C is for ...

C is for Colma and cemeteries, the Centennial Way Trail and the Cold War. And, of course, cycling.

I was most excited about today's route, which promised a bona-fide adventure: I was unfamiliar with much of the area we'd be exploring.

We rode up Sneath Lane to reach a trail leading to Sweeney Ridge. Bikes are permitted, but squeezing through the tight angular gate was a challenge. I was toodling along just fine, wondering why the climb was much easier than our club's rated difficulty level, when it got steep. Heart-rate-180-bpm-steep.

What remains of the abandoned Cold War-era Nike missile control site was less interesting than I expected. The walls are a magnet for graffiti vandals; perhaps it would be better to tear them down. The views of the Pacific and of our next destination (San Bruno Mountain) were beautiful on this clear day, however.

Our leader took care to keep us together as we navigated city streets to connect with the Centennial Way Trail. We made our way through Colma, which naturally included passing through a cemetery. (Colma is renowned for having more dead than living residents.) This one had it all: ornate private mausoleums the size of small chapels, headstones, simple flush-mounted plaques. Which started me wondering about why ordinary people erected such grand monuments to themselves.

The view to the west from the top of San Bruno Mountain was more familiar now that I fully recognized the green fields of Colma dotted with marble and granite.

I had spent quality time with a map in advance, devising an alternate return route. Our leader's route back to Skyline was more direct, but followed some roads that I expected would be unpleasantly busy with traffic. The Colma Community Center turned out to be the perfect place for a rest stop. My ride buddy and I were quite happy with the route I devised; apart from the climbing, it was quite pleasant. But, well, getting back to Skyline unavoidably means going up.

We paused at the south end of San Andreas Lake to watch some very relaxed deer on the slope below us. After rounding the bend to continue south on the trail, I spotted a doe and her still-spotted fawn at close range. I imagine they're feeling the stress of our long drought, and perhaps becoming too comfortable with people. I slowed as I approached another cyclist who was about to resume pedaling; only then did I see the buck (!) to my left, on the paved trail, munching away. He seemed completely indifferent to people passing by, in both directions.

C is for the Crystal Springs Reservoir, where we began (and ended) today's journey: 48 miles, 4,440 feet of climbing.