Review - West Fork National Scenic Bikeway
There are only a few places in the Los Angeles metropolitan area where one can ride a bike on a paved surface without fear of being smushed / doored / endangered / ignored. I’m always quick to defend LA as a bikeable city, with the asterisk that you have to be “Constantly aware of Your surroundings”. But to be honest, being aware of your surroundings here means being distrustful of drivers, endlessly on the lookout for glass and other debris, heartbroken (or jaded) witnessing the unhoused masses, and ultimately, shifting between dichotomous interpretations of safety, belonging, and enjoyment.
My favorite way to get out of town is to do so with an outdoor activity in mind. So recently, when My lady Shannon had a day off from lawyering, we decided to seek out a Cycling Destination. We started the day groggily, with a plan to Drive up to ventura and then bike to ojai. But as late morning marched on, that trip grew threateningly long and unrealistic. I remembered that there was a bike path closer, somewhere up in the hills near azusa. I had tried to visit the path a few years back, but when I showed up it was made obvious that someone had been murdered there; It was either the number of police cars and the out-of-place caution tape strewn against the placid hills, or a bystander told me so. I forget.
Having never succeeded in Biking that path, and having only half the motivation needed to make anything else of our day, we hit the road toward scenic Azusa (joke) and its scenic hills (real). As a result of the slightly higher elevation and distance from the sea, A unique ecosystem makes the area feel just exotic enough to elicit gratitude for the seemingly endless permutations of our nearby nature. After about a half hour of gently rising twists and turns into the hills, We arrived at the west fork Day Use trailhead. Here we found humans of all ages, in various configurations, enjoying the day and the place and each other. It had that simple, murmuring quiet that you find in places just out of earshot of a city. A shared exhale of relief stretched out into a well-spent day away.
The listed length of the bike trail is 14.5 miles, out and back. It’s slightly inclined on the way in, which was exactly what I needed to successfully counterbalance my deficiency of sleep and excess of caffeine. The Paved road snakes organically, following the contours of the land, with the occasional concrete cross-pan cutting Across to allow for drainage into a creek. This creek runs the length of the Path, fed by water released Through Cogswell dam, the ultimate destination of a trail that is actually just a truck road made available to the public. the minimal usage and well-maintained nature of the road makes for a miracle of infrastructure that inspires many thoughts in the vein of: “how is this real?”
AS the trail burrows deeper into the canyon within which it’s set, the water that originally carved the canyon becomes an omnipresent feature. In addition to the creek, which grows ever-more unkempt and beautiful, there are Cliff faces dripping wet, with walls of ferns Dressing them. The light is dappled from thick riparian growth, and the temperature cools slightly, inducing a hypnotically welcoming Calm.
Shannon and I tend to provoke each other’s completionist tendencies, and so we ended up climbing a severely steep section at the very end of the trail, ending up at a restricted government-use area adjacent to the dam. If you go, you’ll know instinctually where to turn around to avoid all of this. I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but it was a largely unnecessary and difficult section of the Journey probably unsuited to most cyclists’ ideas of a good time. In any case it was a good workout and left us sweaty.
on the way back, a Path we hadn’t seen before revealed itself, and it led us to a small waterfall. As we came closer, we realized that we could climb up that waterfall to find a slightly larger waterfall pouring into a stone basin so recessed into the side of a hill that it felt like a cave. we stripped down and baptized ourselves in that miraculously crisp water. Only A few moments past, the day was born again. I’ve never known a body of water that wasn’t a portal into a changed perspective.
The ride back was a dream - in the sense that i was so absorbed in it I couldn’t imagine being someplace else. The gentle downhill slope was easy, and our damp clothes cooled us in the golden-hour Warmth. The creek, path, the clean air rushing past - newts crossing the road, a deer clambering up a hillside - laughing while riding past each other. All we saw was all there was to see, in an afternoon spent simply and spent well. And as we passed other people each rediscovering their own simplicity, I felt optimistic.
10/10
-no cell phone reception
-adventure pass (technically) required
-Costco hot dogs at the base of the hill
