Mexican Monkey woke from his four AM bar night. He knew he had better be here for our ride, especially now that I have a new and very sweet mountain bike. He did, finally, make it just before ten, with a cup of strong coffee and steaming oatmeal I put life back in him. It could have been the first drops of rain that did it as well, but lets say it was the coffee.
The sky was thick with gray clouds, it spread out over the heavens as far as we could see but that was okay by us, it has been a good five years since I've been on dirt trails and I was excited. So much so that for a time, I forgot my age and felt very young again. That went away at the first climb, a bitch of a climb too.
The bike handled remarkably well. It climbed at ease and though Mexican Monkey was near the top I had to stop, unsure of myself and walk the last part where it was the steepest. I blamed it on the walkers who had unleashed their dogs to run, but glad they did.
Once we were on the main trail to go into the interior of the Santa Monicas, we could smell that sweet wonderful fragrance of wild things. Sage, Sumac, fresh rain, dirt, sandstone and rocks. No cars, no horns or exhaust, no lights, no assholes, no city. Our goal was the platform.
The platform, at one time held up a watch tower. The tower had burnt down in one great fire but the flagstone base and steps are still there. If you hunt around, you can find nails that were used in its construction. A great view is the prize from the platform. On clear days especially for the vistas extend in a three-hundred and sixty degree radius.
Each turn gave me renewed confidence, a joining to the frame, the bike was silent and glided along over ruts and rock outcroppings. It held a good line and responded well to my moves. I had a smile that wouldn't go away. The trail we chose followed a spine of mountain tops that connect from sea to valley, so we would plunge deep between peaks only to climb back out and over until we could see the platform on one of the peaks just off the main trail.
Not much had changed since I was last there five years ago, and yet it had all changed in some fashion, it all seemed new and fresh again. I picked out a line in the dirt to follow the path leading to the platform. Rutted, it gave a good challenge to my rusted skills, even Mexican Monkey had the giggles.
At the top we smoked a joint and watched the sky over the Pacific with the sun turning it deep red. Catalina was visible looking like a mountain range poking through the clouds. Fog laid deep out to sea today. The city was visible, a grungy gray mass that went right up to the sands of the Pacific. And from our perch, only song birds were heard and the wind.
We're going back Sunday to another spot and another memory. I can't wait.
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