Pretty Pescadero

Last year we had a touch of rain for this ride; this year was picture-postcard perfect (but, windy). Good thing I'd tossed a jacket in my bag, at the last minute; it was 44F at the start. Volunteers were swaddled in quilts.

The moon was still high in the western sky as I set out on this year's Arthritis Bike Classic Pescadero ride. I arrived later than I'd planned, surprised by one-lane traffic controls on roads still being repaired from last winter's fury. Nonetheless, I managed to start pedaling a few minutes earlier than last year.

I paused to admire some fancy cattle up close: Belted Galloways, they are. Those white bands are lush and wavy. You might imagine running your fingers through that fur ... that is, until you realize that the dark hindquarters are covered (covered!) with flies.

There were a bunch of guys along Gazos Creek Road with binoculars trained on the opposite hillside. “What's up there?” I asked. “Birds.” Seriously? You make the effort to visit this remote road, and that's the best you can do? The group was so fixated, I thought maybe they'd spotted a condor. “Birds.”

The Pigeon Point Lighthouse looks best in morning light. I took care not to linger, as the headwinds were picking up early.

I chose the “45-mile” route again, which makes two loops centered on Pescadero. This year, one rest stop was hosted at the fabled Archangeli Bakery, where we sampled cinnamon bread as well as the amazing Artichoke Garlic Herb bread. Silly me, asking for half a piece of that bread ... of course I went back for more. As many times as I've been here, this was the first time I noticed the field of flowers next door.

A sign along Stage Road caught my eye, asking people not to feed the pigs, or the dog. Sure enough, there was one large pig and many little pigs. (They weren't photogenic, as pigs go, so I just rode on.)

Yesterday, on a rural Sonoma County road, a young man deliberately swerved his enormous pickup truck into four cyclists on a charity ride. This weighed heavily on our minds today, as we reassured ourselves that normal drivers don't wield their vehicles as weapons to assault other human beings. [The culprit was found and arrested, in large part thanks to video footage from a passing motorcyclist's helmet cam.]

Happily, an uneventful day of riding for me: 44 miles, with some 2,565 feet of climbing.