Ride Report: Planet of the Apes

I've been pretty bad about getting on the bike once again. It's strange how once I get out of riding, it becomes very hard to motivate myself to get out, especially with the thought of doing a 5 hour+ ride. Then I think back to when I first starting riding the canals of Buffalo and how rewarding and enjoyable those rides were and I keep that in my mind to get me back out on the road.

I had originally heard of the Planet of the Apes Ride from a book I nabbed from the Berkeley library when I first moved here. I remember the author posting this ride with apologies, as if exploiting some forbidden secret of the cycling community. From there I guessed that there had to be something special, so I packed up a bunch of food and prepped for the 20 mile ride from Ocean Beach, SF to Pacifica to this old abandoned road that is the Planet of the Apes Ride.

One of the reasons I've avoided this ride, is that it requires a stupid BART ride (I hate paying 8 dollars round trip to go on a ride). So that's where my ride started, at the Embarcadero in downtown San Francisco. I had some decisions to make on how to get out to the beach and Highway 1. It was rather through the city (a route I've taken many times before) or the tourist route around the bay towards the Golden Gate. I chose for the latter.

SF was nice and sunny, but once I started heading south it was not so sunny.

The tourists weren't too heavy, so riding was actually kind of nice. I watched a bunch of tourists almost get hit by cars for hugging the shoulder on a narrow section of construction (cars passed with about 6" to the end of their bars, it makes me sick how dangerous people drive to save what? 30 seconds? a minute?). I told these nice Euro tourists to take the lane before they die. Onward from there it was through the beach and along Highway 1.

The beach.

Highway 1 felt like tour again. Busy highways for long stretches. It especially reminded me of 101 up north and the beginning of 1, where there is undulating hills with heavy traffic (thankfully more of a shoulder). Not exactly ideal riding, but it was still riding. The weather brought me back to the days of touring the coast too, it was chilly and gray, what everyone told me to expect of San Francisco (thankfully which has been sunny and warm, hurray global warming). I got turned around a few times where 1 doesn't allow cyclists. Thankfully I made it to Pacifica, where a nice short bike path took me down to the beach and then on the path towards Planet of the Apes. Bike route signs led me straight to the path I needed to be on.

This guy was rocking one speed up. I want my fixed gear now please.

Some pretty protected marshes in Pacifica.

The path ended at a gate that looked like a total dirt road, not the paved ride I was expecting. Passing some guys unloading full mountain bike gear out of the back of their Subaru had me wondering as well, but I had gone all the way there and so I figured I should at least check it out. It wasn't much longer that the path turned to somewhat a road. The road was clearly not maintained, I didn't mind it, I actually kind of enjoy the challenge of off-roading somewhat, but I could imagine a real roadie reading about this road ride (which is how I found directions from an article on non-Marin road rides). If roadies complained about Grizzly Peak, this road was clearly unrideable for them.

I remember talking to cycle tourists who said they didn't drink coffee. I wonder how they survived.

This was what most o the ride looked like.

For me, I was loving it. The "road" would shrink down to near single track with brush encroaching in as I chugged along up the hill. Similar to the Morgan Territory ride, this ride was also extremely quiet. The Highway was not far away but it was hard to tell, this solitude is why they call it Planet of the Apes (but I'd assume the lack of road maintenance might have something to do with it too. The road is a pretty straight forward up and down. At the crest I met Ras, a cycle tourist based in SF, also a member of the Bike Kitchen, on his way back home. I guess that time of the year is coming. I chatted with him and a local for a bit. I guess that's one good reason to not keep this place a secret, it's a great spot to meet other cyclists. After chatting some about his Trek 520, touring, and community bike shops, we split directions and I buzzed down toward Montara.

He's covering up the dent on the top tube, but it's a 520, it's meant to last.

I smacked a shin on some dirt at one point, that's how skinny this gets at times.

The descent was a little better going down, there was some times of pure dirt, but for the most part not as many divets. I took my time going down, but still went quick enough to enjoy it (and to get cold). This road was not difficult, but it was fun. The path let out right back on Highway one which I took back north towards San Francisco.

Great views looking out at the ocean.

On the way back I passed through the new Devils Slide Tunnel (a quiet tunnel, but I am already looking forward to when the old road becomes a state park!), then turned off 1 to climb over the mountains between the ocean and bay, specifically looking for San Bruno Mountain. There was a great deal of suburban sprawl in South San Francisco and Daly City, but San Bruno was worth it. San Bruno is a nice gentle single grade climb that was just sitting back and spinning my way up, then bombing back down into the city.

Devil Slide Tunnel, finally solving the problem of a section of road very prone to slides (hence the name).

This tunnel was so quiet and pleasant to ride through.

I put in 60 miles on this trip, staying out for just about 6 hours including stops. I always forget how nice these day rides are. I forget how great it is to be able to get out and explore something totally new and quell that desire to leave everything behind and tour again (at least for the moment that is). It was a little far for Planet of the Apes, but I know that if I ever tour south along the ocean, I will most certainly ride the Planet of the Apes again.

Bici Bici 2013

I am not sure if my DIY ethos taught me how to fix my bike or my DIY ethos came from my desire to know how to fix my own bike. Either way, community shops have always been a big asset to learning the in and outs of DIY on a bike. It started in Buffalo, NY at Go Bike, then continued in California with the Bikery and most recently Spokeland. When I heard that Spokeland was hosting the Bici Bici community bike conference of California essentially in my own backyard, I decided I shouldn't miss out.

The conference was spread out over the weekend from Friday afternoon's meet and greet to the ending barbecue on Sunday morning. There were some workshops in between there, but there was also plenty of time to hang out and meet people from shops across the state. It was really great to meet the wide variety of people and how they are using bikes to transform the cities they live in, from the highly professional established Bike Kitchen to the anarchist community bike shop members in Ontario, CA to a variety of homegrown community shops, meeting these people was absolutely incredible. But beyond just the networking there was a great variety of workshops, here's the four I chose to attend:

Community Bike Shops as Radical Community Spaces

This workshop focused on how a place that provides bikes for in need communities could bring about social change through radical organization. The location couldn't have been more of an answer to that. The workshop was held at the Holdout Community Space in West Oakland, a community space that is heavily involved in radical politics but also hosts bike shop hours as well as many other free classes to empower people. This workshop was an open conversation that had a tendency to stray away from the intended topic, but interesting topics were discussed (such as what constitutes a safe space and where lines should be drawn).

Starting a Comidas No Bombas on Bicycles

To say that Comidas No Bombas in Los Angeles is a cool adventure is a heavy understatement. Basically this collective started as a response to a disorganized Food Not Bombs organization and in search of something better. They started out just making burritos and distributing them around LA, spreading literature to help empower those they served. The group was a very thoughtful intelligent motivated group of individuals that make real change seem that easy to start. Their tie in to bikes was the fact that they were more green than most Food Not Bombs, by delivering on bicycle. Again showing how important bicycles can be to bring people together, as stopping to hand someone dinner is much easier when you're on a bike than in a car.

Hustling Donations 101/Fundraising Through Events

This was the only workshop I attended hosted by a Spokeland core member. Devin led the workshop emphasizing a few keypoints on fundraising, something I'd like to help be a greater help in all organizations I am a part of. One of the key points was diligence and recognition. The point being that you're more likely to get things from people who recognize your face and determination, as opposed to trying once a year, but instead trying every other week. The conversation seemed a little broad, but that didn't matter so much, because Devin basically made the push of enthusiasm, and the fact that enthusiasm was necessary to really do things right. He also made the feeling that you need to start somewhere, so just start. Really empowering in message.

Practicamos Espanol del Taller

This was the most practical workshop of the weekend. Morgan from Colecti-Velo, an organization I was unaware of in East Oakland (focusing on serving the Spanish speaking population), led the discussion. The workshop was pretty straightforward Spanish vocab education with some input from some Southern Californians who had heard a variety of different ways to describe the same part. Once again, another great workshop that I was glad to attend.

At the end of the weekend, I was getting a little biked out (okay, not really). From the Bike Party to start, to the workshops, to Port Sprints, there was a great deal of bike activities, bike talk, and hanging. That was the best thing I got out of the weekend though was meeting some really incredible people from some really incredible shops across the state sharing some incredible ideas for how to improve community bike shops and bike culture in general. It's really nice to see community bike shops proliferating and improving bike culture in places dominated by the car like Los Angeles. Because the more people who can fix their own bike, the more bikes they can fix for friends, and more people are on bikes.

But frankly, what I got most out of these people, mostly a group of my peers, was that change is possible. Most of the people at the conference were not extraordinary, meaning exactly that, they were fairly ordinary, but they were doing extraordinary things and that's what was truly inspiring is realizing that it's possible to be a big difference by doing so little. Since this meeting I have been excited about getting more involved with the various shops around Oakland. I'm already thinking ahead to when I can attend the Bikery or Spokeland next, or even visiting one of the many other shops I learned about from this conference. Hopefully, by this time next year I can be a bigger part of the conversation, contributing as much as I listened this year. Now, go out and support your local community shop! And if you don't have one. Start one!

The Nifty Ten Fifty

The night before the Nifty Ten Fifty I had butterflies in my stomach. I had never committed to such a grueling ride before in my life. I worried about failure. I thought of all the clever excuses I could make to not go. To sleep in and feel sorry for myself. But good thing I told almost every one I knew about this ride, which made me feel obligated to at least try. So 6 30 last Sunday I pulled myself out of bed and prepped up for one of the most challenging rides I've ever had.

I had first heard of the Nifty Ten Fifty from a cyclist who matched pace with me going up Old Tunnel Road one day. He mentioned how it took all the steepest roads of the Oakland and Berkeley hills and combined them into one brutal course. 10,050 feet in just over 50 miles. Ungodly.

The starting group.

When I arrived at El Cerrito Plaza Park almost everyone was on light carbon and aluminum bikes with full kit and clipless pedals. There were a few steel frames, but not many, there was even one brave soul on a hybrid bike! The one thing I did notice is that I felt like the youngest one there, so I started to psyche myself into it, if all these guys were going on it, how hard could it really be? Oh how foolish I was.

Atop one of the early climbs, everyone's looking good.

The first two climbs of the day had me feeling alright, sticking with the group in my tiny 24-32 ratio. The weather was a little foggy and chilly up in the hills, but the foul weather wasn't making me feel down, what had me worried was the next climb, Marin Ave.

Look at the roof, that's flat, the road, that is not. Woof.

Marin must have been an engineering mistake, as opposed to most roads that arch around the hills or cut back and forth, someone decided to build a road straight up the hills. Marin rocks up to a monster 23 percent near the top. Besides Moser, this was the only climb I had never touched on this ride, and knowing it's reputation for putting on the hurt, I was nervous that it would throw me off the group. But there was no choice, but to tackle it. We circled around the fountain at the base as a group then all went after it.

Going up?

Some of the guys in the B group hit it pretty hard. But for the most part everyone seemed to take their time with it. At some of the cross streets people spun off to the side to stretch their legs and take a breather before tackling the steepest section at the top. I sat in my tiny ratio until that top where even with that advantage I had to pull out of my seat and press my pedals as hard as I could to top out; I had never faced anything so steep ever. With a few grunts and an extra push, I made it. At the top I turned around and looked at the remainder of the group still fighting gravity. The road is an absolute wall. With that past, it was all about endurance from then on out. The team regrouped and headed down the East side of the hills for El Toyonal.

Looking back

On the other side of the hills we got some sun which made the decent enjoyable, then we got some shade on the El Toyonal climb, where the group seemed to decide their own way of getting to Lomas Contadas, but we all did make it up and regrouped once more at the steam trains in Tilden Park, right next to the final climb of the day. By this point I felt confident, but also curious if I'd make it to the top of Volmer's Peak right next to the parking lot by the end of the afternoon.

El Toyonal in the fog.

From El Toyonal was Centennial, one of my least favorite climbs. The group spread apart at this long steep grade, but people powered through to the top, back into Tilden over to Canon, the sixth climb, and the final one before "lunch". Canon was scary but not because of the climb but because of some horrific driving (seriously, group of forty cyclists, you can wait your turn, if you're going through Tilden you shouldn't be in a hurry). At the top of the sixth climb was when I started to drop off the group. I had no trouble on the climbs, but it was during the flats that I seemed to struggle to hang on. Maybe it's my lack of skill in a group, or maybe it's the disadvantage of my less aggressive frame, or hell, maybe it's just because I'm weak. Either way I had the fortune of catching up at lunch with the group.

At lunch everyone, including the A team was enjoying snacks and talking about Marin and the rest of the ride to come. I wasn't too social, but I did get to meet some nice people, even those who had drove over from the Headlands and had never seen these roads before. So I suppose I at least had that advantage. I was prepped for after lunch to hit South Park, a brutal climb, then two less bad climbs, then straight up Hiller back down to the final climb.

After our light lunch it wasn't long over to South Park. The fog really was laid in thick over the group now making for a majestic climb up to Grizzly Peak. As the stronger rides pulled out in front, they disappeared into the fog, only maybe to fall back into view for the "slow-n-stead" group. It was interesting to watch the different styles on hitting the hills, some attacked early, leaving it all on the hill, others took their time, conserving for what was next.

After South Park, things got hairy. The group turned down Grizzly Peak, going opposite of our final ascent towards Skyline. This section of road has no shoulder and there was a good amount of traffic, which made it difficult to ride freely and stay with the group, trying to not get hit. Not knowing how to ride with a group didn't help much either. By the time I hit the intersection of Skyline and Grizzly Peak, I was off the back starting the short climb up Skyline, that was the last I saw of the B group, pulling away on the climb.

Being dropped is a shit feeling. There's no other way to describe it. It takes your pride and rubs it in the mud, plus I didn't want to be stuck trying to figure out how to get to where I need to go. I just wanted to stick with the group and finish with everyone else and share some laughs, but instead I was falling off. I decided I needed to catch up. I put my head down and mashed my pedals along the longest flat section.

This would prove to be my biggest mistake. On the descent down Shephard's Canyon the A group zipped by me. Even on the descents I was slow (although I've always been painfully aware of how bad of a descender I am). At the bottom I turned the corner with the A group up Snake and thought, alright, let me hang tight til I catch up with the B group, which was a huge joke. I was hurting. Attacking on Skyline Blvd left me nothing in the gas tank and I watched as the rest of those left behind passed me on their way up. I felt in last place, my body was gassed, I ate all the food I had, hoping that might cure me, but my pride hurt and I wasn't sure how to cure that. Snake is climb 7, I had three more climbs after Snake. I knew Hiller would be rough, Broadway isn't so bad and I've done Claremont to Grizzly Peak before, the question really was how close my body was to shutting down. I huffed and puffed to the top of Snake. It would be so easy to just spin down and go home from there and call it quits. That was my tipping point right there. I knew it was do or die right there. But it wasn't. What was one more climb? Let me try Broadway.

I started descending down the curves of roads from my 100 turn cue sheet and caught up with a group of three other cyclists who got dropped, including the fellow on the cruiser bike in gym shorts. We decided to stick together and use our combined skills to finish. Good thing our skills were lacking, maybe we left our brains back on one of the climbs but we ended up taking a wrong turn and climbing a pretty big climb straight into a dead end. We stopped and pulled out our cue sheets and maps to figure out how to get back. The motto of the day has always been "if the road goes up it must be right", well this one was wrong. We got back on course with some extra mileage, but more importantly extra feet.

We broke apart a little on the climb up Broadway, a gentler climb, but still easier to take at your own pace. By this point getting lost we all agreed that catching the B group wasn't possible, so we stuck it through together regrouping up on top of Broadway. All the food that I threw in me on Snake was finally doing something, my body felt better on my favorite descent from the hills on Old Tunnel Road. Curving back and forth I rested until the final corner where I pushed on the downhill to get as much momentum up Hiller's face. I didn't get as much as I'd had on other days up Hiller, but I was getting up it. I could feel my legs burning, it was going to be tough to get up, so I started tacking back and forth on the wide roadway, some call it cheating, but who cares, I topped out.

It was some twisty bends through the backroads around Hiller, which I led out with cue sheet in hand. There was talk of skipping those because of our added climbs, but I insisted. I didn't want to be a foot short. So we navigated around until we turned the ups to downs and stopped at Peets, unfortunately not finding any of the other riders there (apparently because they didn't stop either). 9 climbs over, the longest one was left, from the base in Berkeley to the tip in Tilden. This was it. We went out together. One fellow rider was picking my brain about my bike tour, I didn't have the nerve to tell him I just wanted to concentrate on the climb, so I let him get away a bit, but also because his pace was better than mine. Again in that low low low ratio I took my time. The sun was now beating down on Claremont and I was sweating through up Claremont. Time was passing quickly, I wasn't, but time was, before I knew it, the first section was over, onto the gentler Grizzly Peak. Other Nifty Ten Fiftiers passed by on their way back home and passed on words of encouragement, and that helped. I could feel it almost ending, just about there. I spun into the Steam Trains parking lot, where the trail to Volmer's Peak begins and I worked my way up, slowly but surely and pressing that final leg up to the summit. Everyone had left, but it didn't matter. It was about finishing and I finished. And better yet, I didn't finish last, and I'm not talking about my fellow riders (who all also finished), but rather the people who quit halfway, the people who didn't ride, but especially myself, the me that quit on Snake and went home and felt sorry for himself, I beat him with no mercy.

When it was all said and done I had finished one of the tougher East Bay rides and felt good about it and learned a lot. First of all, my riding ain't shit, some people can really ride. Secondly, I really enjoyed riding in groups and I need to try to do that more. But most importantly, I learned the importance of setting a goal and beating it. I need to do that way more than I already do.

Morgan Territory Road

I don't remember where I heard of Morgan Territory Road, but it's a straight shot BART to BART ride, meaning that I can go one way seeing all new roads. With the hopes of getting in some mileage I threw my bike on BART and headed toward Concord to ride behind Diablo to the Dublin BART station.

In the East Bay over the Hills anything next to a BART station guarantees some crappy suburban riding. From Concord station this was how the ride started. Luckily it was midday on a Wednesday so there was little traffic plus the occasional bike lane, so it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the suburban riding I had faced in NY (I still get flashbacks to the horrors of suburban Buffalo), but the monotony of these roads does not make for a pleasant ride. I just focused on Diablo in the background, hoping that by the time I got to the foothills these four lane roads would disappear.

Diablo is always watching!

Coming out onto Marsh Creek Road I got my wish and entered into a more rural area. It never ceases to amaze me that these rural communities are so close to San Francisco, it goes against everything I know from the ultra suburbanized turned exurbanized East. The scariest part though was that there was no shoulder on this road, and heavy traffic. I knew that it was about 40 miles from one BART to the next and I was starting to worry that it would be 40 miles of hugging shoulders and praying that the SUV behind me doesn't hit me. This especially worried me once the road started to climb, meaning I'd be going slower, meaning I'd have less control, making passing cars even more terrifying. But I was committed by that point, nothing to do but put my head down and deal with it. If figured if I survived US 20 in Ohio, I could survive nearly anything.

Between the backside of Diablo and Morgan Territory I'd imagine there is some fantastic hiking here too.

I reached the intersection of Morgan Territory Road, the road I came in search of and didn't find much different at first. Just more rural roads with no shoulder and the sun beating down on me. I thought I'd begin to be disappointed, then all of a sudden a sign pointed out "Single Lane Road Ahead." Single lane? I crossed a single lane bridge and the shoulder and opposite lane never reappeared. My first bit of traffic was a group of horseback riders and after that point I saw maybe three more cars on Morgan Territory Road. The road was absolutely stunning. I wondered why anybody put this road here, it doesn't seem necessary on a map, but it sure is beautiful. It started careening around a creek system on the left and the fire trails splitting off into Mount Diablo State Park. The summit was impossible to see over the foothills and the trees that hid the hot hot sun away and made dancing shadows along the roadway.

Another cyclist, who I caught going back up the super steep side of Dublin!

But the sight wasn't the only thing to really marvel about. Realizing the lack of traffic I started to listen and really pay attention. All I could hear was the birds, some frogs, and the buzzing of cicadas. The peace of this road is something I haven't really gotten back to since ending tour. I had heard people recommending this road, but my god, who knew it would be really this good?

Beautiful creeks along the way.

The actual contour of the road coming from Concord is an up and down, that apparently climbs pretty high (2,400 ft of total elevation on the day). It didn't feel like much climbing as every top was easy to get over and then a down would help part of the way on the next up. The road kept bouncing up and down. Looking toward where I guessed the road would go, I couldn't figure out exactly where it was because of a healthy coverage of trees. I really felt out of it. I checked my phone. No service. I had gotten away, even if just for the afternoon.

Lunch at the staging area.

After some more climbing the trees parted way and the Morgan Territory Road staging area opened up to my left. This was the top. I sat had some lunch, chatted with an overly talkative motorcyclist and basked in the shade. It reminded me very much of those afternoons on tour, just stopping and striking up conversation with whomever had something to say. He didn't seem willing to let me leave, but I eventually ducked out and from there it was a rocketed downhill along a beautiful curving single lane road open to the valley, where I could make out the freeway and the communities that hug to it's life. I hit 47 mph on this single lane road I've never been on before, probably not the brightest, but it sure was fun, the fastest I've gone to date.

After some more hot rural riding Dublin popped up out of nowhere. More ugly suburban apartment complexes were going in construction to match the hideous ones that were already there. What an awful place, especially in contrast from the gem that hides on the top of the hill on Morgan Territory Road.