New Info on Santa Teresa Park

Many riders are aware of regular trail closures in Quicksilver Park. After heavy rains the rangers usually close the trails to all bikes and horses. Obviously, the reason behind this is to preserve the smooth surfaces of the trails. This is an annoyance to people who enjoy a ride through the mud and the subsequent peppered faces. However, the pleasure and excitement we get from the trails at all other times of the year is worth the wait during these closures. It makes me appreciate what we have here so close to our homes--miles of great trails, for free, within riding distance from my doorstep.

Last year, when Quicksilver was closed, Santa Teresa was open! When the mud was deliciously thick and the puddles deep, she embraced all riders in her saintly soiled arms. There were no signs, no rangers, and nothing but your fear of the elements to keep you out. I have some blissfully sloppy memories from the spring of aught six, when I continued riding through that endless deluge. It was a different experience--one that made me realize that I could handle being out in extreme weather--one that reminded me of something I always knew in childhood: getting very muddy is not just okay, but extremely fun too!

But things change. Other people are in charge. We only borrow her. In short, Santa Teresa is now under the same constraints as Quicksilver Park. The local armed forces have put the squeeze on her venerable open-armed juicyness. Her voluptuous and inviting bosom is bound now by the law and anyone who transgresses the threshold to meet her will feel the power of the men in green pants. Her curvacious undulating beauty is temporarily shackled by the chastity belt of politics. Our days of frolicking with her under the open sky are over, for a time. The cleansing heavenly showers, sent from the cosmic killjoy himself (a confessed jealous type!), put a damper on those who wish to roll through her every valley and over her every peak.

Alas! And to my precious saint: Adieu, till brighter days dry the flood that parts us. Adieu, till your little green husbands drive away and your two-wheeled back door men return. Adieu. Adieu...