Half is Not Enough

When we reached the turn-around point at Grant Ranch Park, the summit of Mt. Hamilton was so alluring that I could not resist. How could I climb only halfway up the mountain today?

I continued with the rest of our little group on our planned route along the easy eastern approach to the summit of Quimby Road before dropping back down to resume my climb to Lick Observatory. It was a spectacular day to head up the mountain—cool and breezy, with little traffic.

Most of the traffic was well-behaved, with the notable exception of one driver who crossed the double yellow line completely into the opposite lane on a blind curve to pass me. Knowing it was not safe for a car to pass, I had moved to the center of our lane to send a clear message: Do Not Pass Me. Had there been a cyclist or vehicle coming downhill in the other lane, I would have been collateral damage. I saw the Sheriff three times before that, but he missed this moment of stupendously dangerous driving.

I did not set out this morning to climb all the way to the summit. Cool day? One water bottle. Not much distance? Eat a sandwich after the ride. I consumed everything I had stuffed in my pockets: one Balance Bare bar, one molten PowerBar, a dozen peanut butter-filled pretzel nuggets, and three Clif Shot Bloks. Plus a few cherries shared by a fellow rider, and the best energy bargain in the observatory's vending machine, a Nature Valley Sweet and Salty Peanut bar. Intake: 876 Calories. Burned: 2040 Calories.

Free to be a tourist, I enjoyed the wildflowers and lingered at the top. Along the way, I pocketed a shiny nickel that caught my eye, saw my first skink, and watched a pair of acorn woodpeckers for awhile. A friendly biker (of the motorized sort) offered to take a picture of me ("to prove you were here!"), before confessing that they had "cheated" (driving, rather than pedaling, to the top).

Just yesterday a friend commented that he does not enjoy descending Mt. Hamilton. What's not to like?! So long as you respect the gravelly curves where the hillside is chronically crumbling, and keep an eye out for the suicidal squirrels ... His hands hurt, he explained. You're braking too much, I replied.

A fabulous day on the bike: 42 miles, 5,635 feet of climbing, maximum speed 35.3 mph.