Clients were in self imposed hibernation between Christmas and New Years.  Weather forecasters said it was going to be in the upper 70’s today before two days of rain starts tomorrow. And…a brand new pair of really cool cycling shoes thanks to 50 bucks from mom for Xmas were just staring at me with that sad look on their cleats. They were begging me to take them out for the inaugural spin.

My cool new Lake cycling shoes. Made from kangaroo hide (true dat), these shoes have a nylon cable system that snugs up the whole shoe evenly around your foot via a knob that you turn in back of the heel. Pretty much cycling genius. $50 on sale down from $299. One of two last pairs in the store!

It was the perfect invitation to try a new route through the back roads North of our house winding through orchards, groves and more.  Plus, I had anticipated this and cleaned the bike up the day before.  This time of year the rains create a lot more junk in the bike lanes and my bike gets pretty gritty in just two rides.

The first half of the route would be on Historic Highway 395.  This section was originally built in 1947 and used until the I-15 was completed in the early 1980’s.  I often share this section with antique car clubs, motorcycle clubs, and other cyclists.  It features wide shoulders for cyclists and nostalgia for all.

This route fulfilled the first 30 miles of the ride until I turned around at the Temecula Creek Golf Course.  On the way down to the golf course, the road features some nice curves and this view.  If you look past the first mountain range, you’ll see plenty of snow on top of the San Bernardino National Forest where Big Bear is located.

After the turn around at the golf course, the ride back up the curves is just enough to qualify as switchbacks and is always quite enjoyable.  A few miles later, and I was finally breaking new ground hanging a left onto an even older stretch of Highway 395 that takes you through the town of Rainbow.  Yes, there is a Rainbow, California folks.  Evidence of the old highway presence, I rode past this old filling station turned into a residence.  If you look close the old pump is still on the right.

At the filling station house, I turned left and broke off from Highway 395 onto Rice Canyon.  This section took me through rolling hills past nurseries and other agriculture businesses.  Ultimately, it ended at Highway 76 where I turned left and then almost immediately right onto Couser Canyon.

The start of Couser Canyon featured this sign.  You just don’t see signs that say “Cattle For Sale” in Southern California.

As I looked down this black ribbon of asphalt at the climb ahead, the sign was very indicative of what was to come.

Sure enough, a mile later and there were the cows for the pickin’ if you had the cash.

Past my new bovine friends, the first section of the Couser Canyon climb began.  A nice, steady, winding climb that I am sure is much warmer during the summer months.

If you have ever wondered where your avocados come from, I found them.  The second section of the Couser Canyon climb featured avocado groves as far as you could see down the canyon and on the sides.

The ride continues through the cows, avocados, oranges, tangerines, tangelos, lemons, sheep etc. and in the middle of nowhere at mile 45 I find this funky place. I stopped for a bite to check the place out and it was pretty cool.

You could get your crazy expensive organic produce.

Creatively gender neutral bathrooms.

Relaxing outdoor dining areas.

An equally interesting interior.

And, they were bucking the trend of having a kitchen inside the building. Cheaper to just park a trailer outside and do the food truck thing. Pretty smart actually.

My meal this day consisted of a lamb sandwich and a peach mate.  Two thumbs up.  However, no beer or wine on the menu.  Two thumbs down.  It was the perfect setting to enjoy a fermented beverage.

Great food, great setting and apparently a rescue shelter for Millennial guys with beards, flannel shirts and man buns. They all looked the same. I did not see one female employee at the Yellow Deli.  Upon my return home, my wife and daughter clued me in.  It actually was kind of a rescue for Millennial guys with beards, flannel shirts and man buns.  The Yellow Deli is run by a religious group called The Twelve Tribes.  They work together as a community and have these Yellow Delis all over the country including this one out in the middle of nowhere in Valley Center, California.  Some call it a cult. 

I can tell you this, the service was the best I have had in a long time.  Whatever their teachings consist of, they are nailing it on the foodservice waitstaff.

This also explains the lack of fermented beverages.  It just felt weird to be around all these guys with beards, flannel, and man buns without being in their natural habitat called the micro-brewery.

61 miles and 6,100 feet later it was truly a spectacular day to spend on earth.