Ho Ho Hike

We started our day with a whale sighting. [Too early in the season for the real thing.]

I'd suggested the Cowell-Pursima Coastal Trail, heading south from the Cowell Ranch Beach access. Surprised that the lot was full (!), we found adequate roadside space on the northbound side of Highway 1. Being so close to Half Moon Bay, I'm guessing this trail is popular with the locals.

We recognized a stretch from a prior outing; then, as now, we descended the stairs to the beach. Either the tide was coming in, or the approaching storm was kicking up the waves. I kept a watchful eye on the sea. There isn't much sand down there, at the base of the cliffs.

Fine weather for a Christmas Day hike. We hadn't walked far before I was ready to peel off my jacket—most welcome after our recent spell of freezing temperatures.

Having started further south today, we continued down through the canyon at Purisima Creek and onward to the southern terminus of the trail, for a leisurely round trip of nearly eight miles.

Find That Holiday Spirit!

After several annual visits to the local “Fantasy of Lights” event, my interest had waned. Disappointed that the displays were the same year after year? Or a lack of holiday spirit?

Then the world turned upside down. No walk-through option in 2020. It seemed appealing, once again, in 2021—but I missed the chance to get tickets before it sold out.

How lucky it was that I chose Sunday! It was pouring on Saturday night (no rain checks). Still, we were pelted with a few drops tonight before the moon lit up the clouds.

Were there some new displays this year, or did I forget a few?

Plenty of old favorites, in their usual spots.

'Tis the season to be merry!

Be The Good

Last month, when I rode in the Asti Tour de Vine, one volunteer sported a t-shirt with words that drew my attention.

BELIEVE
THERE IS
GOOD IN
THE WORLD

The event was run by the Cloverdale Rotary Club, and evidently this is one of Rotary's mottoes.

Those words came back to me this afternoon.

I was walking home from a late afternoon errand when—by pure happenstance of timing and route—I was startled when an elderly cyclist in the bike lane clattered to the ground, his helmet (evidently unclipped) rolling into the gutter.

A woman ran toward him, helping him crawl onto the sidewalk. I rushed over and lifted his bike and helmet out of the street. He was disoriented (naturally), but not injured.

Almost immediately, a driver pulled over and jumped out of his car. [A very nice, late model BMW convertible.] Had the cyclist been struck by a car, or run into the utility pole? he asked. No, I replied; he just ... fell over.

Each time he tried to stand up, he'd just topple over. He was in no shape to get back on that bike.

The driver insisted that he'd give him a ride home, but couldn't take the bike. The cyclist explained that he lived nearby, and was able to provide his address (and directions). The other woman said she'd take care of bringing the bike—without hesitation, gamely donning the helmet and tapping the address into her phone.

I eased his backpack off before we helped him to his feet, and then the problem became very clear. After helping him into the car, the driver turned to me. “Has he been drinking?” he asked. “Smells that way,” I nodded. It was a small miracle he'd made it as far as he did, navigating through traffic.

Many cars passed by, but three people did not.

There is good in the world. Believe it. Be it.

Just Bike

As much riding as I've done with bike clubs, I've come to appreciate the simple pleasure of hopping on my bike whenever I choose—not having to hew to meeting at a prescribed time and place.

Today was one of those days. After lunch, after the day warmed up, I chose a relatively flat route to reach historic New Almaden and the reservoir beyond. I wanted to gauge the distance and difficulty of this route (which turned out to be hillier than I expected).

I managed to dress just right, for what was surely one of our last warm days of 2022. Holiday decorations are transitioning from inflatable turkeys to Santas (and the occasional Abominable Snowman or Grinch). Trees showered me with falling leaves, and cotton-puff clouds dotted the western sky.

I've introduced one of my neighbors to the quiet neighborhood streets where I prefer to ride, convincingly demonstrating that roads can be more tranquil than the multi-use trails he frequents. As he's opposed to climbing, he would definitely not appreciate the Camden hill (in either direction). Still, I think I can get him out to New Almaden (at least), with less than today's 30 miles and 700-ish feet of climbing. Next outing, whenever that will be.

Hazy Hillsides

You don't get the sweeping view if you don't do the climb.

By the time I reached Bernal, I was ... too warm. I peeled off my wool arm warmers and stuffed my jacket into my bag. I chatted with another cyclist stretching at the base of the climb—he noted that he was wearing a summer jersey. After last week's chill, I'd opted for short-sleeved wool. [Go figure.]

This climb has become familiar enough that the steep start no longer fills me with dread. Being warmed up helps, I'm sure—since it takes me about an hour to get there. In no particular hurry, I reached the top a few seconds faster than my last trip up the hill.

With a short errand added to the mix today, I wound up with about 32 miles and less than 1,000 feet of climbing. No reason not to make this a habit. Really.

Splash of Color

We do get some fall color in the Bay Area, and the point of today's outing was to do some local leaf peeping. [That, and some exercise too: 28 miles and some 440 feet of climbing.]

With my weekend chores done, I hopped on my bike in the afternoon sunshine. Mornings are chilly, days are shorter, and the sun doesn't rise very high in the sky these days.

Could my fingers and toes have been warmer? [Yes.] But the reds, oranges, and yellows overhead were a balm to my spirits as I cruised along the quiet, tree-lined streets of the Almaden Valley.

Leveled Up

As the years ticked by, I would sometimes wonder how many more 100-mile editions of the Best Buddies Hearst Castle Challenge I could complete. I imagined that a day would come when I'd scale it back to the 100 km route (as I did for the loop route in 2018, when the temperature soared). Every trip down the coast was different; if 2019 was to be our last, we were blessed with a beautiful day.

Who expected the world around us would change? After 2020's do-it-yourself challenge, we (cautiously) gathered for a small event in the hills of Marin last year. On the heels of that success, the ride returned this year—but to a different (and incomparable) venue.

I was grateful to stretch my legs on a short hike before dinner after Friday's long drive. And dinner, well ... it was my first indoor dinner since The Before Times. [This will be fine ...] A majestic dining room, filled with tables of humans seated elbow to elbow—some of whom had traveled internationally for this event. Like Thomas Pidcock, who'd joined our little afternoon hike.

It was a special privilege to be a guest in this amazing place. (Not to mention being spared the stress of navigating a twisty rural road before dawn to get here and get ready to ride.)

What a joy it was simply to step outside and roll my bike to the start line!

To finish with enough time to get cleaned up and enjoy lunch, I needed to maintain a brisk pace. No time to admire the redwoods as we pedaled through Samuel P. Taylor State Park.

We rode a clockwise loop this year, heading north on Highway 1 past Tomales Bay. [Is it ever sunny here?] At least the mist was lighter this year; no drizzle.

In the weeks leading up to today, I'd been putting in the miles with after-work rides, following up with some weekend climbing and more distance. [It paid off.] I kept the lead group in sight for miles. The route started with a five-mile descent ... which we would reverse at the end, to reach the finish line. [Gulp.] And the route profile showed a significant climb at mile 54.

I've biked many of these roads before, in the opposite direction. I paused briefly at Laguna Lake; surely there were still many people behind me? Few had passed me, and I'd passed a few.

We were well-supported by a team of domestiques, outfitted with race-caliber radios. I didn't need their physical assistance, but with their companionship and friendly conversation I stopped focusing on how many miles remained.

I finished the route—72 miles, less than 4,000 feet of climbing—at an average (moving) pace of 13.6 mph. (My fastest pace for a Best Buddies Challenge since 2014.) And yet, I was still one of the last riders across the line. How could that be?

Well. When I'd asked a domestique about the folks behind us, he explained that most would be “taking the car.” [Sigh.] I'm a rare old bird (who doesn't act her age). I actually want to do the whole ride.

And I did.