That Solar Impulse

What have we here?

A fancy party tent? [No.]

A cocoon of sorts, for a rare winged creature.

One of a kind, in fact.

Through a stroke of good fortune, I had the privilege of a close encounter with the Solar Impulse 2, which landed at Moffett Field three days ago on the ninth leg of its planned circumnavigation of the globe. Powered by the sun.

The point is not to shift the future of aviation to solar power. Rather, to inspire the world to do more with the sun down here on Earth.

That planes fly, at all, is a wonderment to me. That this plane can take off under its own power seems inconceivable. Yes, it's exceedingly lightweight. Four small electric engines, that's all.

Nearly translucent wings, spanning an astonishing 236 feet—longer than the wingspan of a Boeing 777.

It just looks so ... fragile.

A masterpiece of engineering, a piece of history, and a thing of beauty.

When it takes to the air again, later this week perhaps, I may miss the chance to see it fly. It was a thrill, nonetheless, to meet it today.

Blowin' in the Wind

Next week is our club's big event, when we host hundreds of cyclists on a tour along some of our favorite roads. We'll be working hard then, so today we ride (and raise an alert if we see any potential problems along the way).

It was a sunny cloudy kind of day. Chilly.

Windy, too. Oh, look! It's another Aermotor.

Rolling (still green) hills, ranches, farms, suburban sprawl ... we have it all.

The wildflowers peaked a week or two ago, but this year the reservoirs along the loop are nearly full. What a welcome sight!

I am now so accustomed to low water levels, sad to say, that I thought I saw a bunch of sticks poking through the surface of Chesbro Reservoir. (Wrong! Waterfowl.)

I was motoring along with the tailwind I (finally) deserved when I was startled by loud wingbeats at close range. Not one, not two ... five turkey vultures perched near the side of the road. I made no move toward their prize—a carcass in the ditch—so they paid me little mind.

They are not the most attractive creatures ... unless you're one of them, I suppose.

A healthy 55 miles, with 2,160 feet uphill and into the wind.

I reported three patches of broken glass, which I hope will be swept away before next weekend. The biggest problem is one we can't fix: Starting last year, the Santa Clara County Board of Health got carried away. Safe food handling is not enough. Whole fruit only! (Which means: lots of waste.) Snacks must be bagged! (Which means: lots of waste.) No homemade nut breads—our signature and popular treat. (Which means: disappointed riders, and fewer of them.)