Technically we didn’t because neither of our ride leaders remembered to bring a club waiver. So, the six of us were just “friends out for a ride together.” Besides David Sexton and Gordon Dinsdale, the ride hosts, our group comprised of me, Nancy Levin, Bill Holt, and Steven Shirreffs. Atypically we did not linger at the start in traditional DSSF style mainly because David was concerned we’d be frozen waiting for the perpetually tardy and those of us who need time to adjust our make-up. Within minutes of the BART train arriving we were off.

Previous New Years Days on Mt. Diablo have brought us everything from snow, hellish rain (no one rode that year), polar vortices, and balmy warm days. This year we avoided rain but it was fairly cold by Norcal standards, i.e. it was in the forties! Ugly overcast skies slowly turned to sunshine, however Diablo’s summit was immersed in clouds for much of the first half of the day. Unlike some years no one was rushing to get to the top. In fact it was a regular chatfest all the way up. Nancy and I got to check in after not seeing each other in months. Since I last saw her she’s undergone a bike change and is now sporting a beautiful blue Waterford with giganto 32mm tires, after which I lusted. We reached the Junction gruppo compatto with nary a misplaced eyelash. Perhaps it was because of our early start, but the Junction lacked the large crowds one usually sees on Jan. 1. The mountain looked positively deserted compared to previous editions.

As we pushed to the summit the temperature slowly plummeted and the wind picked up. Past the short but torturous 18% final section we saw just a small crowd frolicking on top. Fortunately it didn’t take long for our small pack to regroup because we just had to get off the top and out of the wind. The view was disappointing with clouds swirling around us. David commented that in the past clear days allowed us to see the snow-capped Sierras but not today. Down we went. Also unlike previous years, there were fewer idiots careening downhill at unwise speed; people pretty much seemed to be conscious that we were sharing the road. However one Phreddy Pro passed me—of course with no verbal warning (most are hardly past the one-word stage of development) and then proceeded to pass two other cyclists and a car…on a curve.

We took the cut-through into Diablo and ended up at Lunardi’s, chilled and hungry. Most opted for soup but I was hankering for cheap Chinese, which I got at the adjacent Panda Express. Sidenote: years ago nothing was open New Years in Danville but now just about everything is! After a refreshing break on the Lunardi’s patio, we did a brief tour of the Caboose tearoom and then sprinted northward back to Pleasant Hill BART. The best way to start the new year!

Is this too obvious a question? We all know what a Different Spokes ride is, right? It’s a ride listed in our ride calendar and led by a member of the club. Our calendar does have a few non-DSSF rides such as local century rides. These aren’t Different Spokes rides per se but are rides that either have been popular with Spokers in the past or that a member would like other Spokers to ride with even though it’s not offered by DSSF. But for the most part the above answer is trite and true.

However a Social “A” Ride this year caused me to mull over this question a bit more deeply. As far as I know, the turnout on all but one Social “A” Rides has been completely LGBT ranging from just me and Roger (only once!) to about a dozen riders. On the one exception we had 13 riders and six turned out to be non-LGBT couples whom a Different Spokes member invited along. They were very pleasant, older, and obviously at least LGBT-tolerant if not –friendly. The ride was fine: everybody got along and we had a fabulous ride with a delicious (and noisy) lunch afterwards. But the group dynamics were subtlely different. I certainly noticed that my behavior changed with having so many straight people along who also happened to be old farts the same age as I. Those of you who are younger and are “post gay” may not have experienced having to pass; maybe you came out in elementary school or your parents were fine with having a queer child. But some of us who hid in the straight world or didn’t have such a supportive milieu are intimately acquainted with trying to pass for straight (or at least, be less fey lest we suffer the consequences) and some of us still have a latent, automatic habit of going into passing mode that we have to deliberately check. However in this case it wasn’t pretending to be straight. Instead I caught myself pretending to be less “gay chatty”: I just toned it down “for the benefit of our straight friends”. After all, I wanted them to feel welcome and talking about the things that we typically talk about in front of non-LGBT people might upset them. I reverted to talking as I talk in the office, i.e. “safe for work”. It’s not that I typically converse racily on Different Spokes rides but when sex comes up—um, does it ever not come up?—I don’t shy away from it. Until this ride.

Occasionally rides in our calendar are cross-listed with another club, invariably a non-LGBT club. Most recently it’s been Stephanie cross-listing her Grizzly Peak rides with us, and that actually has worked out well for me and Roger because we also belong to Grizzly Peak and have quite a few Grizzly friends and acquaintances. They’re a Berkeley-based club and have “Berkeley” values, plus they seem to have more lesbian members than we do! I’ve been on a few cross-listed rides over the years and these are a “different” kettle of queers altogether because one can safely presume we would be outnumbered by non-LGBT folks. With the exception of cross-listed rides, I do not recall a club ride that had such a high proportion of non-LGBT participants until this recent Social A Ride. So, I can perhaps plead lack of practice for my behavior.

Occasionally we have had straight folks some of our rides. Back in the day it was usually because they didn’t realize that Different Spokes was a queer cycling group and they invariably never came back. Some folks were “fellow travelers”—they had gay family members, or when AIDS was decimating our community they were straight people deeply affected by the epidemic. In that era we had a larger profile due to the AIDS Bike-A-Thon. In recent times we’ve had a few straight and queer-friendly members, perhaps providing some evidence that we are slowly rolling towards ‘post-gay.’ But they’ve always been a minority, a few straight droplets in a sea of Gay.

Back to my question: what makes a Different Spokes ride? A Different Spokes ride is our space: it’s a cycling environment where we can be gay, i.e. just be ourselves and enjoy our second favorite activity, cycling. If we can’t be ourselves on a Different Spokes ride, then what’s the point? When non-LGBT people come on our rides, some may not realize they are entering a milieu where the cultural norms are slightly different. I’m pretty certain that a lot of straight folks would raise an unmanicured eyebrow or two at some of the explicit chatter that erupts on DSSF rides. If welcoming non-LGBT means toning it down, is it really a real hearty rainbow welcome? And if they are taken aback, is that our “fault”? Of course on this particular Social Ride I just made a presumption they would be taken aback. Perhaps they would not blinked a blasé eye but, alas, now we’ll never know.

In public spaces a good rule of thumb is to try to be respectful in speech and behavior. There is no sense in inadvertently offending or intentionally putting off others, is there? Respect is an important byword for all DSSF events. But Different Spokes rides are not like your  local public library; they are LGBT spaces where the values, customs, and behavior of the LGBT community predominate. Just because straight people come on a Different Spokes rides does not mean that suddenly the space is generically public and that our behavior should change. Isn’t it our space? Or, do we lose that “privilege” once we become a mixed environment? Sex is such a charged topic anyway—can one safely presume that all LGBT people on a DSSF ride would not be put off by explicit conversation? It’s like all intercultural communication: it’s hard to negotiate the middle ground when worlds collide.

It wasn’t December 21 but it sure felt like winter had arrived. This morning of the ride the thermometer said 38 F. Well, at least it wasn’t freezing but it was nippy when I poked my nose outside the front door. But I knew that if it was 38 at the house, then it was likely to be near freezing at the bottom of the hill. If you live in San Francisco or near the Bay, you don’t often see temperatures go below 40 and rarely below 35. But when you live in Contra Costa or Napa, it’s not uncommon in the winter to see frost on the ground or to have a freeze warning. Derek was the first casualty; he called me in the morning to moan that it was too cold and he’d have to bag the Social Ride today. Derek lives not far away in Walnut Creek; I couldn’t believe he’d be put off by a slight chill! Weaklings from San Francisco I can understand but not someone who lives over here! Fortunately it was bright sunshine and absolutely clear; I was confident it would warm up. Roger and I rolled down to Orinda BART to wait for Frank, who promptly showed up on the 9:45 BART train. Then I got an email from Jon saying he was bagging the ride too. So, the last Social Ride of the year was just Roger, me, and Frank.

This Social Ride is one of our favorite rides: it’s a jaunt from Orinda to Moraga and down the Lafayette Moraga Regional Trail, which is a converted rails-to-trails multi-use path. It’s a gentle downhill being a former rail line and therefore restricted to an average of about 2%. We had a nice warm up getting to Moraga because of the slight incline in between, but now rolling downhill we started to chill. By the time we got to Lafayette Roger, who never seems to be bothered by cold weather, was complaining his fingers were aching from the cold. And he was using little heater packs in his gloves, which alas seemed to be ineffective against the elements. We did a slight detour to Papillon Coffee Shop and got some warm drinks to boost our metabolisms and spirits. After a long discussion of the pitfalls and benefits of total knee replacements we got ready to head out. But Roger was still feeling too cold so he decided to turn around and go home. But Frank and I were determined to do the whole shebang.

We bade Roger farewell and took off. Being midday it was—to me—comfortably warm, and Frank certainly felt alright despite not wearing a hat under his helmet. Neither of us was dressed like polar bears but we clearly had layered adequately because as long as we kept moving we were generating enough heat. We rolled easily through the back roads of Walnut Creek and through Round Hill and out towards Blackhawk. Interestingly despite being a Saturday there were not the usual horde of cyclists throughout the San Ramon Valley. Maybe it was too chilly to ride?? We got to Chow in Danville and we lucked out again: their outside patio was completely in the sun and was plenty warm enough for us to dine alfresco. I love dining at Danville Chow not only because the well-placed patio is cozy and allows us to watch our bikes but because I’ve never had a bad meal there. This time I had their chicken noodle soup and a wedge salad. I’d never had their chicken noodle soup before: the broth was the real thing, not some canned fluid poured into a pot and it was perfect for a cold day. Frank had the mussels and a salad as well. His mussels were dripping in garlic and butter broth, which he soaked up with their toasted bread—it looked divine if a bit too heavy for a meal for me! More conversation ensued about the vagaries of riding in the Hudson Valley, riding in New York City, how the Bay Area has changed, getting new bikes, and maybe a little gossip about fellow Spokers not present!

It was a leisurely lunch—I think over an hour—and suitably refreshed we remounted our bikes and rolled up the Iron Horse, another converted rails-to-trails multi-use path, back to Walnut Creek. By now the sun was getting low in the sky and the trail had little direct sunlight. Even I was starting to feel a bit chilly. But the return has a few low hills and we warmed up and made it back to Orinda safely and pleasantly tired.

Stay tuned for Social Ride plans for 2017. We’ve already started working on the calendar and have some fav reruns as well as some interesting new routes and lunch stops!

            They was a splishin’ and a splashin’

            Reelin’ with the feelin’

            Movin’ and a groovin’

            Rockin’ and a rollin’. Yeah!

                                    –Bobby Darin

Another year and another Different Spokes pool party has now gurgled down the drain. We got some heat this year, real heat and not the so-so heat we’ve had the last few years. In fact it was so hot that poor Howard really started a-reelin’ and we had to call 911 to get him checked out. But more on that later…

Just the facts, Ma’am.

This year 20 men showed up to pedal and paddle, and I do mean 20 men…as in zero women. It was a stag party by default. And no, that didn’t mean we went crazy wild in the pool, folks. Eight animals, who were patently into some kind of BDSM cycling thing, decided to do the new longer, climbier route and seven sane, mild not wild Spokers did the regular, well-mannered, Goldilocks-kinda route. The former was only five miles longer but it took the Pain Gang up Shepherd Canyon Road. Um, that would be the hella steep grind you’ve never heard of. Unless you live over here. Based on the moaning and complaining I got afterwards it was obviously a fantastic hit. With that feedback in mind I’ll definitely plan on an even harder route for you whiners next year. (Hint: if you did the Orinda Hill Hopper with me years back, you know what you’re doing next year, ha ha!) The goal is to utterly silence any kvetching by either having absolutely no one take up the challenge of doing the harder route or only getting dainty, quaint compliments on how absolutely lovely it was! You’ve been warned.

Prancing About.

Sal and David Goldsmith led the long route while Doug O’Neill and David Gaus led the regular route with me as the sweep. I can’t say much about the BDSM ride since I wasn’t there. But the vanilla group had a fabulous time. In fact, the mood was very much like one of our Social Rides, i.e. there was a lot of gabbing and gossiping going on. We only shut up after the second hairpin on Pinehurst, when all talking ceases and heavy breathing increases! Of course after catching one’s breath we were right back at it. Topics of the day included the most au courant excuses why we haven’t been riding much (“Girl, I’ve been watching the Olympics! Did you see that David Boudia in the synchronized riding? I’d like to synchronize my dive with him!”); why the brakes must be rubbing the rim because there’s no other reason why I’m going so slowly; what percent grade is Pinehurst??, and “Darling, that kit you’re wearing is absolutely smashing!” Strangely enough the only real topic worth discussing—Howard’s brand new, custom titanium/carbon Seven superbike with SRAM E-Tap shifting(!!!!)—elicited absolutely no notice from anyone other than me (I’m known for my wandering eye—bike eye, that is). So we sashayed up Pinehurst and moseyed along Skyline even stopping twice to take in the view and snap some panoramas and selfies with our phones. On the descent into Berkeley the animals finally caught up with us and vanished off into the distance whilst we continued to meander along Wildcat lost in chatter. On Old El Toyonal Wanderson, who had left with the Queen Bees but then had been mercilessly dropped Mean Girls-style, finally caught up with us and we arrived at the pool party gruppo compatto. The animals (minus Wanderson) had apparently arrived long ago and did not delay in beelining to the Playa del Pédés ‘cause there was a-splishin’ and a-splashin’ going on when we rolled up.

Mouth Action.

Brunch was the usual—Caesar salad, Aidell’s sausages (this year it was Spicy Mango and Jalapeño), and pasta with pesto made of basil from our garden. There was the usual array of desserts from people designed to give your pancreas a workout and your brain a nice sugar high although chocolates were strangely absent (except for David’s truffles). Of note was Bill Knudsen’s delicious homemade peach kuchen! In contrast to the distant past when beers would have flowed like October in Munich, this was a way dry crowd except for just a few oldtimers. Man, it was like hanging out with Mormons—no alcohol, no chocolate, no caffeine. This training nonsense must stop. Are we a cult yet?

Howard’s End.

Although the rides took place under comfortable conditions, with the constant sun the temperature rose into the low 90s over lunch despite the deck being under awnings. After a hard ride and a couple of adult beverages, Howard apparently hadn’t rehydrated enough because he suddenly started to pass out. Jeff screamed, “Howard, who’s the President of the United States?” trying to elicit a coherent response. Being preoccupied in the kitchen, I hadn’t seen anything odd occur. So when I rushed out to see what the hell was going on, Howard actually didn’t look too bad and at least could talk coherently to me. By that time Roger had already summoned 911, and for our next drama we had an upclose and personal visit from our local fire department. Whilst the EMTs administered to Howard, there were murmurs in the background that went back and forth between Howard’s well-being and how lucky he was to get all that attention from the four young, hunky men in uniform. My god, you would have thought there was a porn movie taking place in real life judging from the hushed whispers and salacious side comments. I thought for sure some others were going to faint and ask for medical attention as well. In any case even though Howard seemed well enough he was whisked off to the ER just to make sure (after all he—like some of us—is “of an age”). And no, there was no filming in the back of the ambulance. Naughty boys!

Riding Off Into the Sunset.

Not long after, folks decided they had had enough drama and heat for the day—plus laundry and other mundane tasks demanded attention before Monday’s slog to work beckoned—and riders packed up their beachwear and took off for BART. The Den Daddy went off to the ER to make sure Howard was going to be alright and he returned to get that dip in the pool he missed (as if the pool at Rossmoor wasn’t good enough!). Things quieted down pleasantly leaving just Joe, Lamberto, Roger, Derek and me to shoot the bull about dining in Contra Costa, the vagaries of local pizzerias, and the fabulous amenities at Rossmoor. We didn’t break up until 6:30 making it one long day of fun, food, foolery, and fabulous blathering.

Hostesses With the Mostesses.

This year marks the ninth year of the Orinda Pool Party, originally called the “Recession Special”. (You do remember the Great Recession, don’t you?) Originally it was an excuse to have a ride but also something that was more than a ride. Often the club will do a ride together and then we take off to tend to our busy lives. The Orinda Pool Party was meant to go beyond that. I hope we have succeeded. Well, at least people seem to be coming back! It is also a way for Roger and me to give something back to the club. Clubs survive and thrive on the energy and volunteerism from its members. Although putting on a pool party is perhaps beyond the means of most members, offering to do something for the club is something anyone can do. It can be as simple as stepping forward to sweep a ride you’ve joined, leading a ride, or posting something to the Yahoo! Group. It could be something more ambitious such as helping to plan a weekend getaway or organize a group dinner. Riding isn’t always about “training” even if many of us do enjoy training (although I’m not sure quite what for). Rides can just transport us to different locations but they can also transport us to another level of friendship and camaraderie. Anyone can release their inner Perle Mesta!

The July 4 weekend saw Different Spokes return to the dirt with the first sorta-mountain bike ride in…well, a whole long time! This was supposed to be a pleasant jaunt in Tilden Park with a couple of wicked descents and one hellacious climb up Seaview Trail. I say it was a ‘sorta mtb’ ride because I have actually never done it on a mountain bike: I’ve only done it on a road bike but each time I wonder if I’m fucking nuts for having done so. Part of the problem is that I haven’t had a working mountain bike in years, so I’ve just been riding fire roads on my road bike. It’s quite doable…until you get to Seaview. But that wasn’t why things became hellish because we actually never made it to Seaview.

Listing a dirt ride with Different Spokes has been a futile proposition for at least the better part of a decade. The average has probably around one dirt ride per year and maybe one or two people will go. Why is that? We used to have a prolific mountain bike contingent and dirt ride participation matched road rides. Somewhere around the Millenium we started to become a de facto road-only club and I’m not sure why. I personally wandered away from dirt rides in the early ‘90s (note: ancient history warning!!) after singletrack in the Marin Headlands was shut down by the NPS (they also shut down a whole bunch of fire roads including some of my favs). At the same time Marin Water was escalating harassment of cyclist on Mt. Tam; I remember numerous times when rangers were out radaring cyclists at blind corners and giving out tickets—I barely avoided one myself. It just started to be a big hassle. Then my mountain bike became my commute bike, which became my rusty heap because I rode it rain or shine and didn’t give it whole lot of love.

Every now and then Doug O’Neil or Andrew Lee, who was and is an avid dirt rider who only does road because he needs to stay in shape for dirt riding, would reminisce about “how it used to be”. So, I decided to test the waters… (tune: theme music to “Jaws”)

It was just Doug O’Neill and David Sexton and me. Doug was the only person to show up on an actual mountain bike even if it was turning into a dinosaur by today’s standards. It did have front suspension but no rear; it was 26-inch, not 29- or 27.5-, the new “standards”, and had—gasp—V-brakes. Doug’s bike made my mountain bike look positively primordial. But I didn’t have a mountain bike: I had a Redline, which was one of my commuters. But it did have disc brakes and I had swapped out the slicks for some meatier 33mm cross tires. David showed up on a real road bike, his old Specialized. His only concession to going on dirt was to put 28mm “mini-knob” tires on it. But I was pretty sure he was going to make it up Seaview because he had lower gearing than I’ve ever had.

Things started out fine as we rode up El Toyonal, which has some hella steep sections but eventually we go up Wildcat and avoid the really horrible section on Lomas Cantadas. We headed out the Nimitz Trail, which is a paved trail that starts at Inspiration Point in Tilden Park. The Nimitz originally was the access road for the Nike missle silos on top of the Berkeley hills, which is why it was paved. But eventually the pavement ends and you’re on dirt. We never got that far before disaster struck. One of David’s pedals decided to spontaneously eject from his crank. We spent over half an hour trying to get the pedal reinserted and concluded it was hopeless because the crank was cross-threaded. The best we could do was get it in about halfway. David elected, wisely, to abandon the ride and look for a pro shop to get it fixed. Doug and I continued on and dropped down the Mezue Trail, which was not the intended route! I mistakenly missed a turn but Doug had barreled ahead by the time I realized we were off-course so there was nothing to do but continue to the bottom. At the bottom we rolled along Wildcat Creek back into the civilized section of Tilden and started up the Meadow Canyon Trail when Disaster #2 struck (tune: theme music to “Jaws” again): I got bit by a dog. It wasn’t a nip, it was a full on, I-think-your-leg-is-a-lamb-shank, gnarly bite. As I was cycling up the trail at a snail’s pace four off-leash dogs came trotting down. One of them, a medium sized dog gave no indication of aggression and actually looked like he was coming over to sniff me. As I have twice had collisions with off-leash dogs (I ended up in the SF General ER after the second one), I was moving away from him when he lunged and grabbed my left leg like it was tonight’s dinner trying to run away. I ended up with deep puncture wounds and a trip to the ER. To make a long story short, that was the end of the first Different Spokes dirt ride of 2016! But we will be going to Big Basin State Park in August for our second round. What next? Mountain lions?

In July the Social Ride took on a beloved ride, the Sawyer Camp Trail. The Sawyer Camp Trail has been a club ride since the beginning but its popularity waxes and wanes. For one, even though it’s close to San Francisco it’s not an especially easy ride to get to. No matter which direction you approach the north trailhead you’re in for a climb and a stiff one at that. Of course once you’re on the trail you realize why it’s so beloved: it follows the rift zone created by the San Andreas fault and is a pleasant meander through the Crystal Springs Reservoir area, a semi-natural and undeveloped reserve that stores San Francisco’s water. On weekends the Trail sees mobs of walkers and a smattering of cyclists, making it a dangerous place to race with its many blind curves, not that one should since it is a multi-use path and the speed limit is set at 15 mph. Apparently bike-pedestrian accidents did occur because at one point a 10 mph limit was imposed and police were ticketing speeding riders. When that happened back in the ‘80s, I pretty much stopped using the trail because I was using it to get to the Peninsula from San Francisco and I wasn’t interested in moseying. The speed limit was since been raised (and the rangers with radar guns seem to be gone as well) making it a perfect place for a Social Ride—except for the getting to the trailhead part!

It was just four of us this time—Roger, me, Omar, and Stephen—but the weather was beautifully cooperative: sunny, mild breeze, and a touch of cool at the start of a mid-80s day. The grind up Murchison proved to be a daunting test for Stephen, reducing him to walking when it became painfully wall-like. But he made it up. The trail was moderately busy but everyone was polite and attentive (a rarity these days with so many folks listening to tunes). We stopped several times to take in the views and take pics. After we exited the trail we ended up on Canada Road, another cyclists’ paradise even though it wasn’t a Bicycle Sunday. Our next stop was the Pulgas Water Temple, the entrance of the Hetch Hetchy water into the Crystal Springs Water, for a pit stop and a quick tour. All this time Stephen was snapping pics and sending them to his husband, who couldn’t make it to the ride because he was out of state visiting relatives. This is a picture-perfect place for a picnic lunch on a ride, but we had other plans and were heading to Mediterranean Kebab! We climbed up Edgewood and dropped down to the flatlands and made our way north to downtown Burlingame for a repast. We lucked out and got al fresco tables. Ah, their baba ghanoush is wickedly good! Conversation ended when our plates arrived–was that because it was so good or because we were so famished? Both! Fortunately after such a filling lunch we had just a few miles back to Millbrae BART.

Next month: the Iron Horse Trail to Khyber Pass Kebob in Dublin.

Yesterday’s Social Ride took place under sunny skies and some light heat when afternoon temps made it up into the mid-80s. The rain the previous couple of days had cleaned out the haze and gave us nicely crisp views of the valley hills. Bill, Joe, and Omar joined Roger and me for the 40-mile ride up to St. Helena to grab some panini at Sogni di Dolci. Because the jaunt up the Silverado Trail is so flat (well, actually it’s gently rolling) we dusted off the tandem, which we hadn’t ridden since last October. Although I expected that we would have a faster pace than usual due to the flatness and good quality of the road, folks apparently wanted a really fast pace so we obliged: we averaged 14.7 mph! That’s the high end of C pace and unheard of for a Social Ride. I’ll just say that was an aberration. In all fairness ride leaders may modify the pace and/or route if they have the permission (acquiescence?) of the participants.

We arrived at Sogni di Dolci and were able to grab a table alfresco. Everyone but Omar ordered various kinds of panini (he just had to have a salad). I had a chèvre and roasted red pepper panini with capers and arugula. It was heaven. Oh yeah, and I got a bowl of their french fries, which had been fried to perfection. Only Joe indulged in an adult beverage, a watermelon flavored (!) beer. No one was displeased with their lunch.

The one major disappointment of the day was the line at Bouchon Bakery was way out the door, about a half-hour wait. Given the afternoon warmth we declined and sped back to Napa. Of note there is a brand new separate multi-use path along Solano Avenue, which is the frontage road to Highway 29. It even has its own bridges. This path runs from the front of the Yountville Veterans Home all the way down to Napa. Although Solano Avenue is also freshly paved and often free of traffic, having the separate path will be a boon for those riding at a casual pace and seeking to avoid interaction with cars.

Next month we’re back to a BART accessible location with the ride starting at Millbrae BART and heading up to the Sawyer Camp Trail with a return along Alameda de las Pulgas. Lunch will be at Mediterranean Kebab in Burlingame. And we’ll be back to our chatty A pace!

It’s a sign of the times: not only do we post rides at the last minute but folks send their RSVPs at late as possible too. Two days before our Social A Ride Roger and I thought we were going to be doing it alone. By Saturday morning there were eight of us! Rarely do I not produce a cue sheet, but this ride, which takes in the multi-use paths along the Bay through San Mateo County, is a convoluted mess that would cause headaches if you really tried to do it by cues. So I skipped it. It’s a social ride anyway so I figured we would stay together. Perhaps that was a mixed blessing because my navigation was rather wonky.  The group might have done better if they had followed cue sheets rather than my confused leadership. Roger and I hadn’t ridden the route in a year plus I had altered it to include more paths in Foster City. To add insult to injury I was using a Garmin Edge 1000, which I already knew was prone to navigational mishaps (the topic for a future long blog posting), and mid-ride it experienced—mirabile visu!—a major meltdown that had me nervous for the rest of the trip. Thankfully Roger was using an older Garmin 800, which is near bombproof, and between memory and frequent consultation we were able to complete the ride with only slight delay. Mea culpa! Next time I’ll prepare better.

We had four new club members join the ride—Frank, Stephen, Greg, and a returning former member, Bill—in addition to Mr. Mileage (David Sexton), Roger, me, and Omar. The weather was near-perfect with no wind, low 80s, and abundant sunshine. Highlights included the wind sculptures at Seal Point, Larry Ellison’s America’s Cup winning sailboat in the Oracle lagoon, and an intimate tour of Foster City architecture. Better see it now before global warming has it under the Bay (just as it was before 1960). Of course the real highlight was lunch. This time we partook of a nondescript looking Indian restaurant, Tabla, which serves south Indian food, i.e. spicy. The place was full of South Asians so we sensed we were in the right place. Boy, was it good. The service was spotty—Greg and Stephen finally got their lunch—but the kitchen knew what it was doing. This was probably the first Indian restaurant in the Bay Area we had eaten at where the food arrived spicy, i.e. we didn’t have to request that it be made hot. Lord knows what would happen if you asked for it Indian-hot—probably we’d become flamethrowers. On a whim I ordered medu vada, which was described as an Indian donut. Yes, it was shaped like a donut and it was deep fried but that was the end of the resemblance. Made from ground lentils it was distinctly savory rather than sweet.

After lunch we rolled back to Millbrae BART. Frank commented that after all that hot food cycling was difficult. Well, I was definitely needing a nap!

Next month we’re off to the Napa valley to ride the Silverado Trail and slobber down some delicious panini at Sogni di Dolci in St. Helena and some baked goods from Bouchon Bakery. See you there!

This year’s Wine Country Century, a club favorite, took place on a rainy day. That’s the first time I can remember that happening in quite a long time. The prediction was for “showers”, which turned out to be technically true—it rained off and on—but it was mostly wet and occasionally very wet. It started raining steadily not far from the start and I grimly thought it was going to be one long day in the saddle. But eventually it relented and the rest of the day when it did rain it was less daunting. Yet we rode the entire day in rain gear. I even brought up my rain bike (which is heavy) because I thought fenders would come in handy and boy, was I glad I had them.

There were supposed to be a fair number of fellow Spokers up there but we saw nary a one. Since we were doing the metric, my guess is that you all were out in the hills doing the full century and fighting the same rain and wind—if not worse—that we were dealing with along Westside Road.

In Northern California we are coddled by such good riding weather that rain almost always means waiting until later in the day or the next morning to do a ride. This winter with El Nino I finally developed a Portland mentality and rode rain or shine. It sure helped today! Unfortunately one old habit I still retain is that when it rains my focus narrows to just finishing the ride as fast as possible rather than enjoying it. I’m sure there were occasional beautiful sights—as there usually are—on the Wine Country but I ended up revving the engine and making for the barn door as quickly as possible. We definitely didn’t linger at the rest stops despite the admirable display of goodies. So I can’t say I truly relished the Wine Country even if I did finish it.

Despite the weather it is worth noting that the Santa Rosa Cycling Club did their usual stellar work in hosting this ride. The rest stop food was copious and not perfunctory. Having coffee and hot chocolate especially on a rainy day was soothing and encouraging. The food at the end was, as usual, yummy: we both had the tri-tip and thought it was well prepared, and the food line was not at all stingy at dumping more food on our plates!

Observations along the way: (1) Sag wagons were kept busy all day. It seems a lot of people were abandoning the ride. (2) There were a lot of flats. We passed more groups of cyclists repairing tires than I have ever seen on a century. That happens when it rains. (3) I was surprised at how many riders did not bring any rain gear at all. But SRCC gave out garbage bags for emergency rain wear at the rest stops and we saw lots of riders using them. (4) We saw just one crash, outside of Geyserville. (5) People were happy to be riding despite the rain!

We were done by 1 p.m. As we drove down 101 we were hit by yet more rain. We were thinking of poor you hundred-milers!

David Gaus’s annual visit to his old stomping grounds took place this past weekend. Despite having relocated from Hollister years ago he loves to show the club the roads he haunted when he was a wee Spoker. Boy, is it a schlep from SF: about a hundred miles or more than an hour and a half of freeway driving in good traffic. Other than some weekend tours in the early days of the club, the only other club ride I had been on that was further away was a Chris Thomas ride in Fresno. So, for the first time we drove down to check out the scene in rural San Juan Bautista. Apparently the curiosity of others was piqued as well: besides our leader and the two of us we rode with Donald, Omar, Roger Sayre, Parker, Gary, and Tom. All of us were either from the East Bay or SF.

The weather was near-superb: bright sunshine the entire day with moderate temps with just a tad of heat at the end of the day. The only minor bummer was the constant coastal headwind that made riding in the Salinas flatlands a bit challenging. But that comes with the territory and although not endearing at least it wasn’t brutal. San Juan Bautista, is a dinky town of just 2,000 folks and is probably most famous for its mission, used in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo for Kim Novak’s demise (twice!) The edge of town is the beginning of the vast ag land in San Benito County and crossing the highway we almost immediately lost civilization and entered the beautiful countryside. Fortunately spring heat hadn’t yet diminished the still verdant grasses of the hills.

There were just two climbs of the day and the first one up San Juan Grade is right at the start. We were a chatty little group, climbing together. At the top Monterey County begins and you are made aware of it by the transition in pavement from crappy to decent chip seal. These are isolated county roads with nary a center line. That they get any love at all from the county road departments these days is miraculous. We dropped towards Salinas and re-entered Car Hell, with lots of SUVs and pickups zooming into town. The lack of a shoulder at times made dancing with cars even more fun. The farm roads were more devoid of death monsters and a relief to ride on but being beaten to death by farm trucks and starved for maintenance we had a rough ride until we got to Castroville.

David had planned this ride around a generous number of re-fooding/re-caffeining stops, making it a schizophrenic day: race like the dickens, then relax and refresh leisurely. We stopped at a Starbucks in Salinas and then later stopped for a more substantial lunch at the Artichoke food truck at Pezzini Farms near the coast. Needless to say their speciality was artichokes, grilled, fried, deep fried. I had their Po’ Boy filled with deep fried ‘chokes. Yummy!

A big portion of the middle of the 55-mile ride was touring Elkhorn Slough, a vast, meandering tidal slough full of wildlife. You would think it would be dead-flat being a slough. But it wasn’t—it squiggled and rollercoastered up and down making it delightful to ride except for the occasional terror of being passed cars on the narrow road with no sight line. Eventually we ended up in the little town of Aromas for our final snack stop at a local minimart. The fave seemed to be ice cream bars of various sorts washed down with sugar drinks and bags of chips and Cheetos. Isn’t cycling a healthy activity? For some reason Tom seemed to like to read the ingredient lists aloud, as if we cared how much high fructose corn syrup we were downing. Any port in a storm!

The final push was over Carr Road, a climb that reared its ugly head just a couple blocks away from the minimart. It’s not a long climb but I did hear someone scream, “It’s 14%!!” at one brutal moment. Then it was just a long descent back to Vertigo Coffee Roasters in SJB for more refreshment before the long drive back to the Bay Area. Thanks David!