Mountain bikers struggle for their piece of the trails at Portuguese Bend
Fossils and Marble
As a boy growing up in the South Bay, one of my favorite things to do was mountain bike in Palos Verdes. My friends and I would pile into the bed of a pickup truck, along with our bikes, something that is certainly illegal now and likely was then, as a friend’s dad would drive us to the Point Vicente Lighthouse.
The open space to the north we called the Fun Zone. It was laced with trails that felt like an amusement park. There was the roller coaster that could make your stomach drop, the technical trail along the cliff, the speed track where we raced each other, and that one giant hill I was always too afraid to bomb. None of us wore helmets.
Mountain biking offered a rare glimpse of freedom and adventure for children ordinarily confined by parental supervision and a regulated urban environment. Crossing into private property made it all the more rebellious. We made our own routes and chose our own adventures. It taught us to be tough and gritty and that you have to earn the pleasure of riding downhill.
Like childhood, the Fun Zone is now gone, replaced by multi-million dollar homes in a gated community, a stark reminder of what could have happened to much of Portuguese Bend. I’m in my 30s now, so this wasn’t that long ago. Many others have memories of countless riding spots that have come and gone.
Riding for me still represents an activity where I can feel like a warrior, pushing my body to its physical limits while challenging my mind to overcome the fears of a treacherous descent.
On a recent morning, Braswell and I rode along the McBride Trail, which follows a ridgeline at the edge of a group of homes. As an outspoken advocate for the biking community, Braswell has a reputation for being passionate. He leads trail maintenance crews along with the weekly group rides. He said taking away the trails at Portuguese Bend was like ripping his heart out.
“It’s my heart and soul,” he said.
Braswell started by leading me through Upper Filiorum, the new property picked up in 2009 where the city council will decide trail use soon. We dropped down into a small canyon, tires skimming along the dusty track. Braswell paused at the bottom where the trail forks. I came to a screeching halt.
“I want to show you something really neat,” he says as the dust clears.
He took me into a box canyon where the stones looked like marbles and a waterfall would have been. “Check this out,” he said, showing me a rock on the ground with a fossil, likely whalebone from the days the ocean rose this high.
We rode further and he pointed out the self-dubbed Flaming Hawk trail where a hawk once caught fire from a power line. Power surges on overhead lines are actually a major threat for brush fires and the likely cause of several fires in recent years.
We came to a spot among a stand of eucalyptus trees where Braswell worries bikers will lose access.
“It’s very frustrating,” he said. “All the years I’ve been riding here I’ve never had a conflict with anybody. I slow down and say hi. Everyone smiles. I see this as a true family. The family bickers a little bit, but that’s okay. We’re all in this together.”