stringr::str_replace("SGV", "G", "F")[1] "SFV"Captain’s Log, stardate 100753.94, Earth date February 26, 2023, though it took me weeks to finish writing it.
LA got a blizzard warning, the first time since 1989, as the cold storm came on Thursday, February 23. I was in my office and saw hail bouncing off the metal strip beneath the window. Friday saw an entire day of heavy rain, hence grouding starship Voyager. The rain became lighter on Saturday, but still lasted until the night. The rain forced me to rest and recover. In other words, get more work done. Internet feels like oxygen these days. The storm on Friday night caused a wifi outage. Not wanting to ride in the rain, I stayed at home on Saturday. What to do without wifi? Life continued. I read papers I had already downloaded and wrote some code. My impulse to check Mastodon and search random stuff was foregrounded and checked – I lived without it totally fine. I could better focus. Today, the rain stopped and the sun came out, though the forecast says that the rain will resume next Monday to Wednesday. As if God bless CicLAvia, in the Valley, from Reseda to Canoga Park.
I mean, the other valley:
The San Fernando Valley (SFV), which had its own mission and a distinctive dialect of the Tataviam people, mutually intelligible with the Tongva language elsewhere in LA. It was the mission that gave rise to a unified Tongva/Gabrieleno identity, as many modern members trace their lineages from the San Gabriel Mission. The SFV had the Mission San Fernando Rey de España. I wonder whether SFV’s mission led to a distinctive Tataviam identity today, as I’m pretty sure that Tongva people from so called SGV and those from so called South Bay spoke somewhat different dialects.
Though apparently not everyone agrees that Pasadena is in the San Gabriel Valley (SGV), probably because the Raymond Dyke fault separates Pasadena (actually also Sierra Madre and Aradia north of Huntington Dr) from the rest of the SGV, forming the hills in San Marino and between Pasadena and South Pasadena. Mapping LA considers Pasadena part of the Verdugos rather than SGV. Since “SFV” is reminiscent of the acronym of my R package SpatialFeatureExperiment (SFE), I thought about giving this blog the name SpatialGenomicValley (SGV), but the current name was more popular among those I asked.
On the way
From Pasadena to Burbank
It’s certainly not my first time seeing snow on the southern slope of Mt Wilson, but this time the amount of snow made it almost look like the Alps.
I was trying to make it to the Friends of CicLAvia lunch starting at 11:30 am in Reseda. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but stopped for photos of some cool buildings and the snowy peaks along the way. I was sure that nobody shows up on time anyway.
As I rode through Glendale and Burbank, I saw the Verdugo mountains in snow, the first time in my life. I also encountered a MAMIL riding a gravel bike, and couldn’t help but race him. I passed him initially but he passed me when I stopped for photos. Anyway, eventually I won, before I made a left on Magnolia in Burbank.
North Hollywood
I descended Magnolia through the heart of Burbank, before getting to the Chandler bike path in Burbank and North Hollywood Arts District where there are some cool murals. See some of the murals from previous trips on PixelFed.
The Little Tujunga mountains also got snowy peaks, which can be seen from the North Hollywood Metro station and Tujunga Wash, while they’re normally not tall enough to get snow.
While the Pacific Electric is long gone, many of its relics are preserved, such as the Lankershim depot near modern North Hollywood Station. If they could build great transit over 100 years ago, then why can’t they do it now?
Orange Line bike path
In my original plan, I wanted to ride on as much of bike paths along tributaries of LA River as possible, including on the Tujunga Wash, with the Great Wall of LA mural, which I visited last January. Considering that I certainly couldn’t make it to Reseda by 11:30 am, I skipped most of that part, only taking a glimpse of the mural. I saw a great photo of the mural reflected in the water below at the LA Public Library and wanted to reproduce it, with the soft morning light. However, that didn’t work because the water was flowing too fast and with too many wavelets to form a visible reflection of the mural. There’s an airplane in that photo, heading east, probably to the Bob Hope airport in Burbank. I have been to upstream parts of Tujunga Wash, including Hansen Dam, Big Tujunga Creek, Little Tujunga Creek, and Pacoima Wash in previous voyages. These voyages weave together like a fabric, weaving together my experience and love of LA.
Then 6 miles of Orange Line bike path. On the bike path, I encountered several others which I speculated to be heading to CicLAvia. Likewise, they wondered if I was also heading to CicLAvia. One part of the Orange Line bike path was flooded. We all confirmed that we were heading to CicLAvia on our way out of the Sepulveda Basin, about to leave the Orange Line bike path. I had to ride on the road, on White Oak Ave and Sherman Way, before getting to CicLAvia. Fortunately there was a bike lane. As I arrived on Sherman Way but before getting to CicLAvia, I saw more cyclists, presumably also heading the same way.
This region is most likely the Siutcanga village of the Tataviam. According to the O My Ancestors book, back in the 1980s, developers around here found an Indigenous burial ground, and the then new lawyer Michael Barthelemy, of the Tongva leader family of David, Sparky, Art, and Anthony Morales, was contacted to negotiate reburial. As a then new lawyer, he couldn’t stop the development, but managed a reburial. The site is around Victory and Balboa Blvds.
CicLAvia
Reseda
Before getting to the Friends of CicLAvia lunch, I got to see the iconic Reseda sign in the median; it would be way harder to take a photo of it outside CicLAvia.
Also the Reseda Theatre, which shuttered in 1988. Historical photos can be seen here. The facade was remodeled sometime between 1958 and 1963, the height of the atompunk era in retrofuturistic terms, hence the Googie atompunk style we see today.
Friends of CicLAvia lunch
It was a little past 12 pm when I got to the Vinh Loi Tofu restaurant for the Friends of CicLAvia lunch. I was not late.
We didn’t all sit down to start at the same time. Instead, we grabbed food as we came. Everything is vegan. The vegan meat substitutes in the bah mi and spring rolls were so good. Too bad they gave us disposable plates. Again, why didn’t I bring my own? But at least I didn’t have to pay for the food.
This is a vegan restaurant, and the owner, ever grumpy and on the move, races Ironman, which is impressive by my standard even though I ride gran fondos quite often because in an Ironman you have to swim and run in addition to riding a gran fondo and there are no traffic lights and photo stops for you to rest. Because when riding more than 80 miles, I usually stop for lunch which often makes me so full that my stomach would get upset if I ride hard right after, how Ironman racers fuel during the lengthy race remains kind of a mystery to me. Proof that going vegan doesn’t make you weak and sick.
Also at lunch, I met a few East Side Riders whom I met on February 11. They remember me.
Reseda, continued
Across the street from the restaurant is the Bridge Bible Fellowship, where the church band was performing during CicLAvia, in typical contemporary hymn style.
Then I crossed Aliso Canyon Wash, and came across the cool murals of the pediatric clinic, O&P in Motion. Yes, I have been to an upstream part of Aliso Canyon Wash, the Porter Ranch Park, after lunch at a Lebanese restaurant in the shopping mall during my second century, in December 2021.
Winnetka
Then I rode towards Winnetka, the neighborhood to the west of Reseda, with the Mid Century Modern DWP, the iconic Victorian building, and some beautiful churches. Some suburbian residential areas separate the mini-downtowns of the neighborhood.
Canoga Park
After Winnetka was Canoga Park, with some Googie atompunk buildings, including the car wash and Wienerschnitzel at De Soto. I was looking for some Googie buildings so iconic of vintage car culture and juxtapose them with cyclists and pedestrians to signal rebellion, since car culture is so hostile to the latter.
Further west: Discount Tires and the historical Madrid Theatre (and one of the photos on the linked website was taken during the 2019 CicLAvia) at Owensmouth (yes, because of the aqueduct bringing Owens Valley water to the SFV), and the legacy Cavaretta’s Italian Deli a little west of Topanga Canyon Blvd.
After spending some time at the Canoga Park hub, where I got to sample some different bike cultures, I left the route at Owensmouth and headed to my own adventure, to ride on as much of LA River bike paths as possible.
I made a U turn and made a right on Owensmouth to depart CicLAvia, leading to LA River. BTW, this is the most upstream place where LA River is called LA River. Further upstream, in the Santa Monica Mountains, there are Arroyo Calabassas and Bell Breek.
Photography lessons learnt: I made mistakes and learn from mistakes. Number one, one thing CicLAvia taught me is that it turns out that shooting environmental portraits is fun. Which I totally didn’t expect given that I’m introverted and don’t like talking to strangers. Still no courage to get strangers to pose though. Here’s how it got started: Last December, I went to Samy’s Camera in Pasadena for Mark Edward Harris’s class on travel photography, which happened to be free as part of Nikon Day. He talked about environmental portraits as part of the photo essay about a place, such as LA. He also said that it would not be possible to do a photo essay of a place that is too complex, which I totally agree, but I disagree with him that LA is simple enough to be able to be well-represented in a photo essay. The next day, I tried to practice what I learnt in CicLAvia, and tried to take an environmental portrait of a bike mechanic at the Exposition Park hub, and of a family playing giant chess.
My greatest cycling achievement is that it helped me to overcome years of social anxiety, because the aerobic exercise induced endorphin made me less nervous and over time the evidence built up that talking to people isn’t scary. It didn’t make me extraverted, but it did make me less scared of talking to people. Also, probably especially because LA is so bike unfriendly, cyclists tend to be nice to each other. At least for us Lycra road warriors, we culturally greet each other on the road even if we don’t know each other, as if saying, “Hey, we have the same mental illness.” In contrast, when I went to more bike friendly cities such as Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, and Davis, there were so many cyclists that nobody thinks twice, so we generally didn’t greet each other.
So long story short, I got opened up to people and find it fun to take photos of them, especially when it comes to different aspects of cycling culture. When learning photography, I prioritized landscape and city, since presumably that’s what I expect in my voyages; generally I want the entire scene to be sharp, so smaller apertures and polarizing filter. This time I found out that my go to travel lens – a lightweight and versatile Panasonic G Vario 12-60 mm zoom lens for micro four thirds (I chose MFT because it and its lenses are smaller so easier for me to carry when climbing thousands of feet in one trip) – doesn’t have large enough an aperture to make that nice background blur. I was already using the largest aperture I had for the focal length and it couldn’t create enough of a background blur which would make those portraits nicer (f/3.5 and gets smaller as I zoom in so it kind of limits how shallow the depth of field I can get even if I compress the scene by standing back and zooming all the way in). So time to burn some money on some f/1.8 portrait lenses, second hand of course. While MAMILs are notorious for burning money on cycling gear, I find that photography gear gets really expensive much more quickly than cycling gear, so buying new with the bit of grad school stipend I saved by not flying, not driving, and not eating out is unthinkable. I suppose if with better photos, I can make cycling in LA look cool and change the way people think about LA so we can better work towards green transport and Vision Zero, then the few hundred bucks for the lenses are worth it.
Number two, I got to befriend shutter priority and burst mode. I made a mistake of not setting fast enough a shutter speed. While 1/250 second is good enough for cyclists further away and pedestrians, it’s too slow for cyclists that are closer, so I got a blurry shot that otherwise has great composition (not shown here) which I kept on my external HD as a record. I really should use 1/1000. Somehow I found that crazy fast, probably because I often use a polarizing filter and smaller aperture for landscape shots (actually f/8 rather than the conventional f/16 most of time as that’s the sharpest for my MFT lenses), leading to slower shutter speed, which makes me think 1/250 is fast enough.
Number three, I made a really dumb mistake that ruined an otherwise nice portrait in Canoga Park of BMX riders – I focused the wrong area, and given that I used the largest aperture I had, intending to blur out the background with shallower depth of field, the riders got blurry. Then I just realized that my camera has a face priority mode that would automatically focus on detected faces. The riders are generally really happy and cooperative with me taking photos of them. It’s not that awkward.
Number four, I made the merger mistake again and didn’t realize until I looked at my photos at home on my laptop, but it’s so hard to avoid all mergers when there are so many things in the background. Be more careful next time, and burst mode might help. Also, I wonder how pros get all the settings ready in a changing situation so they don’t miss the shot by the time they’re done with the settings. I suppose for the next CicLAvia in April, I’ll change to a portrait lens and get the settings ready before I enter the first pedestrian zone.
LA River bike path from Canoga Park to Sepulveda Basin
In Canoga Park, the most upstream place where LA River is called LA River, there are bike paths on both sides of the river. I have already been to the southern side back in December 2021, when I rode my second century, to Hansen Dam, Chatsworth, as much as LA River bike paths in the Valley as possible, and then the Hollywood hills. So this time, to boldly go where I have never gone before, I went on the northern side, which was unpaved but at least the dirt was tightly packed and not muddy.
The dirt trail was interrupted by De Soto Ave, where I entered the paved bike path on the other side that goes beneath De Soto so I didn’t have to risk my life to cross the busy street. After the storm, a little tree fell at the entrance of the bike path.
On the bike path, I could see some snowy peaks
Ever since I learnt about North Branch, a tributary of Arroyo Seco in Highland Park, which I had no idea existed until I read about it because it’s entirely and artificially underground until it emerges into Arroyo Seco around Ave 43, I’ve been more eager to spot these hidden confluences.
The bike path ended at a homeless encampment. I definitely don’t complain about it. It’s a pretty nice place to camp if there’s nowhere else to live. No sweeps please! I wish that sweep workers, whom I’m sure are also really exploited, would all mutiny and go on strike, until all homeless people get permanent housing.
Sepulveda Basin
There are many bike paths around the Sepulveda Basin. I rode on the north side of the basin recreation area on the way to Reseda, so on the way back, I rode on the south. It’s evident that some of the bike paths got flooded during the storm, as grass got cought on the handrail. I even saw a suitcase caught on a tree in LA River, probably belonging to some homeless person and got washed down by the flood.
Encino Velodrome
We in LA are blessed with two velodromes. One in Encino, within the Sepulveda Basin recreation area grouped together with baseball fields, and another in Carson, the only Olympic grade indoor velodrome in North America. While the Carson velodrome is deemed cool and hosts world championships and plans to host track cycling races in the 2028 Olympics, the Encino velodrome struggles to keep up with maintenance. Classes at the Encino velodrome are also much cheaper than those at the Carson velodrome. Last time, in December 2021, I visited the Encino Velodrome, which was closed. This time I visited again to see if I had any luck to enter it. No, no luck. I wonder if it would only open during its classes. Or maybe it closed because of the rain, which may make the track slippery and unsafe for riding. Anyway, I peeked inside and took some photos.
After the velodrome, I continued on the south side of the basin, and saw a memorial of someone hit and killed by a car around the golf course.
Muddy flooded bike path
I’m so sorry, Voyager. The flooding must have been worst on the south side of the basin. The bike path got flooded at one point, and got really muddy for quite a long stretch. Voyager’s road slicks didn’t have enough traction, so I had to walk. I thought that the plant roots could better support my weight in the mud, so I walked on the grass away from the bike path, but I got really muddy anyway. Mud got caught on Voyager’s rims and frame, and clogged up my road cleats that really aren’t meant for this situation, which I didn’t really expect. It took me a while to wipe off most of the mud from the wheels, frame, and cleats.
Inside the dam
My effort to wipe off the mud was in vain, as I realized that I was going into the Sepulveda dam dirt trails, following the route. Why have I been so stupid in planning the route this way? Well, when it’s dry, the dirt trails might be ridable when the dirt is tightly packed. Somehow I wasn’t thinking that I planned to go to some dirt trail this time, as I initially planned this part of the route a long time ago. The tunnel leading to the dam was flooded, and lined with graffiti, to my delight.
At some point, so much mud was caught between Voyager’s rear wheel and the frame that the wheel couldn’t turn, so I effectively dragged Voyager around in the mud. Nevertheless, I was determined to get to where LA River exits the dam. While my pants and shoes got very muddy, my camera was mostly spared, though mud kind of clogged up the rotating mechanism of my polarizing filter.
I felt so relieved when I got to the ramp leading to the dam top, finally away from the mud. The dam top is paved, though not really a bike path like on Santa Fe, Hansen, and Whittier Narrows dams. I saw an old photo at the LA Public Library of cat faces painted on the flood outlet caps at Sepulveda Dam. It might be on the other side, so I walked down a grass slope to the other side of the dam, to the south, where someone was riding a motorcycle.
The rainbow
I saw 3 graffiti artists this side of the dam, walking under the giant arches. I rode and walked to the western edge of the concrete on the southern side of the dam. I also saw the 405 freeway chocked by traffic. It began to rain a little, but not much.
The rain stopped, and a rainbow appeared to the east, as the afternoon sun was shining from the west. I rushed to the west as far as I could to see if I could capture the entire arch of the rainbow. I couldn’t. But I took a panorama. The graffiti artists were walking away from dam, but I caught them right beneath the rainbow.
The rainbow stayed for quite a while. I was heading out of the dam. It turns out that there’s an official ramp from this side to the dam top as well. I scraped off more mud with sticks I found on the dirt ground, sometimes breaking the stick as the mud was too stubborn, and rode towards the road, towards Sepulveda Blvd.
Bummer: there’s a gate from the dam to the road, and it was closed, though I could walk around it. I saw two flowers stuck in the wood of a traffic barrier, not sure if they grew there or if someone put them there.
Valleyheart
I was supposed to turn left on Sepulveda to get to Valleyheart, to more of LA River bike paths, but the traffic was so heavy that I couldn’t make the left turn until the next traffic light. There are bike paths on both sides of LA River. I have ridden there in December 2021, but in the dark, so I didn’t get a good look at it.
This stretch of bike path was fragmented. I rode on Valleyheart Dr, a well shaded neighborhood street, when the bike path was unavailable, or was dirt, even if I initially planned to go there. I had enough dirt.
The bike path, whether dirt or paved, got interrupted by each road crossing the river, including Whitsett, where I got a glimpse at the dusk. It would be nice if the bike path goes under the roads like in much of the southern part of the LA River bike path. I thought that I could be back home before dusk, but the mud set me seriously behind schedule.
The bike path gets interrupted at Laurel Canyon, where I had to get to a crosswalk to continue to the other side. Again, there was a homeless encampment at the end of the bike path. Unfortunately, the bike path was dirt, so I quit and stuck on the paved Valleyheart Dr, as I had enough of dirt today.
As I rode faster on paved roads and as the mud was drying out, much of the mud got shed along the way. I wonder if people nearby thought me insane, for riding a road bike in the mud. Here’s my story to tell. I suppose I need a gravel bike, if I think I’m not adventurous enough if I don’t stumble upon unexpected neighborhood dirt trail.
Moorpark
The end of Valleyheart Dr on the east led me to Studio City, Moorpark, and then Toluca Lake. It was getting dark and I didn’t bring a tripod as I didn’t expect the mud situation which really got me behind schedule, so some of the photos are blurry. Also, auto focus doesn’t work well in the dark, and I can’t easily tell if it didn’t work perfectly on my camera’s tiny screen. So another rule for myself: always use manual focus in the dark no matter what.
There’re some beautiful churches on Moorpark. Why is it that Catholic churches have the best buildings? In contrast, while some beautiful historical churches were emptied from secularization and migration away from city centers in the last century, some evangelical churches have very simple and plain buildings and some don’t have a building at all.
Moorpark isn’t exactly bike friendly, as the cars go too fast. It makes no sense why they need to go so fast. I wish that the only cars allowed are like golf carts, small and light electric vehicles that can’t go too fast, but they aren’t allowed on roads with speed limit greater than 35 mph so they are restricted to within neighborhoods. Yet somehow bikes are allowed there.
Finally, after Toluca Lake, I got to Riverside Dr in Griffith Park and then the LA River bike path at Glendale Narrows, back to familiar places. The Taylor Yard pedestrian bridge has been there for months, yet Strava didn’t let me draw the route there, leading me to a wild detour on San Fernando Rd, where I stopped the course and got to Figueroa in Highland Park on my own. Mud clogged up the front derailleur, so I couldn’t shift to the small chain rain when climbing that 10% hill on Meridian going from South Pasadena to Pasadena, the hill coming from the Raymond Dyke fault. However, the climb was short should I could mash up in the large chain ring.
I need to somehow give Voyager a good wash. Maybe I can ask someone in PAA to use their yard and blast the mud off with a garden hose. Or, as much of the mud on my shoes readily dissolved away in the shower, I could stick one end of the Voyager into the shower while I take a shower. Or I can ride in the rain, so the rain would act as a shower. I opted for the last option on Monday, February 27, which kind of helped, but not perfect, so I still ended up wiping off the mud with a rag.