Sit-down Sunday

With yesterday's climbing behind me, sitting around on Sunday seemed like just the right thing. I could certainly enjoy watching some coverage of day two of Le Tour de France, for example.

The marine layer gave us a cool, gray-sky morning. Hmm, I do know a sure way to find the sun. And after all, the calendar had turned another page today. Can you guess where I am headed?

Why not complete the July ascent of Mt. Hamilton on the first day of the month!

Yes, I spent a good part of the day sitting (on a bicycle saddle, while spinning the pedals) around.

My cycling buddy graciously slowed her pace to match mine, allowing plenty of time for us to chat our way to the top. The marine layer evaporated above us, but lingered over some valleys to the north—the distinctive peak of Mt. Diablo rose above it.

The cooler temperature helped boost my climbing speed by 10%, getting me to the top some 18 minutes sooner than on my last trip. With no automotive obstacles, I can also answer the open question from my last visit to the mountain: What is my average speed on the tripartite descent, factoring out the two intermediate climbs? Survey says: 21.4 mph, 22.4 mph, 24.3 mph.

Over the weekend, I managed to climb more than 10,000 feet. More significantly, with this ride I have climbed more than 100,000 feet this year. You might think I am training for the Death Ride or something.

[Not this year.]

Deep Blue Sea

The coastal waters of the Pacific never looked so blue. [I was not alone in this observation.]

Five of us opted for a head start on the rest of the group; we knew they would catch us, but were surprised that we did not see them again until we had passed the half-way point. On a route that included roads with names like Smith Grade, Empire Grade, Ice Cream Grade ... you are probably not surprised that we did a fair bit of climbing (5,410 feet).

We paused for lunch in the tiny town of Davenport; with little else along the Pacific Coast Highway for miles, this is a popular rest stop—complete with a roadhouse.

Although we lounged on a patio a few doors away from the roadhouse, the town is steeped in its spirit: We chatted with a couple of women who were biking home to Half Moon Bay, having spent Friday night in Capitola. A curious young woman from Prunedale, with the mien of a lost soul, approached us to learn more about cycling.

But it was the three guys from San Francisco who made the biggest impression. They were on their way to Santa Cruz, having left the city on Thursday. On skateboards.

Musical Moonrise

Even a familiar route can play host to a surprise or two. The seasons bring out the blooms on different trees and wildflowers. On every ride, we will surely see a few animals (of both the domesticated and wild varieties). Tonight we expected to see both horses and deer, and we were not disappointed.

We did not, however, expect to hear (and see) a bagpiper—but there he was, facing the waters of the Guadalupe Reservoir near the middle of the dam, his music reverberating through the canyon.

There are occasional rewards for being a sluggish hill climber.

On a Clear Day

We couldn't see forever, but we could see the new tower on the eastern span of the Bay Bridge, and Mt. Diablo, and Mt. Tamalpais. The sharp-eyed among us spotted the campanile at UC Berkeley. The surface of the bay shimmered in the bright sunshine.

One of our riders had never seen the views from the top of San Bruno Mountain—until today. I have biked up this hill in fog so thick I could not see the edges of the road. On another day, I could see the Farallon Islands from the summit. When I offered to lead this ride for the club many weeks ago, there was no way to anticipate what the conditions might be on June 23.

Another rider, new to this route, inquired about the title of the ride listing (Trains, Planes, and Bicycles). "I understand that you started by taking the train," she said, "but where do planes fit in?" You will see, I replied. One of the things I enjoy most about this route is the element of surprise.

After leaving the mountain, we take a road that appears to head straight for the freeway: 101 South to the left, 101 North to the right? Surprise! The right turn heads south on a narrow strip of land between the freeway and a small body of water backed by hills.

For most riders, the biggest surprise is biking through the airport (San Francisco International). That might sound intimidating, and perhaps a bit crazy. But, we stay on a perimeter road, several levels below the approach to the terminals, and usually manage to enjoy at least one jumbo jet take-off at close range.

Following a picnic along the shore of the bay, we travel south for miles on a paved trail at the water's edge. There are only a few sections, near residential neighborhoods, where we need to cope with people who move unpredictably. I actually enjoy riding this trail. [The brisk tailwind helps.]

Straight Up

Ice would have been nice. It was about 83F degrees at the top of Mt. Hamilton by the time I got there. My friends were drawing straws to decide who should be dispatched to look for me.

They know me; they know I am a slow climber. On the way up, I had suggested that they could descend the backside if they got bored waiting for me to arrive, but they were having none of that.

Down in the valley, it was about 10 degrees cooler than yesterday; which is to say, hot. The temperature at the summit was about the same. So much for the forecast.

After yesterday's adventure, what possessed me to climb Mt. Hamilton today? Well, it is past mid-June and I am not ready to end my climbing streak. So far, I have missed only the month of March. (Hmm, I need to double down once before the year is out.)

If you are looking for a good day to climb Mt. Hamilton, mark your calendar for June 16, 2013 (Father's Day). I have a hunch that, like today, traffic will be about as light as it gets on a dry weekend day. Bicyclists outnumbered even the motorcyclists, today.

I was surprised to find some wildflowers, still, near the top. I enjoyed the company of my friends, then lingered a while longer on the patio. After wondering what the SPF rating would be for the salt on my skin, I decided to slather on some more sunscreen of the conventional kind before heading down.

Ten minutes or so into my descent, I caught up to a knot of cars. I did not envy the driver of the minivan at the front, who certainly was not having a good time driving down the mountain. Technically, with only two cars stuck behind him (and one bicycle, of course), he was not obliged to pull over. But, still ... be polite, have some common sense, and pull over.

That is what I did, at Kincaid Road. I could not get a clear line of sight to pass all three of them, and I was not about to ride my brakes and eat their brake dust until the first uphill section (where they would, finally, pull away). I gave them a four-minute head start, and that was enough to be clear of them.

For the day, the usual 4,765 feet of climbing over 39 miles. My fitness has improved dramatically. I completed the ride in virtually the same amount of time as I did in April, but my heart rate was 18 bpm lower today (both average, and peak). That is huge! And, I did this one day after riding 53 miles and climbing 5,525 feet.

Average pace? 6.0 mph on the way up, 16.6 mph on the way down. I wonder what my pace is on the pure downhill stretches, excluding those pesky intervening uphill bits (where it dips to 5-6 mph)?

July is right around the corner.

Shade and Solitude

Mother Nature turned off the air conditioning today and the Bay Area baked. Flags told the story: the wind was blowing the wrong way—from the hills toward the sea. The high temperature was just under 103F at my house (in the shade).

What better day to head for a state park? California's oldest state park, in fact: Big Basin Redwoods. And, since a Spare the Air alert was in effect, we rode our bicycles to the park. Of course, there were the usual warnings about not exercising in the heat, so we were careful to wear light colors and drink plenty of fluids, and took a somewhat shorter route than originally planned (53 miles, 5,525 feet of climbing, for me).

Did I mention that it was hot?

I weathered it surprisingly well. My bike computer registered an average temperature of 91F. We had the redwoods and oaks to thank for some shade along much of the route, but waves of heat radiated off exposed cliffs (and the road surface). It was hot enough to make the tar snakes sticky; the first time I hear the buzz of my tires on those, it always gives me pause.

Off the back of the group, I did not appreciate how much I cherished the silence of the forest until we came back together at the bustling center of the park. Loud, annoying people. Shrieking, whining children. I ate quickly, wandered off to admire an enormous redwood, and got a head start on the return climb (eager for peace and quiet). I do prefer to hike this park from the coast.

It was a good ride, albeit slow. I did not feel tired, or sore. I did feel hungry and regretted not bringing more food, but never bonked. Climbing back up Highway 9 on the return from the park, I passed a serious cyclist (look at those wheels!) who was stopped at the side of the road. He must have been hurting, but said he didn't need anything. He never caught or passed me—and there was plenty of time for that, at my pace.

Did the heat make me crankier than usual? [Sounds like a good excuse to me.] Probably not as cranky as the folks who hoped Highway 9 would be a faster route to the coast than Highway 17 today (especially those in the cars that overheated and broke down). Traffic signals control access to two one-lane construction zones on the hill. There was little traffic when we climbed up this morning, but in the afternoon there was a solid one-mile line of cars waiting for their turn at the lower traffic light. This was not surprising, with the light cycling so rapidly that only four or five cars could get through. Even at my pace, I believe it would have been quicker to bike than drive, at that point. Or, to have taken Highway 17.

Ride Like the Wind

Heading back toward our starting point tonight, a ride buddy asked if I thought it was windy. "No," I replied, "the air is quite still." We were generating the breeze.

Climbing Sanborn Road is anything but a breeze. Steep hills are always more intimidating when the road stretches up straight in front of you. It was a treat to ride it as the evening cooled down, rather than in the heat of the day, even though it meant tangling with the tail end of the weekday commute traffic. Rocketing back down the hill, though, was the tastier treat.

The hill was tough, but tougher still was resisting the urge to indulge in the tastiest treat of all: an ice cream cone. Dinner was enough. Another family strolls past our table. That looks so creamy, I wonder what flavor? More calories in one scoop than I just burned on the bike? Surprisingly, not true! Aha! Next week I'll know better.