Tale of Two Dirt

Last week I went on two different off road rides. Putting rubber on dirt inspires me to keep getting at it (my last few "base" rides have had me descending out of the hills on dirt).

Mondirt

This was originally inspired by my friend Jillian who agreed that Mondays we should ride and we should ride far. We never really got that dialed in (we both have awkward work schedules), but my friend Alan had even furthered it by actually having Mondays off and riding. We just did a little ditty in the East Bay Hills (Redwood and JMP) hopefully I'll have future Mondays off to ride more.

This is our backyard.

This was the day after that huge weekend. These ups were hurting.

Sometimes you gotta walk (this climb sucks the eucalyptus leaves don't help).

This ain't SF; it's Oakland.

Alan's steed.

      

Bolinas Ridge

Ever since seeing Cass Gilbert write about Bolinas Ridge Trail on While Out Riding, I've wanted to hit that sweet bit of dirt. It was a Weds so it was solo riding. This one was tough on a cross bike, but still doable (cows make bumpy trails though).

Sir Francis Drake Redwoods.

Pastoral.

The route up.

Some of this led to...

Some of this.

The top.

Eucalyptus.

Details.

Ocean.

Click any of the photos out to my Flickr for more pics and for hi-res versions.

Day 2 of Exhaustion

 

A mere 7 hours after completing the SFR 300k, and on a scant 5 hours of sleep, my alarm jarred me awake. It was time to get another ride in. I donned the garbs, prepped the gear, pushed open my front door into a still lamp lit morning, only to look down to a cellphone SMS telling me that my riding partner would be meeting me in Dublin as opposed to riding out from Oakland. Well, no point in turning back now, so I pushed off into the darkness toward the Oakland hills.

The early hours hurt. There is no denying that going up Redwood Road hurt more than it's ever hurt before. My legs were on fire and my morale was low. Not enough coffee just had me wishing the miles away. A strong headwind even further sunk my efforts across the shallow grade of Castro Valley Boulevard. I was glad to make it to Dublin, but wasn't sure how much I had left in me. I searched for a Starbucks or a Safeway, about the best these far East Bay suburbs have to offer, and reluctantly settled on a Panera Bread. I pulled out my phone and another friend, who was originally to meet out in Dublin had now bailed as well. I had felt like giving up. I checked in with Keli, to see her ETA, she was close. I figured I'd let her make the decision. She had fresh legs, so she wanted to destroy it, and god damn it, I'm glad she pushed me to do those extra miles in those brutal hills. The route was the Pitter Patter Pop (Patterson Road Populaire from San Francisco Randonneurs) and features one of those epic roads that truly must be ridden if you live feasibly close to a BART station.

After a bunch of suburban housing developments the roads opened up to green pastureland with distant hills.

Those distant hills became abruptly close.

I mean, REALLY close. I wish there were a better way to capture how epic the Earth split here.

Climbing is easy, whatever.

I still ponder at this sign. I get bikes, or long trucks, but pedestrians? Strange.

We both agreed not to agree that this next hump was the finish, but secretly I think we both decided it was the end until...

We crested and saw this, damnit!

The top for real.

SFR Russian River 300k

 

When I'm not riding my bike, I work as a stagehand for the IATSE 16 stagehand union. On days with a big crew call the days usually start the same, the steward gathers the troops and begins a simple safety speech. It's usually the same asking us to report injuries, work carefully, or where to meet in case of an emergency; the basic stuff. But last Thursday things were a little different, "Hey everyone, let's have a little patience working with the crew today, because...because...because Sean who helped on the load in slipped and fell on Sunday night, hit his head, had a slight concussion, went to sleep and never woke up." Just like that. That seemingly insignificant slip is what did him in, and all I could think is, life is too short to put this job before my true passion, so those rides I had planned for the weekend? I was going to ride them, if they called me or not.

Fast forward 6 AM Golden Gate Bridge Pavillion. Like every SFR ride I've ever participated in, I showed up just in time for SFR's own safety speech. I scrambled to get the bike check and my brevet card. The steady red lights started filing away on the bridge by the time I threw my leg over the bike. I started at the back of the pack.

The fog of the Bay can be truly stunning.

I raced to catch a group of 20-30 riders through Sir Francis Drake through Samuel P. Taylor (I don't like that these SFR rides always skip the Marin trail, one of my favorite bits of gravel to sprint down). Along this stretch coffee disposal was imminent, so I stopped and once again fell to the back. It was some solo riding from there on out, if that were to be my day it would be a long one, especially since my new MP3 player had inadvertently died. At about Petaluma I caught up with my friend Nat and his friends who thankfully would help distract the long stretches of riding with conversation.

John's Homer Hilsen. So many Rivs.

Or, so many bikes.

The group pulled into a paceline and zipped through the sunny flats around Santa Rosa toward the next checkpoint. It was of course around the next checkpoint that the group split up near Healdsburg. Continuing my strategy of getting lost and missing checkpoints, I went a mile down the road before I realized that I missed it. Good job me.

Lou was a true pleasure to ride with. He too had moved to the Bay by bike from the East Coast. His legs mostly get training from hauling tourists around San Francisco on a pedicab.

I love the Bay Areas consistently changing environments.

From Healdsburg to Bodega Bay was a windy tromp down the Russian River then down Highway 1. Once again we pacelined, but I pulled into the front right before a climb, when everything got split up. I don't know shit about cycling etiquette, is it okay that I went off the front? Either way, I pulled ahead. Clearly not that far as the group pulled in shortly behind me at Bodega Bay. Maybe I'll figure out how to handle riding with a group someday.

Bodega Bay

More bikes.

John. This checkpoint would have been beautiful if the sun were on the other side, damnit.

These folks were prepping up as we were landing. It was hard to gauge where we were among the other riders

It was only 20 miles between Bodega Bay and Marshall, the final checkpoint, but it felt much longer. People were starting to feel it, and so was I, especially as Highway 1 rolled up and down at the split toward Marshall. The sun was starting it's arch downwards, it had now been close to 12 hours out. By the time I reached the Marshall Store there was almost no one there. We regrouped at the Marshall store where everyone chowed down on chowder and beers. This was a rough stop as the only offerings for us pitiful vegans was a warm Coke and nothing to eat. It would be a struggle against the bonk from there on it.

Marshall store leanings.

Once we left Marshall, the lights were out. It was pure darkness. Everyone popped on their lights and we headed down the road. From Marshall it's a fun rolling descent with quick ascents to quicker descents. Riding alone at night is not fun and stressful so I made sure to try to keep together. We regrouped at turns and just chatted. Until, once again, my shittiness when it comes to riding together kicked in and I went off the front over the Nicasio climb. We regrouped at the bottom and slowly crawled in to the finish line.

French bread for a French ride. I also need to get better at dealing with flash.

195 miles was the total for me when it was all said and done. Starting at 6 AM ending at 10 PM it was one of the toughest rides I've ever done. I definitely could not have done this solo. I know that randonneuring can be a totally nerdy goofy niche in the world of cycling of riding, but there is something to be said about the "in this together mentality" as opposed to racing. I already am looking forward to the next rando event to push myself even further.