Infinite Loop

It's that fall-heat-wave time of year, and a Spare the Air Day had been declared—a fine day to bike to (and from) work.

I always see other cycling commuters, but we rarely chat (other than a friendly “good morning” or “on your left”).

This morning two of us were stopped at an intersection that has recently been reconfigured for cyclists, and I cannot figure out the city's intent. I struck up a conversation, and my fellow cyclist was just as mystified as I am.

Here is  the view from the southeast corner (where we were), facing in the direction we will travel (north). There is a dashed green bike lane for cyclists crossing from west to east; there is no bike lane  marked for cyclists heading north (there is a sharrow on the far side of the intersection, before the crosswalk).

But the oddest feature is the green square that has been painted in all four corners of this intersection, each with an arrow pointing left. It does not align with the bike lane, and if you needed to turn left, you would not make that turn from the far right edge of the right lane.

Here is the view from the southwest corner, captured on the way home after I crossed the intersection. Are they trying to tell us to turn left, directly into the path of straight-through traffic?

This is Cupertino, home to Apple; 1 Infinite Loop is not far away. If I followed these four boxes I would, in fact, circle the intersection forever. But this can't be some grand municipal joke ... can it?

The county is already setting up for the Fantasy of Lights; riding through a set of arches made for a triumphal celebration of my commute (38 miles and 920 feet of climbing). The end of daylight savings time will soon signal the end of my return commutes.

Seals and Sunshine

I could have returned home last night after the Aquarium party, but ... why? I would much rather wake up in Pacific Grove and spend another day on the shores of Monterey Bay.

Asilomar State Beach was a short stroll away; I'm not sure I've explored it, before.

The locals were out, and some tourists, too. On the way back to my hotel, I eavesdropped on a conversation. A guy with a very long lens had captured a photo of a butterfly. Was it a Monarch? I peered at his display and confirmed that it was. He wasn't the first person I met who was feeling disappointed not to find them fluttering everywhere, but it will be a few more weeks before they migrate north from Mexico.

It's not the season for the magic carpet to bloom, either, but there were some stragglers.

Harbor seals were hauled out and sunning themselves on rocks close to the shore, occasionally lifting their heads to survey their human onlookers.

It was a spectacular fall day, and I made the most of it—on foot. (It's not always about the bike.)

Reynolds, Rapidly

Why is Reynolds such a tough climb? It's a steady grade for 1.3 miles. A steady 9.8% grade, that's why.

But ... but ... that's a picture of Monterey Bay! [Yes, it is.]

I had time only for a short ride today, because I had other plans. Some of my riding companions tried to entice me to climb a few more hills, but I stayed the course: 15 miles, 1,735 feet of climbing was all. [Enough, really.]

The Monterey Bay Aquarium is celebrating its 35th year, and tonight there was a party for members. Julie Packard shared institutional insights, from skeptics who doubted that an aquarium primarily focused on one ecosystem (the Bay) could endure, to becoming a model for aquariums around the world. For those of us who don't go diving, the Aquarium has opened up a world of wonderment. I remember visiting for the first time in 1988, and after I moved to the Bay Area I eagerly joined as a member.

I spent some time observing one pelagic red crab chase others around. Some scurried out of harm's way when they noticed the aggressor was on the move, and I noticed at least one possible “victim” (missing a claw).

Without the crowds, member nights are ideal for exploring corners I usually avoid, like the Splash Zone. There, in an unassuming tank, I found a fish that blew my mind: the leaping blenny. A fish out of water, wriggling from rock to rock, breathing air?!

The jellyfish, always mesmerizing, were as photogenic as ever. And best observed from the dry side of the glass!

The Good Part

On the upper part of the climb, a cyclist from our group greeted me as he passed. “Good morning,” I replied. “You're supposed to say: What's good about it?!” he laughed.

The good part was that I had, again, conquered Old Calaveras Road. It was windy and chillier than I expected, and the cold dry air was searing my lungs. It's a brutal beginning (15% grade) to that climb, before it tapers into being just another challenging hill. A hill that I have evidently skipped for the past four years. [Common sense? Nah.]

Late September cast a painterly light on the landscape. We skirted the edge of the lake and watched the paragliders sailing above the hills.

We continued over to Felter Road, where a confused motorist asked me for help. They were looking for the Boccardo Loop Trail, and their navigation system had led them astray. I assured them that there were no trailheads or parking areas behind me, and recommended that they turn back to the parking area at the summit of Sierra. [Which, as it turned out, was the right answer.]

I regretted not bringing a jacket today. I had two options for returning to the start: the long, sweeping descent of Felter and Calaveras that I love, or the short plunge down Sierra. With regrets, I chose the latter—for a whopping 19 miles and 2,525 feet of climbing. My legs were done.

Viva Calle San Jose

The best line of the day came from a dad who asked “If I give you a kid, can I have a bell?”

Our sign announced “Bike Bells (for kids),” so that was a fair question.

Viva Calle San Jose is an event run by the parks and recreation department periodically. They close city streets and get families to explore their neighborhoods (on bikes, scooters, skates, or simply on foot). It was quite the scene!

We were there to spread good will (and hopefully entice some new members to join our club). Our formula was simple: A free bell (sporting the club's logo) for every kid who wanted us to install one on their bike.

One member contributed his helmet-fitting expertise, improving the safety of many children (and adults). It's amazing the number of cyclists—even very experienced cyclists—who are riding around with ill-fitting, poorly-adjusted helmets: tilted back, loose straps, too small ... we see it all.

This is the first time I'd participated, and it was a joy to see the kids' faces light up over those bells! The more the parents cautioned their little ones about how much they could ring those bells, the more gleefully I would encourage them to test those bells after I'd installed them.

We weren't far from the band, and our ringing bells added some musicality to the performance. It was a warm day; I drank a lot of water, and basically I was just standing around. I can't imagine what it was like inside those fleecy shark costumes. [Why sharks? Well, we were positioned right outside the “Shark Tank,” the arena where the San Jose Sharks play hockey.]

I biked to and from our booth, but didn't have enough time this morning to bike the event route. The real workout was not the 21 flat miles (320 feet of climbing), but all those deep knee bends. Little kids have little bikes ... little bikes have little handlebars ... little handlebars that are low to the ground.

And even though I didn't follow the event route, I did discover something new, a charming Italian restaurant in a mostly industrial neighborhood. The patio was so inviting!

And if you haven't adjusted your helmet in a while, I'll bet that your straps are loose (at a minimum). We're not there to help you, so here are some guidelines to follow.

The Bernal Burn

It's a short but healthy climb up Bernal Road, with some rewarding views on a day as clear as today.

Mt. Hamilton and the Diablo Range to the east,

Mt. Umunhum, Loma Prieta, and the Santa Cruz Mountains to the west.

After that little jaunt, we dropped back down and continued past the Chesbro Reservoir on the way to our turnaround point in Morgan Hill. The water levels are low now, but there is still water.

We came upon an unexpected herd of goats along the Coyote Creek Trail, corralled by a temporary electric fence. I wondered where they might find some water, as we were all baking in the sun.

The goats were a surprise, though we have seen them here in the past. The turkeys were not a surprise, and somewhat panicked when we pulled up.

We were in it for the distance today, covering 42 miles and climbing 1,315 feet.

Hamilton, the Musical

When Hamilton: An American Musical first appeared on the scene, I was puzzled by the buzz. Friends were eager to travel across the country to see it, tickets were all-but-impossible to find and the prices were astronomical.

Years later, tickets are still difficult to find and they're still pricey. I got lucky and was able to buy a pair, so I invited my chief culture-and-biking buddy to join me.

Traffic being what it is (in a word: awful), I suggested that we spend the day in San Francisco. I recommended the California Academy of Sciences, and she was game. I had only visited once before, at night, so I was eager to check out the green roof. [Yes, that's a view atop the building in the photo above.]

Some school-age denizens made a beeline for the “shakey house” and we followed their lead. It's set up like the dining room of a vintage Victorian, but with serious grab bars. The first simulation was the magnitude 6.9 Loma Prieta quake (1989); the second was the 7.9 San Francisco quake (1906). [Hint: you need those grab bars.] The simulation of the 1906 quake ran longer, but soberingly shook us for only about one third of the duration of the actual event. [And that was plenty.]

I was particularly impressed by an enormous specimen of silicon dioxide (quartz), weighing in at 1,350 pounds.

The museum is located right in Golden Gate Park, which we thought we might also explore—but the museum had so much to offer, we stayed until the closing bell.

Bordering the green in front of the museum is a monument to Francis Scott Key, commissioned by James Lick (familiar to us Lick Observatory fans). There seemed to be no particular connection to San Francisco, though this area is known as the Music Concourse.

It was a hot autumn day, and the fountains looked particularly refreshing. [We stayed dry.]

The musical was playing at the Orpheum Theatre, and I made the mistake of leading us down Golden Gate Avenue and Hyde Street, through drug-dealing-central of the Tenderloin. [I won't make that mistake again.]

As for the show, well ... I enjoyed the character portrayals and absorbed the outlines of Hamilton's life and impressive role in the founding of our country. The music, for me, was entirely forgettable. [Give me Lerner & Loewe, or Rodgers & Hammerstein, or even Andrew Lloyd Webber.] It didn't help that it was over-amplified and the lyrics often unintelligible to my ears. Surtitles would have been a welcome addition. The piece (and performance) I remember most was King George III's; in my opinion, he stole the show.

But what do I know. See for yourself.