 |
 |
|
|||
|
|||
|
|||
|
|||
|
|||
|
|||
|
|||
|
Barely two minutes after I sat down, Hunny rode in (that's Tyler for those not yet familiar with her nickname). She had come to join us for coffee, although she couldn't stay for the ride. Next was Sue, on her Honda CBR600F3 sportbike (yay! A new person!), quickly followed by CC and her sister, Cheryl. After meeting and greeting all around, we sat down to spend the next ¾ hour drinking our coffee and shooting the breeze. Finally, after sad-doe-eyes from Tyler, who could not hide the fact that she hated not being able to come along on this ride, we geared up and headed out. I promised her the ride would suck. but it was hard to convince her considering how gorgeous the day was. To be able to make the most of our day on the back roads in the hills, we had to first slab it to our real starting point in Palo Alto. So we took 101 to 85 to 280, finally exiting at Page Mill to really start our ride. A quick right on Arastradero brought us. right into the back of a pack of bicyclists. Actually, let me rephrase that: the back of the Tour de France. There must've been 150 to 200 bikes on the road, and only about 50 of them were interested in sharing the pavement. The rest formed a pack, a motorcycle-(and-other-vehicle-)resistant pack that simply would not budge. Since the road was narrow and windy, we couldn't pass without serious risk. So we sat behind them, muttering curse words under our helmets (OK, I can only speak for myself.). At one point, Cheryl commented to CC that she was afraid her bike would stall, we were having to go so slowly! Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we turned onto Alpine. All the bicycles turned in the same direction, too, but thankfully the road is pretty wide and straight at that point, so passing was no longer an issue. I resisted the urge to lean on my horn as we passed the pack. Didn't want to scare one into jumping in front of me. We practically flew down Alpine in an attempt to put plenty of space between us and the pedal bikers. No way we were going to get stuck behind them again! From Alpine it was on to Portola, and from there we caught Mountain Home. This is one of my favorite roads, through California-style, horse-country, mega-mansion "suburbia." The smell of newly mown grass wafted through the air. Through the trees, I could see a woman lunging a horse in a corral. There were still a few bicyclists, which kept us on our toes, but for the most part we had a pretty clear road. Mountain Home brought us into Woodside, and from there we caught Kings Mountain Rd up into the hills. As we rode through the redwoods, I reminded myself to be thankful that the weather was so perfect. Just two weekends earlier, I'd needed my electric gear on this road. On this day, the coolness felt comfortable, just right, really. As we crested the ridge and crossed over 35 onto Tunitas Creek, the scenery and the road changed again. Now it was noticeably darker, as the road wound its way through much denser stands of redwoods. And the pavement took on the texture of hardened, chunky lava flow, with dips and cracks and bumps and mounds. Riding Tunitas Creek was like riding a colt just let out of the stable on a new spring morning: bucking and jerking and kicking up its heels. But we managed to stay astride our iron steeds and motor all the way out of the hills, back down to sea level. From Tunitas Creek, we turned onto Lobitos Cutoff, where we passed a field of sunny-faced sunflowers, and then what appeared to be a local horse show that had just gotten underway. Turning left onto Verde brought us quickly to Route 1, and we zipped up from there to Half Moon Bay. We stopped for gas at the Chevron in town and exchanged notes on the ride so far (I shared with Sue that when she was on her CBR600F4, with her helmet on, and her blonde hair flowing out the back, she looks like the Women on Wheels logo!). From Half Moon Bay, it was up 92 East to 35, where CC and Sue, as arranged at the gas stop, pulled ahead and were soon out of sight, followed by the less aggressive riders, me and Cheryl. The two of us continued on, through dappled sunlight on the wonderfully winding 35 as it followed the ridgeline. To our right, the ocean with its leftover fog cover. To our left, the valley, little glimpses of which we caught toward the beginning. We caught up with CC and Sue at the deli across from Alice's. As we downed water trying to keep hydrated on what was turning out to be quite the scorcher, we waited for Sue's boyfriend, Larry, to join us. Just as we were starting to feel our edges curl from the heat, he pulled up on one of Sue's other bikes, a CBR600F4. We barely let him get off his bike to stretch his legs before we jumped back on ours to continue the ride. As we took off down 84, CC, Sue, and Larry were all three ahead of Cheryl and me. Apparently, though, CC somehow got the impression that she was the last to leave. She thought she was behind Cheryl and me, so she "hauled ass to catch up," wondering how the heck she could have gotten so far behind. It wasn't until she got to the pink flamingo house and found Sue and Larry waiting there alone that she realized she had been ahead of us all along! (cha-grin!) Pescadero Rd was another cool respite from the heat, green and lush, with just enough curves to make it interesting. We stopped at the flamingo house, which we discovered was for sale (prompting me to wonder if the flamingos come with the house or not, and if not, would the current owner have to find them all and take them down before the new one moved in?). We lingered a while as Sue shared some of her motorcycle "incident" stories, then decided to press on, as hunger was getting the best of us. As Pescadero Rd wound its way towards its namesake town, a fledgling blue jay hopped across the road, barely making it across before my bike would have played executioner. Always remembering Patrick's rule of rolling over anything small enough to eat in one sitting, I was sadly prepared to send the little one to its maker. but was thrilled when it managed to hop out of the way! Somehow, God was smiling on the avian species that day, because just a few minutes later, an entire family of quail (mom, pop, and two babies) dashed into the road in front of us, only to--thank you Jesus!--change their minds in a split second and dash back to the safety of the bushes at the side of the road. For a minute there, I thought they were toast, and I would have been the toaster! Finally we made it to Pescadero, where we parked and headed into Duarte's. There we sat down for a yummy lunch that included a bowl of Duarte's famous artichoke soup mixed with their equally famous green chile soup. Mmmmm! Sue shared more of her stories--with over 10 years of riding experience under her belt, she has lots to talk about--and we all participated in the usual chatter about different bikes and routes and riders we've encountered along the way. Satisfactorily fed and watered, we suited up again and headed north on Stage Rd. Despite tales of its recent horrendous state due to road work, Stage turned out to be no worse than any of the other roads we'd been on that day already. All the loose gravel was gone, and the patches had pretty much worked their way into usable pavement already. The sun was shining brightly, bringing out the buttery color in the lush carpets of yellow flowers that lined the road. Another beautiful California day, another beautiful California road. What more could anyone ask for? From Stage Rd, it was right onto 84 again, then up the little strip of Pescadero to get to Alpine. Everyone successfully navigated the chunky, bumpy, dark-then-bright road with no street signs or markings, and I breathed a sigh of relief! As Alpine crested the hill and crossed 35, Sue and Larry peeled off to continue riding on more sportbike-suitable 35. CC, Cheryl, and I made our way down Page Mill and onto Moody, past the little backyard vineyard, towards Foothill College. From there the sisters hopped onto 280 to head for the Honda store (to support the economy!), and I headed down Foothill towards home. Funny thing: when I got home, I could hardly wait to do it again! God, I love California!
|
8
am, barely a cloud in the sky. I pulled in to the Starbucks, "de-geared",
ordered my coffee, then waited and wondered who would show up for the
ride, my first as ride leader. Only one person had answered affirmative
to the evite: CC. Would we be alone on these roads we now knew so well?
(We had pre-ridden the route twice together already, having been trained
by the best: Tyler and Patrick.)