Ed. Ride leader Chris Chiang submitted the following ride recap of Saturday’s Double Hawk Hill.

Today’s ride got a cold and windy start in the low forties. We joined up with the Red Ribbon ride at the National AIDS Memorial Grove in Golden Gate Park sharing a somber World AIDS Day ceremony and reflecting on the strength of our community. As we emerged from the protection of the Grove to begin riding, the frigid wind resumed its assault. Taking the direct approach into the Presidio on Arguello seemed like unnecessary punishment yet that climb sure helped warm me up. Weaving through the Presidio we rode with the Red Ribbon riders and ascended to the Legion of Honor. From there, Larry and I peeled off to get on the Marin side of the business.

On the Golden Gate Bridge the wind usually blows from the west. Today we got an unexpected Nor’easter headwind. Each time I rounded a bridge pillar the wind was mercifully blocked even if temporarily. This morning I was held together top to bottom by just a single layer of spandex, not out of vanity but from practicality to remain light on the pending climb. No piggy in a blanket was I in this deep chill. Once on the north side my frosty fingers managed to text Stephanie who was waiting in the heated comfort of her car.

The first section up Conzelman Road offered a consistent ten percent grade for more than half a mile. We were mostly sheltered from the wind. Occasionally an odd swirl kicked in from the Pacific while rays of light struggled to break through the clouds.  Stephanie and Larry moved ahead while I dealt with another episode of chain drop. The grade moderated as the traffic circle came into view but increased again from the traffic circle to the summit. We did not linger at the top and quickly continued to the sixteen percent descent on Conzelman on the back of Hawk Hill.

Heading toward Battery Townsley the wind was no better. We encountered odd headwinds when we should have been protected by the hillside. Then the chipseal gave way to dirt-and-gravel going toward the big ridge.  But all is good when you’re biking with friends and we arrived at the sixteen-inch big gun with all smiles. On time the sun came out for the photo op. Check out the picture gallery for proof. (You need to be a Different Spokes member to access the photo albums. That and riding with some cool cyclists in spandex! What a steal for only $30 a year!)

Descending through Rodeo Beach we made short work of Bunker Road to return to the traffic circle from the back of Hawk Hill. This climb up McCullough Road is memorable for its unrelenting seven-to-nine percent grade. When we regrouped at the traffic circle, Larry graciously declined another go at the summit. Adding up today’s headwinds, he’s probably logged a second summit and then some.  Stephanie and I dashed to the peak and returned to the traffic circle in fifteen minutes. As the three of us descended down to the bridge, I could hear Larry blurting out that he prefers climbing to descending. Good sign I think when one starts to find a zone of comfort in tackling hill climbs.

After a quick farewell to Stephanie, we looked at the bridge with some trepidation. But it was not bad at all and nothing like this morning’s crossing! Sure there was some crosswind from the Pacific but the bridge was now easy-peasy after the day’s climb, spandex or no spandex. We got back to SF and ducked into a warm coffee shop by 1 p.m. Grateful for all the friends and allies who showed up over the years and gave us a collective push when all the elements seemed to want to pull us down.

Ed. Stephen, the ride leader, submitted his account of the club’s Post-Thanksgiving Turkey Burn.

Tony chided me, lightly of course, for my “terse” description of the Mount Hamilton ride. Now, I can do terse and I can do florid. So this time I am going with florid. If you can’t manage to swim though it all, the short version is: three riders, really cold, great ride, please join us next year!

The Post-Thanksgiving Turkey Burn follows the route of what is likely my very favorite ride of all. It’s another of those rides I would call “race to the pizza”. All the way through its meandering around Marin’s most beautiful scenery, the ride inevitably leads to Bovine Bakery and its sadly limited store of unique pizzas with their magnificent, melt-in-your-mouth crust.

This year after two late cancellations there were only three of us: Elmer, Brian, and I. Yes, it is hard getting up the morning after stuffing yourself with bird or its tofu equivalent. But the upside is that the roads are virtually empty and, more importantly, reminiscing about a fabulous meal with family and friends is all the sweeter on a bicycle, in this case a very cold bicycle slicing through a frigid atmosphere, the pedals featuring “icycle” feet.

The forecast promised an appearance of the sun sometime between noon and two. But the thickness of the clouds mocked the weatherman [sic]. Much bundled up and with muttered imprecations, our little team of three managed to leave fully twenty minutes late, closer to 10:00 than the predicted 9:30. Note to team: given when the sun sets at the end of November, this ride really should start no later than 9:00.

The first stretch down Lucas Valley Road is easy, with the vast expanse of Eichler houses peeking elegantly through the steadily thickening forest, a perfect warmup for the first of four climbs. The front side of Big Rock—don’t get me started on the front and back side of hills, but sometimes it’s obvious—is demanding but not overlong and when the Big Rock heaves into view, at least we were warm not counting twenty frigid digits each. 

But such warmth does not withstand the magnificent descent into the long ride through the dark, towering forest that is the second half of Lucas Valley. The air crackling with cold cannot hide the sylvan cathedral that is one of the finest roads in all of Northern California. You know the reverie is coming to an end when the vaulted ceiling gives way to sky, alas still without sun. We turned right on Nicasio Valley Road for a brief pit stop at the general store, the less said about the “accommodations”, the better. We decided to skip the Cheese Factory so the climb up the—in my view—annoying Cheese Hill, aka “le col de fromage”, our second major climb, did not hold its usual promise of hunting around for someone with the code to the restroom. 

After the goats and the chickens—one of the latter of which had made her way outside the fence—and the aforementioned Cheese Factory with its picturesque pond, and then the fire station, we made the sometimes dangerous left turn onto Hicks Valley Road, a Marin road that fills my heart with glee. There is a little climb but that does not interrupt the painterly rural spread that greets the eye. A left turn at Marshall Petaluma Road with a quick glance to the right and the reassurance that we will not need to do the fearsome, steep Wilson Hill today, led to more meandering through California beauty.

It’s six miles of beauty and then that little bridge and the farm on the left, and no further delay we are on the steep first third of Marshall Wall. Throughout the day Brian was clearly the fastest of us, but not so fast that he tired of waiting at the top of the various mounts. Elmer and I had the pleasure of riding side by side through the steepest part of the climb, again virtually no traffic, and plenty of auditory warning and visual distance should a rare car appear on our heels. Steep climbs go faster when you have a friendly chat, and so it was. Soon enough we crested the first of several false summits and before we knew it we were at the top. No point in stopping to take in the view since it was socked in with cloud and fog.

The descent to Marshall reminds us that the climb up the back side of Marshall Wall is actually tougher than the front side. Again front, back, I really believe it, and I have a categorization of every hill I climb to that end. Then all of a sudden there is that little red church and the stop sign that comes out of nowhere. I always remind riders to watch out for oyster shells on the road. I’m not sure if anyone has every had a flat from one. But they look intimidating and I figure it’s best to avoid them.

In the parade of beauty that is this ride nothing tops Tomales Bay. On this day the muted hues of late autumn filtering through the low, growling clouds gave the scene a Hudson River School quality. I decided that no iPhoto would capture it, and as I was still freezing cold I committed it to memory and pedaled on. I think Brian did take some pics so I will pursue him for those and get them into the album if that works out. 

I love riding along Tomales Bay. I wish it would never end. But it does end in a pitiless little hill that at least now has the advantage of having been recently repaved. Many will remember the broken pavement of that torturous stretch and, thanks be to all that is merciful, the pavement is new if not exactly smooth. We all successfully made the right turn on to Mesa. Brian found it while well ahead of the rest of us even though I told him the street was named “Monte”. Curses to aging memory. And so via that little seemingly square roundabout into Point Reyes Station, the drama of the pizza awaits.

Yes, the drama of the pizza. Why Bovine Bakery can’t just throw in an pie or two, I do not know. Mysteries of quotidien existence. I even wrote them once to no effect despite the nice noncommittal reply. So I waste no time whenever I arrive and dive into the line, which in this event was mercifully short. The pizza was still on the chalkboard so there was hope. I tried to remain calm because I have been disappointed before in these same circumstances. When I was second in the line and the young gal behind the counter finally asked me what I might want, I said, “Is there still pizza?” “Yes, there is one piece left!” One piece, the last piece. Yes!! “I’ll take it, whatever it is.” Their vegetarian masterpieces are really the pick of the lot but the one last piece was a sausage thing. Even so it was pizza and that was good enough for me. I even ordered a small double latte in an effusion of accomplishment although I regretted it later because lattes are not their specialty and they are painfully slow to deliver.

I took my hard earned pizza in its characteristic brown paper bag and labored to eat it as slowly as possible. That crust, that ineffable crust. You must have it to understand its splendors. I pretty much only eat pizza on bike rides, so wow, yes, hosannah.

The pizza finally safely secured in my digestion, we headed to the dreaded Point Reyes Station port-a-potties. Three jaw-droppingly handsome young racers, all of a kit, laughingly warned us that—my words not theirs—the aesthetics of the port-a-potties were substandard even for these notorious parts. A welcome word to the wise. The only downsides of road cycling are road kill and port-a-potties, and the advice for both of them is the same: do not look down. I did not look down, and I managed to get out of there with my vision and my memory unscarred.

From Point Reyes Station we took the well-traveled return to Marinwood via Pt. Reyes-Petaluma Road, to Nicasio Valley Road, and to Lucas Valley Road. The Nicasio reservoir was still plenty full although not overflowing. And again the muted colors of a a grey day made for fantastical vistas. The sun peeked through once or twice but it was only teasing. There was what I believe to be a golden eagle scanning its horizon perched atop Big Rock, and crazily he was there again on Sunday when I rode with Marin Marauders. On that occasion several of us stopped to investigate proffering a variety of opinions about its identity. But I am sticking with golden eagle and I have photos from Sunday to “prove” it.

The back side of Big Rock Hill is almost a relief. The last of the four climbs is easily the easiest but just enough of a climb to remind your legs of all the work they have done but not so much as to make them regret it.

We three met up one last time at the start/end point. What a ride! Who cares about the cold? The Turkey Burn route is epic. Next year, one more time. And I hope all of you will join us then.
—Stephen Shirreffs

Ed. I was going to jot a club history of the Mt. Hamilton ride since Stephen’s recap yesterday was terse. I started to write and while doing some research I realized I had already written a short history! Those brain cells are dying fast. Or, the trivia that sputters out of my figurative pen is rightly flushed out of my consciousness asap. I wrote this article as a come-on for the 2021 Mt. Hamilton ride. I have added a few new, additional comments inline.

No, I’m not talking about Alexander Hamilton or a Tony award winning musical. I’m talking about Laurentine Hamilton, baby, whose name graces Mount Hamilton in the South Bay.

This coming Sunday [November 7, 2021] club Treasurer Roger Sayre and VP David Gaus are going to lead the charge up the Bay Area’s tallest peak full-bore, no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners….well actually not: it’s going to be a delightful romp at a modest pace with the dynamic duo sweeping you upward. The club’s annual foray up the hill, which we had to cancel last year due to you-know-what, is going to be extra-special this year. David is going to sag the ride…in his car. So you’ll be able to bring along your hair dryer, curlers, and change of wardrobe—at least two!—and David will carry them to the summit for you. And if you want to bring along that picnic basket with the 10-lb. Honey-Baked Ham with all the fixin’s he’ll shove that in the back as well so you can brunch to your heart’s content whilst your eyes lovingly adore the Lick contemplating your (in)significance in the vast universe that said observatory has explored.

Seriously, this ride is a part of DSSF history. The first club ride up Mt. Hamilton was in October 1983, less than a year after the club’s birth, led by then club mover-and-shaker Michael John. MJ was responsible for numerous club rides in the nether regions of the Bay Area as well as several club bike touring trips around the US. He also led club rides up Mt. Tam on the Railroad Grade on full moon nights on his touring bike (!) However he never led Mt. Hamilton again for some reason. (I’ll have to ask him about that…) [I never did ask him until I reread this article. I’ve now written MJ about his virginal Mt. Hamilton ride and we’ll see what he says!] All was not lost however as Ron Decamp, another early member who happened to live not that far from the start of the ride, loved to go up Mt. Hamilton and led it no less than four times in 1984! Kevin Anderson aka ‘Flo Velcro’ and ‘Rex Flash, Mountain Biker’ led it in 1986. (Kevin actually did bring several wardrobe changes on club rides. He’d use a restroom and emerge in entirely different bike drag!) [Kevin did it the hard way: he went from Pleasanton up Mines Road to the top. The back way is much steeper than the front.]

Then it sort of lapsed until Sharon Lum came along in 1991. Sharon is also a South Bay denizen and liked to do long rides. So naturally she and Hamilton were a match. Sharon led the ride annually until 2007 when David Gaus took it over. [Sharon is still a club member although she has retired from any cycling other than running errands around her neighborhood.] Why does David love this ride? You’ll have to ask him yourself this Sunday. But I’m betting that one of the reasons is that despite the enormous elevation gain—over 5,000 feet in total—that makes it a double-dare-you challenge, it’s entirely doable because the average gradient is only about 6%. It is however a bit long at 18 miles to the summit. But then it’s 18 miles mostly downhill afterward! That’s only about 36 miles total. Sure you can do that! Just take your time. Despite the elevation gain (or because of it?) the 2015 edition brought 33 people out of slumber to ride to the top! That was the most people on a club ride until this year’s Pride Ride. [It’s since been beaten by subsequent Pride Rides. I also overlooked that Derek Liecty’s inaugural American River Bikeway trip in 1984 had 35 Spokers.]

Weather on Mt. Hamilton has been unpredictable. Some years it’s been unseasonably warm making for glorious basking at the top…

…and other years it’s been extraordinarily chilly leading to huddling in the lobby next to the wall heater.

And of course there’s always the chance of rain. Ten years ago Roger and I did the ride and it was in the low 30s at the top. Everybody crowded in the lobby to get some heat. The descent was unbelievably cold even with wind pants, GoreTex jackets, wool caps, and winter gloves. Roger could barely control the tandem it was so cold. And yes, it snows on Mt. Hamilton during the winter! (If you want to peruse the gory details of that ride, go here.)

This Sunday be sure to check the weather forecast before you head out the door. You will want to make sure you have plenty of warm—preferably windproof—clothing for the descent if the forecast looks at all chilly. No reason to hold back because you can always give what you don’t want to wear going up to David. Although the lobby has vending machines for snacks and drinks you will probably want to eat something more substantial like a small sandwich to replenish those calories so pack a lunch. Although Lick Observatory in recent years has sold hot coffee in the gift shop, it may not be open this Sunday. So throw that thermos of hot coffee into your goody bag just in case.

Sharon always brought freshly baked muffins to the start, something we always looked forward to. Rumor has it that David is going to show up with some special donuts. See you Sunday! To see the ride listing at the club website and to RSVP, go here. [Speaking of sag, it’s a rare Different Spokes ride that has had a sag or a luggage wagon. The old Russian River Weekend trips started off being self-supported but quickly adopted a luggage van to get everybody’s tents, sleeping bags, clothes, and food up to Guerneville. One time I recall “Loudmouth” Mike Reedy piloting his monster Cadillac, the “Burgundy Brougham”, up to Guerneville as a true sag. For the 1987 Tour of the Trinity Alps trip riders took turns driving the luggage car. But day rides? No way. The old ethos of being prepared and going self-supported is fading away, says the Old Grouch.]

Ed. Stephen Shirreffs, the ride host, offers his report.

A week after a rainout, the weather on Mount Hamilton was perfect for a winter climb — clear skies, coolish temps that eventually got into the 60s. Twelve of us [Ed. Stephen now says it was thirteen.] set out from Penitencia Creek Park, and quickly spread out along the road as is pretty usual on a long, long climb like Mount Hamilton. There was a front group of three, a second group of two, then a group of five and finally two off the back. The third group saw the first group descending when it was maybe a mile and half to the top, so the separation ended up not being too great. Ten made it to the top, one almost got there, and one abandoned about half way up. One flat tire. This is a signature ride for the club and the numbers are finally getting back up to what we were used to before the Pandemic. Hopefully next year we can keep the trend going. Lots of pics on the website. And David G., we missed you!
—Stephen Shirreffs