Leaves of Gold

Brrr! Frost on the rooftops, this morning.

To warm up, I chose to park a couple of miles from the spot where we would rendezvous with today's leader. To be honest, the parking lot I chose was also somewhat more convenient for me. And I felt better about leaving my car there; the only litter was a smattering of Cheerios—no broken glass, no beer bottles or cans.

We would be tracing a route similar to a ride I led a few years ago, and pretty much for the same reason: on a cold day, it's prudent to stick to roads that are well-exposed and low.

Along the way I caught a whiff of a politicized topic that has been sensationalized in the press of late. “I'm glad I'm not in the workplace now, I'd be afraid I'd get accused of sexual harassment if I gave a lady a pat on the back for doing a good job.” [Sigh.] Actually, probably not. Context matters. But how about using your words instead of your hands? The lady would rather have your support when she's looking for a raise or a promotion.

I did not interject. [I just want to ride my bike.]

Our group of nine splintered after the first two climbs, with some riders eager to tackle a couple of the steeper hills in the neighborhood. [I was not among them.]

When two riders opted to follow me, I regretted not having studied the map last night. I had brought a copy of my old route (and managed not to get us lost).

After we finished the third climb, I was conflicted about skipping the fourth. Continue straight to my car? Or backtrack, to climb the road we'd just descended.

I gave my companions the choice, still unsure I'd head for the hill if they declined. “Let's do it!” they said. We paused to peel off our jackets and watched a coyote trotting across the field next to us. It changed course once it finally noticed us.

In all, an efficient 2,730 feet of climbing over 29 miles. Somewhere along a descent it appears that I topped out at 42.3 mph, which was perhaps a tad over the posted limit. [A tad.] Perhaps.

Sweet Panoche

It seems that there is only one Panoche, and I can attest that it is a special place, indeed. Once the gray gloom burned away, it was possible to shed my jacket and bask in the sunshine.

I get so overwhelmed by the majesty of this place that I often forget to pause for photos. There is too much to take in, and photos don't really do it justice.

You're not far from the rolling hills around Paicines before you enter another dimension—rock formations dating back millions of years.

It also seems that I have typically ridden this route in the spring, and somehow not since 2014.

East of the summit, the road is still cratered with potholes. I chatted with two women who were riding to Panoche for the first time, assuring them that they could not get lost, nor would they miss the Inn (our turnaround point).

I was surprised to find native morning glories blooming alongside the road when we reached the Panoche Valley. This late in the year, I didn't expect to see any flowers.

This view captivates me every. single. time. The road leads directly toward this formation, ultimately too close for a close-up.

Three years on, the grapevines in Paicines have become well-established.

For the day, a spectacular 55 miles, with a modest 2,795 feet of climbing. Till spring ...

(Not) Hicks

Having been off the bike for a month (where does the time go?!), a “flat” ride was enticing. Dangerously unhealthy air quality, travel, and rain had all conspired to erode my fitness. This has been my theme for 2017, and clearly I need to find some indoor substitutes.

Not today, though; the skies were sunny and the air was brisk. Puffy clouds didn't block much sunshine, but the hills did. The day never really warmed up.

The plan was to follow an easy route to two local reservoirs, Guadalupe and Almaden. We headed first for Guadalupe, which meant cycling along Hicks Road—stopping at the base of the real climb. Two riders split off and rose to the challenge; the rest of us stayed on plan and made a sensible u-turn.

The water level is low as we prepare for winter (another rainy one, we hope). Deer were grazing in the fields exposed at the southern end of the reservoir.

We stopped short of reaching Almaden Reservoir, despite taking a more direct route than our leader had mapped out. When one rider's energy was flagging, the group opted to stay together and turn back, finding lunch along the way.

40 miles, 1,440 feet of climbing: Not Hicks, but not flat.

Augusta Raurica

The work week over, I headed west to visit some friends near Basel.

Saturday started with a visit to Augusta Raurica, a site near the Rhine that had been a bustling Roman city for a few hundred years (with more than 15,000 inhabitants) .

Some features remain, some have been restored. Over the centuries, people naturally reclaimed stones from the abandoned city for new buildings. The amphitheatre faces stone steps leading up the hill to what remains of the temple.

A section of the aqueduct is displayed, along with statues and carved stones that have been excavated. This triumphant warrior, victorious over the foe trampled by his mighty steed, is long gone but not forgotten (nearly 2,000 years later).

We next drove to the top of Schartenflue, to begin a hike along the ridgeline.

The plan was to hike to Seewen, but the trails were unmarked after leaving the summit and (not surprisingly) we strayed off course. We made our way to the town of Hochwald instead.

The views were limited, but what's not to like about tromping through the forest on a crisp fall afternoon?

We finished the day with a performance of La Traviata in Basel.

At the first intermission, another patron struck up a conversation with my friends. When he turned to me, they explained that I don't speak German. “English,” I smiled. Evidently he was a fellow American ... and not familiar with the story line. “No,” I assured him, the dazzling setting for the first act was not a “beauty parlor” by day.

Opera is not my thing, really, but Corinne Winters was riveting as Violetta. After the final act, I thought we might never leave the theatre—there were that many curtain calls. Simply, wow.