One way to overcome the winter funk that's been keeping me off the bike is to persuade a friend to join me. My chief biking buddy has been in a similar funk.
My strategy worked: we wouldn't let each other down, so we both showed up. (I admit that I checked my email a few times before leaving the house, just in case she backed out.)
We did an abbreviated version of a club ride; I wasn't sure how well I'd get up the hills, and she's still coughing from a lingering cold.
On such a gloomy day I feared there would be no photo-worthy scenes; I snapped the first photo early and expected it to be the last. (Silly me.)
At the base of the second hill, a pair of turkey vultures swirled as they were lifted by the warming air—the sun finally broke through.
For my 2016 season finale, I managed to bike 23 miles and climb a measly 665 feet.
End of year wrap: I climbed more than 140,000 feet and covered more than 3,725 miles on the bike. How much time did that take? More than 415 hours (not all of that in motion). Evidently I also walked (and hiked) more than 346 miles.
Somehow it all adds up.
December 30, 2016
December 25, 2016
Christmas Cliffs
It was a moody sort of day as we set off on our Christmas stroll.
I was happy to be spending this day, again, with a good friend.
Forsaking the tide pools at Pillar Point this year, we headed south along the cliffs. The overcast skies transitioned to blue, and some of the hills had turned emerald green.
We descended to a few beaches along the way. One revealed a small waterfall that we would cross on the bridge above.
With the sun low in the sky, the cliffs begin to glow long before sunset.
If you haven't visited coastal California, you might be surprised by the vast agricultural acres that often stretch to the end of the cliffs. Brussels sprouts were in abundance.
A rude woman with a small dog flushed a stately heron into flight, not content to admire the bird from a respectable distance.
By the time we returned to our car, guests at the Ritz-Carlton were clustered around their firepits. In one ground-level room, I spied an astonishing mountain of brightly-wrapped presents.
We celebrated an eight-mile hike, and more importantly, the gift of good friendship.
I was happy to be spending this day, again, with a good friend.
Forsaking the tide pools at Pillar Point this year, we headed south along the cliffs. The overcast skies transitioned to blue, and some of the hills had turned emerald green.
We descended to a few beaches along the way. One revealed a small waterfall that we would cross on the bridge above.
With the sun low in the sky, the cliffs begin to glow long before sunset.
If you haven't visited coastal California, you might be surprised by the vast agricultural acres that often stretch to the end of the cliffs. Brussels sprouts were in abundance.
A rude woman with a small dog flushed a stately heron into flight, not content to admire the bird from a respectable distance.
By the time we returned to our car, guests at the Ritz-Carlton were clustered around their firepits. In one ground-level room, I spied an astonishing mountain of brightly-wrapped presents.
We celebrated an eight-mile hike, and more importantly, the gift of good friendship.
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