Marching Up Bernal

March will soon be a memory, but I had not yet checked my monthly box for climbing Bernal. In no particular hurry, I opted for the hilly route. After yesterday's ride, my legs burned. [What was I thinking?!]

An afternoon start meant there were few cyclists out and about. I waved at neighbors relaxing in their front yards, watching the world pass by.

After the first bend, I realized that I would have had a clear view of the snow-capped peaks across the valley if only I had walked a little ways up the hill two weeks ago. [Live and learn.]

No records set today, a leisurely 30 miles and 1,280 feet of climbing.

So Much Green

As I started my ride the tune looping in my head was Blue Tango, which had popped up on the radio as I drove to our meeting point. But once the rolling hills along Calaveras Road came into view, my internal soundtrack flipped to something decidedly more prosaic.

Green Acres is the place to be ...

This is a very popular cycling route—a route where you can count on seeing more bicycles than cars. Today drew out even more cyclists than usual, likely with a common inspiration: Catch the peak of green-ness here; there will be no more rain this season, and warmer temperatures will quickly fade the grasses.

As I passed one of the small groups clustered above the top of The Wall, one guy called out “Well, hello there!” in a tone of voice you might expect to be followed by “Come here often?” I have no idea what that was about; a femme fatale, I am not. [Made me laugh, though.]

I was surprised to see the aftermath of last year's fire; I had forgotten that some of this area had been affected. My heart sank when I saw that one photogenic spot, where I have often stopped, had burned.

When we reached the Sunol Regional Wilderness Preserve, the parking lots were already full. But on a bicycle? No problem, the ranger blocking the entrance just waved.

I picked up a trail map at the visitor center (I should come back here for a hike, sometime). We also scored brightly-colored bandanas, featuring the native flora and fauna, courtesy of the East Bay Regional Park District. Truly a memento of this time, the artist worked images of face masks into the design.

Our timing was spot-on: While we were there, they'd re-opened vehicle access. The line of cars stretched ... a long, long way. The fee-free access period is about to end (though, the pandemic is not); it will be interesting to see how popular the parks remain in the weeks ahead.

On the way back, I noticed a small roadside memorial ... next to a gap in the barbed-wire fence.

30 miles and 2,720 feet of climbing felt just right, today. I shared photos with some colleagues (trying to encourage more of them to get out and explore). One of them exclaimed “I didn't know there was that much green in the entire Bay Area!”

Land spreadin' out so far and wide ...

On Paying Attention

I've been determined to enjoy an after-work ride most days, which is easier as the sun sets later and later. My challenge is to ride as far as possible and yet get home before the sky fades to black. These rides are mostly unremarkable.

Not so, today.

Cycling on the road demands a high level of attentiveness. There are road hazards: debris, potholes, cracks. There are animal hazards: squirrels, deer, turkeys, even the occasional peacock. And of course, human hazards: wrong-way cyclists, vehicles with inattentive drivers (and, sometimes, passengers).

I had my eye on a compact exiting a parking lot, puzzled by a metallic cylinder on the car's roof. Was it a camera? Judging the distance and predicting the driver would turn in front of me, I slowed. The passenger's hand reached up just as the (nearly full) can of Red Bull splashed to the curb, demonstrating one of the many ways that cups, bottles, and cans come to litter our roadways.

Stopped at a traffic signal, I was studying the play of late afternoon light on the hills and thinking about getting a good photo. A white pickup truck paused on the opposite side of the intersection before merging into the (empty) lane.

THWACK!

The sedan behind the pickup truck inexplicably accelerated and slammed into it. I'd call it a fender-bender, but the sedan's front fender was smashed and dangling; the pickup's rear fender might have been scratched, but not likely bent.

When the signal turned green, I was able to ease past the crash; probably stunned, they blocked traffic for several minutes before they pulled forward.

I got my photo, along with 22 miles and 400 feet of climbing.

Brrr...eezy

Celebrate the first day of spring!

Cañada is a road you'll share with more bicycles than motorized vehicles ... though, in which group should we count those electric bicycles? Maybe it should depend on whether the cyclists are actually pedaling?

It's also a road that's popular with triathletes, who were making excellent time with an assist from a strong tailwind. [Well, in one direction, anyway.]

Not the longest ride, today; we knew about that wind (and a bit of a chill). It was a perfect day to seek sunshine, not shade. And a perfect day to be cozy in my wool jersey—it's not just for frosty winter mornings!

Extending our route slightly to add a little distance and elevation gain, we finished with 26 miles and 1,100 feet of climbing.

Snow Top

There was time for an after-work ride. [This time of year there should always be time for an after-work ride.]

Hints of “normal” (a new normal?) life are emerging, like the football practice taking place on a school's front lawn.

As I passed the usual parking-lot spin class, the instructor enthusiastically called out “We have a new rider!” She was, of course, not referring to me (an actual cyclist) but to someone in the class. I was so tempted to wave ...

I didn't expect to see Mt. Hamilton's peaks dusted with snow!

Where could I get a clear view? I turned up Bernal, but on the heavy commute bike I would not tackle the climb. I meandered a bit, the light was fading ... not the best shot, but the best I could manage. As I paused, a car clattered by—with a flat tire, the rim smacking the pavement. How does a driver not notice that? Or did he simply not care?

Closer to home, there was another clattering—the distinctive sound of an empty helmet hitting the pavement. Empty, because (inexplicably) the cyclist was not wearing it. And he looked like the sort of rider who should know better.

29 miles, 460 feet of climbing: A bit longer and flatter than my regular commute home would be, if I weren't commuting home from, well ... home.

Sun Day

You know the view is picture-worthy when a Serious Cyclist (a guy) stops to take a photo. Honestly, I'm not sure I have ever witnessed such a thing. [Until today.]

Club rides resumed last month, but today's route was the first that seemed “just right.”

My chief ride buddy and I were the first to sign in and start rolling, ahead of the rest of the group. I was surprised that they didn't catch up until we paused at the top of the second hill. We quickly decided to be on our way, and somehow one guy (a new member) followed. Right on my wheel, downhill. [Hmm.] I expected him to pass ... but when the road leveled out he matched my pace to chat.

We parted after the next regroup; instead of joining the crowd at Starbucks, I'd mapped us a route to head straight back. Today's outing would be a bit longer than we've managed, lately, and we knew there would be a strong headwind.

And indeed, after 38 miles and a mere 1,240 feet of climbing, I was pooped. Even though the headwind wasn't nearly as bad as we'd expected.

Oh, wait ... I didn't think to mix up a bottle of Skratch. Time to reconstruct my routine!

WFH: Week Fifty-Two

There was a hint of color in the sky, on my evening walk. I've been encouraging down-in-the-dumps colleagues to get outside. Even if they just take a walk around the block. Fresh air, sunshine ... it's not hard to give a wide berth to others you might encounter.

It's been a full year since I transitioned to working from home. Our team has demonstrated good productivity, despite all challenges. Structured social engagement (video calls for morning coffee, afternoon tea) has mostly withered away. There is an expectation that we will return to the office, in some form, this fall; my position on that is: Wait and see. If it entails wearing a mask for the entire day, that would make me miserable. If it means sitting in a conference room on video calls with remote colleagues, well ... I can do that at home.

To brighten my days, and mark the passage of time, I decided I wanted a page-a-day calendar. Torn between two (birds, and nature scenes), I picked up both.

My last haircut was in February, 2020. By the second time restrictions were relaxed, I didn't see the point. I fully expected another lockdown, leading to another awkward growing-out period. [I was right.] My hair may soon be longer than it has ever been. I'm kind of used to it now, and some people have commented that it looks good.

Cheerful sidewalk chalk art is a thing of the past. Face masks (cloth, or single-use) litter the sidewalks and roadways.

I'm trying to bike more regularly; when our club couldn't host rides, I'd plot a simple route and my chief ride buddy would join me. That way, we could look out for each other. All the spring and summer cycling events have been canceled, postponed, or gone “virtual.”

I continue to minimize my time indoors around other people—because, I can. For me, the calculus has been straightforward: “If I do Thing X, permanently wreck my health or die as a result, will I have thought it was worth it?” Not surprisingly, the answer is: No. No weekend getaways. No restaurant dining. No social gatherings.

I'm not eligible to be vaccinated, yet; there isn't enough vaccine, still, for everyone who is eligible (and wants the shots). I know at least 11 people who have been vaccinated; their reactions have ranged from nothing, or a sore arm, to headache, fever, and fatigue, to much worse. I also know at least 12 people who contracted the virus (and recovered). “Do. Not. Get It.” they counseled. [Well, that's my plan.] Of those 12, at least one person tested negative, but subsequently had antibody results that were off the charts. At least three were presumptive cases (not tested, but symptomatic—two with family members who did test positive). I have not lost any friends or family members, but I know people who have.

The week closed with 111,839 reported cases of COVID-19 in our county, and 1,859 confirmed deaths. Which [see above] is an undercount.