Whole Lotta Climbin'

At the beginning of March, my regular ride partner suggested an ambitious ride for late April (today, in fact): Four significant hill climbs over about 50 miles. Seemed like a good idea at the time ...

Within the first 300 yards this morning, my saddle notified me that I have not been spending enough time on the bicycle: I was still sore from last Sunday's ride. Our destination? Lunch, in Half Moon Bay.

After climbing up Kings Mountain Road and descending almost to the coast, we meandered back uphill for some more fun and a fast descent into town. Near the summit of Higgins Purisima Road, we were lucky to cross paths with some locals who pointed out a very active bees' nest at the base of a tree and likely kept us out of harm's way.

Having refueled at the Garden Deli Café, we found some fresh hills to climb on the way back to Tunitas Creek Road. I reflected on my ride partner's suggested translation for Lobitos ("crazy cyclists") as I became acquainted with Lobitos Creek Road. And then, there is Tunitas. In a few weeks we will miss seeing the pros tackle Tunitas Creek Road; the dense redwoods will block transmission of live video during the race. The trees are majestic; the road is unforgiving. After some 36 miles and 3600 feet of climbing, a mere six miles to the final summit. Just six miles ... and 1600 feet of climbing.

With 42 miles and 5,185 feet of climbing in my legs, I assure you that I earned my descent. From the top of Kings Mountain Road to the first stop sign: 9 minutes, 28 seconds. A car averaging 30 mph over the same distance would be about a minute faster; the road is twisty, so that is a tall order for most drivers. Which explains why I tend to catch them.

Pedaling to Panoche

The photo says it all: a curvy road, a downhill worthy of a warning, hillsides shimmering with California poppies. Paradise for cyclists.

After pitching in as a volunteer for our club's annual event yesterday (the Tierra Bella), today it was my turn to enjoy our beautiful land. I was unsure whether I could pull myself together for a ride that started some 60 miles away at 8:30 a.m., but I managed. The early-morning sacrifice was well worth it.

For the Mega-Monster Enduro, I have spent the better part of two days sitting at the western end of Panoche Road. Until today, I had never ventured any farther. No maps or route sheets are needed: keep pedaling until you reach the Panoche Inn, 27.5 miles down the road. Eat lunch, turn around, and keep pedaling until you find the car you left 27.5 miles away in Paicines. Elevation gain for the day: 2,775 feet.

Some think an out-and-back route is boring, but I relished the chance to take in this scenery a second time. As I remarked to one of my ride companions, I don't have the urge to travel afar for a bike tour when this is virtually in my backyard.

No Princes Charming

Today was the day for that local lighthearted annual celebration of cycling known as the Cinderella. The precious invitation had been secured in February. The car was ready to be loaded with the bicycle. The bicycle was ready for its princess and her gear, carefully chosen in shades of pink and laid out the night before.

The colors in that Five-Pass Finisher's jersey from the 2009 Death Ride look smashing with the pink feather boa that traditionally bedecks her bike helmet.

But alas, the princess was awakened at 4 a.m. No, her sleep was not disturbed by a pea hidden beneath the mattress - it was the shrieking, howling wind. A powerful storm front is approaching; was it arriving earlier than forecast?

I first rode the Cinderella route in 2005, and have returned every year. In 2006, a crosswind nearly knocked me into a ditch descending Cross Road. The skies opened up just as we prepared to leave the lunch stop; we sheltered briefly under a flatbed truck in the parking lot before ultimately finishing the ride. In 2007, the longer Challenge route was introduced, and I was able to move faster into the headwind on the Altamont Pass than as part of a semi-disorganized paceline. In 2008, it was so windy at the top of Patterson Pass that it was a challenge to mount the bike for the descent. Driven by a massive tailwind, I attained my still unsurpassed maximum speed of 50.7 miles per hour. I gave my ride companions a quick lesson in how to execute a rotating paceline and we sliced through the headwind on Altamont without wearing ourselves out. Last year, conditions were nearly perfect (less so, my condition).

By 4:30 a.m., I turned to the Internet. Weather Underground made it all too clear: sustained winds at 21 mph with gusts to 43 mph, at a weather station less than two miles from my house.

Been there, done that. There are so many lovely days to ride a bicycle, and today was not one of them. Today was a day for climbing back under the comforter and sleeping in.

Hazy Hills of Hollister

What a difference 60 degrees makes. Spring, it seems, is a good time to ride in the Hollister area.

All the hills were green, and the sky was gray ...

Those among us who love the outdoors are blessed with an embarrassment of riches in northern California. Consider today's cycling destination - a National Monument, no less: Pinnacles.

My regular ride partner chose to do only the first part of the route. Slower than most but faster than some, I rode solo on Highway 25 for miles. The irony was not lost on me that while I have been reticent to drive this route alone, instead I am out there on my bicycle. [Well, in most cases, I can fix the bicycle if it breaks down. But, still ...]

I worried briefly that I lacked the power to outpace a yappy little dog that gave chase, but was saved by a second yappy little dog that distracted the first one. Arriving at the Pinnacles visitor center, a hiker recognized my Plus 3 vest. He smiled - Making it count!

All too soon it was time to head back to Hollister. One of the joys of being part of a bike club is having other members who are there for you. Facing 30 miles of stiff headwind, a fellow club member paired up with me. In the tiny town of Tres Pinos, three spectators (motorcyclists) applauded and cheered us on. I took a few turns at the front, but my partner graciously did most of the work (think 25 miles or more). He even slowed for me to catch up whenever I lost his wheel on a hill. Thanks, Dennis! If not for you, the return trip would have easily taken me twice as much time. As it was, I burned approximately 2,277 calories on the bike (65.6 miles, 2,955 feet of climbing), and was voraciously hungry when I got back to my car.

Along the way, I encountered wildflowers, wild turkeys, Longhorn cattle and buffalo (happily, on the other side of barbed-wire fencing), ravens, magpies, red-winged blackbirds, and possibly a female yellow-headed blackbird. Not to mention the giant inflatable pink Easter Bunny on a rusted old tractor. No wild boar, though.

Conversational Climbing

Today's cycling excursion included Old La Honda Road on both sides of Skyline. Each segment is beautiful in its own way, whether snaking upward through the redwoods or offering a panorama of green hills rolling to the Pacific Ocean. I indulged myself by heading uphill at a relaxed pace, taking in the sights. On Old La Honda? This is just Not Done, and so I was passed by many panting cyclists.

If you know where to look, you can see the west side of Old La Honda Road angling upward along the base of the cliff in my photo. (If you have not been there, you may have to accept this on faith.)

My last ascent involved quite a bit more horsepower. On that occasion, I could not resist the temptation to introduce my co-conspirator to a road he had never traveled. Barely more than one lane wide, with little reason for any vehicle to take that route, I calculated (correctly) that I would have the road to myself; no sane driver would descend this twisty, wet road in the dark. I would not enjoy driving down it in full daylight (see "cliff," above). But, I digress.

After lunch, we followed Kings Mountain Road back to civilization. The pros will take this route on Stage 3 of this year's Amgen Tour of California, and one of my ride buddies wondered how my time would compare with theirs. My descent: 15:31, averaging 22.4 mph over 5.8 miles. I did not get stuck behind any cars today, but I had to slow down before I could safely pass a pair of cyclists I caught. The pros will have another advantage: the road will be closed, allowing them full use of both lanes. They will be faster. Quite a bit faster.

A Cake from Carlo's

I confess: I am woefully (blissfully) ignorant in most matters of popular culture. My favorite supermarket does not display, or even sell, tabloids. I was never much of a TV watcher. The only (so-called) reality show I have seen was a single episode of The Amazing Race. The camera work left me feeling nauseated, and the contestants fulfilled all my expectations: People I would not want to know, behaving badly.

The stage was thus set for me not to grasp the significance of the guy striding into the dining room at Saturday's party, delivering an elaborate cake. A minor celebrity, as it turned out, bearing a three-tiered confection from Carlo's City Hall Bake Shop in Hoboken, New Jersey. The guest of honor shrieked in delighted disbelief, and I learned about the phenomenon known as the Cake Boss.

Some bakery in Hoboken? On TLC?

Later that night, my family furthered my education by replaying a series of episodes they had recorded. Creative? Yes. Talented? Without a doubt. People behaving badly? In abundance. Amazing cakes, though.

Dear Imprudence

I arrived on the east coast and Hertz did not seem to have the mid-sized car I had reserved.

How about an SUV?

[An upgrade, in some minds.]

No, that's too big for me.

It's a small one.

[I would take a downgrade, but not at the same price.]

No.

With considerable frowning and lots of typing, the agent came up with a set of keys. In this round of the rental car lottery, I won ... a shiny black car, with tinted rear windows. A big bad ... Chevrolet HHR? The antithesis of aerodynamic.

I turned the key in the ignition and wondered ... is the engine running? Is this a hybrid or something? Tentatively, I pressed the accelerator. All four cylinders were indeed firing - the car moved forward.

The view through the rear view mirror was reminiscent of a porthole. I have some experience with limited rear visibility (haha). But this vehicle has no rear camera.

I'm not used to sitting Way Up High Off The Ground. Or driving a vehicle whose accelerator feels like ... a sponge.

I visited one of my (very) old haunts for dinner. It looked like the next generation was in charge now, but little else had changed. The fortune in my cookie:

Prudence keeps life safe, but does not often make it happy.

How did they know?