Tour de Fox

Do-it-yourself charity rides are less enticing than group events, and I wouldn't have done this one if some folks at work hadn't reached out. They'd formed a team for a colleague and planned a 20-mile route that would be “friendly” for all. They generously sprang for some breakfast pastries to start our day. [Sign me up!]

Their plan was a counter-clockwise version of a local fave, the Portola Loop. It was fitting, in a bittersweet way, because I met my friend Steve nearby so many times to ride together. It seems I know rather too many folks afflicted with Parkinson's (cyclists, all) ...

I recruited a friend to join me and we both wanted a bit more of a ride, so I tacked on the out-and-back climb up Alpine Road. I thought we might have a chance to catch back up to the group at the finish, but we rolled in about 20 minutes late for that.

Our starting point turned out to be a popular one, especially with the running crowd. In the morning, we were swarmed by teens assembling for training runs. In the afternoon, we were mystified as women (and men) wearing bright red dresses started to gather.

The local chapter of the Hash House Harriers happily educated us in their ways. Today was a special event, their annual Red Dress Run—raising funds for a women's legal defense fund. They were lively and outgoing, a much more inclusive group than their online characterization might imply—even willing to talking to “cheaters” (cyclists) like us! One did seem favorably impressed that we'd biked 27 miles (and for a charitable cause).

A couple showed up, first-timers; the guy had donned nothing red (much less a dress). But never fear: One of the regulars dashed to his car and pulled out a lovely satin number, complete with sequins around the neckline.

For us, 27 miles, 1,800 feet of climbing and some unexpected edutainment.

Montebello & Friends

My chief biking buddy has been lobbying for us to climb Montebello; a third friend tagged along, carrying 18 pounds in her panniers (training for an upcoming self-supported tour). In spite of that, she was still the first of us to reach the top.

It's a tough climb, so I didn't expect many folks to join us. And it took a lot out of me, today. I haven't been doing enough climbing.

There are some familiar landmarks. A particular mailbox (which many of us remember from years gone by, when it sported an American-flag theme). The school (an official landmark).

It would be easier if I just stopped for a moment in the shade ... [Don't do it.]

Here comes the steep straight section, it would be easier if I stopped for just a moment ... [Don't even think about it.]

Hard to believe I once raced up this climb with a finishing time of 55:32. [That was then.] 17 minutes slower today, but a minute faster than two years ago?! [Huh.]

Descending with care, I had my eye on two vehicles approaching the entrance to the Ridge winery. Not only did the first vehicle turn left, crossing our lane—the second SUV failed to yield as well. I veered and passed around the back of the vehicle. My friend followed close behind, berating the driver at the top of her lungs.

After 37 miles and 3,100 feet of climbing on a warm day, I was lucky to join a small backyard pizza party. Because of course a friend has a pizza oven (!) in his backyard (much more useful than its original incarnation as a fireplace). And of course he buys special flour (in 50-pound sacks). Being a newbie at this, mine was hardly a masterpiece. But maybe I'll get another chance (or two).

BBQ, Because

An annual tradition carries on—a barbecue fundraiser supporting a cycling friend's team for the upcoming Waves to Wine ride, benefiting the Multiple Sclerosis Society.

Back in the day, that was the first charity ride I'd ever done—as the stoker on a recumbent tandem (in 2003, and again in 2004). I continued on my own bike in 2005 and 2006, but after the routes (and the vibe) changed, I got hooked on riding for Best Buddies. The least I can do now is to support my friends who ride for the cause—here in California, and farther afield (Utah).

Our barbecue host was a very strong and accomplished rider, once upon a time. A time before he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Last month, when someone asked if he was planning to host his fundraiser this year, I heard him reply: “Have they found a cure yet?”

With help from some friends, he was expecting to serve 90 plates today—having taken good advantage of a sale earlier this year to stock up on 36(!) racks of ribs. (There's a tofu option for our vegetarian comrades.)

I donned my favorite “Champagne Club” jersey (circa 2004) and headed out. When I got close, I didn't need to study the route on my bike computer—I could just follow my nose! Ribs, baked beans, salad, cornbread, fresh lemonade (the real deal), iced tea, and camaraderie, in exchange for a donation to the cause.

I cleared out before the hungrier hordes of cyclists rolled in, to catch up with an old friend (over more iced tea) in his well-shaded backyard.

Having biked a mere 18 miles (400 feet of climbing), I might have eaten more than my due—but I did enjoy every. last. bite.

Oopsie

First things first: no one got hurt. [More on that later.]

I needed to keep it short today and figured I would just ride alone. But then I thought, why not invite some friends? Good call: Four joined me. Much more fun than riding alone.

There were turkeys. (There are always turkeys.) This brood had settled inside a pen, reluctantly flapping their wings to scale the fence when it was time to leave. The largest one was the last to exit, after repeatedly pacing the perimeter and studying each post. [Yup, they're all about the same height. You can do it!]

On the way up Shannon, I watched a doe dart across the road and kept an eye out for any of her companions. She was joining her fawn, as it turned out. Later we spotted a pack of four young bucks crossing a field.

We were ready to be cautious on Hicks, knowing that it had recently been chip-sealed, but the surface was fine. There were some patches of loose gravel at the edges of the road, in places—which might have contributed to today's bit of excitement.

There was very little traffic. After passing the reservoir, we regrouped at our turn-around point, a small clearing at the bend just before the road kicks up to its merciless 13.7% grade. The sound of spinning tires led someone to ask “Is it hard for vehicles to get up it, too?”

No, but ... first there's a sharp bend, and then surprise! Steep! And maybe there are some deep piles of loose gravel right now.

Maybe the pickup truck took that curve a little too quick, slid a bit and lost traction. However he did it, he was now perpendicular to the road, his back wheels in a ditch. An SUV came along and stopped to help, but this was gonna require a proper tow truck. We had a hard time convincing a couple on their way to Mt. Umunhum that they really truly could not get through, and slowed down a couple of motorcyclists (who could get through). After we'd each walked around the bend to get a clear view of the action, we decided it was time to skedaddle. [Good luck to the other cars we saw, headed in that direction.]

One more climb, followed by a social coffee stop, and I finished my ride after 18 miles and 1,340 feet of climbing.