Remembering how to ride

pedaling among the ponderosa pines, perfect

I grew up on the east side of Monument buttressed between the sprawling Black Forest and the high prairie that sits at the foothills of the central Rockies.  This is a transition zone, ponderosa pines; for which the forest is named, and short grass prairie intermingle for most of the space between the mountains and the eastern plains, which eventually lead into the Great Plains in Kansas.  Black Forest is something of an oddity when you look at it from the ground; a dense ponderosa forest that sits sqaurely in the middle of this transition zone.  Once you look underground though it all makes sense.  The forest sits on top of a large aquifer, the Black Squirrel Aquifer.  Ponderosa pines spend their early years developing tremendously long taproots that reach into the moist soil far below the surface.  Black Forest is a classic ponderosa forest, there are virtually no other trees and the ones that do grow are wide spreading deciduous trees in what would have otherwise been a clearing.  There is little understory, a few scraggly shrubs and only a few species of hardy, shade loving flowers.  This creates a natural park like environment with the forest floor coated thickly in dead pine needles.

Park like forest floor, that is not the trail

While most big forests have some sort of flowing water Black Forest does not.  It is still within the rain shadow on the Rampart Range, rainfall is limited; until recently, and there are neither large bodies of standing water or moving water.  The lack of water mixed with the lack of vegetative diversity has dictated that only specialists can live here.  The bold and beautiful Stellars jay is quite common, but the scrub jay is completely absent.  There are far fewer accipter hawks than buteos.  The buteos make their nests and their lookout posts on the edge of the prairie and the forest.  Of our three major squirrels only one does well here, you can find the other two but not in the numbers or distribution as the Aberts.  We see the dark subspecies, S. a. ferreus here in the foothills, not the grey parent, S. a. hudsonicus, who tend to live in higher elevations like Pikes Peak.

Aberts squirrel, because all mammals are Aberts.

A few years ago I thought that I really wanted to be a freerider, and that I'd travel the world leaping over tall buildings and performing aerial tricks.  I was wrong.  I was riding a lot of cross country and usually my fantasies ended up a different direction, sitting on a hill in a forest with a notepad sharing my adventures with the world.  Before I bought a cross bike or the Sportif that I ride now, I was taking a six inch travel enduro bike into Fox Run Regional Park.  I lived close, it was right down the highway and it provided a chance to learn about smooth, fast, flowing trails punctuated with steep, brutal climbs all on a path of pink, Pikes Peak granite gravel.  I personally think the park is an underrated gem.  Once you know the system and learn the hidden trails the place rides like a roller coaster.  I had three reasons to return to the park. A. I'm working on a piece about squirrels and really needed an Aberts picture.  B. I spend almost no time in technical situations, strongly favouring pure endurance. and 3. It had just been far too long since I'd been back to the Forest.  My friend Steven met me at the park with his new project bike; a fully rigid, steel, Raleigh M50.  I was on my Fuji Sportif.  My bike is not a standard issue version; enve bars, a 105 crank, brooks saddle, and 35mm knobby tires mounted to a pair of ultra-light Stans NoTubes Iron Cross.  It's really been a great bike, tempering the fiery personality of the Altamira with a can do attitude.

Ancient, but hardworking and smooth

We rolled up to the pond first.  This is the only place where any kind of surface water can be found in the park.  And it's a huge problem for animals.  The pond is obviously man made with a fountain, a building that I've always guessed was a pumphouse-bathroom combo, and picnic tables.  Humans are at their densest here and they brign with them there unrestrained canine companions to poop all over everything and chase any forest creature foolish enough to venture near the pond.  Animals won't come near it, except for the extensive shoal of goldfish that live in it and a family of chipmunks, or maybe golden mantled ground squirrels, that live in the stair step like amphiteatre on the ponds shore.

natural water supply

After this we continued through the forest, weaving through the trees at a good clip.  The forest is dark, with highly contrasted patches of sunlight blazing randomly through the canopy of the tall ponderosa.  Steven rode in front, I was riding more defensively then I usually do this being one of the first times I've taken the Sportif into cross-country territory, and my camera was strapped to the back of the bike for half of the ride.

Precious cargo

The light in the forest is consistently amazing.  Everything is golden as it passes down from the canopy, dappling the trail in dazzling bursts of perfect sun.  We made two passes, the first time I didn't carry my camera, and this proved to be a mistake.  Aberts squirrels are rare, even in the environments that they excel in.  There are something like 300-500 in Black Forest as a whole.  Steve was the first to see ours.  He yelled over his shoulder, "That's a big squirrel!" And sure enough it is a big squirrel.  One of their identifying marks is their average large size compared to other squirrels.  Steve was kind enough to let me shoot with his phone but my pictures were hasty and I had no idea how to set the ISO or zoom.  Alas, none of the pictures are good enough quality to post here.  Always pack your camera.  On the second ride through I did bring it, but to no avail, no more squirrel sightings. Just this strange flighted creature:

Rare Colorado Mountain blackbird

The bad news is that I missed the squirrel, the good news is that I have a reason to go and spend a longer time back in my home forest.