Attractive Nuisance

That's what snow is, in the Bay Area: an attractive nuisance. The raindrops that sprinkled us as we climbed the lower portion of Mt. Hamilton Road were also a nuisance, but luckily, nothing more.

Normally there would be little traffic heading up the mountain on a gloomy Sunday morning, but today we were passed by a steady stream of minivans and four-wheel-drive vehicles [see "attractive nuisance," above]. Undeterred by the sign warning that the road was closed four miles ahead, they would eventually be surprised to meet the sheriff.

Our first destination was Joseph Grant County Park, which is the only convenient place for all those disappointed snow tourists to turn around. Yes, ma'am, unless your driver's license shows that you live up the mountain, follow the orange cones and head back down the hill.

The largest flock of wild turkeys I have ever seen was sauntering past the restrooms in the park. Spooked by a pair of cars approaching from opposite directions, they hustled their tail feathers across the road and up the hill, gobbling loudly in protest.

Signs warned of slides on Quimby Road, but the sheriff assured us it was passable. We faced more traffic here, too; at one point on the climb I had to stop and dismount behind two uphill vehicles that stopped to let two downhill vehicles pass. A sedan filled with snow tourists stopped to chat at the summit; they were clearly determined to reach the top of Mt. Hamilton, and I doubt they believed my story about the road being closed.

And that is why the sheriff works his shift in the chilly dampness. Yes, ma'am, follow those orange cones and turn right around.

Thanks for the Suffering

As we battled challenging conditions on a ride a year or two ago, one of my cycling buddies asked:

Do you have any children?

No, I replied, giving her a quizzical look.

Oh, I asked because I figure you would have declined the epidural.

Thanksgiving Day, chock-full of tradition. Parades, calorie-laden feasts, bicycling at maximum speed to the top of one of the highest peaks in the Bay Area. The finish line for the Low-Key Hillclimb season is at the top of Mt. Hamilton.

We are never alone on the mountain; plenty of cyclists climb it to offset those second helpings of stuffing later in the day, albeit at a more comfortable pace. Along the way, a helpful pair of them suggested that I should get a bike fitting (have had one) and try a shorter stem (he wanted to fit me with a longer one). They probably thought I was rude for barely responding to them, but I was not riding at a conversational pace. Another woman was impressed by my "fan club," as fellow Low-Keyers at the summit or on the descent recognized me and cheered me by name.

Thanks to an inversion layer, at 6:30 a.m. the temperature at the summit was already 10 degrees warmer than at my house, some 4000 feet below. No need for multiple layers or long-fingered gloves to keep my teeth from chattering on the long descent.

The conditions were ideal, but my power was not. Much to my dismay, I was a full 10 minutes slower this year than last. Did I go out too fast, drop into my lowest gear too often, or pay the price for cycling less over the past two months? I did manage to sustain an average heart rate of 174 beats per minute for two and a half hours, and burn more than 1900 calories overall to make room for the amazing six-course dinner (plus two desserts) that my friends served me later.

Will I give it another try in 2010? Less than a year before I decide to ride. No pressure.

One and a Half Hamiltons

Although we did have a full moon today, that is the dome of Lick Observatory rising above lupines on the hillside. It was a lovely spring day to take the advice of Eddy Merckx to heart:

Don't buy upgrades; ride up grades.

I chose a new challenge: climb Mt. Hamilton twice in one day. I didn't run out of steam or willpower, but I did run out of time. I ascended the upper segment twice and the lower section just once, with barely enough time to dash home and get cleaned up before heading to San Francisco. There I witnessed athleticism of a more artistic sort, ballerina Tina Le Blanc's farewell performance.

The evening felt more like a private party for friends and family, which explained the puzzling number of people we saw on crutches or with a soft cast on a lower leg. Injured dancers. I am in awe of their artistry and fitness, and respect their sacrifice. What appears so graceful and effortless, leaves them breathless.

The night opened with Balanchine's Tchaikovsky Pas De Deux. Paired with Tina was Gonzalo Garcia, whose performance was extraordinary in a very demanding piece. I often marvel at what the human body is capable of: the way the dancers move, the cyclists who climb hills twice as fast as I can, even my own capacity for propelling myself one-and-a-half times up Mt. Hamilton by rotating the pedals round and round. It wouldn't surprise me if Gonzalo could out-sprint Mark Cavendish. Dancers pitted against athletes from Cal Berkeley have actually won two out of three annual competitions.

As for me, I averaged 9.5 mph over 61 miles with 7,930 feet of climbing, enjoyed the views and wildflowers, and was ready for more.