Charles wrote:"A few minutes before I arrived, the rest of the group was treated to an amazing experience. As Chuck described it later, they were standing looking out over the valley and at the peaks above, when suddenly they hear this roar, like the biggest racing car engine you can imagine. They're looking all around for trucks and up in the air for planes..and as a result almost missed the source of the roar: a P-51 Mustang fighter from WWII, racing by below them at full bore...then the plane ascended nearly straight up and out of sight down the valley. I have to tell you, I am sorry I missed that." Years ago I visited the Experimental Aircraft Association's 's Oshkosh show here in Wisconsin; the "roar" of a P-51 is the coolest engine sound on earth, and I saw a pink one to boot. So...I guess locals here could ride their vintage bikes to Oshkosh Jul 29-Aug 4 this year and hear the roar of more warbirds in one place in good weather nowhere near a mountain but close to where Harleys are made, which is the second coolest engine sound on Earth. - Joe Starck, Sun Prairie, Wisconsin
"C. Andrews" <chasds@mindspring.com> wrote: It sounds so romantic, we're gonna ride to the top of Baldy Mountain (about 10,000 feet. Baldy towers over the Los Angeles basin. In Winter, the top covered with snow)...but, in fact, we simply ride to to the base of the mountain, after climbing approximately 5000 feet over the foothills in front of the mountain. Still a good workout.
Saturday here in Los Angeles was simply gorgeous. We've been having some incredible weather the last two weeks or so. Spring in Southern California is very lovely. Saturday was sunny, mild (60-70 degrees), no smog, no haze, a few little clouds at the very top of the mountains...other than that, clear as can be.
Six of us met at Pioneer Park in Azusa: Chuck Schmidt on his early/mid 80s Vitus Carbone 7 with a cool Mavic group.
Andrew Gillis on his beautiful candy-blue custom Mercian.
Greg Pitman in a lovely Cuevas from the 70s--I think I've seen exactly one other one in my life.
Jack Bissell showed up with his cousin Steve...Jack brought his wonderful 70s De Rosa, rare as a hen's tooth, and looking fresh out of the shop window (except for an unfortunate dent in the dt, the result of some crash in its past life...the few times I've seen this bike in the past, I've hardly noticed the dent though, I'm too busy looking at everything else. In a bike that rare, you take it as you find it)
Steve was riding an 80s Peugeot in candy-neopolitan colors, with another cool Mavic group.
I was on my 1970s Davidson, with enough water to trek the Gobi desert, and triple gearing to creep up the hill. Everyone else was riding something like a 42-24 or 26. I can't push that stuff uphill anymore, not and finish a ride like this standing upright.
We set off in bright sunshine under a clear blue sky for Glendora Mountain road, and start of our climb. The round trip would be about 50 miles...
It's so pretty up there in Glendora, at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains. The hills are green from recent rains, and look like something out of a postcard. We hit Glendora Mountain road, and Chuck, Steve and Andrew took off. Greg and I bringing up the rear. Jack was a pal, and didn't make me feel too old..he hung out for a mile or two (actually, he stopped to take off his vest...then he took off...that guy is a beast!).
The sole problem with a ride like this is that on hills a group separates, everyone at a different pace. So it goes.
Glendora Mountain road is about 12 miles up. Mildly steep in a few places, mostly a long, slow pull to the top of the ridge. The road is closed to all motorized traffic because of a fire a year ago that swept through the Baldy area and destroyed all the vegetation that holds these dirt-gravel-and-fractured-granite hills together. There are constant rock-slides on the road now, making it too dangerous for cars. So, we had the road to ourselves, except for the occasional cyclist coming down the hill.. Not many were climbing up our route!
The loudest thing for 25 miles is the sound of tires of pavement, chains through idler wheels, or the occasional bird call. Or my pulse, when I get carried away and spin a little harder than I should and my carotid artery reminds me that I'm not 22 anymore..
The view behind as we climb is striking. We gain elevation quickly after a half-hour or so we're 3 or 4000 feet up, looking back toward the basin through the hills.
At the top of Glendora Mountain road is a wonderful spot: The road descends suddenly, you pick up speed to about 30 kph, and the road suddenly opens on both sides and in front, after a blind turn, and it feels like you're flying: the road is on top of the ridge, the ridge falls away on either side 2000 feet straight down; the road opens out, and the mountains are everywhere, Mt. Baldy looming to the north and east. All around is the wild country. No houses, almost no sign of any human habitation. For that brief moment, flying down the road, I feel weightless, like some bird, flying just for the hell of it.
Then begins Glendora Ridge, and a long series of climbing switchbacks, following the profile of the hills..Baldy and her sister peaks always there.
It is quite a wonderful ride and worth your time if you're ever here in SoCal, or certainly if you life here. It gets hot in the Summer, so do it Spring or Fall. Although Chuck's done it many times in July. But, then, Chuck is indestructable.
Chuck, Jack, Steve and Andrew wait for Greg and me just before Glendora Ridge Road (thanks guys...)...but they quickly disappear as we begin climbing again.
We regrouped just above Baldy Village. I was the laggard (I vowed to enjoy the trip more this time. Last time I did it, I was up against a checkpoint deadline and had to push. This time I stopped now and again, to drink, eat, enjoy the scenery and the quiet)....Alas, I paid for being the laggard this time. A few minutes before I arrived, the rest of the group was treated to an amazing experience. As Chuck described it later, they were standing looking out over the valley and at the peaks above, when suddenly they hear this roar, like the biggest racing car engine you can imagine. They're looking all around for trucks and up in the air for planes..and as a result almost missed the source of the roar: a P-51 Mustang fighter from WWII, racing by below them at full bore...then the plane ascended nearly straight up and out of sight down the valley. I have to tell you, I am sorry I missed that.
We rest briefly at a pretty park in Baldy Village, the Angeles National Park Visitors Center (the whole area around Baldy is a National Park and experimental forest), then its down Baldy Road, pretty much a straight down-hill at high speed. I think two cars passed us. I love riding with no traffic.
We regrouped at the bottom of the hill. Chuck led us into Claremont, where we ate a fine lunch at a local watering hole, sitting outside under a tree, in the fine mid-afternoon sun, a cool breeze whispering through.. Chuck then took us around the corner to the oldest continuously-operating-pro-shop-in-the-same-location in Southern California, Bud's Cycles (or is it Bicycles?), since 1953. Nothing old there now. We went in anyway. Chuck saying hello to some friends of his (from haunting these shops, I'm sure Chuck knows every wrench in every pro-shop from here to the Mexican border)...I'm perusing the Santana Tandems lined up in the other room, about a dozen or so (the owner of the shop owns Santana)...I looked at a Trek on sale for 559 bucks, with Daytona parts, and realized how much cheaper bikes are now. This was a nice road bike, a true performance machine, for the equivalent of about 125 bucks in 1973...what would that buy you then? A UO-8 maybe?
We may like the old stuff, but the new stuff looks like an incredible bargain, from where I sit.
Bud's is the first modern pro shop I've been in (besides Triathelete Zombies in Manhattan Beach, otherwise known as Ted Ernst Bike Shop), where I felt like I might actually buy a bike and leave with it. Everything was nicely displayed, and it just *felt* like the kind of shop I spent time in as a kid. Worth a visit if you're ever out that way.
A quick ten miles from Claremont, on the flat, brought us back to the park, where we stood in that golden afternoon sunlight, talking and admiring Jack's 1973 De Rosa. A truly wonderful bike. Supposedly the italian Masi Gran Criteriums were finished off more cleanly (although to judge from the one I have, I'm not too sure about that)...and certainly the California Masis were better-finished...but, nonetheless, there's something about that De Rosa that is hypnotic. The older graphics are very simple and very pretty...the lug-work is unique and carefully hand-filed..even the file-marks on the seat-cluster are charming..like those on old Cinellis. I think the main thing is that these bikes are so *rare.* You just never see them. I've seen exactly two in the flesh, in 6 years. I could have just stood and stared at that bike for hours...but, Jack had to get going, and so did we all.
Thanks you guys, for a great ride, and great company! The day ended too soon.
Charles Andrews SoCal
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