Carefree, Car Free, Calaveras

Wishing to avoid competing with beach traffic (much of the population of the Bay Area heads west on summer weekends, clogging all roads), we headed east instead. My ride buddy suggested we go for a cruise on Calaveras, and a few like-minded souls joined us for a short trip: a mere 21 miles (1,845 feet of climbing, though).

This turned out to be, absolutely, brilliant. Best. Day. Ever. on Calaveras.

Because ... portions of the road are closed. It is, temporarily, a veritable playground for cyclists (and, hikers).

The lower portion, between Piedmont and Downing, was blocked for all vehicles. Climbing that has never been so delightful!

I dreaded The Wall, but it wasn't terrible. A racer encouraged me, as he flew past, without a hint of condescension.  No zigzagging, I was riding straight up ... at about a third of his pace.

The upper portion of the road was closed at the dam, and will be for some time: it is, essentially, a road to nowhere. And especially with the lower closure, there is no reason for any motoring enthusiast to make the trek.

Ah, if only it could always be so.

Sunnyvale Community Services

“I know you just finished leading a volunteer project,” the email message read. “But we have a few that are still leaderless, and we heard you might be willing to help out.”

I'm a softie (and, the folks who run our company's annual volunteer service extravaganza know it).

I browsed the list to see if any would sync with my schedule.

Not that one. Nope, not that one, either.

I found a winner: Sunnyvale Community Services.

We often hear about the high cost of living in the Bay Area these days, and the challenges faced by low-wage earners, the jobless, senior citizens—but it's not a new problem: SCS has been in operation since 1970. They provide much more than food support for those in need. Caseworkers help folks with all sorts of setbacks—from finding a mechanic to fix a broken car, to emergency financial help to pay the bills. It doesn't take much, when someone is living on the edge, to topple over. SCS is there to catch them before they fall, before the damage is too great (loss of a job for want of a car, loss of an apartment for missing a rent payment).

Some non-profits need brain power; today, SCS just needed more hands.

Our task was to load grocery bags with non-perishables: canned green beans, refried beans, spaghetti sauce, peaches, tuna, plus peanut butter, dry beans, raisins, rice, and quinoa. [Quinoa?!]

We quickly became a well-tuned machine: some folks fed the assembly line with bags and food (and recycled the cardboard and plastic packaging); others formed the assembly line to pack each bag “just so” (forming a stackable package), while others wheeled the finished products to waiting pallets and stacked them.

Six hundred bags packed and stacked in less than 90 minutes!

Plein Air

Spinning in a studio is really not my style.

The first real heat wave of the summer was upon us, so a short morning ride seemed best.
Reynolds Road is always longer and harder than I remember. The top is just around that bend ... no. It's the next bend ... no. We had a tight group today, and for one rider it was a special trip indeed—especially the descent.

Two months ago, she had crashed here (over the edge, into the ravine) on the way down. The road is twisty, and steep; if you're inattentive, you can pick up more speed than you can manage.

It will take more than one trip on Reynolds to vanquish the fright, but she toughed it out. (I sent everyone else down first, because if anyone had an issue, there was no way I'd manage a hill repeat to help.)

Along the way we met five club members—one hiker, the rest on wheels. You'd think we lived in one small town, not a sprawling suburb-opolis packed with millions of people.

We finished our ride in a shady park filled with artists displaying their work (fundraising sale). They'd spent time in town over the past week, painting local scenes—some of which had already been snapped up.

Our hungry band of cyclists got lucky: Trader Joe's was supporting the event, handing out plates of cheeses, crackers, and grapes (complimentary!). Then we got even luckier: one very generous rider treated us to cookies and bottles of juice when he returned with his lunch.

18 miles of cycling with 1,730 feet of climbing—in the open air.

Last Call

What happens if you build an office park in the middle of a freeway interchange?

We're about to find out.

Although I've worked for the same company for more than a decade now, I've hung my helmet in many different buildings (five, to be exact). Next week, make that six.

This time, my team is being shunted to a satellite campus in a neighboring city. And there are many things I will miss: the views, the green space, the straightforward commute.

Today was my last chance to bike the familiar route. I was a bit of a greyhound this morning, averaging more than 14 mph to arrive in time to get cleaned up before my first meeting (9 a.m.).

I routed myself through the egret rookery, raucous in the early morning. On the way home, I dawdled.

Much of the route to our new location will remain the same; overall, it will be a bit shorter. It's the last mile that will be a challenge.

Stay tuned.

RAFTing

Our company runs a worldwide community service blitz each June. Originally, it lasted one week; now, it's the whole month. During this time, we can choose from a veritable smorgasbord of projects at local charities—and volunteer our time during the workday.

For the past several years, I've been a project leader. That means a little coordination work—keeping volunteers informed and supplied with the latest t-shirts, capturing some event photos—and (of course) lending a hand.

This year I chose to lead a large group of volunteers at Resource Area for Teachers (RAFT). This is a local non-profit that supplies teachers with much-needed supplies at low cost, by upcycling donations from corporations into creative educational kits (as well as offering basic supplies like pens and paper at low cost).

Our group worked on raw materials, as well as assembling and then performing quality control checks on four different kits: Breadboard Circuits, Retractor Car, Design a House, and Simple Telescope. (And our electrical engineers thought they'd get a break from their daily routine!)

RAFT started out in 1994—it's a model that works. I volunteered with them in earlier days (late 90's), and I can attest that they've come a long way since then. They were well-organized and made good use of the time we gave them today.

By RAFT's estimates, the handiwork of our 41-person team will serve 22,500 students—not bad for a morning's worth of volunteering!

Hills of Gold

From hills of green to hills of gold ... make no mistake about it, we've left the lush terrain of Ireland and the U.K. far behind.

It was exciting to see so much water in the Chesbro Reservoir (at last!).

Today's ride traditionally draws a large crowd; it's a route with options, and it gets scheduled with comforting regularity. My ride buddy proposed the flattest version—just one hillclimb, really—and then over to the Coyote Creek Trail.

I set aside my trail aversion and agreed; it has been a long while since I've biked that trail.

We picked up the trail at its southern terminus. Riding north into the strong winds, perhaps the trail would cut us a break. It certainly couldn't be worse than the headwind we would have battled on the road.

Winter rains had been a bit too much for Coyote Creek; the resulting flood caused millions of dollars worth of damage and displaced many San Jose residents from their homes.

Months later, the aftermath was astonishing. The creek looked more like a lake, and in places it may have settled into a new course.

We covered a respectable distance: 39 miles, with a scant 770 feet of climbing. Biking the trail was, actually, a delight.

Stranded in Scotland

What century is this? Oh yeah, the 21st century.

British Airways had a “power outage” yesterday, which somehow triggered an epic technology meltdown. All flights through London (both airports) were cancelled. The news reports showed tired, angry travelers packed like sardines—just trying to exit the terminal. Mountains of luggage. My itinerary, a day earlier, would have landed me in that morass. [I'm feeling lucky.]

This morning I woke to the expected news: my flight from Edinburgh to London had been cancelled. Contact the airline to re-book.

Called, and got a recorded message that said they weren't taking calls.

Their website was reduced to a plain-text message that said they're working on the problem.

This will be one heck of an expensive power outage. Upgrading their systems, or running hot spares, would have been less costly. (Just a hunch.)

I found myself a flight home (through Dublin), booked another night in the motel, and strolled into town.

There were people rappelling down from the Forth Bridge! I learned a new word: abseil.

Teams wore colorful t-shirts for the charitable cause they were supporting: Alzheimer's, hospice, cancer. This was a fund-raising event.

No dangling from a bridge for me. I boarded the Maid of the Forth, with a ticket to visit Inchcolm.

In addition to the remains of an abbey that dates back to the 12th century, there are military remnants from the island's role in defending the Forth during World Wars I and II.

It was possible to wander freely through the site, including climbing to the top of the tower. Which (of course) I had to do. Not just for the view, but because the treacherous route to the roof would never be permitted back home. [Never. “Someone could get hurt!”]

Before you reach the steep stairs, you must first squeeze up a tight, spiraling passage of shallow stone steps. No handrails. No margin for error. It actually was frightening—and thrilling. Keep in mind: what goes up, must come down ...

But oh, the views all around! The city of Edinburgh, the three bridges, open water leading to the North Sea. Not to mention a dizzying perspective on the cloister, below.

Back in the 13th century, of course, it would have been impossible for me to enter these chambers. Eight hundred years later, the plaster is gone but the walls and architectural details endure.

There is a large population of seagulls on the island, and they defend their ground-level nests fiercely. They nest also amidst the garden ornaments on “Inch Gnome,” a nearby bit of rock. One of the gnomes holds a fishing rod, its line dipping into the water.

Before returning to our berth, we navigated under the three bridges. A fellow traveler explained that the Forth Road Bridge is outfitted with sensors monitoring for the sound of those snapping strands of cable (12,000 strands, in all).

When it opens, the Queensferry Crossing will offload heavy traffic from the older bridge.

The bridges are high enough, and the channel deep enough, for a floating hotel (er, cruise ship) to sail through, to the sea.

The Forth Bridge is not just for abseiling ... it's a very busy rail link.

A “me first” attitude did not serve this driver well. A little courtesy, instead, would have served everyone well on the narrow main street in South Queensferry.

No problem for me, on foot, as I wrapped up my bonus day in the U.K.