Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 1

Back in 2007, before I started this blog, I participated in the Best Buddies Hearst Castle Challenge for the first time. I didn't know what to expect. Mostly, it seemed like a handy way to cycle down the central California coast, from Carmel Valley to San Simeon. Impressed with the organization, I returned the following year. And the year after that. And ...

Fast forward to 2020, when this event (like so many others) cannot be held. By the time they made the decision, encouraging us to make up our own challenge, I was uncertain about fundraising. Could my appeal to donors rise above the chaos that is 2020? I thought about scaling back. Unsurprisingly, without an actual event, many folks decided to sit this year out. Those who did sign up have raised little money. Like other non-profits, Best Buddies runs these events to bring in needed cash to support their programs year round (and, to raise awareness).

Who am I? Not a fair-weather friend! The need doesn't stop just because we can't have a mass gathering of people riding our bicycles down the coast.

Then, I had an idea. Challenge accepted. I reached out to my donors, and they've graciously supported Best Buddies for me, again. I promised them I would do something worthy. Today marked the start of my challenge.

I made a late call on what today's ride would be; where would the wind send the wildfire smoke? I checked the air quality when I woke up, and confirmed the plan with my ride buddy. The redwoods beckon on a hot day; the area we enjoyed just three weeks ago was unscathed by the lightning that torched the forest just a few miles to the north. Stage 1 of my Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Old Santa Cruz Highway to the end of Highland Way, and back.

As I expected, there was very little traffic on the route; beaches are closed, and mountain bikers who flock to the Soquel Demonstration Forest risk citations (also, closed). The road is narrow, and in increasingly wretched condition; there are a couple of construction zones, fighting to keep sections from collapsing into the canyon. A vintage red convertible (Mustang) hung back behind me, and just as the road opened up a bit and I sensed the driver would pull around to pass me, I saw a group of fast cyclists approaching.

I did what I normally do in this situation: I eased farther to the left, effectively leaving no room to pass, firmly extended my left arm straight out, palm back, and hoped the driver would react responsibly. Which is to say, stay behind me and keep to the right. [She did.] The cyclists were grateful; I received a chorus of thank-yous, and from a guy at the front, “Appreciate that!” When all was clear, I edged back to the right, leaving enough room for the driver to pass safely. As she did, she waved and called out “Thank you!” [That was a first.]

Sadly, there was a recent local case of a driver who chose to pass an uphill cyclist on a blind curve, fatally injuring an oncoming cyclist on his way down. Note to drivers: Don't do that. If you don't have a clear line of sight, don't pass. Really. On another ride, I've had a driver pull around me and nearly run head-on into another vehicle. Most drivers, though, get it and hang back when I stick my arm out.

At the end of Stage 1, I saw that I was so close to finishing on the three-hour mark. I dug deep, the final turn was in sight, seconds to spare ... and I had to hold up for an approaching car. The total duration of our outing, of course, was longer—we regrouped a couple of times in the shade, for snacks and conversation.

Stage 1: 30 miles, 2,345 feet of climbing, average speed, 10.1 mph (yes, I'm slow). High temperature this afternoon, at home: 101°F. The forecast for tomorrow: hotter.