I've been taking care of my neighbor's puppy, while she works two afternoons a week, for several weeks now.  Grace is a small, mixed breed, probably some type of terrier mix.  She's maybe four or five months old.

She's getting stronger and more bold by the day so today I decided to see how she would do on a walk/jog with me.  We started walking my regular jogging route but there are so many dogs in Mentone that she grew quite alarmed at the cacophony of barking from all sides.  At one point she became so panicked that I carried her for a short distance until we came to a stretch where there were barking dogs only on one side of the street. 

We were overtaken by a couple of disreputable looking young men who were trying hard to look like gang bangers.  I chatted them up, jokingly advising them to beware of the little renegade chihuahua mix that was menacing us, oblivious to the oncoming traffic.  They were too intent upon looking formidable to respond to my banter.  At the end of the block they met up with two more of their tattooed homies and they went through their tough guy greetings before moving on down the street.  It was a reminder that Mentone's citizenry isn't all of my ilk.

When I reached the orange grove at the end of the street I debated whether to proceed into the grove "... long I stood and looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth".  The long cool shadows of the quiet grove beckoned.  Knowing it was foolish to take this path alone, I hesitated momentarily, before trotting into its dark, welcoming solitude.  The track sloped ever so gently downhill and Grace loped easily at my side as the rows of trees brooded at our passing.

We came to the end of the grove where the wild foliage of the Mill Creek flood plain takes over the landscape

 and we turned west, into the angled sun.  Still running slightly downhill we glided along the edge of the grove headed for a track that bisects the grove and would allow us to turn back towards home.  Half way to the intersection I realized there were three or four people walking in our direction about a hundred and fifty yards away.  Because I was facing the sun, I couldn't make out much about them but they were clearly not grove workers.

There is a boarding "school" for troubled "youts" (if you have seen My Cousin Vinny you recall that means "youths") at the end of the track on which we were running, about a half a mile away, so I wasn't eager to make their acquaintance.  I suppose the sensible thing to do would have been to turn around and retrace our steps but that would have been uphill and we had done all the climbing we wanted to do.  So, I decided to continue on my path, figuring that there would still be fifty yards between us when I reached the intersection. 

Once we had made the turn the young men were out of sight but not out of mind.  I calculated that most youngsters nowadays don't have much stamina and that I had a pretty good chance of discouraging pursuit if I kept up a steady pace long enough.  As my mind was churning along these lines, Grace started looking anxiously back and to the right as if she detected someone on a course parallel to ours a few rows over. 

Orange trees provide excellent cover because their branches usually go almost to the ground.  If a person stood still under a tree, one could run right past and never see them.  I still had a good quarter of a mile to go before I would reach the southern end of the grove so I decided it might be wise to call Mike, who was at home, to let him know where to look for my body if I didn't show up. 

Mike and I have jogged this route together several times so it was possible to explain exactly where I was, after he got over his incredulity that I would have been so foolhardy as to have taken this path alone.  As I was assuring him that I was in no immediate danger the phone dropped the call.  By this time Grace was no longer showing anxiety but she was visibly tiring.  I resumed running but at a more moderate pace that she could sustain.

When we reached the fence at the southern perimeter I found that the fence had been repaired where I normally climb over.  Still highly motivated, I climbed the chain link webbing and straddled the barbed wire at the top.  At that moment my cell phone rang.  Knowing it was Mike, I balanced precariously on top of the fence to answer.  Thankfully there's a berm on the other side that I could step onto sparing my girl parts any damage.  Grace obligingly crawled under to join me on the other side and we scrambled up the rocky bank onto the road to civilization.

We still had a quarter of a mile to go before we reached the first house but at least we were out in the open where we couldn't be ambushed.  We slowed our pace to a walk and swore we would stick to populated areas henceforth.

Since none of my bicycling cronies were available to ride on Sunday, I decided to tag along with Mike as far as the top of Yikes! where he would continue climbing and I would turn downhill to return home on my own.

Looking back down the Conservancy's North Trail

Who needs a buddy when there's delayed shutter release?

Looking up Mill Creek

I rode down Yikes! and had such a good time I decided to climb back up the conservancy trail and ride it again.  When I got to the top I opted to have a look at Judy's Jump Off which descends more directly down the same ridge.  I haven't ridden Judy's in probably ten years, ostensibly because Yikes! is more fun; but actually it's because Judy's is too scary to be fun unless the traction is really good.

The !@#$ reservoir that destroyed the bottom part of Yikes!.

I approached the crest of the hill tentatively, remembering that the first section drops so steeply that there is no stopping once you commit to the plunge.  This is the driest time of year so I expected the traction to be nonexistent and had no intention of actually riding down the trail.  I figured Id just scope it out and then ride back up to the Yikes! turnoff.  When I came to the place where you have to commit I was surprised to see that there was good purchase along one side of the rut and if one could refrain from grabbing too much brake it would be possible to keep from falling into it.  I started my controlled slide down the track, feathering the brakes enough to stay under control.  A few yards down I saw that the rut intersected my path but it looked like if I kept the weight off the front wheel and let off the brakes for a split second, I would be able to cross it at enough of an angle to continue down on the opposite side of the rut. 

I picked up some momentum during the rut maneuver but by this time the steepest part was behind me so I could shift some weight to the front wheel to add some stopping power to the front brake.  I managed to bleed off enough speed to have time to look ahead for another opportunity to cross the meandering rut which was now crowding me off the left side of the trail.  When I reached the bottom I was surprised at how easy the descent had been.  I wondered if the trail was in better shape or if my bike was just that much better than the one I was riding when I last thrilled myself on this trail.   

Looking back up Judy's Jump Off (it looks amazingly unimpressive in photos)

Looking down The Windmill Trail

I felt pretty confident as I made my way home down the wash singletracks.

Today I rode with Rita.  This was the first we've ridden together since her mastectomy so I felt obligated to take it easy on her.  We rode at a comfortable pace up the wash and since I hadn't bothered to take my leg guards, I rode quite moderately on the way down as well.  The trail is a bit sandy this time of year and the sun was low in the sky making it difficult to see the pitfalls in the trail which is my way of making excuses for crashing where no man has crashed before. 

One minute I was tooling down the trail and the next I was sprawled in the rocks and the dusty weeds.  Rita rode up and said, "Why did you crash there?  Dang, with no leg and arm protection, that hurts!  So much for feeling smug about my riding skills.  With my confidence shaken, I proceeded down the trail at an even more sedate pace than before.  Rolling through another rocky section with insufficient speed, I found myself again nearly dumped off.  Completely discombobulated, I got off and walked for about fifty yards.  Rita kindly made no comment.

Anyway, the day got better.  I was trying out a new recipe and my sister came by on her way home from yoga.  I thought she would join us for dinner so I doubled the recipe but it turned out she had to get home to feed her kittens.  Luckily Guy called to tell us that he had finally broken free of the Witchy Woman's spell so he was free to serve as guinea pig. 

Guy is so easy to cook for, like my sister, he will eat anything.  The new dish was nothing to write about but Guy ate two helpings just to be polite.  I love that man!