Sierra Century

Plymouth, California? Not Massachusetts?

When my chief biking buddy suggested a new adventure, I signed right up.

A somewhat quirky place, which also happened to be hosting a gathering of military aficionados.

The view from the room at our nondescript roadside motel was unexpectedly, and spectacularly, pastoral.

Despite an untimely injury and an even less timely cold, my cycling buddy still made the trek (and, completed the short route).

As for me, well, with all the rain and recent travel, I questioned whether I really could complete a (hilly) metric.

As it turned out, yes, I could.

The first twenty-one miles were essentially flat, and the last seventeen—downhill!

It had been unseasonably hot the day before, but conditions were just right for the event.

We started together, but our routes eventually diverged. Mine headed into the forest.

The wildflowers and green hills will soon fade away.

Sierra snowmelt will keep the streams rushing for some time, though, given our historic winter.

I never expected to see a Civil War cannon in California, but there it is: the Old Abe Volcano Blues Cannon.

The last rest stop was across from the Daffodil Hill ranch, where a few late-bloomers lingered in the garden. When I walked over to look for the noisy peacock, I was surprised to find him perched right at the fence.

My longest and hilliest ride, to date: 67 miles, 4,250 feet of climbing.

Thanks to Captivating Sports Photos for some awesome action shots! Rounding a curve, at speed, I thought ... good luck with that. They delivered!