Game On

Bike to Work Day is going to be A Thing again this year, now that we have officially “returned to office.” Although I've traditionally led a group of coworkers to the office for this event, I figured I would just do my own ride this year.

Then two of my regular partners-in-leading reached out, and ... I ... just ... couldn't ... say ... no.

Oddly, instead of adhering to the usual third-Thursday schedule for the event, the Bay Area “energizer stations” will only be available on Friday (and Saturday and Sunday, go figure).

Okay, then: Friday it will be. There's no actual celebration at the office, anyway; and as far as they're concerned, you'll earn your schwag by bike-commuting any day that week.

Ride leaders get extra schwag (a Bike-to-Work-Week t-shirt), and they suggested we pick them up over lunch today and share tips with one another.

Was I going to drive to the office? [Of course not.] Besides, a preview ride seemed warranted before the big day.

The company is so big now ... We met in some newly-redone building, unexpectedly eating indoors. [Yikes!] I have not shared indoor space with other people for a meal since The Before Times. I recognized two of the other leaders, and tried to relax. [This is fine ...]

As it happened, we had some teammates visiting from an overseas office and there was a plan for a group dinner tonight. [Outdoors!] At a restaurant that was conveniently on my typical route home, so of course I said yes. [It was fine.]

Some of my newer colleagues found it inconceivable that I would bike 16 miles home after dinner. [Shrug.] Forty miles, and 1,000 feet of climbing, for the day.

No Peaches Here

Our cycling comrades arrived late yesterday afternoon, with epic tales of their own to share. (They had worked a side trip into their journey south, to bike a rarely-visited road.) Spoiler alert: It was windy.

We caught up, poolside, with snacks before feasting on sandwiches that one of our crew had coordinated for us. [I'm so lucky to be a part of this party, as a party-planner I am not.]

As we completed a round of introductions, a guy piped up playfully from the far end of the pool to introduce himself. In the small-world, truth-is-stranger-than-fiction department, I came to learn that he's in executive management for a large firm, running an organization responsible for the same line of work I'm in. Compounding the oddity of all this, I had recently interviewed an applicant from the staff he proudly crowed about—and [spoiler alert] he did not do well. [This, of course, I kept to myself.]

A surprising number of folks on this escapade are riding e-bikes. They have been well-behaved, though—not zipping ahead and leaving the strictly human-powered bikes in their dust.

Nonetheless, the group fractured; a planned regroup went awry when the venue was closed and some stragglers were left behind. An alternate winery (Opolo) was proposed—and happily welcomed us; fortunately, I was part of the group in sync with the new plan. As folks settled in for a full-on lunch, my chief biking buddy and I bid our farewell and headed back to town. We'd find something to eat there before heading back to the Bay Area.

Having biked Peachy Canyon on my last trip to this area, I expected it would seem at least somewhat familiar. [But it was not.] Largely because much of today's route was entirely different, but in part because we rode it from the opposite direction.

We biked 41 miles and climbed about 3,500 feet before shedding our sweaty bike clothes for street clothes and starting the long drive home.

A Ride on the Wild Side

A few club members proposed a cycling getaway to Paso Robles—count me in!

My cycling buddy and I were on the same wavelength, both of us able to take just two days off. To make the most of our trip, we headed down one day earlier than the rest of the group. For Monday, I put together a route to see the elephant seals near San Simeon, starting from the coastal town of Cambria.

The challenge of biking north on Highway 1 is ... headwind. We knew the winds would be picking up as the day wore on, but hoped to escape the worst of it by starting early.

Good in theory. Bad in practice, after we effectively lost an hour when I cavalierly headed us east, instead of west toward the coast. [Note to self: You have reliable navigation at your fingertips; use it!]

Into the wind, we headed. Well aware of my cycling buddy's disdain for strong wind, I would pause periodically to get a pulse on whether we should keep going.

She was a trouper today, game to continue—never having seen this colony of elephant seals, she trusted me that it was worth it. [It was.]

A chatty fellow in town for yesterday's Eroica was all-too-happy to educate us about the event. Vintage-bike people are passionate about their machines.

The ever-strengthening winds were now in our favor: without pedaling, I found myself coasting back toward San Simeon at 18 mph! Hoping to grab a bite to eat at Sebastian's General Store, we turned off near Hearst Memorial Beach—and found the building gutted, in the process of a major renovation.

It was bittersweet to ride down that avenue of eucalyptus trees, recalling the finish line for so many Hearst Castle Challenge rides for Best Buddies. The “barn” where we'd gathered to collect our bags and get massages is now a fancy wine-tasting place, its patio private with no access for a view of the beach. I had always expected that I would keep doing that ride—maybe scaling down from the full century to the metric, as I got older; but seeing these changes drove home a reality that those events are now just memories. Great memories, certainly; but new editions will not be minted. Maybe it's not just that the pandemic, including the closure of Hearst Castle, disrupted the routine.

There were still beautiful vistas to behold as we sailed back toward Cambria. I paused on a bridge to watch the cliff swallows swooping and was surprised by a bonus: turtles! Three were sunning on a rock, and another two were paddling about in the silty water.

I wrapped up our flat-but-challenging 24 miles (less than 700 feet of climbing) at an average speed of 13 mph (courtesy of that tailwind).

Back in Cambria, I decided my lunch should be a slice of olallieberry pie at Linn's, and I was not disappointed. [Fruit. Carbs. Mmm.]

And before heading back to Paso Robles, my cycling buddy introduced me to a place I'd never been—the quirky little hamlet of Harmony. A pretty glorious day, I would say.

Remembering Doug

I was surprised, two months ago, that Doug didn't join us when we rode to remember Jon. Doug (sporting a Death Ride jersey) is the taller guy on the right in the photo above, taken at the site where we would later erect the Ghost Bike in memory of Jon.

Doug was a cut above—in 2019, he completed five double-centuries (those are one-day, 200-mile rides), distinguishing himself (yet again) as a California Triple Crown winner. I am not in that league, so I would rarely find myself sharing the road with Doug.

I hadn't known that health issues had led him to scale back his cycling—and that he was taking it easier, riding on weekdays—until the day he collapsed, at the top of a familiar short climb he'd ridden countless times before.

Thirty-nine of us came together for a modest ride at a gentle pace, in memory of Doug. A few of Doug's treasured jerseys had been gifted to some of his friends, who wore them proudly today in his memory.

And so, we keep rolling forward. For me, merely 36 miles with less than 800 feet of climbing today. But I will never forget Doug protectively trailing behind me on Airline Highway the day we captured that photo.

Twelve Hours of Tierra Bella

I knew it would be a long day ...

Not an early riser, by nature, my choice for volunteering at a rest stop today was determined by how early I didn't have to be there. 8:00 a.m, I could manage.

Save the time I spent behind the wheel, I was on my feet the entire day (over 12,600 steps counted).

It was a team effort: Unload the truck, puzzle out how to set up the canopies and screen enclosure for the food-prep area, set up the tables and bike racks.

Fortunately, some of our crew had done this before, expertly keeping the iced water and Gatorade flowing. Without a water source onsite, we had trucked in gallon jugs of bottled water. [So. Much. Plastic. Sigh.] Maybe we should prefer rest stops where we can use a local source for water?

Our first riders rolled in before we were quite ready, though technically they were ahead of our scheduled opening time.

We didn't seem to have any particular job assignments, so I roved. When the guy staffing the hydration station stepped away, I stepped up. Three women had the food prep well in hand, so I ferried trays to and fro, letting them know when we were running low on grapes or wraps or whatever. I restocked and tidied the assortment of packaged snacks.

Our riders were stoked. It was a perfect blue-sky day (albeit a little windy). Their smiles and words of praise were energizing. I had a chance to catch up with some friends who were riding—some of whom I hadn't seen in years.

When the health inspector arrived, most of us scattered to let her conversation play out with our rest stop captain. She found some minor things she wanted addressed, and we ended up with a satisfactory grade.

As the day wore on, the riders were also worn—they were the ones following the longer routes. [I've been there.] By mid-afternoon, I was feeling pretty worn, myself.

We tore everything down and loaded it back onto the truck. That would have been easier had we remembered to use the truck's lift gate ... [duh].

Most of our crew was done, at that point. Except for two of us. The truck needed to travel on, rendezvousing at the finish area where it would be unloaded again. There, everything would be sorted for cleaning, return to storage, or rental return ... and loaded onto different trucks, accordingly.

Another friend spotted me at the finish area; most people had cleared out, but the last riders were still straggling in. [I've been there.]

My final responsibility was to follow our rest stop captain back to the truck-rental place, and then then transport her to the neighborhood where she'd parked her car.

More than twelve hours after I'd left home, I returned.

Months of planning, and years of experience, paid off: We ran a successful event and gave over 1,000 of our cycling comrades a fun (and safe) day.

Kudos to the army of volunteers who made it possible: designing routes, securing permits, purchasing supplies, coordinating logistics, laying down route arrows, managing parking, running rest stops, offering mechanical support, driving SAG vehicles, providing radio communications, and staffing tricky spots along the course to keep riders safe!

Lift and Load

Organized cycling events are back on the calendar in the Bay Area this year—hurray!

Our club has hosted one of these events (annually) for more than forty years, with the exception of the last two (of course). We were just a few weeks away from holding our event in 2020 when we had to scramble to cancel it due to the developing Covid-19 pandemic.

When I ride in one of these events, I often try to learn more about the volunteers. Some are run by bicycle clubs, like ours; others are community events, put on by local boosters. Either way, these events take a lot of coordination and the labor of an army of volunteers.

Some of us signed up to fill multiple roles (three, in my case) ... and yet we were still unable to fill some positions.

My first gig was a mailing party: To streamline the sign-in process, we mail wristbands and route sheets to all participants in advance. That reduces the number of volunteers that would be needed to validate registration and hand out the materials on event day, and makes it easier for the riders to get rolling once they arrive. I had been surprised to see several packets heading out of state!

Today was my second gig: Loading a truck with supplies for one of our rest stops. (The rest stop, in fact, which I will help to staff tomorrow.) I used half a vacation day to be able to pitch in.

The logistics are impressive. The morning crew transported all the supplies and equipment to a central location, then arranged what was needed for each individual rest stop. [Lots of checklists are involved. And they're checked once ... twice ... thrice ... ] Not to mention the months of planning that got us to this point.

Our job today was “easy”—all we had to do was load everything onto the truck that will transport it to our rest stop tomorrow morning. Preferably with some semblance of order so we can unload and set it up efficiently.

New to this undertaking, I was here to contribute brawn, not brains. [For some weak definition of brawn.] Along the way I picked up a new skill: how to climb up and into the back of a truck.

Tomorrow's gonna be a loooong day.

For a Good Time

Regrouping to ensure that no one would miss the turn, I found a moment to gaze into the redwood canopy high above me.

This was meant to be an easy ride: not too long, not too hilly, not too steep, and at a gentle pace through mostly redwood forest. Plus a coffee break! What's not to like?

It was designed to attract some of our newer riders. How many showed up?

Not a single one.

Their loss. Eight of us—active, long-time club members all—had a splendid time. For one, this was a first trip out to the end of Aldercroft Heights Road.

During our coffee stop at the Summit Store, a customer strolled over to learn more about our group. He said he was getting back into riding, and we looked like a friendly bunch. We chatted and I handed him one of our calling cards. Join us!

We covered 20 miles and climbed 2,100 feet. Hmm ... maybe that sounds like a lot. [Not to us.]