A Touch of Cold

It was inevitable, really. Sharing a road trip and hotel room with my ailing biking buddy last weekend all but ensured that I would get sick, too.

Dry air, I told myself when I detected the first hint of a sore throat. [Wrong.]

Luckily it didn't hit me quite so hard, and I really did want to ride my bike today.

From the highway, I saw the fog capping the Santa Cruz Mountains. [Uh oh.] Warm enough for a vest and arm warmers, I'd thought. [And I should know better.]

I could always do the first climb and turn back. [Right, like that's gonna happen.]

The redwoods rained big drops on us, at the top. The road was thoroughly wet. Visibility was fine, as the fog bank was above us.

Kind of mystical, really. And I think all that moisture helped me cough out some of my cold.

A brisk 23 miles with 2,320 feet of climbing.