Here, There, Everywhere to June 1st

 

This was our third bike ride in May, which is not really a big deal, a bit less than 50 miles all total.  However, we have to hook the bikes to our car and go away from home (because our mountainous narrow twisty-turny roads are not safe for us to ride on, except for riding to the airport), so it's actually a bit of work and it takes time to get somewhere else.  But, with the ideal weather this month, how could we resist being Out and About?  (Well, the weather turned cold and rainy (!!) the last week in May, which is great for this dry climate but obviously no bueno for biking.)  BTW, fire season begins today .... 

On the 20th, we drove to Beal's Point and parked at Folsom Dam to ride the American River Parkway trail.  What a gorgeous sunshiny day!  Folsom Lake (no photo, sorry) was full as a tick from winter rains, thank goodness, and the river itself was fast and cold.  You see a lone kayaker in the above pic, but we saw lots of watercraft along the way.

Mom 'n Fluffy on the paddleboard.

We like to stop along the way to "see what's going on," and these next photos are from a stop we made to eat granola bars and polish off a Gatorade.  Hey, buddy, where's the rest of your tail?

Two kayakers quietly paddle up a slough or American River estuary.  I took their picture while standing on a bridge, turned around and on the other side, I spied the handsome duo below.

Loved seeing both the Blue Heron and the White Swan.

Parking the bikes at our turn around point, Jimmy checks the water temp.  He pronounced it, "cold." (No surprise) Behind him, rapids are beginning to show.  And we always ogle the fancy homes on the hills overlooking the river, picking the one we think is best.  "Oh, I like that one," kinda thing.

Riding past and below Nimbus Dam, we took an extra spur trail today, and came upon fishermen, both on the riverbank and in the water.  See the dot in the center of the pic?  Fly fisherman.  They may be hopeful, but we didn't see anyone hauling in a fish.

We always enjoy riding the parkway trail, no matter which section we do, always fun.

* * * * *

On Friday, we wanted to do something different and about burned up our brains trying to decide on something other than the same old-same old.  We settled on hiking beside the Newtown Canal, aka Deer Creek Tribute Trail.  Like our Cascade Canal, this canal is a former hydraulic mining ditch which now delivers water for the Nevada Irrigation District (NID).  The canal is roughly 6"-12" deep, zips along like gangbusters, and we even spotted fish!

While not a new trail for us, we haven't been here in a long time, maybe close to a year? And it leads 150' down a zig-zag path to the Chinese Bridge and Deer Creek.  A sunny day, we appreciated the shade that the trees provided.

 

L-R, top: Sweet pea, California (pink) Honeysuckle, middle:  Indian Pink, Golden Poppy, bottom: Seep Monkeyflower, and Twining Snakelily.  I won't say we saw an abundance of wildflowers, but, yes, flowers were still around and are always a delight to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Mallard floating merrily along the canal.

What a stellar day!

* * * * *

If you can believe this -- our granddaughter, nine-year-old Evie, graduated from third grade this week!  Above and below, she's standing with her teacher.  Not the best quality pics because it's a picture of a photo, but she sure looks happy!  She's a natural beauty!  Good show, Evie, congratulations!  On to fourth grade in August.

That's about it from Nevada City.  Almost, that is.  Tomorrow morning I'll board a Southwest jet bound for Maryland and a week's visit with my sister, Nannie!  Oh boy!  Maybe I'll post some of our shenanigans.

You did WHAT? Sunday, 5/17/26

Saturday was Armed Forces Day.  Our dinky Nevada County Air Park always puts on a day-long celebration honoring the men and women of the United States Armed Forces, including veterans, active-duty personnel, and military families, and Jimmy is an Air Force veteran.  It's a family-friendly event and it's free.  Jimmy and I don't live far from the air park and, in fact, enjoy riding our bikes over to it.  Today we drove, wandered around looking at aircraft and visited with friends.  The event features food and drink and vendor booths and flyovers from various aircraft.  And airplane rides.  When I asked about airplane rides, I was told they were booked.  My face fell, and the guy laughed and said, "Well, let me put you on the list in case we can fit you in tomorrow."  

And so they did.

This pic of "our plane" was taken on Saturday, when the day warranted wearing shorts.  Big change on Sunday with huge winds (maybe we'll fly, maybe not) and much cooler temps.  We wore jeans and windbreakers.

I wasn't feeling well (sinusitis? a cold?) and hadn't planned on flying ... but, OMGosh, here I am, first time EVER in a tiny plane, a biplane, WACO (not whacko) and my beloved Jimmy right next to me.  And I wasn't afraid.  Wow.  Juan Browne, our ace pilot, will be flying the pretty red plane from the seat behind us!

Buckled in.  Hooked up.  Ready, set, go!

Waving bye to Drake,

the young man who helped us squeeze into our seats.

Don't touch anything!

It isn't easy to maneuver a phone, plus a camera, while zipping down the runway!  And definitely don't hold either one above the windscreen or out the side opening, or it's gone!  So, this isn't the best video, but it's us taking off!  

 

We flew over Nevada County,

probably over our house on Banner Lava Cap.

Past the airport.  We saw the South Yuba River Canyon after this.

Into the foothills, with the Sierra crest in the distance.  We could fly because the wind was "coming straight down the runway."  Once in the air, our little plane did well, not many bumps.  It felt solid, except the ground beneath us was way down there!  We took some pics, as you see, and a couple of videos, and the rest of the time (20-25 min airtime), we ... we were simply awed.

Nevada County has trees!  I'm not sure which body of water that is on the right.  I was so excited to be flying with the wind in my hair.  A "convertible" airplane!

Juan gave us info on where we were/what we were seeing via the headphones.  Above, we were over Lake Wildwood (who knew it was so big?).  We have several friends living in this community. 

Coming around to Hwy 49.  We knew what this was without being told, by the look of it.  The highway is being widened, tons o' trees have been removed, with bare dirt exposed.

A closer view of Hwy 49, our north/south corridor.

Too soon our ride was over.

Juan gives us the thumbs up.

We didn't mind paying the fee as the proceeds provide aviation scholarships for local youth through the nonprofit Golden Empire Flying Association, of which Juan is President.  (He used to be our neighbor.)  

All done.  Juan takes the WACO to the garage.  The wind REALLY came up in the afternoon; I doubt any more flights took place.

When we got home, I took a long nap and felt better afterwards.  Anyhoot, who would want to miss an opportunity like this?  Just goes to show you -- you're never too old for a FUN new experience!

Monday's jaunt (5-11-26)

 

Back in 2007, when we fired up this blog, we wanted to come up with a catchy web address.  We settled on intrepid-decrepit-travelers.com, thinking we were mighty clever using this funny moniker.  And now, almost twenty years later, we realize we were ahead of our time.  Because some mornings we wake up feeling intrepid (yeehaw!), and then there are days that decrepit is a more apt description for how the ol' bodies feel when we roll out of bed.  On those days, it's hi-ho, hi-ho, up and atem anyway.

I think the best way to coax a resistant body is to head out on the bike.  And so we did, on Monday, driving up to Truckee on a warm and sunny day.  The paved Truckee River Legacy Trail is a gem, and it follows the river as it rushes eastward toward Nevada and its ultimate destination, Pyramid Lake.  Beautiful, above, isn't it?

Beginning our bike ride at Truckee Regional Park, it's about a 10 mile R/T trail.  We parked the bikes whenever we felt like it (no hurries, no worries).  At this point I scampered down to the water's edge.  Yep, it's cold, and ripping along.

Spotted a few clumps of Lupines next to the path.  I thought they were Harlequin Lupines, but, no, this plant is Lupinus arbustus, or Long spurred lupine.  Really pretty.

Yellow Bitterbrush was in full bloom the entire length of the trail.

Da River

Oh boy, we were tickled.  Not long after we began, we heard a train whistle.  Lucky us, two trains crossed here, one headed east and ta'other going west.  Eastbound had nine locomotives -- most we've ever seen!  Later, we heard one more train but couldn't see that one.

Ah, made it to the top!  Truckee and environs elevation is roughly 6000' (+/-) and the gain on this trail is 472'.  We ate our granola bars and shared a drink, grateful to sit here for a few minutes.  Water is provided via a hand pump, which I pulled "on" but couldn't shut it off.  Thank you, Jimmy!

Thoughtful folks installed this bike fix-it "station" at Glenshire trailhead.

Scenic overlook with the river and the high Sierra crest.  We have to cross the bridge over Martis Creek (above the red checkmark) to get up to Glenshire trailhead.  Quite a workout, too, even with battery assist!  Nice spot for a bench.

Between 1868 and the 1920's, ice ponds were created by damming sections of the Truckee River and its tributaries, such as Martis Creek (here) where high-quality ice was harvested and supplied to Nevada's Comstock mines and California cities via the railroad.  Above is a section of the old dam.

Back in town, we rode to the other side of the river and came upon this massive snow removal gizmo!  No longer in use, but I bet it was something to see, flinging deep snow everywhere!

I don't know if you can read this,

but this same machine rescued a snowbound train in 1952. 

And this giant crane rights train cars after a derailment.

Also no longer in use.

Wrapping up our ride, we stopped at Jax @ the Trax for a burger and a BLT, and, by gum, if we weren't in time to hail the eastbound Amtrak!  It stops in Truckee for a few minutes, with its engine idling smack in the middle of a main street, picks up and drops off people, and with a toot-toot of its horn, chugs off down the hill to Reno, and beyond.  We stood outside watching the process, smiling the entire time.  We like trains.

There's been talk about relocating and rehabilitating these historic cottages, but who knows if or when this will happen.  Built 1905/ish, they've been vacant for a long time.  Located between the train tracks and the river, the land must be valuable, but now these old houses seem like safety hazards.  

Surprise!  While poking around the old places (photo above this one), we discovered another walk/bike bridge over the Truckee ... which led to a new one-mile paved trail, which, I believe will eventually be paved all the way to Hwy 89, a great big plus as far as we're concerned.

Overall, we only put 15 miles on our bikes, 15 up/down miles, much of it in full sun, but we returned home happy as larks, albeit tired.  In the evening, we popped popcorn, put our feet up, and watched Remarkably Bright Creatures on Netflix, a lovely story.  (loved the book)

Intrepid?  Decrepit?  Whatever!  Travelers?  Always.  Count me grateful.

Getaway time! April 2026

 

Jimmy and I believe in "Zooming away on Wild Adventures," but this was more like slipping away on a mild escapade, 120 miles from home southwest to Napa.  April is such a lovely month to be Out and About.  I checked the weather in advance and the week of April 21-24 looked clear ... till a few days before we left, then rain entered the picture.  Harumph.  I changed our dates at Skyline Wilderness Park to the 22nd - 25th.  Okay!  We packed a couple changes of clothes (layers, doncha know) and some grub in Tergel and took off.  Wincing at today's $5.59 average gas p/g prices, we thanked our lucky stars that we'd filled Tergel's gas tank before arriving home when we left the desert in early March!

Skyline Park is an 850-acre wilderness area at the southeast corner of Napa.  We've camped here before (check Skyline label at left) and really enjoyed ourselves.  With over 25 miles of trails for hiking, (mountain) biking and horse riding, there's plenty of room for everyone.  This time of year, green is the dominant color, which mixes harmoniously with blue skies and cotton-candy clouds, above.

We did a recon walk-about our first afternoon, looking to see where the trails began and checking the grounds.  Lots to do here.  The RV park wasn't crowded and I had great access for bird watching from our dinette window.  Our site had W/E.

The next morning (Thursday), we set out on the Skyline trail, a sort of arduous climb to the top of the park -- but, oh the views!  Jimmy, above, is all set to go.  We had plenty of water, our hiking sticks, and granola bars.  We didn't hurry; the trail was too steep.  Leeching rainwater formed little rivulets on many parts of the trail.

Spied a number of these cuties.

Huff puff!  Half-way-plus, it was instant recognition when we came to the old rock wall.  "Hey, I remember this!"  And we also recalled a hole in the wall/fence where we could step through and look south with its fantastic vista, as you see below:

Wow, how's this -- the Napa estuary and San Francisco Bay beyond, with Mt Tam poking into the sky.  I think it's Mt Tam.  We could faintly make out a city skyline with binocs, which we thought was either Oakland or San Francisco.  This is one of those places where "you can see forever."

And, looking north, we had sweeping views of Napa Valley and beyond, to surrounding mountains and possibly even to Alaska (just kidding about Alaska).  The trees in the park are a sight in themselves -- the venerable sturdy Coastal Live Oak, California Buckeye (above, in flower), and California Bay (laurel), etc.  My bay leaf jar at home was empty so I picked bay leaves, enough to last, uh, quite a while. 

We made it to the top!

At 1630’ elevation, Sugarloaf is the highest point in the park.

Elevation gain on this trail was many hundreds of feet, but in this photo, the ground appears level.  Short-sleeve shirt day!  We dodged all the Poison Oak in the park, successfully, I hope.

Overlooking Napa green-green vineyards.  We found a bench on our trek down (photo below), where we ate our granola bars and split a Gatorade, all the while admiring this picturesque scene.  Our Tergel is parked at the yellow checkmark.  Obviously, we still had a way to go before getting down to our "home."

What a nice picture, and a fine spot for a most welcome bench!  Steep trail!  We had to be careful where we placed our feet even on the downhill.  I'd say we were in shade a third of the time, but the day was so fine, we were never too hot nor too cold.

I wouldn't tire of the view.

Discovered this "guy" scampering across the rocks on our return, not far from Tergel.  While it may look fierce, it's a Pipevine Swallowtail caterpillar.  We named it "Bob."  And we left it alone!

In early April, Jimmy and I walked the Buttermilk Bend trail near Nevada City when wildflowers were covering the hillsides, along with a multitude of Pipevine Swallowtail butterflies.  So, the caterpillar morphs into this beauty. 

Getting closer!  Howdy, Tergel.

Between the Acorn Woodpeckers, above, probably making another hole in the pole, California Quail, and Anna's Hummingbirds, we never lacked for entertainment!  Quite a large variety of birds here.

Oh, and these fellas, too.

Each morning we heard gobble, gobble, gobble.

A four-mile hike was enough for us, considering the elevation gain, and we napped a bit in afternoon.  After dinner we scouted around on foot, found a large archery range, two disc golf courses, and more.  Back at the ranch, a weather check showed rain on Saturday.  Phooey.  We didn't want to drive home in the rain, so we decided to leave Friday.  April may be lovely, but she's capricious!

After a leisurely morning, we checked out, but left Tergel on the grounds.  Smartie took us to Gott's Roadside in Napa where we used a gift card from Matt and Jen for a delicious burger lunch.  The restaurant was packed with a waiting line when we got there and likewise when we left!  Because of the crowd, we shared our booth with two ladies from Redding, Cathy and Bobbi, which made lunch all the more enjoyable.  Good company.

Home before dark and before predicted rain.  Short and sweet getaway.

Something different. April 2026

I wrote this 34 years ago. 

Remembrances from Niagara Falls days 💖

 PA … a memoir … 

    By day he masqueraded as a mild-mannered chemical engineer, sitting at his desk concocting indecipherable formulas and noxious stews as unrecognizable to ordinary people as the mysteries of the universe. He maintained this guise for over 40 years.

    But at 5:30 pm each workday, an amazing transformation took place, complete with costume change, and our Dad became Super-Gardener! He'd peel off coat and tie as he came in the door, eager as a hound after a squirrel to trade in his stuffy day garb for the farmer togs that hung on a clothes tree in a corner of his bedroom – when not hanging on him. He looked like a tramp when he emerged in his baggy brown pants (no short rise here!). Oftentimes he'd forget to empty the dirt from the pant cuffs and this added weight made those old pants sag even more, not to mention the dirt that scattered over the bedroom floor, much to Ma's annoyance. "Empty those cuffs outside!" she'd yell. His ancient brown shoes weren't allowed in the house: "I don't want those muddy things in here," she'd told him. On cool days, he'd don a light cotton short-sleeved shirt, thin enough to read the newspaper through. (I could say threadbare.) Hot sticky days, he'd forego the shirt and out the back door he'd go, brown of neck and arms, his round belly hanging over his belt looking for all the world like one of his melons.

    Whistling cheerfully, he'd pick up his hoe and begin ... looking for his kids!  There were five of us and we all learned early on to scatter like startled birds when Pa needed workers. We weren't always quick enough, and we'd end up hoeing weeds in the eggplants instead of playing. Sometimes we'd go willingly, chattering like magpies, happy to be in Pa's domain with him.

    Pa's garden was big and it didn't just materialize overnight. Evenings, while incarcerated by the Northeast winter's long icy fingers, he'd crack hickory nuts in the cellar and pore over seed catalogues.  When the ground warmed and was dry enough, Pa'd hire a neighbor to plow the soil for his super-spread. Ma, dreading the annual summer canning and freezing chores, would implore him "not to have such a huge garden this year." Nevertheless, the day after Memorial Day, if it wasn't raining, Pa would don his shabby duds and commence planting.

    Daily he'd check his seeds and chortle with the joy of a new father over the first green tendrils. With an eagle eye, he’d watch these shoots, hoping to forestall disasters and hungry insects. Muttering, "Dagnab it," he'd go after the bad bugs. Good guys, such as daddy long legs and toads, were encouraged. More than once I nearly fell over when a disturbed toad leapt out from under its leafy hiding place. If a Praying Mantis was found anywhere in the yard, we'd carry it (prayerfully, of course) in clasped hands and deposit it on a needy vegetable plant, the kind with tiny holes in the leaves.

    Pa'd often whistle or better yet, sing. He had several favorites and we could usually count on hearing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," or perhaps "The Yellow Rose of Texas," of which he was inordinately fond. I can still picture Pa standing in his tumbledown pants with hoe in hand, his blue eyes a-twinkle in his brown face as he surveyed his fertile land, singing merrily, "Mine eyes have seen the glory ...."

    The long summer days soon became heady with the good smells of ripening produce. That's when Pa would stride to the garden with a saltshaker in his pocket. He'd pluck a big red tomato, redolent of the warm earth, cut it with his pocketknife, sprinkle it with salt, and in a flash that tomato would be gone. "Aaahh!"

     

    Soon bushel baskets of Pa's vegetables strained the kitchen table and Ma's good humor. Harvest time meant work: picking, shucking, shelling, blanching, etc. We all worked. But during the dog days of August, the canning and freezing chores fell on Ma. Sweating over the hot stove, Ma'd holler, "Next year don't plant so much!" Presently the freezer'd be filled to the top. The fruit cellar shelves groaned under the weight of canned fruit and veggies, and pumpkins and squash were spread out on the earthen shelf above like soldiers standing guard over their cache.

    Sometime after Labor Day, frost would cast a lacy white blanket over Pa's crops, decorating the sun-baked leaves with exquisite ivory filigree. The growing season now at an end, Pa retired his raggedy pants to the clothes tree and returned to the cellar to crack nuts and dream of a bigger Eden next year.

    As arctic air settled over our home, Ma'd cook up big pots of the world's best vegetable soup, always accompanied by a fresh loaf of Italian bread from DiCamillo's Bakery. She's convinced that those homegrown vegetables made her soup the finest. All the hard work then seemed worthwhile – we ate well every winter from Pa's summer garden. As Pa aged, his gardens did get smaller, but he always planted something. Ma sighed with relief at the decreased canning/freezing workload. She grew tired of making vegetable soup anyway. But Pa loved the eternal seasons and the land, and I think he was happier in his garden paradise in those awful brown pants than anywhere else – ever.

    Pa's been gone now for fifteen years. I guess Ma threw those pants out when he passed away, but each spring at the earth's yearly rebirth, most of Pa's children don their own costumes, whether blue jeans or baggy shorts – and gather hoe and seeds. Lovingly we turn the soil, in silent communion with Pa and in reverent confirmation that here's where we belong. Our strength goes into and flows out from the soil, just as it did for Pa. It is the bond of God's love, open to all, like Pa, who tend His earthly garden.

# # #

    Here I am at one of our backyard garden plots on Saturday, April 4th, still at it, ready to plant seedlings.  Snow peas already in the ground, while onions overwinter, and garlic shoots up.  A few daffydills thrown in for good measure!

Happy Easter to all.