The day started well enough, with the breakfast half of the b&b I was at. Despite doing all the bike maintenance the night before, I still didn't get started before 9. My goal for the day was Fallon, the last real town I'll go through until central Utah.
I began downhill going alongside the Carson River. It was just beautiful. I wanted to stop every 300 feet to take pictures. After about half an hour or so, at mile 303, we crossed our first state line into Nevada. Almost immediately, the wind swung around at started coming at me from the north and east. Too bad those were the primary directions I was traveling. At points, it was so windy that I had to work at going downhill. After the wind helped push me up the mountain yesterday, it clearly didn't want me to come down.
At mile 314.5 I entered Genoa, one of two municipalities claiming to be Nevada's first (white) settlement. The other, Dayton, I would get to in a couple hours. Not to tarnished the pride of these towns, but I'm pretty sure that there were lots of people born in what is now Nevada before 1851. There were a good number of roadside historical markers, but local history seems to have started only 160 years ago. But I digress.
In Genoa, there is the original Mormon station, with a plaque containing a quote basically calling the Mormons crazy for settling there.
By 323.5 I had entered the state capitol at Carson City. I grabbed lunch then headed across town to the bike shop by highway 50. I knew it was the last bike shop for the next several hundred miles. I bought 4 spare tubes and started eastbound on 50.
This is a picturesque part of the country. I kept finding myself glancing over my shoulder as the Sierras slowly receded behind the closer foothills.
24 miles out of Carson city, I took a break at Stagecoach. There was something not right with the front tire, I couldn't tell if it was a bald spot on the tire or a lump in tube. I deflated then re-inflated the tire, but it didn't seem to make a difference. Sure enough, half a mile later, I had my 4th flat tire. Thank goodness I just bought a bunch of new tubes.
Well, I know this was an error of my oversight, but they wern't the right tubes. They were the schrader valves and I need the presta. So the tube just didn't fit into the rim. The bike shop was 25 miles behind me and I had no way forward. I sucked it up and started walking back. After a couple miles, a pickup pulled over and the driver, Daniel offered to take me back to Dayton, saving my feet about 6 miles. He dropped me off and I started walking west again.
Soon enough a station wagon pulled over, and, after explaining my ordeal, the driver, Lou, offered to see if he had a spare tube that would fit. People who ride bikes are the best. He didn't have one, so he put down the seats and we loaded Penny and panniers into the back. Thank you so much, Lou for driving me back to town.
There are a couple inexpensive hotels by the bike shop, so I grabbed a room. The shop wouldn't open until 10 in the morning. Sigh, another late start.
I asked the woman at the hotel desk where to go for dinner and she recommended a brew pub down the street. I was quickly sighted by the local hustler as a possible mark, but frustrated his every attempt at an in. Sorry, but unless you have the answer of how to get the Cubs to be world series champs again, there is nothing you have to offer me that I'd be interested in. He gave up on me and went to go harass some cute girls.
Well, the day didn't end where or how I started, but that's part of the journey.
Day 5, Sorensen's (Woodford), CA - Carson City, NV
64.1 miles today, 355.4 total. Riding time, 4:09:07, total trip time 17:06:19. Today's high speed 39.1mph.
Showing posts with label California. Show all posts
Showing posts with label California. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Mile 291 - Oh yes THAT mountain
After hard day's climb, I like to have oatmeal for breakfast. Penny, it seems, prefers inner tubes. While I don't share that particular taste, I can't really fault her for it, if I was a bike, I'd probably go through a lot of brakes. What I disagree with is the preparation time involved with her repast. I just cannot seem to get a day started before 9.
My camp was perfect. Few cars went by, there was no way they could have seen me, and the only animal who visited me was an inquisitive squirrel who was scared off by the sound of me sitting up.
Once I finally got Penny settled and broke camp, I rode through Omo Ranch. While it looked like a town on the map, it was a big house, a couple of smaller buildings, several dogs and a horse who didn't want its picture taken. Good thing I didn't need reprovisioning, I could hold out until Cook's Station.
Less than 4 miles after camp I entered the Eldorado National Forest. By now the trees were almost exclusively furs and pines with one stray patch of what looked to me like poplars, but at that elevation, I assume I'm mistaken.
What I said about Penny and tubes, I wasn't joking. At mile 238.06 I had my third flat. The problem, I believe, is that my hand pump is putting too much torque on the valve stem, causing it to rip at the base of the stem. As many of you know, there is no way to patch that. I put on the last spare tube I had and started back up the mountain.
4.5 miles later and several hundred feet higher, I got my first good look at what the bulk of my day would be like. By then, occasional patches of snow were apparent in shady spots. In the ten miles or so I was on Omo Ranch road until I came to highway 88, I think I saw 6 cars. That's good as I was not climbing fast. Highway 88, however, had a whole lot more traffic. As I paused for a moment at the intersection to regain my breath and take a few mouthfulls (mouthfulls or mouthsfull?) of water, about twice that many vehicles zoomed by. Somewhere between Folsom and Rescue, I crossed the invisible line into the land of the extra big truck. Every vehicle that passed me was a Ford f-450 hauling a ton of pig iron or a dodge durango pulling a wrecked firetruck, or whatever the hell it is that the commercials for extra big trucks are showing these days. I even saw a guy in an XXL truck towing a regular extra large truck up the mountain. Boy must that extra large truck's owner's penis have felt small.
After 245.3 miles, I passed 5000', which is approximately a whole lot taller than anything I climbed in the Midwest, Carolina, or the northeast. Not far up the road, I could see a sign for Cook's Station, and with it a chance to refill my waterbottles. But what is that red sign on top of it? Closed?!?
I looked at the map, Ham's Station was only a couple miles (and 350' of elevation) away. At mile 247.75 I pulled up to Ham's Station to find a note on the door saying back at 12:15. It wasn't quite 11, but my next chance to refill fluids was Kirkwood, some 26 miles away and 2000' further up. I would need more water before then. Thankfully, at there was a couple who had stopped on their way down the mountain. They saw my bike and asked how far I was going. I haven't yet gotten tired of the answer Brooklyn. Maybe by the time I hit Jersey.
They introduced themselves as the Sibleys (I hope that's right) and produced from their car two full bottles of water for me. As I was talking to Mr Sibley, the talented Mrs Sibley strode over to a car that had just pulled up and petitioned them for more water for me. That's a sign of a great person, seeing that the needs of a stranger you've known for all of five minutes are being met. Thank you, the Sibleys. I really do appreciate it. Not to diminish that act of generosity, but three minutes after the cars left, as I was finishing putting my pack back together, Mrs Ham's Station lumbered out of the adjacent house with a clear half-day hangover on her face. She asked if I was looking for anything to which I replied water. She offered to fill me up and unlocked opened the bar/store/restaurant for me. As she was filling my various bottles, she looked at me and asked if I needed something to eat too, hun. I did. And I'll say for an unassuming hamburger in a bar with biker stickers and a booby calendar on the wall in the middle of the mountains, that it was fantastic.
After lunch, I had gone about 3 miles when I came to the sign announcing my 6000th foot of ascent above sea level. Woo. I still had 2500'+ to reach Carson Pass and I did not yet know about Silver Lake.
At mile 255 (6767'), I took a break at the best yet vista of the mountains. I was well above the snow line at this point, so opted to put on my longsleeved baselayer. Boy was that the right call. As I climbed past 7000', the chill got more biting and the piled snow got deeper. At 7400' there was a view of the four major peaks to my immediate north and a pole stuck in the ground to measure snow depth. I could just make out the top of a number 7 above the crust of the snow.
At mile 267.25, we crossed 8000'. For those who have never climbed that high on a bike before, let me give you a quick visualization. Imagine a 12 foot long 2x4. Place one end on top of your refrigerator. Ride a bike up the resulting ramp. Now, do it for 43 miles. Clearly, while the state of California is cutting back on a lot of essential services, they are still paying the gravity bill. It works. My suggestion: rolling gravity brownouts. You'll thank me for the idea later.
Then, in a fantastic display of topography, the road started to point downwards. At first my legs were glad for the hiatus. Then I briefly enjoyed the speed with which I was hurtling down. Then I remembered that every minute I went downslope at 40mph, would be 10 minutes of climbing at 4. Finally I hit Silver Lake, 7300' up. In less than two and a half miles and maybe 7 minutes, I dropped 700'. Carson Pass was still up there above 8500'. Sigh. I resigned myself to not crossing the pass today, but stopping a few miles short at Kirkwood.
5.5 miles later, I pulled into the ski resort. The last time I had gone skiing we had spent 3 of 5 days on this very mountain. I left it with four stitches and a freshly renewed tetanus vaccine. But that was a different adventure that seems like a lifetime ago.
The resort wasn't quite as I recalled, I remembered there being a lot more people there. I also remember the trip up was not as long because I was in a car. The main lodge is about a mile down the road from the entrance and I saw barely any sign of human activity present. Sure enough, on the door was a sign saying we're sorry, blah blah blah until may 8th. I was 5 days too early. They did make a helpful suggestion that lodging could be found at Sorensen's only 15 miles east. That sounds reasonable, if you have a car.
There was no way I was going to camp with over 6' of snow on the ground, so my option was to down an energy snack, climb to one of the higher passes in the Sierras, and then just continue another 10 miles to a place where I could rest for the night. If they were closed, I would have considered arson out of frustration.
Mile 281.62. Penny and I reached Carson pass, 8574' high. I wanted to celebrate the achievement by laying down very flat and still. But, as all the ground that wasn't roadway was either wet and gritty or covered in snow, I just took a couple pictures then rode on.
Now, knowing that the major climbing for this range was done, I could lean back and enjoy the descent. In most other contexts the idiom 'It's all downhill from here' has strong negative connotations. To me, it was a beautiful thing. Not only was I going 5 to 8 times faster than the climb, but all I had to do was hang on and let gravity take me closer to my goal. I hit a speed of 48.3 without putting any effort into it beyond keeping myself in a tight, aerodynamic position. It's hard on the forearms, but I won't complain, as it gave my thighs and saddlesores a rest.
I had spent 6hrs 16min climbing 47 miles. I covered the 10 miles between the pass and Sorensen's in 28 minutes. I ate, cleaned the day's dirt and grit from self and bike and went to sleep imagining how much easier tomorrow would be than today.
Day 4, Omo Ranch, CA - Sorensen's (outside Woodfords, CA, near the junction of 88 & 89)
57.62 miles covered, 291.3 for the trip. 6:44:03 in the saddle, trip total 25:44:48. Top speed 48.3
My camp was perfect. Few cars went by, there was no way they could have seen me, and the only animal who visited me was an inquisitive squirrel who was scared off by the sound of me sitting up.
Once I finally got Penny settled and broke camp, I rode through Omo Ranch. While it looked like a town on the map, it was a big house, a couple of smaller buildings, several dogs and a horse who didn't want its picture taken. Good thing I didn't need reprovisioning, I could hold out until Cook's Station.
Less than 4 miles after camp I entered the Eldorado National Forest. By now the trees were almost exclusively furs and pines with one stray patch of what looked to me like poplars, but at that elevation, I assume I'm mistaken.
What I said about Penny and tubes, I wasn't joking. At mile 238.06 I had my third flat. The problem, I believe, is that my hand pump is putting too much torque on the valve stem, causing it to rip at the base of the stem. As many of you know, there is no way to patch that. I put on the last spare tube I had and started back up the mountain.
4.5 miles later and several hundred feet higher, I got my first good look at what the bulk of my day would be like. By then, occasional patches of snow were apparent in shady spots. In the ten miles or so I was on Omo Ranch road until I came to highway 88, I think I saw 6 cars. That's good as I was not climbing fast. Highway 88, however, had a whole lot more traffic. As I paused for a moment at the intersection to regain my breath and take a few mouthfulls (mouthfulls or mouthsfull?) of water, about twice that many vehicles zoomed by. Somewhere between Folsom and Rescue, I crossed the invisible line into the land of the extra big truck. Every vehicle that passed me was a Ford f-450 hauling a ton of pig iron or a dodge durango pulling a wrecked firetruck, or whatever the hell it is that the commercials for extra big trucks are showing these days. I even saw a guy in an XXL truck towing a regular extra large truck up the mountain. Boy must that extra large truck's owner's penis have felt small.
After 245.3 miles, I passed 5000', which is approximately a whole lot taller than anything I climbed in the Midwest, Carolina, or the northeast. Not far up the road, I could see a sign for Cook's Station, and with it a chance to refill my waterbottles. But what is that red sign on top of it? Closed?!?
I looked at the map, Ham's Station was only a couple miles (and 350' of elevation) away. At mile 247.75 I pulled up to Ham's Station to find a note on the door saying back at 12:15. It wasn't quite 11, but my next chance to refill fluids was Kirkwood, some 26 miles away and 2000' further up. I would need more water before then. Thankfully, at there was a couple who had stopped on their way down the mountain. They saw my bike and asked how far I was going. I haven't yet gotten tired of the answer Brooklyn. Maybe by the time I hit Jersey.
They introduced themselves as the Sibleys (I hope that's right) and produced from their car two full bottles of water for me. As I was talking to Mr Sibley, the talented Mrs Sibley strode over to a car that had just pulled up and petitioned them for more water for me. That's a sign of a great person, seeing that the needs of a stranger you've known for all of five minutes are being met. Thank you, the Sibleys. I really do appreciate it. Not to diminish that act of generosity, but three minutes after the cars left, as I was finishing putting my pack back together, Mrs Ham's Station lumbered out of the adjacent house with a clear half-day hangover on her face. She asked if I was looking for anything to which I replied water. She offered to fill me up and unlocked opened the bar/store/restaurant for me. As she was filling my various bottles, she looked at me and asked if I needed something to eat too, hun. I did. And I'll say for an unassuming hamburger in a bar with biker stickers and a booby calendar on the wall in the middle of the mountains, that it was fantastic.
After lunch, I had gone about 3 miles when I came to the sign announcing my 6000th foot of ascent above sea level. Woo. I still had 2500'+ to reach Carson Pass and I did not yet know about Silver Lake.
At mile 255 (6767'), I took a break at the best yet vista of the mountains. I was well above the snow line at this point, so opted to put on my longsleeved baselayer. Boy was that the right call. As I climbed past 7000', the chill got more biting and the piled snow got deeper. At 7400' there was a view of the four major peaks to my immediate north and a pole stuck in the ground to measure snow depth. I could just make out the top of a number 7 above the crust of the snow.
At mile 267.25, we crossed 8000'. For those who have never climbed that high on a bike before, let me give you a quick visualization. Imagine a 12 foot long 2x4. Place one end on top of your refrigerator. Ride a bike up the resulting ramp. Now, do it for 43 miles. Clearly, while the state of California is cutting back on a lot of essential services, they are still paying the gravity bill. It works. My suggestion: rolling gravity brownouts. You'll thank me for the idea later.
Then, in a fantastic display of topography, the road started to point downwards. At first my legs were glad for the hiatus. Then I briefly enjoyed the speed with which I was hurtling down. Then I remembered that every minute I went downslope at 40mph, would be 10 minutes of climbing at 4. Finally I hit Silver Lake, 7300' up. In less than two and a half miles and maybe 7 minutes, I dropped 700'. Carson Pass was still up there above 8500'. Sigh. I resigned myself to not crossing the pass today, but stopping a few miles short at Kirkwood.
5.5 miles later, I pulled into the ski resort. The last time I had gone skiing we had spent 3 of 5 days on this very mountain. I left it with four stitches and a freshly renewed tetanus vaccine. But that was a different adventure that seems like a lifetime ago.
The resort wasn't quite as I recalled, I remembered there being a lot more people there. I also remember the trip up was not as long because I was in a car. The main lodge is about a mile down the road from the entrance and I saw barely any sign of human activity present. Sure enough, on the door was a sign saying we're sorry, blah blah blah until may 8th. I was 5 days too early. They did make a helpful suggestion that lodging could be found at Sorensen's only 15 miles east. That sounds reasonable, if you have a car.
There was no way I was going to camp with over 6' of snow on the ground, so my option was to down an energy snack, climb to one of the higher passes in the Sierras, and then just continue another 10 miles to a place where I could rest for the night. If they were closed, I would have considered arson out of frustration.
Mile 281.62. Penny and I reached Carson pass, 8574' high. I wanted to celebrate the achievement by laying down very flat and still. But, as all the ground that wasn't roadway was either wet and gritty or covered in snow, I just took a couple pictures then rode on.
Now, knowing that the major climbing for this range was done, I could lean back and enjoy the descent. In most other contexts the idiom 'It's all downhill from here' has strong negative connotations. To me, it was a beautiful thing. Not only was I going 5 to 8 times faster than the climb, but all I had to do was hang on and let gravity take me closer to my goal. I hit a speed of 48.3 without putting any effort into it beyond keeping myself in a tight, aerodynamic position. It's hard on the forearms, but I won't complain, as it gave my thighs and saddlesores a rest.
I had spent 6hrs 16min climbing 47 miles. I covered the 10 miles between the pass and Sorensen's in 28 minutes. I ate, cleaned the day's dirt and grit from self and bike and went to sleep imagining how much easier tomorrow would be than today.
Day 4, Omo Ranch, CA - Sorensen's (outside Woodfords, CA, near the junction of 88 & 89)
57.62 miles covered, 291.3 for the trip. 6:44:03 in the saddle, trip total 25:44:48. Top speed 48.3
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Mile 233 - Oh my quads!
I started day 3 with breakfast at the Folsom Waffle Barn. With my omelet I got a side of local lore, talking with the waitress about escape attempts from folsom prison. Apparently, there was a guy who had some buddies on the outside who tried to free him by running a freight train into the prison walls. I spent several miles trying to work out the logistics of that.
Anyway. After Folsom, the climb began in earnest. After the first hour, I had only gone 10.8 miles. The next hour was better, I made it a whole 11.8 miles. The hills east of Rescue, CA are a little steeper than what I had to train on around nyc. Most of the inclines I had climbed thus far fell into one of three categories, 8 mph, 6 mph or the really steep 4 mph. Today I found my first 2.5 mph. That is slower than walking speed, but at least I made it the whole way up on my bike. I was rewarded at the top with a brief glimpse if the snow capped peaks that awaited me. I was reminded throughout the day that as rough as it was, it was only a preview of tomorrow.
After 24.6 miles I had climbed up to Placerville. On the way up, I startled a massive golden eagle on the side of the road, who flew off with something very red and wet in its beak. The bird's wing span seemed at least as wide as mine. After what seemed like interminable climbing, I crested a hill and saw a sign I really didn't want to. It said 7% grade and showed a truck sloping downwards. Ok, the downhill, really, is what I live for. The chance to speed along at 30 mph or more without cranking a single pedal may be the closest i ever get to flying. But, having chugged along at 4 miles an hour for far too long, the last thing I wanted was a long downhill. Well, let me say that while I did hit my day' s high of 43.2 mph and covered the next 2 miles very quickly, there was a good amount if disappointment in it. I worked hard to get up that high and now I had to climb it again. Every time I came around a corner to see the road start to decline before me, I uttered a silent prayer that it didn't go down too far.
3 miles later, I was crossing the Cosumnes River, which was quite beautiful. The bridge over the river was aswarm with dozens of birds darting around.
As I climbed, the foliage changed subtly from the palm lined extravagance of the coast to the much hardier and more rugged giant conifers of the higher elevations. The underbrush changed too, from the pantheon of wild flowers in the lower altitudes to ferns and thorny bush, acclimated to the wind and cold.
After 4 hours, my pace hadn't really picked up yet. I was still in the 4-6 range for what felt like all day. At one point a woman driving a truck pulling a horse trailer actually slowed down to my speed and followed me more than a quarter mile uphill until I got to a more level spot and waved her past. As she passed me, she called out her window 'Keep going, you can make it'. Thank you for your kind encouragement, random horse pulling lady. I did make it.
Then, after 51.68 miles, Penny decided to voice her opinion that we had gone far enough for that day by blowing the front tire. Thankfully she stopped within sight of my primary goal for the day, Omo Ranch. In fact, the tire went flat in front of the perfect spot for a campsite. Sometimes when the bike tells you you're done for the day, you have no choice but to listen. The spot was great, hidden from the road but flat and grassy. I only hope my future sites are as good.
Day 3 Folsom, CA - Omo Ranch, CA
51.68 miles, 233.68 total. 5:36:14 of wheels spinning, 19:00:54 total, top speed 43.6 mph
Anyway. After Folsom, the climb began in earnest. After the first hour, I had only gone 10.8 miles. The next hour was better, I made it a whole 11.8 miles. The hills east of Rescue, CA are a little steeper than what I had to train on around nyc. Most of the inclines I had climbed thus far fell into one of three categories, 8 mph, 6 mph or the really steep 4 mph. Today I found my first 2.5 mph. That is slower than walking speed, but at least I made it the whole way up on my bike. I was rewarded at the top with a brief glimpse if the snow capped peaks that awaited me. I was reminded throughout the day that as rough as it was, it was only a preview of tomorrow.
After 24.6 miles I had climbed up to Placerville. On the way up, I startled a massive golden eagle on the side of the road, who flew off with something very red and wet in its beak. The bird's wing span seemed at least as wide as mine. After what seemed like interminable climbing, I crested a hill and saw a sign I really didn't want to. It said 7% grade and showed a truck sloping downwards. Ok, the downhill, really, is what I live for. The chance to speed along at 30 mph or more without cranking a single pedal may be the closest i ever get to flying. But, having chugged along at 4 miles an hour for far too long, the last thing I wanted was a long downhill. Well, let me say that while I did hit my day' s high of 43.2 mph and covered the next 2 miles very quickly, there was a good amount if disappointment in it. I worked hard to get up that high and now I had to climb it again. Every time I came around a corner to see the road start to decline before me, I uttered a silent prayer that it didn't go down too far.
3 miles later, I was crossing the Cosumnes River, which was quite beautiful. The bridge over the river was aswarm with dozens of birds darting around.
As I climbed, the foliage changed subtly from the palm lined extravagance of the coast to the much hardier and more rugged giant conifers of the higher elevations. The underbrush changed too, from the pantheon of wild flowers in the lower altitudes to ferns and thorny bush, acclimated to the wind and cold.
After 4 hours, my pace hadn't really picked up yet. I was still in the 4-6 range for what felt like all day. At one point a woman driving a truck pulling a horse trailer actually slowed down to my speed and followed me more than a quarter mile uphill until I got to a more level spot and waved her past. As she passed me, she called out her window 'Keep going, you can make it'. Thank you for your kind encouragement, random horse pulling lady. I did make it.
Then, after 51.68 miles, Penny decided to voice her opinion that we had gone far enough for that day by blowing the front tire. Thankfully she stopped within sight of my primary goal for the day, Omo Ranch. In fact, the tire went flat in front of the perfect spot for a campsite. Sometimes when the bike tells you you're done for the day, you have no choice but to listen. The spot was great, hidden from the road but flat and grassy. I only hope my future sites are as good.
Day 3 Folsom, CA - Omo Ranch, CA
51.68 miles, 233.68 total. 5:36:14 of wheels spinning, 19:00:54 total, top speed 43.6 mph
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Mile 182.0 - Crossing the central valley
Lots to talk about today. First, I have to say that while the political body that is the state of California may be crumbling apart with each passing day, the physical land it encompasses is quite stunning. Between Vacaville and Davis, I lost count of the number of cows that stopped chewing their cud to watch me go by. There was also a very happy alpaca rolling around in the dirt.
Anyway, today. It's hard to encapsulate what one sees in 118 miles: the peaceful calm, the mild pungency of cow dung in the fresh country air, the wildflowers, or the dozens of fellow cyclists one meets. But I will try.
Around mile 69, I surpassed my personal speed record on a bike.(grandma, if you're reading, skip down a few lines.) Coming out of Vellejo, there was this beautiful, empty, freshly repaved county road. Between the road, the hill, and the wind at my back, I hit an even 50.0 mph. From around 37 to 42 mph, Penny started to shake a bit, but then I hit my slipstream and started flying. I don't know how much faster I really need to go.
I knowingly broke the speed limit several times today including 10 over in a school zone and most of the American River Trail.
Soon after I came to a sweeping vista of the Suisan Valley, where a coast guard reserve fleet is anchored. At mile 82.6, I crossed US80 for the second time. My old friend 80.
After 7 hours of wheels spinning, I had gone 93.65 miles. Not bad. At mile 94.1, I found that the road I was going to take was under construction and physically not there. Thankfully, there was a firehouse right there, so I was able to get directions around to my next turn.
I was going to take a break at mile 100 for the trip, but shortly before, two triathlete types pulled up beside me. One of them went from Washington to Maine last year and gave me general words of encouragement. I had my brake at 100.3 instead.
Then, from mile 122 or so to mile 127.4, I took an impromptu tour of not the right direction. Urg. That cost me 20 minutes in the midday sun. Then, I entered Davis. Davis is to cyclists as Wrigley Field is to Cubs fans: the place you want to be. I took the lovely bike path into town, with only one minor issue. At mile 130.2 I was met with a swarm of bees. If any of you read your Pooh, these were the wrong kind of bees. I tucked my arms in, put my head down and put on a little burst of speed.
3 miles later, I came to the UC Davis softball team up by 2 in the 6th. UC Riverside tied it up, but the Aggies scraped in another run to win 5-4.
On the way out of town, I stopped at target to refill my fluids. They had lots of bike parking and a few bike lockers. I tried, but with Penny's pack on she didn't fit. I left her by the customer service desk. The girl working the desk asked if I was riding cross country or something. Actually yes. Anyway, the Atlantic Ave Target in Brooklyn should get bike lockers.
I then followed the Yolo Causeway trail to Sacramento. Gorgeous. The trail is a separated shoulder of my old friend I80. I saw about a dozen hurons in the marsh.
At 148.7, I was taking pictures of the CA state capitol. I swung back around to the river and started on the American River Bike Trail. It was awesome! I encourage all my nyc riders to come experience it and figure out how we can have something similar. Lots of bikers, several of whom I talked to for some time, a coyote and near dusk a deer. It's mostly tree lined, goes through a couple parks and was very comfortable to ride on. I wish it went all the way across the country, I'd be done in 8 weeks.
At mile 164.9, a bit past 100 miles for the day, I took a much needed stop at a bench by a men's room and a water fountain.
Finally, at 180.3 I made it into Fulsom. As I hadn't eaten and the sun was going down, I decided to find a room and some grub.
Tomorrow, I hope to make it close to the CA\NV line. I have lots if climbing to do.
Day 2, Vellejo, CA - Fulsom, CA
118.31 miles today, 182.0 miles total. Wheels spinning today 8:20:12. Total time thus far, 13:24:37. Top speed 50.0 miles per fracking hour.
Anyway, today. It's hard to encapsulate what one sees in 118 miles: the peaceful calm, the mild pungency of cow dung in the fresh country air, the wildflowers, or the dozens of fellow cyclists one meets. But I will try.
Around mile 69, I surpassed my personal speed record on a bike.(grandma, if you're reading, skip down a few lines.) Coming out of Vellejo, there was this beautiful, empty, freshly repaved county road. Between the road, the hill, and the wind at my back, I hit an even 50.0 mph. From around 37 to 42 mph, Penny started to shake a bit, but then I hit my slipstream and started flying. I don't know how much faster I really need to go.
I knowingly broke the speed limit several times today including 10 over in a school zone and most of the American River Trail.
Soon after I came to a sweeping vista of the Suisan Valley, where a coast guard reserve fleet is anchored. At mile 82.6, I crossed US80 for the second time. My old friend 80.
After 7 hours of wheels spinning, I had gone 93.65 miles. Not bad. At mile 94.1, I found that the road I was going to take was under construction and physically not there. Thankfully, there was a firehouse right there, so I was able to get directions around to my next turn.
I was going to take a break at mile 100 for the trip, but shortly before, two triathlete types pulled up beside me. One of them went from Washington to Maine last year and gave me general words of encouragement. I had my brake at 100.3 instead.
Then, from mile 122 or so to mile 127.4, I took an impromptu tour of not the right direction. Urg. That cost me 20 minutes in the midday sun. Then, I entered Davis. Davis is to cyclists as Wrigley Field is to Cubs fans: the place you want to be. I took the lovely bike path into town, with only one minor issue. At mile 130.2 I was met with a swarm of bees. If any of you read your Pooh, these were the wrong kind of bees. I tucked my arms in, put my head down and put on a little burst of speed.
3 miles later, I came to the UC Davis softball team up by 2 in the 6th. UC Riverside tied it up, but the Aggies scraped in another run to win 5-4.
On the way out of town, I stopped at target to refill my fluids. They had lots of bike parking and a few bike lockers. I tried, but with Penny's pack on she didn't fit. I left her by the customer service desk. The girl working the desk asked if I was riding cross country or something. Actually yes. Anyway, the Atlantic Ave Target in Brooklyn should get bike lockers.
I then followed the Yolo Causeway trail to Sacramento. Gorgeous. The trail is a separated shoulder of my old friend I80. I saw about a dozen hurons in the marsh.
At 148.7, I was taking pictures of the CA state capitol. I swung back around to the river and started on the American River Bike Trail. It was awesome! I encourage all my nyc riders to come experience it and figure out how we can have something similar. Lots of bikers, several of whom I talked to for some time, a coyote and near dusk a deer. It's mostly tree lined, goes through a couple parks and was very comfortable to ride on. I wish it went all the way across the country, I'd be done in 8 weeks.
At mile 164.9, a bit past 100 miles for the day, I took a much needed stop at a bench by a men's room and a water fountain.
Finally, at 180.3 I made it into Fulsom. As I hadn't eaten and the sun was going down, I decided to find a room and some grub.
Tomorrow, I hope to make it close to the CA\NV line. I have lots if climbing to do.
Day 2, Vellejo, CA - Fulsom, CA
118.31 miles today, 182.0 miles total. Wheels spinning today 8:20:12. Total time thus far, 13:24:37. Top speed 50.0 miles per fracking hour.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Mile 63.69 - The journey begins
Day one and the adventure has already begun. I got my feet and Penny's tires wet in the Pacific at Bakers Beach and then crossed the Golden Gate. Things were rolling along until I crested the hill going into San Raphael. I had started the descent and I heard what no cyclist ever wants to hear: a loud pop from the back tire. Pardon my French, but fiddlesticks.
I slowly pulled a 3" wood screw out of my tire. It had gone clean through the tube, either the entrance or the exit wound was sufficient to kill the tube. If I had cheaper rims, it probably would have wrecked that too.
Thankfully, my rescue came in the form of a lovely local named Michelle who rode back to her place and then returned with a spare tire and a real pump. Thank you,thank you, thank you.
With her road tire, I got into town to a bike shop and got a new tire more appropriate for the load bearing I require of it. Anyway, 2 hours and $70 later I was back on the road.
I went around the marshland at the top of the bay (alongside the traffic on 37) and then climbed a really tall bridge into Vellejo. I got across the town and, as the sun was sinking inexorably in the sky, I found a cheap motel and am now bivouacked for the night.
Day 1, San Francisco, CA - Vellejo, CA
63.69 miles today, 63.69 miles total, top speed 40.1 mph. Climbing speed a little bit slower.
I slowly pulled a 3" wood screw out of my tire. It had gone clean through the tube, either the entrance or the exit wound was sufficient to kill the tube. If I had cheaper rims, it probably would have wrecked that too.
Thankfully, my rescue came in the form of a lovely local named Michelle who rode back to her place and then returned with a spare tire and a real pump. Thank you,thank you, thank you.
With her road tire, I got into town to a bike shop and got a new tire more appropriate for the load bearing I require of it. Anyway, 2 hours and $70 later I was back on the road.
I went around the marshland at the top of the bay (alongside the traffic on 37) and then climbed a really tall bridge into Vellejo. I got across the town and, as the sun was sinking inexorably in the sky, I found a cheap motel and am now bivouacked for the night.
Day 1, San Francisco, CA - Vellejo, CA
63.69 miles today, 63.69 miles total, top speed 40.1 mph. Climbing speed a little bit slower.
Mile 0.0
It is now 7:30 am (pacific time) on April 30th 2010. I'm typing from the comfort of my Uncle Jim's air mattress in San Fransisco. I will shortly be getting up, taking my last warm shower for who knows how long and enjoying a nice hearty breakfast.
Then it begins.
My plan in SF is to ride unloaded across town from where my uncle lives in Potrero Hill, take some of the awesome bike lanes this city provides, including The Wiggle, through Golden Gate Park to Baker Beach. There, Emily and Jim will meet me with my panniers, take a picture or two of Penny at the Pacific Ocean, then load up, and go up across the Golden Gate Bridge. I would like to make it through to Davis today, though that might be a little ambitious. It totally depends on how long it takes me to get out of SF.
Ok, kids. It's on.
Oh, also, I got a toy that should help me in my journey yesterday. I got a droid. I can now use that as wifi for my laptop wherever I get cell reception which means I;ll be able to blog from most anywhere in my trip. Woohoo, more fun for you.
Time to get this party rolling.
Then it begins.
My plan in SF is to ride unloaded across town from where my uncle lives in Potrero Hill, take some of the awesome bike lanes this city provides, including The Wiggle, through Golden Gate Park to Baker Beach. There, Emily and Jim will meet me with my panniers, take a picture or two of Penny at the Pacific Ocean, then load up, and go up across the Golden Gate Bridge. I would like to make it through to Davis today, though that might be a little ambitious. It totally depends on how long it takes me to get out of SF.
Ok, kids. It's on.
Oh, also, I got a toy that should help me in my journey yesterday. I got a droid. I can now use that as wifi for my laptop wherever I get cell reception which means I;ll be able to blog from most anywhere in my trip. Woohoo, more fun for you.
Time to get this party rolling.
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