Cruisin' to Santa Cruz

'Twas a lovely day for a picnic at the beach and a rare mid-week opportunity for some challenging riding. Two organizations at work pooled their resources for a joint summer outing, and the popular vote landed us at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Biking to the picnic is part of the tradition, and groups formed to ride from San Francisco, Mountain View, and Los Gatos. Most riders opt to shuttle home on buses, and this year a small rental truck had ample capacity for hauling all the bikes. Where's the fun in that?

I led the Los Gatos contingent and was astonished to attract 15 riders. Since the shuttles would not be stopping here on the way back, most of them biked to our starting place so they could shuttle back to Mountain View. Two were game to join me in biking back from the picnic.

Being a high-tech crowd, we used Google Latitude to track our fellow riders as they made their way toward us. Incoming text message:

Two flat tires, don't wait for us.

They were baffled that we weren't moving, as they were monitoring our position, too. We had a rider who also went flat (twice) before we started, so everyone came together for the start.

But not the finish. Their rider flatted again, and upon further investigation, they mended a gap in his rim tape with some electrical tape to protect the tube from the end of the spoke. (I love engineers. Biking with electrical tape.)

Our route to the coast involved a little uphill on the downhill side, for which I took some friendly ribbing. Okay, okay. It's a 9% grade for half a mile to the top of Laurel Glen . . . but the other two miles are practically flat, and the road brings us within a couple blocks of the bike trail to the boardwalk. Trust me, it's worth it.

At the beach, we wolfed down huge plates of food and headed for our favorite attraction: the 85-year-old Giant Dipper wooden roller coaster. Our group of four was unanimous - as soon as we exited, we headed for the end of the line and rode it again.

All too soon, it was time to claim our bikes and head back over the hill. Another rider was loitering around the racks, seeking to join us. I'm a big fan of Bean Creek Road, but I imagine my three ride buddies were thinking . . .

Uh, why are we descending, when we need to go up and over the Santa Cruz Mountains?

This was the inaugural ride up Mountain Charlie Road for two of them; along the way, one commented that it looked more like a driveway than a road. Indeed. At one point, I politely stopped and stepped aside to let a resident pass; she called out her thanks.

I finished climbing Mountain Charlie in about the same amount of time as my last visit: 46 minutes, with a lower average heart rate (despite the additional 4.5 pound backpack). Maybe I am getting stronger. Still, my three companions beat me up the hill.