The return of the East Bay Happy Hour could not have happened at a better time. Coinciding with an incredible winter heat wave—a jaw-dropping mid-eighties in March—this month’s confab/ride/feast had the luxurious feel of a fabulous Southern California evening by the beach. Except minus the beach. There we were post-ride on the outdoor patio at the former Lafayette Chow (now named Tutu’s) in t-shirts and shorts basking in the late afternoon sun surrounded by fellow diners in flipflops, shorts, and tanktops. Wait, where am I??

But I’m jumping ahead…

After a doleful winter recovering from surgery, I decided it was time to get the band back together and hit the road. The last Happy Hour was in October and we put it on hiatus with the demise of Daylight Savings Time. At the time I was thinking we’d restart in April. But the dismal state of the club ride calendar had me thinking, “WTF?! What have these queens been doing besides their makeup? It’s time to HTFU and start using those rubbers on your bike!” Plus, a ten-mile, flat ride was just the thing to ease back into riding again. A quick email to the usual suspects resulted in hearty “Yeah!”. We are on a mission from God…

The Happy Hour so far has been the usual five-mile jaunt up the Lafayette-Moraga Regional Trail to Moraga Common and then back. It takes about an hour depending on how much gabbing goes on. Joe and Lamberto, Roger S, and me and the hubby were there. Chris had to cancel for some reason. His excuse? “I ran out of gas. I had a flat tire. I didn’t have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn’t come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts. It wasn’t my fault. I swear to god!” It’s alright, Chris, next month.

Roger came all the way from SF, a bit of a surprise given how troublesome it is to cross the Bay at the commute hour. But ever resourceful he left SF at two in the afternoon and did some shopping in the East Bay to kill time before the ride, so no joy-killing stop-and-go for him. And we do love our shopping! Joe and Lamberto were recently back from an extended stay in Panama. We were eager to hear all about ex-pat life in the soon-to-be…let’s see: Greenland, Venezuela, Canada, Iran…55th state!

When we departed it felt like a pleasant summer roll: about 85F with the sun low in the sky. You could feel the heat winding down to a comfortable level. The near-dusk light put everyone in a quiet and relaxing mood. As we rode, Lamberto and Joe made me so envious recounting how they ended up hanging out with Greg Louganis while in Panama. I need to hit them up to get his autograph next year. Maybe he’ll come to the Pool Party if we invite him! A quick pitstop at Moraga Common and it was a fast roll back to town. With the heat there was a spate of young, shirtless Adonises from St. Mary’s College training on the trail. Such lovely scenery…

Our table outside was waiting at Tutu’s. Lamberto and Joe filled us in on life in Boquete, Panama. Boquete, being in the highlands and away from the coast, does not suffer from the equatorial heat, making for ‘just right’ weather. Boquete also hosts the Baru volcano, which tops out over 11,000 feet. Their hiking group, which meets three times a week, tramps all the way to the summit! Besides hiking with the other ex-pats, they indulge in dominos and other tile games with the retirees. Life in Panama for pensioners is pretty sweet; everything is a lot cheaper: food, dining out, housecleaning. Unfortunately Boquete has now been discovered and is fast turning into the place for ex-pats who want to maintain their lifestyle. Next stop: higher costs, more construction! The other topic of conversation was pet insurance (again) and the dirty little secret that when your BFF gets seriously ill, the costs are going to be very similar to when you get sick. Except you have health insurance and there ain’t no Obamacare for pets (yet). Oliver, their dog, has cancer and Roger’s cat has kidney failure; our cats both died after thousands of dollars of care that were only ameliorated by, thank god, pet insurance. It turns out Roger S’s presence wasn’t due to our sparkling personalities, joie de vivre, or even the food at Tutu’s. The mundane reason is that Roger loves hot weather, something that San Francisco rarely has. We’ll see if he comes over when it’s more like 100F this summer!

Little has changed since Chow became Tutu’s. The other Chows were shuttered but the Lafayette branch was bought by its employees. In effect it’s a workers’ cooperative not unlike the Cheese Board, Other Avenues, or Rainbow Grocery. The menu has largely remained intact, which is a good thing because it covers all the bases—omnivore, carnivore, vegetarian, vegan. It’s also organic. This time Joe and Lamberto exercised restraint—only Joe had an adult beverage, a just reward for a bike ride, but he balanced that with ordering the veggie platter. Roger S indulged in a pot roast—by the way, what is a pot roast?—and Roger and Lamberto both got pizzas, prosciutto and chorizo respectively. Tutu’s had petrale sole so without hesitation it was my choice. And *gasp* no one wanted dessert.

The sun disappeared and there we were in the evening dining outside in summer wear deep in conversation. Sated we said our farewells and headed home. Although Tutu’s is always a good choice, next month we will likely wander further afield, maybe Tropa for Filipino food. Stay tuned!

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

Ed. Ride host Chris Chiang submitted the following report.

First off, congrats to Sara and Larry for completing their first Three Bears! Sara is a consistent and strong rider and a great road companion. Be sure to learn from her easing into the ride and finishing strongly on every challenging climb. Larry has come a long way since joining in June. He’s started to use me to pace like my own shadow but has tried to move ahead once he studies the route and elevation. I now have to up my own game!

The Three Bears is no walk in the park. I created this ride after doing a fabulous version led by Cathy and Nancy early June. The standalone clockwise loop from Orinda is around 18 miles, 1,800 feet, and back-loaded. Why not just leave out that front end and distribute—but increase—the load more evenly? So out came a counterclockwise version starting from Lafayette that includes big climbs on Reliez Valley Road and Pig Farm Hill, at 30 miles and 3,000 feet.

Dismissing my concerns and counsel, Stephen insisted I make the day even tougher and longer with more climbing, thinking that the club would have lots of post-ALC riders jonesing for difficult, nostril-flaring routes. So I slipped in my recently-devised Martinez loop instead knowing it’s not difficult and would provide a pretty diversion out to a new favorite coffee shop, at 47 miles and 4,100 feet.

We got nine riders for this ride: David G., Kurt, Larry, Nancy, Rick, Roger, Sara, and me at Lafayette BART; we met Stephanie down the road. Kurt is a newer member having ridden with David a few times but never on a club ride yet. Once we got on Reliez Valley Road riders slowly separated on this first climb. As I shifted to low gears, I suddenly heard metal-on-metal rattling. Rats, the chain had popped off and was stuck between the cassette and spokes. The plastic spoke protector experienced an unscheduled rapid disassembly and the indexing was now off as well. Rick double-backed and we managed to get the chain back on the cassette. No more shifting to the last gear or the chain will pop. We met up with the group and Stephanie at the turn onto Franklin Canyon Road. Big smiles and laughs, small cleanup of black grease.

Franklin Canyon is a charming climb. It’s a residential area mixed with front yard vineyards. A sugary, fermenting odor wafted in the air. Larry noted to Roger and me that this must be grapes drying into raisins. I chimed in that we three grew up in the Central Valley, which is raisin territory. We laughed and swapped tales about old local happenings there. I then watched Kurt up ahead miss the turn onto McEwen and yelled for him to return. More laughs. McEwen has a higher grade but not by much. It reminds me of Stage Road down in Pescadero and offers the spicy scent of wild sage that grows along the road. When the road began the quick descent, Rick zoomed by and Larry went after him. At the bottom of McEwen’s final 15% plunge, we took a sharp right to climb Carquinez Scenic Drive after waiting for Larry, who had taken a wrong turn. Thanks to Rick for thinking quickly and calling Larry by phone. Even more laughs. Carquinez Scenic Drive rides like a bigger sibling to Tiburon’s Paradise Drive, with water on one side and undulating climbers and rollers on the wheels. At one point we heard Amtrak down below heading into town on its way to Sacramento. Near downtown Martinez Kurt had a flat but quickly changed tubes. Larry’s battery-operated tire pump came in handy. Having a chill and collaborative group of cyclists makes a ride more enjoyable and safe.

When we got to downtown Martinez, we sure earned that cup of joe! Many other groups of cyclists were hanging out and Stephanie seemed to know a few. I happily chugged an icy cold-brew from my water bottle like a toddler with a sippy under the sun. David and Rick shortened the ride and returned to Lafayette while we continued westward on Alhambra Valley Road. After more dramatic bike-chain moments near Pig Farm Hill (with Kurt and Roger providing assistance), I was determined to finish strongly even if the bike was now functionally a low-gear fixie. This ride leader is covering the whole hog!

From the top of Pig Farm Hill I watched Roger zoom off and saw him next when he waited on Bear Creek Road. At the top of Mama Bear, I came to the group with Kurt fixing another flat. More laughs and club chats. I then watched each cyclist gradually pull away on the road, thankful that they’re with Stephanie while I’m playing catch-up. She’s a strong, experienced cyclist, a former ride coordinator, and a local who knows these roads well. We talked several times about co-leading a ride together, and now she’s the de-facto ride leader. While climbing the seemingly endless Papa Bear, I nearly slipped and stopped to steady. Once I began the rapid descent, I broke out into a big grin but then remembered that Baby Bear next is a small lump of steep bad ass. Imagine the elation when I crested that little twerp but then—clang!—the damn chain popped out of place.

At San Pablo Dam Road, we said farewell to Stephanie and headed toward Orinda. Kurt took BART home (exactly as I had intended for this option when I created the route, for backup and convenience) while Nancy, Sara, Larry, Roger, and I grabbed a quick meal. Nancy and Sara got ready to leave while we boys continued to chew and I mentioned to them that could they could take BART one station over to Lafayette if they had driven in. “Nah, no thanks.” Their composure said they knew a thing or two about challenging rides and they took off. Roger, Larry, and I followed shortly and returned to Lafayette where this fun, high-intensity ride began. Unexpected circumstances and contingencies conspired but failed to derail our plans.

Haha, we’re back and we’ll keep coming back.
–Chris Chiang

Ed. Ride host Chris Chiang recounts how his ride went on Saturday, November 1.

Redwood-Norris loop is a route I’ve been looking forward to ride. Tony had originally posted it on short notice back in May but I wasn’t able to make it then. I had an inkling that since it starts in the East Bay on the eastern side of the Caldecott Tunnel and runs for almost 50 miles and 3,000 feet, it would attract a special group of riders open to new experiences. Long story short today’s ride was fan-damn-tastic especially with Cathy, Larry, and Peter onboard! (Poor Rick called in sick so we’ll see about making it up in the future.)

The morning was foggy and dreary but my mood lightened up when I saw sunshine and blue sky on the other side of the Caldecott. From Orinda we took an easy pace through Moraga and turned onto Pinehurst Road. The climb was consistent and moderate as Peter and I commented about how Cathy and Larry effortlessly moved ahead with the former having announced earlier that she’s expected to be slow and the latter being a newer cyclist finally hitting his stride.

When we descended to Redwood Road, I noted about the road being on sport car enthusiasts’ radar so we should be alert. A few loud motorcyclists and sport cars zoomed by but maintained respectful distance throughout the length of Redwood Road. The climb happens in three stages with the third being the steepest. After the descent—be careful of potholes!—we stopped by Redwood Canyon Golf Course for a quick refuel and restroom break. This is a nice public golf course popular with passing cyclists and people have always been courteous and friendly from my previous stops. The nice golfer who took our group picture asked about our ride and mentioned about doing the Headlands on following day. When I told him of the sidewalk closure on the GGB for an event, he quickly said he’ll head for San Bruno mountain instead on his mountain bike. All the fellow cyclists you get to meet when you go beyond your usual comfort zone!

Leaving Castro Valley Peter and I took the wrong turn based on some internal glitch within RWGPS. After a course adjustment, we were then underway onto Crow Canyon Road. This is a fairly utilitarian regional road used by commuters to and from the San Ramon Valley. Surprisingly there was quite a bit of Saturday traffic. When the bike lane ended and the road narrowed, we moved cautiously in single file with me at the back with red blinking lights until the turn to Norris Canyon Road. Peter noted the newer pavement here. It’s mostly quiet and under tree canopy which would be so welcoming on a warm summer day. It starts at moderate grade but has two short stretches that go up to 10% as if to tease what’s to come. On the final climb I saw the canopy giving way to blue sky up ahead and I pushed to conquer that finishing 10%. At the top the road flattens with rolling pastures and farms on both sides. We took some selfies and were all smiles, amazed at how the big climb seemed far less taxing than expected.

After the descent and roll through the suburbs, we arrived for lunch at Sultan’s Kebab in Danville, another delightful and reliable go-to from Tony. Peter and Cathy got the combo (chicken and lamb) shawarma salad, Larry got the chicken, and I got the lamb. For my dish the dressing was tangy and the meat was smokey and gamey, just what lamb kebab should be. We lingered a bit and chatted while Peter ordered Turkish coffee and dessert. On the return we took the Iron Horse Trail instead of Danville Boulevard. The street route from Walnut Creek to Orinda seemed a bit long on a full tummy with some unexpected climbs and turns but Peter expertly navigated us back to Orinda BART. This route is a definite keeper for the adventurous.

—Chris Chiang

Ride Leader Kate Dresher sends in this report on last Sunday’s ride to Stinson Beach:

Four riders—Nancy, William aka Milo, Darrell, and I—tackled the Mill Valley-Stinson Beach loop, returning via the climb to Pantoll Camp out of Stinson. It was a gorgeous ride, pedaling into and out of fog several times during the morning. Weather was superb—nice mix of cooler temps on the hills and the warmth of the sun shining in clear skies elsewhere. We considered shortening the ride when we arrived at a somewhat foggy Four Corners on the way out—to avoid possible pea-soup conditions along the coast between Muir Beach and Stinson—and are so glad we didn’t! Gorgeous day, fun outing and a great hill workout. No pictures were taken of the group. Oops! I think Milo took some vids of the fog….

Ride leader Chris Chiang submitted this report on last Saturday’s Mt. Diablo ride.

On this inaugural Spicy Saturday ride Kevin, Peter, and I formed a mighty trio as we aimed for Mount Diablo Junction. I put the ride together last minute when the day became vacant without a club ride. I was relieved that both Kevin and Peter joined to keep me honest and committed to the ride and thought it was phenomenal with just two-day notice. They’re both good riders and pretty chill road companions. From Pleasant Hill BART we made an easy and efficient pedal. At the North Gate ranger booth, we stopped to chat with the ranger to confirm road and weather conditions. There have been online chatters about certain ranger(s) issuing tickets to cyclists for seemingly technical and minor infractions. We did our best to establish rapport and flash some pearly whites before getting underway.

The climb is no joke and there are 8-12% sections right from the start. Kevin, being the superstar climber, pulled away like a little billy goat while Peter and I focused on our own rides. We passed multiple cyclists and were passed by others. There was hardly a single car as the day begins to warm. The road is narrow for two-lane traffic with moderate cracks in places and no shoulders.  There are bike pullouts in places which cyclists are expected to use to allow trailing vehicles pass. A-okay and no problem. But it was also at a bike pullout where a cyclist got ticketed for not hand-signaling the return/merge back to the traffic lane. Apparently that ranger followed the cyclist and issued the citation even though there was a hundred feet or more separating them with no effect to any flowing traffic. Not even a warning, but a ticket!

I took plenty of water breaks while Peter passed me. I then passed him for the next few turns. We kept up this game of leapfrog until Kevin descended to us about a mile from the Junction after getting there himself. This time of year is Mount Diablo’s tarantula mating season. Male spiders from four to seven years of age leave the safety of their burrows to look for female spiders, including crossing the road. Someone showed Kevin a male spider and helped it gingerly to the other side safely. Typically the male dies in the winter after mating while the female lays eggs and get to live up to 25 years.  The female might even kill and eat the male after mating especially if she’s hungry! If I were a tarantula, I’d gratefully be a fabulous gay one that safely climbs uphill to meet with my buddies.

Kevin showed us a rest stop with water spigot a quarter mile from the Junction. We then made a beeline to the Junction for some selfies and more hearty laughs about the poor male spiders. The descent was cautious but efficient as Kevin stopped to take pictures of Peter and me going downhill.  When we were near the bottom where Mount Diablo Scenic Boulevard widens and begins to flatten, we each instinctively accelerated and started spinning. Peter chasing Kevin, and me behind responding, us laughing about the seemingly easy effort when we stopped at traffic lights.

We arrived at Lunardi’s in Danville in what seemed like 30 minutes, but…er…probably closer to 40. Kevin’s husband, Christian, joined us there and we had a quick meal together. Lucky Kevin then got in the car with hubby to spend the day with family. Peter and I decided to go off the planned route and just ride leisurely down the Iron Horse Trail. This is the nicer part of the Trail because it’s in between established residential area and mostly under the shade. We returned to Pleasant Hill BART a little past 2 PM.  A quite enjoyable few hours on a Saturday with no worries to optimize weekend plans or commodify experience.  Spicy climb indeed, and that’s why we ride.