Hitting the Old (Pow!) Trail

A mountain biker on foot strode past me the other day and, in a determination to reach his destination, shouldered me out of the way. It reaffirmed my conviction that I don’t want bikers on hiking trails in the Santa Monica Mountains.

I was convinced that if the guy were on a bike I would have ended up across his handlebars, like a deer over the fender of a car. He was trying to get from here to there, you see, and what the hell was I doing in his way anyhow?

Under normal circumstances, I would have leaped on his back, clamped my teeth on his neck and brought him to the ground, but the situation called for a less violent response.

We were in Will Rogers State Park, a place of puppy-dog happiness, on a day after the rain so blue and golden even the hottest temper was dampened by the tranquil ambience. It was a good thing.

What was going on was the opening of a five-mile portion of the 70-mile Backbone Trail to mountain bikers. Heretofore, the hiking trails had been limited to hikers and horseback riders.

Now, as one hiker put it, placing mountain bikers in the same category as rattlesnakes and wild dogs, a new danger had been introduced.

The hikers, bikers and horseback riders were all represented at the opening of the trail to multiuse, and while there was an attempt at icy amiability, the tension was obvious.

All of them felt that paradise was intended only for them.

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Let me explain to those whose concept of the outdoors is limited to patios and sidewalk restaurants, there is a magnificent serenity to a stroll in the mountains.

I say that from the point of view of a guy who has slouched along many trails in the Santa Monicas in the 25 years I’ve been in L.A. My wife likes them and so, by osmosis, do I.

I don’t go yodeling up the slopes like an Alpinist exactly, but I do manage to get from here to there without tumbling over a cliff or bumping into a tree. While safety is not an overriding concern, I’m careful.

There are supposedly mountain lions in the area, but I’ve never seen one. I have seen deer, coyotes, rattlesnakes, bobcats and an occasional lawyer (the double-breasted variety is especially unpredictable), but they have never seen fit to attack me, realizing probably that I am a newspaper columnist and, like the deadly Ko-Koi frog of Venezuela, toxic to the bite.

With the advent of mountain bikers, however, the nature of my meandering has been severely altered. In the good old days, bikes were generally limited to children under 12 who rode them in schoolyards and up and down the streets of their immediate neighborhoods.

But today, adult males, forever on a search for new weapons, have translated a harmless pastime into a physical assertion of speed, power and their inalienable right to whiz down mountain trails.

The state limited their kamikaze rides to fire trails at first, but now is opening up hiking trails to their madness.

I fear these hot-doggers a lot more than I do any other form of animal that inhabits the high country.

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OK, I realize that there are responsible riders of mountain bikes with wives, kids and decent jobs whose aim in life is not to maim old ladies strolling up a sunny trail in Will Rogers State Park.

They believe in God, disdain pornography and generally regard human life as, if not sacred, at least useful. They say please and thank you and make their mortgage payments on time.

This type of cyclist rides his bike carefully. But the, well, sport of mountain biking is increasing astronomically, and those who see hikers, horseback riders and joggers as nothing more than targets are out there too, and, God help us, more are on the way.

If it gets too bad, I can envision guerrilla warfare in the mountains, men on horseback lassoing bikers off their machines, and hikers dropping out of trees onto the backs of cyclists passing beneath them.

This would, of course, cause bikers to respond by equipping their vehicles with various forms of bumpers intended to catapult their adversaries off the trails and down the slopes. I shudder to think.

The five-mile segment of the Backbone Trail was opened to bikers by Dan Preece, the state park superintendent for this area. At the opening ceremony, looking around the stern-faced hikers, bikers and equestrians, he said he felt as though he were entering a mine field.

That’s a possibility too.