In the Misty Morning Fog

With our hearts a-thumpin'; and me, a brown-eyed girl.

On such an overcast day, it takes a leap of faith to leave my warm bed behind. Faith that, if I climb high enough, I will find the sun.

The lower portion of Mt. Hamilton road was as wet as if it had rained. Eyeing the slippery tar snakes, feeling the chill air on the first brief descent ... I questioned my quest. A rainbow sheen of oil coated the downhill lane of one sharp bend. I could only hope that the rest of the group noticed it, too. I was confident that I could avoid it on the return, because I know this road so well.

At 1,875 feet I met the floor of the cloud layer. Happily, it was not as cold or wet as I expected. Many miles later, I would find the ceiling (around 2,300 feet). Inside the cloud, the sound of everything but the birds was dampened and the landscape was transformed.

Approaching the summit ... what, ho! The remnants of Monday's cold storm lingered on the north-facing edges. Sheltered on the observatory's sunny patio, with snow in the shadows, I enjoyed my lunch in quiet solitude.

Quick as a wink, the winds whipped up and I was awestruck as we were enveloped in a turbulent cloud. It was time to make a hasty retreat down the mountain, with teeth a-chattering and fingers a-stiffening.

I reached the Quimby intersection just as a Caltrans driver blocked the road with his truck. Uh oh. I knew there had been an accident yesterday, but they were supposed to retrieve the vehicle this morning. I was not eager to detour onto Quimby. Reluctantly, he allowed me to squirm past.

About a mile later, a vehicle was backing up. [Literally.] Beep, beep, beep ... on twisty Mt. Hamilton Road, an enormous tow truck was comin' round the bend—in reverse. I immediately dismounted and got off the road.

The real action was ahead, and here is where my riding buddy will regret bailing out at mile 5.7 this morning. Look at that equipment! ["No, silly," she would say. "That's not the equipment I'm looking at."] The guys were happy to answer questions, and not upset that a cyclist had slipped through the roadblock.

Some idiot [let me guess, taking that bend too fast] had forced a Caltrans truck off the road—and didn't even stop. [Coward.] The truck tumbled down a steep embankment, overturning a few times, through the trees. Fortunately, a UPS driver did stop. [Hero.] Did I say, steep? As in, pretty much straight down. I can't imagine how he climbed down to help the driver, without ropes.

The guys reported that the driver is okay—pretty sore, with bumps and bruises. Winching had dragged the truck into view, but it was still some 30 feet below the road surface.

Carrying my bike, I tiptoed behind the tow truck, along the very edge of the ravine.

"Have a safe ride," the guys called out.