud and sometimes in the
sun. Soon enough the gun range hove into view and with reports echoing,
the pavement rolled out from under my wheels and the dirt rolled in.
This section of West Camino Cielo is a stunning ridgetop fire road,
little traveled, with magnificent vistas towards both the coast and the
Santa Ynez Valley. I stopped at the first dramatic overlook, where an
Anna's hummingbird took offense at my disruption of her morning meal.
She expressed her displeasure by buzzing as loudly as possible while
investigating me from all angles. Soon enough we both realized our mutual
interest in investigation and not mayhem, and after my photos were done,
I left her in peace and rolled down into the top of Tecolote Canyon.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1673.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1676.jpg
Disappointed that no one was there to share the marvelous views, I babbled
away to myself about them. After a while I reached a familiar stopping
place at the top of Winchester Canyon and sat down to enjoy a sandwich.
Upon getting back up and on the bike, I noticed that I could hear the
distant sound of a motor. Since dirt bikers are sometimes seen on this
road, I assumed one would catch up to me soon. They arrive and pass
so quickly that they leave little dust cloud and they seem a friendly
bunch, always ready with a friendly wave. But as I listened I realized
this was a larger motor and thus was probably a car. Cars are rare on
the road but are sometimes seen. Finally we got to a section with good
rearward visibility and I saw the machine - a huge ridiculous new red
'SUV', an Escalade or Tahoe or something. I could hear it plainly
on the straightaway and its engine was straining, emitting a pained
bellow something like an old dog howling at fire engines or maybe Benjy
Compson hollerin' at the golfers. "What the hell is that guy thinking?",
thought I. I figured he would pass me at some point and I'd take a
break to let the dust settle. But as I pedaled on, the bellow grew more
and more muted and finally I realized that my 6 or 7 mile an hour pace
over the broken rock, sand, and dirt was faster than the SUV was making.
Soon enough he was back out of earshot, the sun came out completely,
and the sky turned a brilliant blue.
Broadcast Peak at about 4100 feet hove into view.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1682.jpg
The road first snakes
around the north side of the peak but then switches over to the south
(coastal) side for the remainder of the climb. One can see plainly the
horse ranches of the valley and the Cachuma Reservoir, water supply to
most of the South Coast. I saw several yucca plants coming into bloom
as the climb started. From a distance a blooming yucca looks a lot
like a person out in the chapparal, so I had some fleeting companionship
at times.
But soon I got plenty of companionship. A few minutes into the climb
I caught up to a group of three SUVs slowly pounding their way up
the mountain. These guys had antennas and ham license plates, so I
figured they were headed to Broadcast Peak to work on the repeaters there.
But there are easier ways to the peak, and the trucks had been retrofitted
with large tires...
I passed all three, exchanging greetings, as they bounced, smashed, and
floundered across the ruts and rocks. Soon enough they were also out
of earshot behind as the more rural coast around Gaviota came into view.
Magnificent! This area is one of my favorites in Santa Barbara County -
truly stunning in beauty, and not heavily visited.
Past Broadcast Peak with its repeaters and transmitters and long-distance
microwave links and on to Santa Ynez Peak at 4200 feet, I reached the
high point of the climb. Curious about the observatory on Santa Ynez Peak
which I had ridden past many times, I climbed the extra 200 feet up to the
installation only to find an unmarked compound surrounded by chain link
and razor wire. An outhouse, weather station and microwave antenna sat
around the main observatory dome. I saw no signs or markings whatsoever.
While I had assumed this was an academic or community observatory, it
certainly didn't seem that inviting. After returning home and delving
into the matter I discovered the observatory isn't for astronomy but
rather is an optical tracking station for Vandenberg AFB rocket and
missile launches. There is a 24" Newtonian inside, and the microwave
link is probably for real-time video transmission. I guess the chances
of ever using that scope to gaze at the moons of Jupiter are nil.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1687.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1689.jpg
Back on paved road I bombed down the fantastic stretch into Refugio Pass,
meeting up with Refugio Road near the upper entrance to the Reagan Ranch,
'Rancho del Cielo'. There was a cyclist couple here but as they were
apparently having an uncomfortable moment I started on down the unpaved
north side of Refugio Road into the Santa Ynez Valley. Blackberry bushes
grew along here, but it is still much too early for fruit and I don't have
a good idea of what the off California seasons do to blackberries anyway.
We always pick them in July back home.
At the bottom of Refugio I started across the many fords and bridges and
soon I saw the first snake of the day! It was one of my favorites - the
wonderfully marked California king snake.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1692.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1693.jpg
This little guy was out in the
middle of the road but both he and I had to scramble when a Toyota Land
Cruiser, rigged with large tires and jerrycans and driven by two guys
with grim expressions, careened across the bridge. I moved on, rolling
past the Sunstone and Rideau vineyards and into Santa Ynez, where I got
a coke and had lunch in the visitor's dugout at Santa Ynez High School.
From there a few short miles took me past the miniature donkey farms
and chic hotels of Ballard and finally to the Buttonwood Winery where my
girlfriend was waiting with fresh homemade cookies. We spent the rest
of the afternoon enjoying the wine, the cookies, and the stunning day.
It was a short ride at 53 miles and probably no more than 6000' climbing.
I look forward to making some loop trips into the valley along this
route soon.
--
Todd Bryan
Santa Barbara, CA
bryan at cs dot utk dot edu
riders lined up, but to make up for the lack of companionship en route,
I arranged to meet friends at a winery in the Santa Ynez valley across
the coastal mountain range from Santa Barbara. My early morning departure
would allow an early afternoon wine tasting and comraderie.
After packing sandwiches and water, I rolled out of my driveway in
downtown Santa Barbara and pedaled west along the coast for a few miles.
At this time of morning, about 8:45 or so, there were many other cyclists
out: some solo, others in twos or threes. Several of us exchanged cheery
greetings as we all headed to wherever we were heading for the day.
After a few miles I arrived at my first jumping-off point, the base of
the old San Marcos Pass road. San Marcos Pass is one of three major
passes across the Santa Ynez mountains and it carries the 'super two'
lane highway 154. Bicyclists and others, though, can experience the
special treat of traversing this pass by an older stagecoach route.
The older roads are little used and offer magnificent vistas as one
climbs to and a little above the 2300' pass.
Both cycle and car traffic dwindled to nothing as I started up the
lower half of the climb. Gradually the magnificent view of the South
Coast emerged, and I could see from Goleta to Carpinteria and out to the
Channel Islands. But despite the clear air near the sea, the pass and
its surrounding peaks were shrouded in clouds and mist. I looked forward
to riding in the overcast for a while. Overcast in the mountains always
reminds me of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the Tennessee/North Carolina
border, on whose peaks I took many a childhood hike.
At the halfway point, one can look down onto the coast before crossing
busy state 154 and continuing on the beautiful Painted Cave Road.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1669.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1670.jpg
While the climb steepens, the road becomes smoother, narrower, and
even more dramatic. As one works over a spur into Maria Ygnacio Canyon
and up into the small hamlet of Painted Cave, dramatic rock exposures
and stunning subpeaks all range into view. The wild curves provide an
ever-changing direction in which to look, and the updrafts in the narrow
canyons often support circling hawks or at least the ubiquitous buzzards.
I soon cruised past the Chumash Painted Cave, home of renowned Chumash
glyphs, past the gnarly hairpin curve, and onward through the village.
Fog shrouded the homes and ranches and no breeze stirred the windmills
here. Wanting a drink of water, I quickly hit East Camino Cielo at the
ridgetop and coasted down to the (still defunct) Cielo Store where the
faucet provided a nice draught. Scuttlebutt is that the store will
reopen soon, but today it was locked tight so after my drink I again
crossed 154 at the peak of San Marcos Pass and took the tiny, twist
Kinevan Road down to West Camino Cielo, my route for the next 20 or
so miles.
The first three miles is mostly a climb out of the pass, and views are
limited. Although there are many popular picnic, climbing, and shooting
areas along the road, traffic still was non-existent so I enjoyed a
peaceful and quiet climb, sometimes inside a cloud and sometimes in the
sun. Soon enough the gun range hove into view and with reports echoing,
the pavement rolled out from under my wheels and the dirt rolled in.
This section of West Camino Cielo is a stunning ridgetop fire road,
little traveled, with magnificent vistas towards both the coast and the
Santa Ynez Valley. I stopped at the first dramatic overlook, where an
Anna's hummingbird took offense at my disruption of her morning meal.
She expressed her displeasure by buzzing as loudly as possible while
investigating me from all angles. Soon enough we both realized our mutual
interest in investigation and not mayhem, and after my photos were done,
I left her in peace and rolled down into the top of Tecolote Canyon.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1673.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1676.jpg
Disappointed that no one was there to share the marvelous views, I babbled
away to myself about them. After a while I reached a familiar stopping
place at the top of Winchester Canyon and sat down to enjoy a sandwich.
Upon getting back up and on the bike, I noticed that I could hear the
distant sound of a motor. Since dirt bikers are sometimes seen on this
road, I assumed one would catch up to me soon. They arrive and pass
so quickly that they leave little dust cloud and they seem a friendly
bunch, always ready with a friendly wave. But as I listened I realized
this was a larger motor and thus was probably a car. Cars are rare on
the road but are sometimes seen. Finally we got to a section with good
rearward visibility and I saw the machine - a huge ridiculous new red
'SUV', an Escalade or Tahoe or something. I could hear it plainly
on the straightaway and its engine was straining, emitting a pained
bellow something like an old dog howling at fire engines or maybe Benjy
Compson hollerin' at the golfers. "What the hell is that guy thinking?",
thought I. I figured he would pass me at some point and I'd take a
break to let the dust settle. But as I pedaled on, the bellow grew more
and more muted and finally I realized that my 6 or 7 mile an hour pace
over the broken rock, sand, and dirt was faster than the SUV was making.
Soon enough he was back out of earshot, the sun came out completely,
and the sky turned a brilliant blue.
Broadcast Peak at about 4100 feet hove into view.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1682.jpg
The road first snakes
around the north side of the peak but then switches over to the south
(coastal) side for the remainder of the climb. One can see plainly the
horse ranches of the valley and the Cachuma Reservoir, water supply to
most of the South Coast. I saw several yucca plants coming into bloom
as the climb started. From a distance a blooming yucca looks a lot
like a person out in the chapparal, so I had some fleeting companionship
at times.
But soon I got plenty of companionship. A few minutes into the climb
I caught up to a group of three SUVs slowly pounding their way up
the mountain. These guys had antennas and ham license plates, so I
figured they were headed to Broadcast Peak to work on the repeaters there.
But there are easier ways to the peak, and the trucks had been retrofitted
with large tires...
I passed all three, exchanging greetings, as they bounced, smashed, and
floundered across the ruts and rocks. Soon enough they were also out
of earshot behind as the more rural coast around Gaviota came into view.
Magnificent! This area is one of my favorites in Santa Barbara County -
truly stunning in beauty, and not heavily visited.
Past Broadcast Peak with its repeaters and transmitters and long-distance
microwave links and on to Santa Ynez Peak at 4200 feet, I reached the
high point of the climb. Curious about the observatory on Santa Ynez Peak
which I had ridden past many times, I climbed the extra 200 feet up to the
installation only to find an unmarked compound surrounded by chain link
and razor wire. An outhouse, weather station and microwave antenna sat
around the main observatory dome. I saw no signs or markings whatsoever.
While I had assumed this was an academic or community observatory, it
certainly didn't seem that inviting. After returning home and delving
into the matter I discovered the observatory isn't for astronomy but
rather is an optical tracking station for Vandenberg AFB rocket and
missile launches. There is a 24" Newtonian inside, and the microwave
link is probably for real-time video transmission. I guess the chances
of ever using that scope to gaze at the moons of Jupiter are nil.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1687.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1689.jpg
Back on paved road I bombed down the fantastic stretch into Refugio Pass,
meeting up with Refugio Road near the upper entrance to the Reagan Ranch,
'Rancho del Cielo'. There was a cyclist couple here but as they were
apparently having an uncomfortable moment I started on down the unpaved
north side of Refugio Road into the Santa Ynez Valley. Blackberry bushes
grew along here, but it is still much too early for fruit and I don't have
a good idea of what the off California seasons do to blackberries anyway.
We always pick them in July back home.
At the bottom of Refugio I started across the many fords and bridges and
soon I saw the first snake of the day! It was one of my favorites - the
wonderfully marked California king snake.
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1692.jpg
http://pompone.cs.ucsb.edu/~bryan/photos/trb1693.jpg
This little guy was out in the
middle of the road but both he and I had to scramble when a Toyota Land
Cruiser, rigged with large tires and jerrycans and driven by two guys
with grim expressions, careened across the bridge. I moved on, rolling
past the Sunstone and Rideau vineyards and into Santa Ynez, where I got
a coke and had lunch in the visitor's dugout at Santa Ynez High School.
From there a few short miles took me past the miniature donkey farms
and chic hotels of Ballard and finally to the Buttonwood Winery where my
girlfriend was waiting with fresh homemade cookies. We spent the rest
of the afternoon enjoying the wine, the cookies, and the stunning day.
It was a short ride at 53 miles and probably no more than 6000' climbing.
I look forward to making some loop trips into the valley along this
route soon.
--
Todd Bryan
Santa Barbara, CA
bryan at cs dot utk dot edu