It’s April and Spokers’ thoughts turn to…riding centuries. Such as the Tierra Bella next weekend. The week after is the Primavera in Fremont, and then there is the Chico Wildflower, the Wine Country, Grizzly Peak, the Davis Double, and on and on. But if you’re like me you’ve probably had better things to do with your time than train for a one hundred mile ride. In our case it was traveling in Patagonia and being off the bike for three weeks. Yet Roger and I recently completed the Solvang Century on our tandem.

This was Roger’s second century ever, and only the second century I have done in probably ten years. I had been doing tons of centuries in the 80s and 90s and I just burned out on them. The imagined glamour of completing 100 or more miles in a day was replaced by the drudgery of getting up early, the reality of having killed an entire day in the saddle, and then feeling wiped out and catatonic for at least another day afterwards. But after years of being away from doing long rides (or at least, this kind of long ride), we actually had a hell of a good time. And, we did it on no training. How did we do it? Well, boys and girls, let me ‘splain it to you!

(1) Choose Your Ride Carefully

Doing the Death Ride without any training as your first century would be, well, deadly. So, the key is to pick a century that’s benign and as flat as possible. Climbing can really tax your cardiovascular system and drain you quickly, making the remainder of your ride a two-wheeled version of the Stations of the Cross. Take it easy by keeping your heart rate and exertion level in the ‘comfortable range’, so the flatter the better! The Solvang is notoriously flat (well, flat for California). In fact, despite its advertising of Foxen Canyon as being a “hard” climb, it’s a great first century route with mostly flat or rolling terrain. The climbs do come at the end of the Solvang but they pale in comparison to a typical Bay Area hill—they were neither steep nor long. Headwinds and bad weather can be the bane of the Solvang, but the former were mild this year and we had no rain at all because of this unusually dry winter. In the Bay Area, the flattest century we have is the Wine Country in early May, which unfortunately is completely sold out for this year. (The Hekaton, which is no longer run, was even flatter.) Your next best bet is the Delta Century out of Stockton in May and then the Foxy Fall out of Davis in October, both in the Sacramento Valley.

(2) Ride Slow

It’s hard to keep all that excitement under control when you’re surrounded by so many enthusiastic cyclists, most of whom have probably trained avidly and have thousands more miles under their belt than you. You take off like a rocket—after all, you’re feeling fresh, right?—and two rest stops later you’re thinking the sag wagon might not be a bad alternative. Surviving a century on no training means keeping it real: go slow, and I mean really slow. Slow as in ‘I can talk all day’ slow. If you’re huffing and puffing, you’re going too fast. Speeding up means you’ll use up all your carbs (glycogen) and then it’ll be suffering time. Going slow allows your body to rely more on burning fat. When you’re untrained, your body favors using stored sugar (glycogen) but you only have a limited supply. So, spare your stored glycogen and burn stored fat by riding at an easy pace and you’ll get through the day with a smile on your face!

(3) Be Patient

Going slow deliberately takes discipline. At Solvang I kept telling Roger not to follow wheels and not to follow other people’s pace, just go our own pace. One acceleration up a hill—after all, it’s just a short hill, right?—or any going into the red zone and we would regret it later. I wore a heart rate monitor at Solvang so I could monitor things, and my goal was to keep it in zone 1 for the majority of the ride and never, ever go above zone 3. If my heart rate went up, we backed off.

(4) Eat Lots

There’s a reason century rides have rest stops. You’re going to be burning through a lot of calories. But more importantly you’re going to be burning through your glycogen. I literally forced myself to eat at the rest stops, even though I sometimes was not feeling hungry, just to make sure I had enough carbs. A century is not a good time to exercise weight control. Eat lots. Eating sugary foods spares your untrained body’s paltry glycogen stores so that you’ll make it to the end. If you run out of glycogen, you’re bonking and it’s game over.

(5) Suck But Not Too Hard

Unfortunately we weren’t able to do that at Solvang because tandems and singles just don’t mix well and always seem to be going at different speeds. Plus, all the other tandems at Solvang seemed to be racing (read: were faster than we were.) Of course, that didn’t seem to prevent a scad of riders from sucking our wheel, mind you, and it just shows you how smart they were. If you can follow a wheel, that’s some free energy by staying out of the wind. The trick is to follow a wheel that isn’t going too fast. If you’re following a really fast wheel, then you may go into the red zone regardless, and then it’s like too much of a good thing: you’re going to burn out. So, even though the temptation might be to suck the wheel of Speed Racer—it’s going to be free speed, right?—don’t. Find a wheel of someone going your speed and suck their wheel so you can take it really easy. Low effort means you’ll last longer.

So, how did Solvang turn out? Great! Before Solvang our rides were generally no more than 30 to 40 miles in length but we did do one 65-mile ride this spring. Of course, then we had three weeks with no exercise. Nevertheless we were able to keep a steady pace all day without burning any matches and completed the ride in 6 hours and 17 minutes; our average speed was 15.8 miles per hour. We were certainly tired after a long day but we weren’t overly so, and actually we felt rather fresh at the end and weren’t punished by post-ride lethargy or soreness. Not bad for no training!

This past Saturday Roger and I, as usual, worked the registration tables at the 36th Annual Cinderella Classic and Challenge put on by the Valley Spokesmen (sic). It’s amazing to think that this ride has been put on annually for 36 years–since 1977–and with the same core leadership of Bonnie and Bob Powers. The Cinderella is likely the oldest female-only cycling event in the world and regularly maxes out its registration. Bob Powers told me that this year the event drew participants from 14 states (including Alabama!) and several other countries. This year about 2,500 folks were set to ride, but distressingly the weather report for the day was for rain and high wind. That didn’t deter a huge number of women from showing up anyway.

Saturday morning the rain had yet to make an appearance but fleets of dark clouds were quickly blowing out of the south. We had to show up at registration by 6:30 a.m. for the 7 a.m. opening. We got there early and were greeted by a line of participants eager to get their materials and take off. Despite the prospect of getting drenched and blown willy-nilly, women were excitedly chatting about the ride and with smiles on their faces.

Promptly at 7 we opened up and the horde streamed in. With so many participants registration was divided roughly into one line for each letter of the alphabet. Roger and I were working the M’s and probably had about 100+ packets each to give out. Despite the hectic pace of working registration it’s a bit of a kick. You get to briefly meet a huge variety of women and preview their fashion statement for the day. The most popular–and always a hit–is the cycling tutu, usually pink. Tiaras and feather boas vied for attention and Raggedy Ann socks were another perennial favorite. What ran through my mind was how those tutus were going to feel when they were waterlogged. The more sagacious riders came equipped with sensible clothing: waterproof rain jackets, pants, and shoe covers. In place of tiaras they sported plastic shower caps over their helmets. And, in a bit of a time warp there were quite a few women wearing cycling rain ponchos–OMG, I remember those from the 1970’s!! Old-timers–and there were gobs of them–showed off their collection of Cinderella patches from years past. A few women brought their bikes into the hall and I could see out the doors women passing by on their bikes or parking them. There were more fenders than I had seen in years past (smart!) but it was disconcerting to see so many without fenders. I know I hate riding with a wet ass. Nowadays the padding in shorts is thicker and when it gets wet it’s like a diaper–ugh!

Seeing a scad of cyclists who just happen to only be women also had me thinking about men’s and women’s cycling fashions. These days fashionable men’s kit is all black and white (and maybe some red) in very form fitting cuts: think Assos, Capo, Castelli. Sure, you see your share of loud, garish Primal jerseys and faux pro kits but it’s really starting to tone down a bit (thank god). For men it’s all about primary colors. For cycling clothes women have it so much better for colors: they can get jackets and jerseys in pastels (straight) men wouldn’t dare to sport, and designs which are much less “look at me!” Ah, clothes envy. Maybe I should do more cycling cross dressing… On the other hand, women could use some serious help when it comes to the cut of their jackets. There seems to be a lot more clothing designed for women but apparently not enough because some were wearing what looked to be men’s clothing with a traditional straight chest cut. It just looked uncomfortable.

The crowd started to die down about 8 o’clock and after that it was occasional pulses of women streaming in to get their material. It still wasn’t raining yet, and clearly a lot of women were hoping to get an early start perhaps to try to outrun the storm front. But then it started to rain continuously and animated chatter among the women coming in was replaced with grimmer demeanors. I saw a couple of women cob plastic bags from the “Problems” table and pull them over their feet before putting their cycling shoes on. (And one of the women also had shoe covers–now that’s what I call serious!) A few women came in and asked to pick up registration packets for friends who they said had backed out but still wanted their patch. Hmm, isn’t that sort of, um, unearned? Well, I guess if you’ve paid your $60 or whatever, you are entitled to something. A mother and daughter came in and got their registration; they had come from Utah and rain wasn’t going to deter them from riding!

By the time registration officially closed, at 9, it was soaking outside and yet there were still a few latecomers planning to head out (!!!) Bob Powers had said that the most no-shows the Cinderella had ever had was about 600 in another wet year. Both Roger and I had given out more than half of our packets, so we would estimate that maybe 60-70% showed up. That’s still a lot of cyclists–about 1,400 or so.

Leaving registration we had to walk about a quarter mile to the car. It was coming down hard and the wind was blowing the rain sideways. A few women had turned around and were heading back to the registration hall. More than rain itself it was the hideous wind that was making it tough. I’m not sure that it would be easy to see while riding (let alone being seen by car drivers!) By the time we were on I-680 and heading home we had the windshield wipers on full and could barely see out the windshield. Cars were driving 50 m.p.h. and had huge roostertails shooting from behind. The wind was pushing the car sideways. Jeez, there were women cyclists out in that weather? Now, that’s a bunch of flahuttes. (Note: flahute is Flemish for a ‘hard man’ who can race through the hardest conditions.)

Yesterday our weather reached sublime heights of ridiculosity when it was 81 degrees in the middle of February. Roger and I made a spur of the moment decision to drive up to the Napa Valley to scout a few roads for upcoming rides we’re leading including the 30th Anniversary ride in June. Of course it was sunny, and we watched the thermometer slowly creep upwards the further north we drove. By Napa it was 81 degrees and it was only noon. No need for arm warmers, and this was the first time I had worn cycling shorts since last fall. It was creepy strange to have such subtropical weather in the middle of winter; I was almost expecting the earth to crack open and tsunamis to appear a la “2012”. But what’s to complain about to be able to cycle in such great weather? (Well, the possibility of another drought, I suppose.)

Roger and I went to try out a couple of the climbs out of Calistoga over to Santa Rosa. First up was Diamond Mountain Road which is a hellacious three-mile climb. Shortly after turning off Highway 29 it ramped up and didn’t stop. It was a consistent 10-12% grade for much of the way with absolutely no flat spots. “Relief” consisted of the tiny 8% sections, where we were able to catch our collective breath. There were a couple of sections which went 14% and above. If you think Pinehurst is a tough go, this was like a much longer version of the very top of that road. The road quality was typical county stuff: decaying and potholed. But going uphill it was no big deal to avoid the corrugations in the road at five miles per hour. In return for the insane incline and icky road texture we got a peaceful climb with virtually no car traffic. Plus, it was almost entirely shaded by very tall redwoods, making for a truly pleasant experience. It was a lot like Old La Honda except steeper.

Unfortunately, almost four miles up we came to a dead end at the Diamond Mountain Winery. Ah, that explained the sign at the bottom of the hill, “No Outlet”! Doh! Google Maps, Garmin’s North American map, and the AAA map all indicated that the road went through. But just before the ridge top there was a large metal gate constructed across the road, which looked more like a private driveway through the bars. Judging by the immaculate road quality on the other side of the gate, it was definitely private land! There was nothing left to do except turn around and ride the brakes the entire way down. We made it down without incident but my rims were damn hot by the bottom.

I suppose the lesson is: don’t trust mapmakers,  or rather when planning a route it’s always better to survey it “on the ground” rather than relying on mapping tools such as mapmyride.com or even a paper map. Out of curiosity I did some exploring on the Internet and found out that the Diamond Mountain Winery is very old, dating back to the mid-19th century. Clearly the land has been under their control for some time, and how it would end up being mapped as an ostensibly public road is a slight mystery. Perhaps it was a private road whose access was never firmly controlled until they decided to put up the gate (which looked of recent origin). In any case it was not possible to make a loop out of it and so for now it’s a (straight) up-and-down route. (On a side note, before I got hooked into planning a ride series to celebrate our 30th year of existence, I was planning an “Outrageous/Outré/Obnoxious Climbs and Descents” ride series, the OCD, for short. This one will surely be one of its highlights!)

We bagged it after that foray and went for lunch at the Palisades Deli in Calistoga. Two burritos later we lurched in the van with our bikes and did the rest of the scouting by car.

Unusually dry winter weather threatened to end on the morning of the second 30^th Anniversary ride through the Sunol Valley area, but we managed to squeak by with just slightly damp roads by the time we rode out. Eight participated: besides Nancy and I the others were my husband Roger, David Gaus, David Goldsmith, Will Bir, Doug O’Neill, and Scott Steffens. The day started out overcast and chilly but that was perfect because we ascended the Castro Valley side of Palomares right away. The group was chatty rather than racy (Will excepted) and conversation waxed and waned depending on the steepness of Palomares. Nancy is planning a trip to Tuscany this summer and she and I were discussing tips for prepping for the quintessential cycling vacation. As we ascended the road went from dry to damp to authentically wet. Since there was no rain all morning it had to be the result of night rain or just heavy condensation. In any case the road was fine but the lane striping was slick, as I found out when I stood up to honk on the pedals a couple of times.

We regrouped at the top and there just happened to be a Team In Training table set up whose group was just beginning to arrive coming from the Niles Canyon side. David Gaus happened to know the training leader, who appeared in his car blasting loud rap music and sporting a cowbell, which he clanged with enthusiasm to encourage his trainees. Well, better that than a vuvuzela! Everyone managed to make it down the descent without incident despite the slightly slick conditions, and as usual Niles Canyon had enough scary car traffic to make me think twice about leading a club ride on it ever again. I wish CalTrans would widen the roadway just enough to put in a decent shoulder and add signs at the bridge crossings warning drivers to slow down for cyclists. The saving grace was that everyone’s anxiety meant a fast dash up the canyon to Sunol. But I’m just kvetching: if you want to endure a truly horrifying and dangerous bridge crossing, try going across Coos Bay Bridge on a bike. This cycling abomination has copious lumber trucks, narrow lanes with no shoulder, and a ridiculous bridge sidewalk that make any bridge overcrossing in the Bay Area seem like a paragon of transportation enlightenment.

Out of Sunol it was a quick dash to Pleasanton for lunch at Me and My Friends Deli on First Street. I discovered this place on Yelp and decided to give it a go. It’s a busy little place just on the edge of the business district with a convenient outside patio to stash/protect your bike. By now the sun was peeking out so we dined al fresco on their fat, well-made sandwiches. Everyone thought the food was delicious and it was moderately priced to boot. Unfortunately Me and My Friends Deli is not open on Sundays, so if you’re planning a weekend ride out that way, better make it a Saturday. Despite feeling like a snake that had just swallowed a pig, we trundled off on the final jaunt up Foothill and over the Dublin Grade, where we endured just a slight headwind rather than the usual gale. The exception was Will who, despite the temptation to take it easy, in the end went off on his own to climb Calaveras. For the rest of us we were back in a trice to Castro Valley BART, where folks hopped back on the train to SF. Thirty-six fabulous miles!

To celebrate 30 years of LGBT cycling we’re powering up the Way Back machine to revisit some club favorites from back in the day. There are rides which have always been popular—Mt. Tam, Mt. Diablo, Nicasio, Tiburon Loop, the Three Bears, etc.—and they’re popular just because they are iconic Bay Area rides: everybody does them! But there are rides which we no longer offer or offer infrequently that were popular in the early days of the club. Our club was founded by recreational cyclists who had a strong interest in touring. Not surprisingly the ride calendar in the early 1980s is populated with a number of overnight or multi-day tours usually involving camping. Nowadays those have fallen almost completely out of favor. Today if there is going to be an overnight ride, it better to involve something more comfortable than a tent (ALC excepted)…like a day spa, 300-thread count sheets, and room service! At the time Different Spokes was founded, mountain biking was just beginning to thrive but you don’t see any such rides appear in number on the calendar until the late 1980s (probably due to Derek Liecty’s proselytizing). In a few cases early rides were club favorites because a particular ride leader loved that ride (or it was convenient for him or her) and offered it often.

For this series I have gone back to the first five years of the club and looked over the ride calendars to find the some of the popular and interesting rides. From this select group I’ve chosen 12 rides, one for each month this year. Here is a short narrative of each ride and why it was included. For more details please refer to the DSSF Ride Calendar listings. If you’re interested in co-leading any of these rides, be sure to give me a holler. I should note that dates are undecided at this point for everything after May, and more information will follow later in the year. Also, as with everything in life this schedule is subject to change.

January: Portola Valley and Cañada Road. These are both still popular today but are offered only occasionally as club rides. The Portola Valley loop is the standard mid-Peninsula training route and you’ll see large numbers of riders even on weekdays. On weekends it’s practically a parade out there. (Okay, I am exaggerating a little.) Cañada Road is usually ridden out and back from Woodside. But since most Spokers in the early days lived in the City, it was common also to lead the ride from the Highway 92 end into Woodside. I’ve combined these two rides into one easy ride because of another change: in the early days it seems folks didn’t mind driving somewhere to do a 15-25 mile ride. Today a lot of people wouldn’t think it was worth the time to come for such a short ride!

February: Sunol Valley. One clear theme emerges from the early ride calendars: get the hell out of SF during the summer and ride somewhere where one could get a tan! Although he didn’t invent the ride, former member Kevin Anderson took to it with relish because he happened to live in Pleasanton. (Older members may recall Kevin’s alter egos, the infamous Flo Velcro and Rex Flash Mountain Biker!) The ride had variations depending on where it started. The shortest ones were just to the Pleasanton Waterslide for sun, fun, and a little eye candy. This year’s route will be just a bit longer! It will start at Castro Valley BART and go to Sunol and return by Palomares, which itself is another classic Different Spokes ride. So, it’s actually a mash-up of two old faves. Another two-fer!

March: The American River Bike Trail. Derek Liecty popularized this ride, and it took the club just a bit out of the Bay Area “comfort zone” up to the Jedediah Smith Memorial Trail, which goes 31 miles from old town Sacramento to Folsom Lake along the scenic American River. Again, it got SF folks out of the fog and into the sunnier clime of the Sacramento Valley for some needed relief. The Trail as far as Nimbus Dam, about 21 miles, is dead flat. Although it’s in an urban environment, the Trail cleverly manages to stay fairly nature-y and avoid the most egregious and ugly development. Did I mention that it’s dead flat?

April: The Apple Blossom. Being so far north in Sebastopol has probably contributed to this ride completely fading from club memory. It was a very popular ride in its day, but now we’re all too busy to “waste” time to drive there for a “short” ride, right? But it is indeed well worth the time and effort. The classic route roves through the apple orchards of southwestern Sonoma County, which is populated by a myriad of punchy but short hills. It provides a quintessential rural cycling experience. This year’s route does the classic, short ride to Occidental and then adds a second loop north of Sebastopol for those who want more miles.

May: Healdsburg Winery Ride. Starting in Healdsburg—even further north than Sebastopol—this route takes in the wineries along Westside Road, which runs from the Russian River to downtown Healdsburg. In its day it was a popular ride with a lunch stop at Hop Kiln Winery and some indiscreet wine tasting. This loop also used to be the “easy” option for the Russian River Weekend Saturday ride. It’s slightly rolling and flat, with no serious climbs. This year I have added an out-and-back to the Jimtown Store north of Healdsburg for a fabulous lunch stop before returning to downtown Healdsburg.

June: This one is still in flux because of June’s packed schedule with ALC and Pride. It will probably either be the Sonoma-Napa Ridge ride or Mt. Tam by Moonlight. Here is a description of each:

(1) Sonoma-Napa Ridge Ride. To my knowledge this ride was led only once during the first five years of the club’s existence, and Michael John, the club’s second President, was the ride leader. This ride starts in downtown Santa Rosa and takes Mark West Springs and Franz Valley Road over the ridge to Calistoga for lunch. The return route may have been any of the climbs up and over the ridge, either Petrified Forest, Kortum Canyon, or Diamond Mountain Road, but it went by the Petrified Forest Museum and then back to Santa Rosa.

(2) Mt. Tam in Moonlight. This was one of the very few Different Spokes night rides, and believe it or not, it was started in 1984. Mountain biking was just beginning to take off, but this was a road ride up a dirt path on Mt. Tam! Former President Michael John must have led this ride a dozen or more times, and since I never went with him I have no idea how many Spokers actually did it with him. The route is simple: from downtown Mill Valley just follow the Old Railroad Grade, which is probably the least gnarly dirt trail up Mt. Tam, up to East Peak and come back. Being the former right-of-way of the long-gone Muir Woods Railway, which used to go to the top of Mt. Tam, the grade is very consistent and low, making it a pleasant ascent.

July: Russian River Weekend. With a hiatus every now and then the Russian River Weekend still continues to be a well-attended club event. Besides being able to party at San Francisco’s nearest gay resort (we were deluded back then to call it “San Francisco’s Provincetown”—uh no, it’s not), this ride was another excuse to escape summer fog and to relieve SF Seasonal Affective Disorder. Camping at Fife’s (long gone) or later at the Willows (also gone) with a group dinner on Saturday night was the order of the day. The stalwarts rode up Highway 1 on a Friday, partied, then on Saturday rode to Jenner via River Road or Fort Ross Road or instead did the Healdsburg Winery loop, or just hung around and partied all day! If that were not enough, on Sunday some would ride to the Larkspur Ferry to catch a ride back to SF while those of a more sagacious character caught car rides back in order to nurse their hangovers. (Who else remembers former Bike-A-Thon Coordinator Matt O’Grady barfing his breakfast on the road back?)

August: Lake Tahoe Spectacular. This was the other annual weekend event from the early days. It’s lost its luster over the years and hasn’t been offered recently. It originally started as a two-day road ride around Lake Tahoe. On Saturday people would carpool with their bikes from Carnelian Bay over to South Lake Tahoe, leave the cars, and bike by Emerald Bay to the labyrinth-like hexagonal rental house. Then, on Sunday folks would ride along the Nevada shore to the cars and drive back. As the club attracted more animal riders, doing the entire lake in one day became de rigueur followed on Sunday by a fast ride over Brockway Summit to Truckee and back by Squaw Valley. In the meantime mountain biking grew and infected the club, and the Flume Trail became the must-do weekend ride.

September: Angel Island. This ride was one of the very first rides the club had and it was led by Frank Sclafani on February 13, 1983. (Gay sports clubs in San Francisco started having an annual picnic on Angel Island every August and Different Spokes members occasionally attended to, uh, “network”.) Usually the ride was extremely short: ride to Pier 43½ and take the ferry over, have a picnic, ride a bit on the island, and then go back. Infrequently the longer ride was to cycle to Tiburon and then take the ferry over, and this is the ride we will do. On Angel Island there is a fire road that circumnavigates the entire island and it’s easily doable on a road bike.

October: Pigeon Point Overnighter. This was an annual overnight trip, one of the most popular, and was first offered October 23-24, 1982. The first trip was a self-supported tour. In following years some riders lugged their sleeping bag and clothes, and others had stuff schlepped down by car. Although Pigeon Point is a youth hostel, it also has private group cabins. Now it has satellite Internet, free WiFi, and a hot tub! In the evening the group would prepare dinner together.

November: Petaluma to Dillon Beach. This one seems to have been completely forgotten, perhaps because nowadays members just prefer to cycle to Marin and do the county’s southern roads. This ride was the brainchild of former Presidents Karry Kelley and Mike Reedy. It started at Walnut Park in Petaluma and took beautiful back roads of northern Marin to Dillon Beach and back.

December: Port Costa Loop. This was an infrequently offered ride but it was special because it went on Carquinez Strait Scenic Drive, an abandoned road that hugs the cliff between Crockett and Martinez. At the time the road had just recently been closed and it made for a peaceful, car-free experience. Well, it’s been almost 30 years of continued entropy and the abandoned road is still there but it’s now a bit wilder. From the Drive the views of Benicia and the Carquinez Strait are unrivalled. The original route started in Richmond, went out to Port Costa, and returned. This route will start in Orinda and hook up with old route in Pinole before continuing through Hercules—“Dynamite City”—and Crockett and Port Costa. And what’s in Port Costa? Not much except the railroad tracks and…the Warehouse Café, which is attractive in a Hunter Thompson sort of way. The return route is through Martinez and Alhambra Valley Road and the infamous Pig Farm hill.

Why ride a bicycle to the top of Mt. Diablo on New Years Day? It’s certainly not a unique idea: all the local clubs—Valley Spokesmen, Grizzly Peak Cyclists, and Diablo Cyclists—all had rides up Diablo on January 1 as did we, Different Spokes. It is perhaps the purest expression of hope, a cyclist’s New Years resolution: to a better year of cycling however one conceives it. For me it was the hope of finally putting to end a chronic knee injury that has at times literally had me hobbling over the past three years. I know there are others of you who are similarly dealing with long-term injuries. For others it is the hope of achieving more goals on the bike, perhaps riding more miles, going faster, doing your first century, or just losing weight and becoming fitter.

David Sexton, Doug Dexter, and Gordon Dinsdale joined me on January 1 to ride to the top. Apparently the four of us (unlike some of you!) had not spent New Year’s Eve carousing and getting inebriated. If I had been as wise as David Gaus, I would have posted the ride as a New Year’s Eve ride, as he did last year, and perhaps others with party plans might have braved the mountain without a hangover. But the symbolic value of rising early on the first day of the year to climb almost 4,000 feet would have been muted.

Posting a ride in early January is always a crapshoot because of the unpredictability of rain and icy conditions. But this Saharan winter has meant we can ride with little fear of getting wet and frozen. Even so, all of us came out with a little bit more clothing than the forecast would recommend simply because it seemed unbelievably warm. Last year there was ice on our back deck on the morning we climbed; this year it was 59 degrees at the Junction and at the summit! This morning it was sunny and almost cloud-free with only the pallor of smog dimming the horizon due to the wind-free dry weather and an inversion that spurred a Spare The Air alert.

Just as last year we started out at Walnut Creek BART and took the North Gate Road up and South Gate down. People debate which is more difficult, ascending by North Gate or South Gate, and I’ve always thought that the latter was harder. But this morning going up North Gate that seemed steeper. It was the first time I had noticed that North Gate actually had some short, steep ramps that went into double-digits and had me reaching for the granny. I think each of us was just content to get up the hill at whatever pace we were comfortable holding. Somehow I ended up ahead of the others, so perhaps the others engaged in pleasant bantering while climbing. But I was panting!

Although not as numerous as on a century, there were plenty of cyclists heading up the hill, more than I’ve ever seen before. At the junction there were easily fifty or so cyclists catching their breath. Roger was there with the coffee and maple scones, which he had just baked, same as last year. Last year it was so cold that we all forewent going to the top, but not this year. The junction is not just a convenient place to catch one’s breath but also a logical turning point: the road steepens above. But the party atmosphere and the great weather had us all eager to do the whole enchilada and not turn back.

While North Gate may be one of the most ‘European’ descents with its back-to-back hairpins, the road above the junction may be one of the most ‘European’ ascents. It traverses the side of Diablo in sweeping turns and most of the time you can see the summit, seemingly just a hop up the hill (but not really). It reminded me of a miniature version of Mt. Ventoux. And it’s hard too! The last section, just a couple hundred yards long, is a brutal 19%. This year a car got stuck on the road, blocking it almost completely. Cyclists had to stop, and once that happened they couldn’t get going again with such a steep gradient. I was one of the lucky ones who managed to scoot by, just barely, and arrive at the top on two wheels and not have to walk.

The view was of course scenic but it was the crowd that made the scene. There must have been 30 or 40 cyclists alone in Grizzly Peak Cyclists kit milling about and maybe a total of a hundred there. The Grizzlies eventually coalesced and posed for a group shot and made quite a sight with a wall of bright yellow jersies.. There we finally ran into Stephanie Clarke, who was there in full Grizzly kit. She had come up via South Gate with half of the Grizzlies (the other half went up North Gate with us).

With so many cyclists the descent was going to be interesting. The road is narrow and steep making passing a mindful effort. Add in cars coming up and down and you have a potent mix for a faux pas. The rangers were out in force making sure no one was speeding, or rather, speeding too much as clearly cyclists were coming down faster than the posted 25 MPH speed limit. I managed to eke past a timid automobile and I am by no means a heroic descender. It was like pinball out there!

We went down South Gate without any drama and David showed us a ‘secret’ cut-off through the Diablo Country Club grounds. From there we went to Danville in search of lunch. I was hoping to nosh at La Boulange but they were closed for the holiday, as was Domenico’s. We ended up at Chow—not a bad choice—where we dined al fresco enjoying the sunshine and warm weather. Did you know that the French fries at Chow are fried twice? David shared that tidbit of culinary news and it did seem to make them taste better! For some reason all of us ended up with fish sandwiches. David and I had the Mexican-style petrale sole, Doug the albacore tuna melt, and Gordon the daily fish special. This was a perfect cycling day: good company, good ride, and then a really good meal. After lunch it was a short, flat run along Danville Boulevard all the way back to Walnut Creek BART.

I had made it the entire way without a single complaint from my knee. Everyone was in good spirits. The year was off to a good start. What else will this year bring? A special thanks to Roger for the scrumptious homemade maple scones and the fresh coffee!

It wasn’t of Shackletonian dimensions but it was still pretty damn cold. This year’s annual fall Mt. Hamilton ascent on November 5 was a narrow escape from a snowstorm.

Last year the long run of good luck with the weather ended when it got rained out. This year we were hoping for a better shot and we were granted our wish but just barely. The forecast had a storm front hitting the Bay Area around two p.m. If it were slow moving, then we’d probably make it without getting drenched, as the storm wouldn’t arrive in the South Bay until later. But if the forecast was off just a little, then we were in for a ride of epic proportions, as in slip-sliding through the snow off the top of the hill. Just to add to the fret-fest, the morning weather report showed that there had already been snow on top of Mt. Hamilton, and the UC Lick Observatory weather station had the temperature pegged around 33º F. But the day would warm up and it would all be gone when (or if) we reached the summit.

The turnout was pretty big, over a dozen, for a climb in excess of 5,000 feet, and it wasn’t just the usual suspects. David Gaus and Karin Atkins were co-leading the ride; Sharon Lum, who originated this ride for the club oh so many years ago, was again AWOL, which was truly unfortunate as she had the nasty habit of bringing delicious muffins to the start of this ride, and they were sorely missed. (Please come back, Sharon!) The day’s greyhounds turned out to be Tim, Peter, and that erstwhile tortoise Chris Thomas, who now conquers climbs like Casanova conquered women. Somewhere in the middle were Roger and I (on the tandem), Frank, Bob, and Judy. Taking it easy that day were the two Davids, Nancy, Gordon, and Karin.

Unfortunately the Fates conspired to make things difficult even before the start. David Gaus was unable to retrieve his bike from his storage due to a maintenance toad who had rekeyed his locker and didn’t bother to get him a replacement. David eventually caught up with us after a frantic morning chasing down a key. I guess our delayed start (but does a Different Spokes ride ever start on time?) and our patient starting pace were just enough for him to catch on. Fortunately, despite David’s absence Roger, Chris, and I had been up Mt. Hamilton before and we were able to provide a rough description of what the ascent would be like and what the group would confront. There was much moaning and kvetching about the anticipated altitude gain.

Then the group, already chomping at the bit, took off at a frenzied pace. Peter and Tim, who have a penchant for getting lost at the drop of a cycling cap, bolted out of the parking lot and promptly missed the first turn but sheepishly managed eventually got back on course. Although Roger and I ostensibly were trying to provide guidance, half the group was already out of sight. Tim and Peter pulled into the portapotties in Alum Rock Park which, lucky for them allowed us to catch up. They promptly passed us just as they were about to miss yet another critical turn if we hadn’t shouted out to them. Who was ahead and who was behind was all rather murky to us. Those that were ahead we just had to presume could follow the map and cue sheet. We waited at the turn for the others and led them up the short climb the presages the Big One.

As expected, as soon as we started up Mt. Hamilton Road, we started to spread out on the road, each of us taking a pace that would allow arrival at the summit without imploding. Roger and I, being on the tandem, had figured we would be pulling up the rear. We are not especially ferocious on the climbs due to the extra mass of the tandem. But we have lots of character! I had been looking forward to chatting during the climb with Karin, who admits to being a *slow* rider. But she and a bunch of the others just disappeared behind us due to what we learned later was a minor ‘mechanical’. So again we were on our own. Suddenly Chris appeared and roared past us, a man on a mission. I thought he was way ahead of us. “Extra miles!” he said. “Intentional?” I asked. “Nope!” he responded and off he went.

Despite the chilly start we were now thoroughly warmed up, sweating even. Off came the jackets. A high overcast concealed the sun, any warming from it muted, although it wasn’t yet needed. Mt. Hamilton Road is a long slog, about 18 miles covering 4,000 feet of net vertical to the observatory. The climb is not monotonic—there are actually two short descents of two or three hundred vertical feet, which give brief respites. But on a day like today even those short descents meant a chilly blast against sweat-soaked jerseys. On the positive side, the recommencement of the uphill segments, usually a point of bemoaning, was greeted with joy by our now benumbed and shivering limbs.

Halfway up, at Grant County Park we ran into Bob. From him we learned we were, surprisingly, in the middle of the group. Gordon, Nancy, Karin, and the two Davids were still somewhere below. As we waited, we saw a family of wild pigs silently walking through the meadow hunting for food. We waited, thinking the rest of the group surely must be just behind us and would soon catch on. But we were rapidly getting chilled and uncomfortable, so off we went despite the discourtesy. As we ascended the temperature continued to drop and the chill became more pronounced. Any stop at all, to drink or pee, and the warmth of climbing vanished in an instant and gave way to shivering. Despite being a Saturday the road traffic was minimal—the occasional automobile and just a few motorcyclists go racing by. The quiet, the solitude, the dreary weather along with the gelid temperature made it all very atmospherically wintry.

The grade of the climb above Grant County Park averages about six percent versus five percent for the lower climb. At this point you can make out the Observatory in the distance. The road winds around dozens of curves, allowing the Observatory to peek in and out of view, seeming close yet still miles away and literally thousands of vertical feet to go. It’s tantalizing and agonizing at the same time. Time seems to stand still, and if not for the odometer you imagine the effort is completely futile. Then suddenly you’re on a set of switchbacks just below the Observatory and the road then levels out. By this point we have caught and passed Frank who has clearly felt the effort of the day. Chris passed us heading down; apparently he’d been to the top and did not want to linger and get frozen. As we made the final turn up to the Observatory we passed Bob and then we were there. When we got to the top, did we take in the view or high-five each other for our accomplishment? Nah, we headed to the vending machines in the back hallway where we could inhale some Cokes and paste our bodies against the wall heater!

To our relief, there had not been any snow and the road had been dry. It felt arctic, and according to Tim the temperature is in the low 30s. One certainly doesn’t want to prance around outside, especially in sweaty clothes.

Other cyclists trickled in and everybody was relieved to get out of the cold and warm up at the heater. Both Bob and Frank crawled in. Poor Bob was in just shorts and a long-sleeved jersey—no windbreaker, tights, or shoe covers.

Where was the rest of our group? Tim and Peter had arrived long ago and were hovering in the main alcove of the observatory. But Judy, who had passed us at the very beginning, was not to be found. About 20 minutes later she showed up, apparently also having done some extra miles! The weather appeared to be stable, but it was now two p.m. Where was the storm? Waiting for the others meant risking getting caught in either rain or snow. With no cell service at the top (note: we have AT&T) no one could get an update on the storm. Nearly 45 minutes after we had arrived the rest of the group minus Karin showed up. Everyone was happy to have the climb out of the way and survived the frigid conditions. The wall heater suddenly got crowded!

The problem with going inside and warming up was that going out to the cold seemed bitterly painful. As a long time bike commuter I’m used to riding in all weather conditions. But the wintry weather has come on so quickly after a welcome Indian summer that I’m simply just not yet used to the cold. I had on an undershirt, long-sleeved jersey, windbreaker, and then a fully waterproof jacket, a wool cap with a cycling cap over it, and toe covers, and I was still shivering! For insurance I had brought along some chemical handwarmers. I broke those out and gave some to Roger to shove into his gloves so that he could steer us safely down the mountain.
When it comes to weather I’ve found that prayer is rarely effective. So, even though Karin still was nowhere to be found, we decided to head out in order to try to beat the storm. David Goldsmith headed out with us and soon zoomed ahead. One would think a tandem would blast down any descent ahead of any single. But Mt. Hamilton road is very curvy, narrow, and has marginal sight lines, all of which make a single bike a much better descent vehicle. David was soon completely out of sight. The tandem felt sketchy and unsteady; Roger was shivering so hard that I could feel it in how the bike was handling! I was silently praying that we make it down in one piece unhurt. I offered Roger the rest of the heater packs to pack under his jersey so he could warm up some more, but he declined.

The descent was a whirlwind of curves, tight turns and chicanes. Whether it was the cold or just being tired, the whole experience felt vertiginous, banking through turns one after the other. We quite literally did not have to pedal at all until we got to the first short uphill. But both of us were shivering and so tight from the cold and lack of effort that this teensy climb felt like we were going up Alpe D’Huez (and that ain’t no exaggeration because in 2006 we had crawled up the Alpe on the tandem!) The climb was so short that we weren’t warmed up by the time we had to descend again. This had to be one of the least enjoyable descents I had ever been on. (Well, except for the ones where I crashed. And the one where I got hypothermia because it was snowing and all I had was a tee shirt and Bermuda shorts. Oh yeah, and the one where the fog was so thick that I couldn’t see.)

By Grant County Park the temperature was noticeably warmer (but not warm), and the second short ascent brought a welcome glow to our frozen legs. We were starting to feel human again. There was still no storm in sight even though the sky was ominously darker. In a trice we were down the final descent and back to the edge of San Jose. That’s when it started to rain. At first it was just a few random drops, then it became a regular pitter-patter. Being just two miles from the car we knew we were in pretty good shape, and our legs were pretty cooked from about 5,500 feet of climbing. So we just rolled on at our weakened pace even though we knew the storm was hitting.

David was already back in the lot putting his bike on the rack when we arrived. Just as we got off the bike the rain’s pace picked up and we rather hurriedly got the tandem and ourselves into the van. Then the sky opened up. But where were the others? We thought they were just minutes behind us. Surely they were getting drenched! Soon it was a raining, not hard, but enough for everything to get a good soaking, perhaps also including our fellow Spokers. It was about a half-hour before the others finally showed up, and in a turn of good luck they were so far back that the front wasn’t as ferocious up on the mountain. They got wet but not overly, so all was good. Everybody was grateful for the good luck in getting down without having to deal with a blizzard.

What better way to close out such a frigid day than some hot Indian food. So off Roger, David Gaus, and I went to Naan ‘N Masala in nearby Milpitas for some flame-throwing curry!
See more pics over at the Different Spokes Photo Gallery.
—Tony Moy

This Sunday November 6 if you are not planning on attending the club’s Morgan Territory/Mt. Diablo ride in the East Bay and instead plan on staying closer to home for your riding, be warned that the west sidewalk of the Golden Gate Bridge, the side we usually cycle on, will be CLOSED from 7 to 9:30 a.m. for the 5,000 expected runners in the US Half Marathon. Cyclists may instead contend with the pedestrians on the east sidewalk or use the FREE shuttle which runs from the parking lots at either end of the bridge.

And don’t forget that daylight savings time ends at 2 a.m. this Sunday also. So, that 7-9:30 a.m. closure period is an hour later than you think!