The club has had at least two rides on April Fools Day, one in 1984 and another in 2012 and coincidentally they were the “same” ride–the Apple Blossom. Former club president and ChainLetter editor, Michael John, was the creator of the Sonoma Blossom ride, which then became known as the Apple Blossom and he led the first edition on this day in 1984. For the club’s 30th anniversary Roger and I led a later iteration of the Apple Blossom. That it also took place on April 1 is mere coincidence; at least I didn’t notice it until now!

The early days of the club had a prolific number of rides around the Bay Area. It was probably partly due to the club’s orientation towards biketouring that had members very willing to go beyond the San Francisco enclave and Marin. Whatever the reason it didn’t take much for a group of Spokers to get interested in a ride that involved a car drive even for what would be considered a short–20 to 30 miles–ride by today’s standards. (There are members who scoff at the idea of going to a ride that involves driving more miles than the ride has.) I think also Michael John just happened to have a rather broad knowledge of riding around the Bay Area and knew where the good and interesting stuff was. It probably all seemed like “new territory” to many members while to us it’s merely old hat.

The 1984 ride had nine participants. That’s Bob Krumm on the left, one of the founders and our first president; next to him is his boyfriend, Luis Dufau; then Scott O’Hara, then our resident porn star; Tom Crites; Jerry Basso, who died of AIDS about two years later, Jamie Moran; Richard Palmer; and finally Derek Liecty. (Michael John is not pictured because he’s taking the photo.) Luis and Jerry were unusual at the time because they were among the few who rode racing bikes and wore racing kit. As you can see most of the rest–and this was typical of rides back then–wore street clothes–gym shorts, Bermuda shorts, white athletic socks, sneakers, and in Tom Crites’s case, Levis! Luis convinced Bob to start wearing “real” cycling kit, which in those days meant wool jerseys and shorts! In the top picture you can see the kind of bikes a lot of members rode back then; they had ‘cheater’ brakes, kickstands, Pletscher racks, reflectors, and not a bit of Campy gear in sight. I do recall Jerry Basso, being Italian-American, had a celeste Bianchi road bike, which was quite unusual at the time. Also notice that no one is wearing a helmet except Richard Palmer. Helmets weren’t required on club rides until the early ’90s.

Fast forward to April 1, 2012: things have changed a bit–everyone is now wearing cycling kit and those bikes aren’t your $150 basic college bike! And everyone has a helmet.

The 2012 Apple Blossom had a good turnout as well. That’s Karry in the very front, a very early member who lapsed after getting “married”, moved to the suburbs, and had kids. He suddenly returned to do the Apple Blossom, a ride he used to lead! You can make out me, Roger S, David Go. and Roger among the rest. This ride also went to Occidental for lunch at the Union Hotel where we encountered the Occidental April Fools Day parade.

They say hippies never die–they just move to Occidental!

We’ve been trying to take advantage of good weather to get out into the East Bay hills before they start to dry up and turn brown. We have not been having a wet winter despite what you may think—our rain gauge tells us we are unlikely to reach season normal this year unless we get a couple more atmospheric rivers. That’s unlikely. Despite the overall lack of rain we have been getting enough to keep the grass hills green; in dry years they would already be turning a dun color. But the signs are there that the green hills are not going to continue much longer as we discovered yesterday in our jaunt up Patterson and Altamont Passes. Those hills are still quite green despite cattle grazing them down to near nubs. But ominous brown patches are showing up indicating that certain areas are losing what precious moisture the topsoil has.

Nonetheless we had a great time. Whatever Spokers were doing yesterday it wasn’t riding with the club—Jeff’s ride to Gazos Creek had no sign-ups and just David Go. came on our ride. David is continuing his return from a year-long injury and doing rides much harder than I would venture after such a prolonged layoff. Yesterday’s ride was 37 miles and about 2,700 feet of elevation gain. However the ascent up Patterson has several stretches well above 10% making you reach for your bigger cogs. He may not have rocketed up the passes but he rode smart—spinning low gears and going steady—and did the whole thing without complaint nor feeling gassed. After coming back from Japan last November I came down with some RSV-like cough that just wouldn’t end that kept me off the bike for about six weeks. When I started to ride in January a 25-mile, flat ride just about killed me and here was David slogging up passes I wouldn’t have gone near two months ago.

Originally we were going to do this ride on Sunday but the weather forecast had turned bad, making Saturday the only chance for a weekend ride. We ended up with a mostly sunny day with just a light westerly wind in the afternoon after a cold start in Livermore.

Speaking of Livermore, doing rides from the Livermore Valley is a trend of recent origin. Back in the day most members were in or near San Francisco. However we had one active member, Kevin Anderson aka “Rex Flash, mountain biker” aka “Flo Velcro, advice columnist”, who lived out in Pleasanton and he liked to show timid Spokers from SF what life was like in east Contra Costa! He had a popular ride out to the Shadow Cliffs Regional Recreation Area just west of Livermore to enjoy the water slide. Given the ride started in Livermore, it was, uh, more an excuse to enjoy the sights at the water park than it was a workout. The water slide was a hit as well as the manly scenery. Dad bods galore! But that was about it for rides that far east.

Although there were occasional forays up Altamont Pass, riding out that way only started to take off in the Aughts with Mines Road becoming an annual ride and occasional rides up Altamont or Patterson. To my knowledge no one was taking on Corral Hollow or Del Puerto Canyon except Will or Jerome (or me). There’s good reason to avoid riding near Livermore: summer and early fall the conditions can be atrocious due to incredible heat. Being truly rural areas there are almost no services, which meant that getting in trouble—running low on water, getting a flat or worse—was serious business and having to depend on the kindness of strangers.

But when the rains come those sere, brown hills rapidly sprout grass and become a lush green paradise by early January. So the period from the New Year’s to about mid-April is the best time to ride out there.

If you have ride exclusively in urban or suburban areas, truly rural areas can be a shock to your system but in a good way. Although you still have to contend with occasional cars, it’s not at all like riding in the suburbs—rural roads have little traffic. Yes, there isn’t much in the way of amenities and you’re left to your own devices but the absence of other humans is very calming!

A convenient place to start a ride in the Livermore Valley is the Ernie Rodrigues Softball Fields. It has a huge parking lot and a restroom. It’s also right at the southern edge of Livermore where the vineyards begin, so it’s easy to take off to Mines, Patterson, Tesla/Corral Hollow, and even Altamont. Yesterday morning it was a crisp 50F at the start and we were bundled up even though we knew that literally within four miles we’d be climbing. We could see a few of the gigantic wind turbines spinning up Altamont in the distance, so we knew there was a wind. But we really couldn’t feel it (yet). It was well before the winery traffic started up so it was quiet and only other cyclists, runners, and dog walkers were up and about. The climb to Patterson is actually two climbs, the first of which is up Cross Road and quite steady and of only moderate difficulty. After a short but fast descent you then get on Patterson Pass Road and the grade gets serious. But it’s not continuous with just two or three humps that get into the double digits. The last one is just before the top. Around the last curve is “Top of the World”, an impressive vista point of the Sacramento Valley. On a good day the snow covered Sierras are visible in the distance. Alas, we weren’t lucky this time. But the view of the Valley always impresses especially given the hills are devoid of development other than wind turbines and power lines. This was a decision point for David—turn back if tired or commit to doing the whole shebang. He was feeling pretty good despite the effort, so onward.

The descent to Tracy is serious if fun. It’s fast. The road is uncluttered and most of the time the sightlines are good. But the pavement varies from egregious heaves to typical county chipseal. You hardly have to pedal at all yet the gradient isn’t so steep that you’re made nervous—you can just let it all hang out. There is one left curve that has huge warning signs with a 20 MPH limit. I imagine that more than one car has flown off the road there forcing the county to put up the warnings. David flew off into the distance while Roger and I kept a more conservative pace descending.

Once you’re at the western edge of Tracy traffic can be pretty bad. Logistics centers for Amazon, Costco, Safeway and probably others as well as depot areas for Tesla, Toyota, and other car manufacturers mean that big trucks rule the roads. There is an oasis: a Valero gas station with a Subway, a taqueria, and of course the obligatory Grab ’n Go gas station shop to get food and drinks. There used to be a Wienerschnitzel too but it decamped for a more central Tracy location. David was already munching on his gluten-free snacks when we arrived. The taqueria was doing land office business. I wanted to check out the fried chicken in the Grab ’N Go, which by the way is stocked with a crapton of fast food—various kinds of fried chicken, taquitos, sandwiches, bagels, packaged salads—as well as the usual convenience “foods”. You are not going to starve here unless you’re a food snob. In the end I grabbed a chicken salad sandwich that I could split with Roger since he wasn’t in the mood for fried food. I so wanted to eat fried chicken! But I admit the thought of having to taste it a second time up Altamont had me choose more wisely. Another time, alas.

To escape the trucks and the boring arterials in west Tracy the solution is to use the California Aqueduct Bikeway. Hardly anyone knows that long sections of the California Aqueduct have service roads that are open to cyclists. There’s no traffic, you’re by the water, and for some reason there aren’t a zillion homeless people living on it. In fact, I haven’t ever seen any homeless camps along the Aqueduct. For a few miles you can have a pleasant roll until you get to Altamont Pass Road. The wind can be daunting at times but today it was mild.

Altamont Pass Road is scary for the first half-mile because it’s essentially a long entrance ramp for I-580. Cars and trucks out of Tracy zoom by in a hurry to get to the freeway. Once past that motor vehicle hell we were mostly by ourselves on Altamont, which climbs at a gentle rate. There isn’t anything out there except ranches, a Waste Management landfill, and the Summit Garage. How can a auto repair business survive in the middle of nowhere? It’s like something out of “Bagdad Café”. One awful change since we were here last is that the county has put in a rumble strip on the shoulder. This totally sucks for cyclists as long sections of the shoulder are now unrideable forcing you into the roadway proper. In certain sections it looks like the county has made an effort to extend the shoulder by paving more to the right, allowing cyclists some escape. But in other sections the rumble strip takes up the entirety of the shoulder. Even though it is legal for cyclists to use the lane, on Altamont Pass cars often speed by making the experience a bit nerve-racking when you know they’re approaching. We hopped over the rumble strip back-and-forth when cars came by.

To return to Livermore you can head straight down Altamont or turn and cross over I-580. We did the latter since it’s nicer plus we’d escape the rumble strip. However like Bear Creek Road or Pinehurst Road near Orinda, that section of Flynn Road has become a massive illegal dumping ground. We saw the usual household items—sofas, love chairs, TVs, refrigerators—as well as constuction and building materials such as roofing shingles in huge piles all the way to the top of Flynn. Like attracts like, so it won’t be long until it all looks like something you’d see at the nearby Waste Management dumpsite. Just lovely!

However the intensely green hills, luckily, paints over that ugliness. At the top we took a breather and enjoyed the view. We could see large patches of purple flowers up on the hillsides—lupine, or perhaps echium? There were a few poppies starting to appear but their heyday is probably a couple of weeks away.

The descent was easy and fast into Livermore and then it was just one little hill before we were back on Tesla Road. The wineries were now fully awake and traffic was heavier but by no means terrible. Back at Ernie Rodriques David was still chipper no less the wear after some serious climbing and long day in the saddle. What a fabulous day to visit the green hills!

This ride morphed overnight into a shorter, easier one after word got out that Roger and I were going to cut it short and do just 40 miles instead of the intended 50. At the last minute David Go. decided to join the ride as his first road ride in over a year due to a wrist injury and was wondering if there was a way to cut the route down even further. The route is “lollipop” shaped and by cutting off the “stick” you’re left with a very nice loop of about 40 miles. Even so David was hesitant as 40 is a lot more than 20. When David did decide to do the ride—and possibly cut it even shorter if he got knackered—Roger Sayre, the ride leader, mentioned it to others and before long there were five of the eight doing the shorter version. So Roger just made it a shorter ride, period.

The part that got lopped is a five-mile section from a residential neighborhood in Fairfield up to Lagoon Valley Regional Park. It’s nothing special: the beginning rolls by houses and strip malls and then crosses I-80 to a frontage road until you get to Lagoon Valley Park. The main benefit is a nice warm up on flats and then small rollers as well as a bathroom stop at a McDo where those who choose to can quickly snarf down an Egg McMuffin to fuel up for the ride. Unless folks had to do more miles it actually made sense to move the start to the park since it is just at the start of Pleasants Valley Road, which was the whole point of the ride and fits in perfectly with our “Eat Dessert First” philosophy.

For those not in the know, which is probably most of you since your cycling world seems to end no further away than Marin, Lagoon Valley is a well used regional park with plentiful parking, picnic areas, trails, and nice mountain biking trails worth checking out. Overall since it’s a better place to start this ride, a good question is: why was the original start in the middle of a no-name residential neighborhood in Fairfield rather than at Lagoon Valley to begin with? After all, Grizzly Peak Cyclists do this ride and they’ve always started at Lagoon Valley.

That’s a long story and highly digressive! The Pleasants Valley loop is hardly my invention—it’s been a Davis Bike Club route for ages and probably for Sacto Wheelmen and GPC too. But I got turned onto it in the ‘80s because of a book. Back then there weren’t the Internet resources we have today to find good bike routes. What did we do? We bought books. Yes, we used books to get our information about rides. As well as paper maps usually from AAA. I know, ghastly primitive, wasn’t it? Randall Braun, who I believe was a Davis BC cyclist, wrote several print books with great cycling routes, one of which was for Yolo and Solano counties. (I believe he’s hanging with the Western Wheelers these days. By the way he’s also the inventor of RouteArrows, those adhesive route arrows that many centuries use.) He wrote up a route that included Pleasants Valley Road but it looped west to the Monticello Dam and Moskowite Corner rather than east to Winters. I led that route for the club under the name “Around Mt. Vaca” since it circles Mount Vaca. (Duh!) I led it several times and never got a lot of interest from the club. But that route traversed the entire section of Pleasants Valley, which was always very pretty during the green season. Unfortunately due to my schedule and some stupidity I was usually stuck riding this route in summer when it could be very warm to face-meltingly hot. It was also prime redneck area, so punishment passes by big trucks with gunracks pulling boats and rusty Chevy Camaros or Pontiac Firebirds were a regular “thing”.

At the same time I had a friend who lived in the Capay Valley north of Winters and I would drive up to Winters and ride from there up the valley to his place to visit. That was my introduction to Winters, which back then really was a prototypical ag town rather than a trendy suburb of Davis with nice restaurants.

The original loop up Pleasants Valley to Moskowite Corner had a restaurant at Moskowite Corner. I forget the name. It always struck me that a diner could actually make a living in the middle of nowhere. But half the place focused on selling bait and fishing goods to the boaters heading up to Lake Berryessa, so maybe that helped kept the place afloat. It was a convenient place to escape the heat temporarily and get a burger or sandwich and definitely something cold to drink. The restaurant didn’t survive and the place closed for a few years. Then it suddenly changed hands and reopened. But it too eventually closed altogether leaving nothing but a deserted building with boarded up windows. When that place folded for good the loop suddenly became a lot harder—hot, no place to get water, long. (There was the Markley Cove store but it was often closed.) At that point we started riding to Winters instead of Moskowite Corners and heading over Cantelow, aka “Cardiac Hill” due to its fame on the Davis Double back to Pleasants Hill and thus the “lollipop” route came into being as a club ride. Winters had the advantage of Steady Eddy’s as a place to get food. Of course today it’s a lot trendier and you can choose from the various restaurants in the center of town.

In 2021 we led that ride as a way to prepare for the virtual Cinderella Classic and that’s how it ended up in its present form. By the way I remember that ride as being pretty tough given how flat the overall route is. I wasn’t in shape and following Will and Stephanie was, well, impossible for me at the time.

Now why did it start in a no-name neighborhood in Fairfield? The original Randall Braun route started in Mankas Corner, which is west of Fairfield in the boonies. Mankas Corner at that time had a store/restaurant and it made a great place to finish the ride and grab something to eat and drink. To get to Pleasants Valley Road he had you start out on quiet country roads—it’s less quiet these days since Fairfield has expanded westward—into Fairfield and cut through that no-name neighborhood to head north to Pleasants Valley.

When I restarted this ride in 2021, I decided that place was as good as any to begin a ride because it was a quiet residential area with plenty of free parking. Plus, the McDonalds was just up the road for a pit stop before starting the ride proper allowing for a nice warm up.

So there! That’s the genesis of this route.

Back to the ride recap: I had actually never parked at Lagoon Valley Park. But I knew from GPC-talk and researching on the Internet that it was $5 exact change to pay for parking there. The big news was that a year or so ago it no longer became possible to park on the street to avoid the fee. And reality never turns out how it’s described on the Internet: the park actually has two separate areas, Peña Adobe and Lagoon Valley proper and only the latter has a pay machine; of course we were parking at Peña Adobe! Oh, and the pay machine at the entrance gate was broken so you had to go all the way into Lagoon Valley proper to find the other machine and then return to Peña Adobe. The parking mishegas led to the latest start of any Different Spokes ride I’ve ever been on in 40 years: ride out was at 10:15 and we didn’t leave until 10:48.

This year there were eight of us—David Go. on his first ride back; Stephanie, who’ll do this route at the drop of a hat; me and Roger; Nancy, who to my surprise had never done this ride before; newbies Will and Jamie; and Roger, the ride leader. Once the ride started most of the group took off up Pleasants Valley while I was panting heavily way behind. I’m never a fast starter and as I get older it takes me longer and longer to ‘warm up’. Sometimes I just never warm up though. Sigh. Pleasants Valley is basically flat but it has a few short rolls that suddenly have you slow down. The road is an undivided two-lane and because it’s a country road there is farm traffic and day tourer traffic and those little hills are blind spots to oncoming traffic. Traffic was heavier than usual—was it because it was a Saturday or because we had started so late? At one point a rally of Corvettes came zooming up behind us just as the front of our group was climbing one of those rollers. To my utter shock the lead car actually slowed down and waited before passing! The usual behavior is to go for it and pass regardless of not being able to see ahead.

At another roller Stephanie slowed down and waited for us at the top. From then on we were more or less together enjoying the intense greenness of the valley. Just five years ago the LNU Lightning Complex Fire roared through here and burned off almost all the tops of the hills and even made its way down to the road. When we were here in 2021 it was unnerving to see the damage the fire had wrought. Now it all had disappeared under four years of growth and rain with the only silent testimony being a few huge piles of logs by the side of the road, undoubtedly the damaged trees having finally been cut down. It all looked very normal now except for the tops of the hills being denuded of trees and replaced by grassland.

Just for old time’s sake we had a white Cadillac Escalade roar past us at about 60 MPH keeping us tightly pinned to the shoulder line!

On Putah Creek Road we saw a slender, furred creature scamper across the road towards the creek. We were all puzzled—what was it? A ferret, a mink, or what? At lunch after a little Internet research we concluded it was a mink. That’s the first mink I’ve seen that wasn’t on someone’s shoulders!

Winters was humming on Saturday. The Putah Creek Cafe and Buckhorn Steakhouse both looked busy. Surprisingly Steady Eddy’s, the usual cyclist watering hole, was not. We rolled in, got a table outside, were able to order inside with no line immediately! As much as Steady Eddy’s is an okay stop, the better place to grab a meal was the El Pueblo Meat Market down the street. Their burritos were excellent. But they didn’t survive the Pandemic so it was back to Steady Eddy’s. Mealtime gab revolved around—what else? recovering from injuries: pain meds, PT, overdoing it, A-fib, knee replacements, etc. as well as…German bread or the lack thereof of any in the Bay Area. No one had heard anything good about German bread. But we knew better—it’s some of the best around. And there just aren’t any German bread bakeries, which is shocking for foodie central Bay Area. Except in Vacaville…

Post lunch the clouds were beginning to gather. The day had never been very warm; David was the only one to venture out dressed in shorts and a shortsleeve jersey. The wind from the west was picking up as headed out. Every now and then some very light drizzle was spit out. This part of the ride is actually very nice. The roads heading south out of Winters are all originally farm roads and they are very flat, flatter than Pleasants Valley by far. We were in a double paceline for quite a while, people chatting away in pairs. All the roads out there are of uneven quality, from alright to pretty broken up and choppy in areas. Years ago we would all have been on 20 or 23 mm tires but today everyone was on something 28 mm or bigger. Roger, Nancy, and Stephanie were on 32 mm tires. We are accepting the hard reality that county roads are never going to get better, only progressively worse and the best way to deal with it is to get wider tires and run them at lower pressure in order to preserve our butts, backs, and wrists.

Turning westward we got into the English Hills but instead of continuing on to Cantelow, aka ‘Cardiac’ we continued south on Gibson into Vacaville. Gibson is still a hill, just less of one than Cardiac, which hits about 10% at the top. The trade-off is that Gibson being a more direct route into Vacaville also has more car traffic. Without a decent shoulder and some blind curves this requires vigilance to stay alive. Of course not long after we were on the climb up Gibson a wave of cars came by, impatient and speedy, gunning their engines. Unlike the Corvettes the lack of a clear sightline was no deterrence to their passing. Popping the top we regathered and then bombed down hurrying into downtown Vacaville. Why the rush? To get to the Pure Grain Bakery and Café, which happens to also be a German bakery!

Although neither Roger nor I had ever been to Pure Grain—two years ago I knew it was there but I didn’t know the address—we were keen to try out their bread. They also make pastries and that got the group interested in a coffee and pastry stop and convinced them to trot along after us. It turned out to be a hit. There’s a nice open area with picnic tables just outside under the pear trees. Unfortunately Pure Grain’s more traditionally German offerings are only baked during the week; that didn’t deter me. We bought a large loaf of rye and a three-grain. With artisan bread hitting $10 a loaf (usually small) getting homemade bread for $6 was a steal! Most of the others got pastries. But after seeing the loaves we bought soon everyone was heading in to get their own loaf!

After a rather long break we noticed the clouds getting darker and a few drops were starting to appear. Fortunately the parked cars were just a couple of miles away and we made it back just before it started to rain.

Postscript: the rye bread is awesome—smooth flavored! Pure Grain is too out of the way for it to be a regular stop for us. But maybe this will be an added incentive to ride more out there! (And Fenton’s is just up the road too for a Black & Tan fix!)

While today is a Monday, in 1984 and 2007 it fell on a Saturday and both dates had club rides that we happen to have pictures of.

In 1984 John St. Denis led a club ride to Lake Chabot for a picnic lunch. Accompanying him were Dave Gilchrist, Tom Crites, Michael John, and Gene Howard—all early members of the Different Spokes. Michael John served as club president and also as newsletter editor for the early ChainLetter. He also created many of the early club trips such as the Russian River/Guerneville Weekend and the Apple Blossom, was instrumental in organizing the first AIDS Bike-A-Thon, and led a slew of self-contained bicycle trips around the US. (We will soon hear more from Michael!) Tom Crites’s home in the Castro was the location of the early club garage sales. When the club was starting up, money had to come from somewhere and just like today membership fees weren’t enough. Dave Gilchrist was also in the early cohort of bicycle tourists in the classic sense: load up your panniers and go for a trip. If you attended the 40th Anniversary Bash at il Casaro restaurant in 2022, you had a rare chance to meet Dave; being a sailor he’s often away on his boats. Gene Howard, the “old dude” with the fetching beret was a retired school teacher, and was the oldest participant at age 64 and the last person to arrive at Molly Brown’s in Guerneville for the 1985 AIDS Bike-A-Thon. That’s a picture of him above at the BAT ceremony after the ride. A really sweet guy, unfortunately he died in a house fire in 1998. I have no idea what happened to John St. Denis.

In 2004 Will Bir was deep into long distance cycling and he led a club trip to do the Del Puerto Canyon loop. Will probably got the idea from doing the Del Puerto Canyon century, which no longer is offered. It starts in Patterson and goes up Del Puerto Canyon Road—a beautiful, isolated country road—to Mines Road, down to Livermore and then back to Patterson.

Surprisingly three other members joined him for this very long ride—Jeremy Jacobs, Mark Hotsenpiller, and Jerome Thomere. Well, actually Jerome isn’t a surprise since he was often doing centuries and doubles with Will back then. Those were the days when riding centuries was still popular in the club. March was a good time to ride Del Puerto Canyon because it can be very hot in summer whereas in spring it’s not just cooler but also a lot greener and prettier. I’m not sure what happened to Mark and Jeremy. Jeremy did a lot of club rides for a few years and then vanished; ditto for Mark.

If you’re a Different Spokes member, you can see more pictures of the 2007 ride in the club photo albums on the website.

Redwood Road reopened in mid-February after more than two years of closure. We went there to check it out.

Redwood Road between Moraga and Castro Valley is like a little brother to Big Sur Highway One: it keeps imitating its bigger brother by also repeatedly collapsing whenever the rain gets heavy. It seems like it was a lifetime ago but it was only 2017 when we had a magnificently wet winter and like clockwork Highway One and Redwood Road both collapsed. It took the county a solid year to get Redwood rebuilt, one long year staring at the K-barriers below the Marciel entrance to Chabot Park.(Actually, I didn’t stare at the road closure at all because I just diverted to the Brandon Trail through Chabot Park, which also went down to the (then) Willows golf course bypassing the closure. Brandon was/is awesome, a jeep road converted into a trail that mountain bikers use as a highway to get into Chabot. That was fun while it lasted and when Redwood Road reopened I stopped using Brandon.)

Fast forward five years to January 1, 2023: torrential rains batter the Bay Area so much so that our annual Resolution Ride couldn’t take place when Mt. Diablo closed. Instead Roger and I decided to do Redwood-Norris and discovered that a huge chunk of Redwood Road had slid into the creek. We tippytoed with our bikes along the edge of the former road, now crater, safely to the other side—admittedly a stupid move—in order to continue our ride. But we knew then that given the extent of the missing road—it was completely gone for about thirty feet—this was going to be a longer closure. And it was: Redwood wasn’t reopened until this mid-February after more than twenty-five and a half months.

Friday Roger and I rode the Three Bears the ‘hard’ way (i.e. Papa Bear first) and to make it even more interesting I did the whole ride using nothing lower than a 39×23 gear. And sat grinding the whole way. Saturday I did a metric century. Sunday I was going to take the day off but Roger wanted to ride Redwood now that it’s open. The day was sunny, so what the hey, we wouldn’t be going that fast (or at least I wouldn’t!) and we hadn’t been to Redwood since New Years 2023. The best laid plans of mice and men…

Redwood is a road beloved by East Bay cyclists. It’s surrounded by open space, either regional park land or EBMUD territory—no houses, no businesses, just trees, wildland, and…lots of sports cars and motos!

About twenty years ago Mens Journal magazine published a squib touting Redwood Road as a great place to race your muscle car. Like, WTF? I was so incensed I wrote them a letter decrying their encouragement of racing on a constantly curving public road with a ton of blind corners. Things haven’t changed since and the word had apparently also gotten out to the motos and rice rocketeers that Redwood was open because despite the relative calm, we witnessed a slew of sports cars and mototastic Speed Racers careening down the road. Some love it so much they race to one end and turn around and race back and forth —we were seeing the same cars and motos over and over.

All was not lost because there were plenty of cyclists as well. So the car crowd clearly were aware they were sharing the road with slower fare and other than the screeching of rubber and roar of motors sending our adrenaline up we were otherwise unharmed.

Maybe you recall that before the Pandemic hit there were a spate of bikejackings along Skyline Blvd. in the Oakland hills. Well, long before that there was a bikejacking on Redwood Road. A cyclist was stopped by dudes with guns. They took his bike and his phone. He ended up having to walk to the Redwood Canyon fire station for help. Ever since then I’ve been very wary about cycling on Redwood alone. There’s nothing like living next to Oakland to make cycling exciting.

Two years may not seem like a long time but in the meantime I had forgotten the contour of Redwood. Considering how often we rode it I was taken aback at how much climbing it has. Maybe I’m just older (“No! Really??”) and everything seems like it has more climbing. Maybe it was because my legs were wasted after two hard days. Peaceful it was but I had tunnel vision trying to stay on Roger’s wheel. So I can’t say I noticed how beautiful it all was. Roger wasn’t exactly having a field day either since he had only recently restarted riding. But he didn’t seem slowed down by the climbs.

Eventually we passed the Marciel entrance to Anthony Chabot and the long descent to the Willows began. For many this is ‘dessert’. But for me this is a terrifying downhill. Why? Because the sightlines are good, the road is wide(r), and the pavement is decent. (Although it has noticeably degenerated since 2018 when it reopened.) For some that’s an invitation to let it all hang out and go to hell in blazes. But for me it’s like a potential disaster waiting to happen. So instead I meekly creep down the hill trying not to visualize too strongly all the possible mishaps that might—nay, shall!—occur. I never was a terror going downhill and now I’m definitely in the ‘live to fight another day’ cohort. Except I never fight another day, I just live.

We approached a section of brand new pavement; but it wasn’t the location of the total collapse. The County delayed reopening Redwood when it realized that there were two sections of the road above the collapse that also needed to be repaired; this must have been one of them. Whatever the problem it wasn’t as severe as the collapse but it apparently commanded all new asphalt.

Further down on a righthand curve we saw the repair: the whole curve had to be redone, i.e. tons of rock and earth had to be dumped to rebuild the earth beneath the road. There is probably a shit ton of pilings under there too. We were rather surprised to see this because when we crossed Redwood in 2023 it looked like there was no way you could rebuild a base since it was probably ten vertical meters of missing earth. We thought for sure they would cut into the curve to create a new road to go around the crater. Maybe that would have involved moving even more earth and a new retaining wall. Whatever the rationale someone decided to rebuild the base and boy, it’s a doozy: there is now a huge retaining wall to keep the roadway upright now. At least until the next big storm. The road collapse happened where a rivulet flows down from the left into a tributary of San Leandro Creek. Perhaps the New Year’s Day storms overwhelmed the culvert (or the culvert hadn’t been maintained, a not uncommon problem) causing the water to erode the road base. It sure looks durable.

At the bottom we stopped at the Willows to rest and take in the sunshine. We parked our butts on the benches in front of the busy driving range and watched the duffers ‘practice’ their shanks and slices. At least that’s what it looked like to me. We weren’t in the mood to get a meal at the restaurant—we’ll save that for a weekday when it’s quieter—so we headed back to Moraga.

No need to ask: of course we were wasted! It was one long slog up all those climbs. The enjoyment of the reopened road on a beautiful spring day was lost on me as I concentrated on willing my legs to spin in feeble circles.

The thing about cycling is that even when you’re tired you get somewhere eventually despite the seemingly interminable suffering. It’s just being patient and doing what you’re doing. We got to the top and no sooner had we started our ‘relaxing’ descent when Mr. Impatient tried to introduce his front bumper to my rear wheel. Yeah, I’m fuckin’ going slow. And no, I’m not going to be a gutter bunny on this narrow, curvy downhill. I’M GOING TO FUCKIN’ TAKE THE LANE AND MAKE YOU SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. Asshole. Eventually he screeched to the left and passed us. No, you don’t need to ask: of course, it was on a blind curve with a double line divider. There is no end of impatient, careless ass craters behind the wheel, which is why there are a lot of dead cyclists and pedestrians.

Back at the manse we were both tuckered out. Yeah, it was wonderful to be reintroduced to Redwood Road after a two-year absence. But maybe I’ll try to constrain my adventures to weekdays when the sport cars and motodudes are working from home. And I’ll do it when I’m fresh rather than already tuckered out. But then again, being old means you’re tuckered out all the time!

There are days when cycling Coastside just rules and last Saturday was one of those days. The lead up had me nervous because the weather forecast turned from just cloudy to possible rain showers. The forecast in the morning was 25% PoP at 10 AM, just as we would be starting to ride. The temperature also plunged; Friday was mid-70s and Saturday morning it was mid-40s and wind. Both Roger and I pivoted back to winter wear in order to forestall a miserable chilling. All that concern turned out to be wasted energy. Yes, it was overcast but there was no precipitation and the roads were completely dry. What it probably did do was keep the crowds away from the beaches making cycling along Highway One a less dangerous and unpleasant experience.

Cycling Coastside exacts a toll for all its goodness. It’s a schlep no matter how you cut it. Getting to Pescadero from SF or Palo Alto involves a drive and if you’re from the East Bay it’s an even longer drive plus a bridge crossing. And you get to do it all over again after the ride with the extra goodness of plenty of traffic. But it’s worth it. Most of our riding is done in the urbanized Bay Area, which means abundant traffic, crowded roads, stoplights, and plenty of development. Coastside on the other hand is deserted country roads, a distinct lack of houses, business parks, stores—in fact, anything involving concrete, steel, and Plexiglas—and instead the heady aroma of green fields, farmland, eucalyptus, and coastal sage. This is the closest that road cyclists get to “green showers”. Given how close it is to the suburbs it’s strangely peaceful out there and thank goodness development has stalled along the San Mateo and Santa Cruz coast. When I was growing up in Palo Alto the Santa Clara Valley was full of farms and orchards that were pleasant to tour and you didn’t have to climb over the Coast Range to enjoy it. In fact big sections of Silicon Valley’s urbanity were still ranches and open space in the early ‘70s. I now live in Contra Costa where Walnut Creek to Pleasanton form a solid band of suburbs not unlike LA’s. In the early ’80s when Different Spokes started riding out here it still was towns separated by ranches, grass land, and open space. But all that is no more: it’s been scraped and turned into mega-burbs, and being stuck doing rides in the ever enlarging suburbs is at times completely soul gutting.

So going to Coastside is well worth the cost in time and gasoline. Apparently a lot of other cyclists agree since we saw plenty of our brethren plying the same roads we were.

There are several variations of the Pescadero loop and Saturday’s was the basic: up Stage Road to the end, down Highway One to Gazos, back on Gazos/Cloverdale, just 31 miles. A few Pescadero loops ago I added in the jaunt up to Loma Mar in order to eat at the the Loma Mar Store, which had just reopened after about a ten year closure for remodeling. That adds another ten miles altogether.

The drive down was nothing special except experiencing relief when we saw there was no rain, fog, or even dampness on the roads. It was just six of us—Stephen, Paul, Chris, Roger, me, and Jeff P., which made it easy to keep track of riders.

In the typology of rides this one is an ‘eat dessert first’—Stage Road is the experiential highlight and you do it right off the bat. No sense in delaying gratification, right? All that nonsense about earning your miles is exactly that: cut to the chase and gimme the good stuff now! The little hamlet of Pescadero was brimming with activity at 10 AM; daytrippers were crowding the local coffee shop and cyclists were already heading into Amigos Taqueria for grub. Once out of town it was back to quietude and solace. We hardly saw a car but there were plenty of cyclists. They all had smiles on their faces. Stage Road was shut down in 2023 due to a road failure and it was sorely missed. Now we’re making up for all that lost time! Stage Road has remained unchanged over the many decades I’ve lived in the Bay Area. How can that be? It’s the same farms, the road is lined by ancient, regal eucalyptus trees, with nary a structure in sight. This is what you get when you curb development: luscious open space, greenery, and calm. The two climbs on Stage go up about 400 feet each and then drop you off at San Gregorio; this time we didn’t stop until we reached the end of Stage, which has another 400-foot ascent up to Highway One.

From there is a long stretch on Highway One all the way to Gazos Creek, about 14 miles. There are two sets of rollers divided by San Gregorio Creek and then Pomponio Creek. Each has a bridge over the creek where the shoulder disappears and it’s always a challenge to keep your speed up in order to get all the way over the bridges before the SUVs barreling down the coast give you a nice punishment pass at 65+ MPH. Today the traffic was relatively light making Highway One pleasant for a change.

We made the usual pit stop at the Pigeon Point Lighthouse and noticed that all the scaffolding for the restoration has been removed. The upper stage where the light is still looks mighty rusty. You can read about the restoration here. Maybe by this time next year it will be open again! For now we had to stand outside the barricades to admire it.

On Gazos Creek Road things calmed down immediately. In fact for the entire stretch of Gazos and then Cloverdale Road we were passed by a grand total of two cars. One of those cars headed towards the end of Gazos Creek Road rather than Cloverdale perhaps to hike into Big Basin. The paved section of Gazos Creek Road ends a little beyond the turn to Cloverdale. But the road actually continues unpaved all the way into Big Basin State Park. This is a fantastic road to ride, a bit steep, because it parallels the tranquil Gazos Creek and is thoroughly wild. Maybe this year we’ll head back on a dirt ride to check on the regrowth in the Park?

Back at the cars Roger decided to drive up to Loma Mar, Jeff wanted to go to Norm’s for artichoke bread, and the rest of us rode up. Loma Mar Store was empty for a change! No line to order food and it was brought to our table “quickly” (that is, for Loma Mar Store). I was thinking of a burger but as usual I’m stuck in a rut and ordered the breakfast sandwich, which is always a winner. I’m like that six-year old who refuses to try new food and sticks with the tried-and-true. Stephen, on the other hand, his interest was piqued by the burger and was persuaded to try one after the owner professed it was truly excellent. Having noticed the homemade bread being sliced in the kitchen, he ordered a custom job rather taking the standard brioche; Chris got the ‘standard’. Paul got the soup as did I along with my sandwich (what can I say? I’m a pig!), and Roger also got a breakfast sandwich. Sitting on the outside deck conversation devolved upon the logistics of living in Paris—Paul lives part-time in Paris and Stephen was heading there for a long stay–the etymology of ‘quincaillerie’, Parisian parlance, and why Paris is the best city in the world.

How the club has changed! Perhaps it’s due to age. In the early days of the club conversation inevitably turned to gossip about various members (and their members) and who saw who at the bars last night. Then it sadly turned to who was dying and ‘had you heard the news?’ Now we talk about aches-and-pains, our latest health travesties, health and home insurance, and where we like to travel. We are now officially old farts. But what has remained unchanged is that we love to ride together albeit at a less hasty pace than when we were thirty. And the San Mateo coast has remained beautifully ageless and unchanged! Do I wish that were true of us? Perhaps not. Age and beauty are not incompatible!