In the Misty Morning Fog

With breakfast done and luggage handed off, I managed to get rolling about 15 minutes earlier today. On my own, again.

We'd been cautioned about sharing the road with traffic as we climbed out of Pacifica, even so early on a Saturday morning. [Where are they all going?!]

Bright jacket. [Check.] Bright flashing white light on my handlebar. [Check.] Super bright flashing red light on my back. [Check.]

I found myself at Devil's Slide sooner than I expected. Vehicular traffic passes into a tunnel; cyclists follow the original road as it snakes along the slide-prone cliffs.

Not much of a view.

Visibility was so limited, even at bicycle speed, that I had to slow down. The white line at the edge of the road is your friend. (Now I get why it's called the “fog line!”)

The fog condensed on both sides of my lenses. I had to stop—often—to wipe them dry. Sometimes I just peered over the top, despite my profound nearsightedness.

Approaching Half Moon Bay, a few riders pulled out of a parking lot. [Unofficial rest stop at a Starbucks.] I. Am. So. Slow. I had been looking forward to the traditional tailwind, heading south; uncharacteristically, we were battling a headwind.

Then we saw red and blue flashing lights ahead. A lot of them. Emergency vehicles blocking most of the road. My heart dropped. I was relieved that I wasn't facing this scene alone. And even more relieved that no cyclists were involved; a large white SUV had smashed into another vehicle. Later I overhead that a couple of riders had been nearby and dodged a wheel that broke loose from one of the vehicles.

I spotted a paved trail running parallel to Highway 1 and wondered why we weren't on it. Eventually, I shifted over and enjoyed it while it lasted.

Sometimes a dry-my-lenses-and-refuel moment was at least somewhat photo-worthy.

I knew that I would pass the burn zone from the CZU fire. It's been more than four years, and I hadn't yet mustered the courage to view the aftermath. Cycling rather than driving along the edge was probably best, anyway. You can't help but be distracted by what once was, and thinking of the man who lost his life on a remote road I'd biked past many times.

The fog layer lifted overhead around the halfway mark. I'd been grateful that a car club (Porsches, mainly) had been heading north when they passed us. Now, on the outskirts of Santa Cruz, a less well-behaved caravan of mostly Ferraris and Lambos sped by, heading south. I found a safe place to step off the road.

There was a plan for everyone to assemble at a spot in Santa Cruz and ride together to the finish in our matching jerseys. Gauging the timing, I knew I wouldn't make it. Lacking local knowledge to navigate through Santa Cruz more directly, I was further slowed by boardwalk traffic, unpredictable pedestrians, and detours. I arrived just as the group photo was being taken, and missed it when a well-intentioned bike valet stopped me. Ah, well.

As a newbie, long-time participants were curious how I came to join the ride. “Are you a Rotarian?” asked one of my dinner companions on the second night. “No,” I smiled. “That's okay, I forgive you.” he bantered.

Cast your memory back to episode one of this saga, where I mentioned the article that launched me on this journey. The author didn't ride this year, but she was there at the finish line celebration. I introduced myself: “You're the reason I'm here!” Her face lit up.

With today's 65 miles and some 3,400 feet of elevation gain, I managed to ride 175 miles over three days, approaching 9,950 feet of elevation gain. The best part? The people! The organizers, the cheerful and supportive volunteers, my fellow riders, a roommate who turned out to be very compatible. Over the course of three days, I didn't see a moment of negativity from anyone. [Imagine that!]

We formed a community to raise funds for a designated set of youth-related causes—and we raised enough to support the club's commitments to all of them. Hearing from leaders of the receiving organizations, and experiencing the dedication of the people hosting this ride, was inspirational. Seriously.

Same time, next year? Hmm ...