Tioga Pass and the Yosemite Valley

Long, lonely shadow.  Time to do some rock climbing.

Amy and the kids were out of town at the end of last week.  On Wednesday morning, the morning of their departure, I got a random phone call from Amy’s grandmother just to say ‘hi’.  With little plans for the coming days, I suggested that I go visit her for the weekend at her home in Lee Vining.  She was happy to have me and I was hyped for the weekend of mountain air, no cell phone reception and adventure.  Lee Vining is basically 250 miles due east of San Francisco, through Yosemite, on Mono Lake.  

Tuolomne Meadows

I left work on Thursday afternoon and made pretty good time.  Driving through Yosemite, I was blown away by the beauty and the scale of the Yosemite Valley.  I realized that I probably had not been to Yosemite in my adult life, most likely since a 4^th or 5^th grade camping trip.

After a solid nights sleep, I woke up early on Friday morning, packed my backpack with food, tubes, CO2 and lots of water.  I was on the bike by 6.15am with little plan other than to make it up the Tioga Pass.  The first thing that I noticed, even before the ride got going, was that my heart was beating out of my chest.  I don’t know if it was my nerves or the elevation, but my heart rate in the parking lot was north of 140, where I can typically get to work on a casual commute sub 130.  An ominous start. 

I headed up the hill not knowing exactly how long the climb might take.  All I knew was that I had the longest climb of my life - 3,000 feet and 12 miles - ahead of me.  I settled into low gear and tried not to work too hard.   Moreover, I wanted to get my heart rate back into check and not blow my load in the first few miles.  I snapped a few pictures and took deep breaths.  With each crank of the pedals, I was doing math in my head.  Twelve miles at eight miles per hour was an hour and a half, ninety minutes.  Perfect.  The grade was a steady six percent and my MPH were steady.  All of a sudden, the grade increased and the MPH dropped accordingly.  More math.  Seven percent grade, 16 percent steeper, MPH down from eight to seven or six.  Another increase in pitch, the MPH dropped again.  The next thing I knew, I was struggling to keep the MPH above five.  Four point something.  Yikes, 12 miles a four miles per hour.  Could I really be climbing for three hours?!? 

The road turned a bit to the left and I looked over my shoulder.  It was at that point that I noticed the valley beneath me that I had already climbed.  I couldn’t see the top yet.  But the view to the bottom was breathless.  My four-something MPH pace felt comfortable and I kept chugging along.  I should mention that I started the ride at about 6,500 feet and I had seen a picture of the Tioga Gate reading 9,900-some-odd feet.  Rather than focus on speed or time, I figured I should just look at my altimeter.  One revolution of the pedals equaled about two feet of climb.  So I just counted my strokes and the altitude cranked by – 7,100 feet, 7,200 feet, 7,300 feet.  As I was expecting to see my meter get to 7,500 feet, I noticed the sign on the side of the road.  It read “Elevation 8,000 feet”.  Wait, what?  My meter read 500-600 feet LOWER than the sign.  I was closer to the top than I had thought.  More math.

I flipped my Garmin screen to a pre-programmed screen to only see two data points - my heart rate and the elevation.  I consciously chose to avoid my speed, the time of day or total time ridden.  I threw the math out the window and just tried to enjoy the ride.  This helped a bunch and I further settled in to the pain.  Just keep pedaling, knock off the elevation foot by foot, take deep breaths, enjoy the scenery  and keep my heart rate as low as possible.  I reached the “Elevation 9,000 feet” marker on the hill and compared it to my Garmin at 8,700 feet.  Crap, it was equalizing.  I don’t understand the technology.  But I don’t need to be a rocket scientist to calculate that something didn’t jive with the data.  I trusted the sign and felt comfort knowing that I had less than 1,000 feet to go.  

Was I an hour into my ride?  Two hours?  I had no clue.  Keep pedaling.  Some orange road signs appeared noting some road work ahead.  I recalled from the drive in that the road reduced to one lane as they were working on a bridge.  I approached the construction woman with the two-sided sign – SLOW and STOP.  She graced me with the stop sign and I got to catch my breath.  After a couple of minutes of small talk, she prodded me to go forward and I went on my way.  I reached the guy on the opposite side of the sign team and he quipped, “Do you think you will get to the peak before dark?”  I smiled but thought to myself, “Man, that was just plain cold.”  

Ellery Lake, just west of the Tioga Pass.  A mile or less to go.

All of a sudden, the road turned to the right and started to flatten out.  Was it possible?  I was almost to the top.  I passed a few resorts and hotels, a big lake, and there it was - the ranger station at the peak.  I slowed to a stop, parked the bike against the station, nodded to the ranger and took a final deep breath.  I finished my water bottles (I drank 48 ounces total on the climb), pulled out my breakfast burrito, snapped a few pictures and forced myself to keep eating.  I finally checked my Garmin and the stats read something like 3,100 feet of climbing, 2 hours 15 minutes, 13 miles.  Ouch.  But I also realized that I was “done” and it was only 8.30am.  No way I could call it a day at this juncture.  I kept eating, filled up my water bottles and prepared to keep going – no clue where I was heading, but it certainly wasn’t back down that hill.

The rest of the ride was basically a blur.  You would have thought that after reaching the peak at 9,900 feet of elevation, the only thing left for the day would be to descend.  Well, boy, was I wrong.  I was in no rush and I was constantly taking pictures, but it seemed like the whole ride was uphill.  I kept heading west with the goal of reaching Cedar Flats, the western gate to Yosemite.  The hard part was that the ups and downs were so severe.  I would do a few hundred feet of climbing at five MPH, taking 20-30 minutes, then I would bomb down a hill at 35+ MPH (sub two-minute miles) for a few minutes/miles.  The thing is, a descent at those speeds passes really quickly, and then the climbs pass that much more slowly.  There wasn’t enough time in the descents to rest before the next climb approached.

Upon reaching Cedar Flats, I looked around for the bus schedule.  My plan was to take the bus back to Lee Vining.  Unfortunately, it was 11.30ish when I got to the bus stop and the next bus was not scheduled until 5.30pm.  What to do?  If I waited for the bus, I would not be back to Lee Vining until 7.30pm, 8 hours.  I could ride back in way less time than it would take to ride the bus.  I went into the gas station, loaded up on food and drink and prepared to hit the road again.  Thankfully, my senses got a hold of me in the line and I decided that 125 miles was not in the cards for this day.  I was already spent, on a balding rear tire and at altitude.  I just didn’t have another 6,000 feet of climbing in me.  Luckily, I only had to ask about ten people whether they were heading east to Tioga Pass.  I found an old hillbilly and his wife, with an empty pick-up truck cab that were willing to give me a ride.  He refused allowing me to buy his gas or even a coffee.  The conversation was stimulating and the effort was minimal as we hauled across Yosemite. 

My ride home.  No pedaling necessary.  Note the full bottles of Gatorade.  That's how close I can to riding back.

I left my ride at the top of the Tioga Pass.  There was no way I was going to pass on the opportunity of descending that bastard of a hill that I had trudged up a few hours earlier.  My Strava time was negatively affected by the road closure and another few minute wait.  But, needless to say, my hands were killing me from braking so much on the 27 minute downward bomb.  

View down the Tioga Pass.  You can barely make out the road that travels along the left of this canyon.

All in all, an amazing day.  The pictures above do not do justice to the beauty and grandeur of the Yosemite Valley.  Let me know when you are ready to do this again with me.  I will either start before you or you can get extra rest at the top of the Tioga Pass.

The Return of StravaMo

Sunny summer is over.  Its been wet and dark recently.  Time to pull out the lights and the plastics.

This blog has been conspicuously silent on StravaMo and the MoMiles Friday rides.  This is due to Mo's generous employer which offers a sabbatical of 4 weeks paid every five years of employment.  Well, July and August brought that wonderful gift to Mo and his family.  And with that gift, I was deprived with several weeks of Mo-less riding (I was also blessed with sleeping in on Friday mornings and being somewhat productive on Fridays having not ridden 5,000 feet of climbing on the way to work).

Alas, yesterday and this morning I received two emails from StravaMo announcing his return and his intentions:

From: StravaMo
To: FatGuy
Sent: Tuesday, August 14, 2012 10:59 AM
Subject: RE: riding tomorrow?

Finally caught up on your blog…seems you have many stories to share…awesome reading. And love that you noticed how I beat you up camino alto by a tic…and even better that you got it back again.

 

Wish I realized that yesterday on my way home…I was flying despite the wind. I have purposely avoided strava and your blog and emails most of the 4 week break. I didn’t want to crave riding and avoiding this stuff helped me. Wanted instead to focus on riding with kids, and just relaxing with family on vacation.

 

Mo

From: StravaMo
To: FatGuy (and many others)
Sent: Monday, August 13, 2012 10:17 AM
Subject: Mo's riding schedule

I’m back,

 

And with a new schedule. I have some training to do if I hope to ride W2W this year. So my general training plan follows

 

·         Mondays

o   ~20 miles

o   Straight shot basically

·         Wednesdays

o   ~40 miles

o   Tib loops, Pan Toll, Muir Woods Back Country, Sutro Tower

·         Fridays

o   ~80 miles

o   Commute from Novato, Stinson, Muir Beach, Tib loop and Sutro,

 

You get the idea.

 

Note, I’m in crazy horrible shape after my break. 4 weeks off the bike + 4lbs makes for slowMo miles currently. For example my morning ride today was an less than impressive 14.6mph average :-> I blame the backpack and Oregon brews I enjoyed.

 

Mo

I find those email hilarious for several reasons.  First off, Mo's Monday email shows just how looney this guy is. Really!?!  His 'normal' schedule will be 20 miles on Monday, 40 miles on Wednesday and, oh, 80 miles on the way to freaking work on Fridays?!?!?  There is nothing 'normal about that'.  I will post an update in a few weeks to see how closely Mo adhered to his proposed schedule (no pressure, buddy).  Second is Mo's bike riding obsession.  He can not even bare to read the FatGuy blog for fear of losing sleep dreaming about my rides to and from work (and Aptos and Marin Century, btw).  Lasty, in Mo's Monday commute, his first ride in four weeks, he claims to have ridden an embarrassingly slow 14.6 mph average to work that day.  Well, looking at my data from the same morning, I put in an impressive 14.2 mph, returning from a relaxing weekend and only a short spin on Sunday morning.  Thanks for showing me up, Mo.

Welcome back.  You were missed.

Marin Century and the Near Naked Man

Iron Mike and Young Daniel taking Bog Rock at the top of Lucas Valley Road

 This past Saturday brought the famous Marin Century.  I was super excited for the ride and not overly concerned about the mileage or the elevation.  The Tour de Cure was much faster and the ride to Aptos was much longer with more elevation.  So I was ready.  And to top it all off, the Marin Century is world renowned for its service.  There were well rest stops at all the major mile markers, stocked with fresh fruit, Gatorade, trail mix, PB&J, oreos and tons of other goodies.  I ate a big bowl of oatmeal pre-ride and packed four packages of Gu.  Otherwise, I was confident that the food, SAG vehicles and all of my other needs would be met.

Near Naked Man - Raising awareness for male cancers

The ride also was my opportunity to introduce the world, or at least this continent, the NearNakedMan (NNM).  NNM is a fancy kit that I wore as part of a philanthropy that I am supporting, http://malecancer.org/, The cause for the philanthropy is pretty simple.  It states that these make cancers are generally treatable and curable in men as long as they are diagnosed early in the process.  As you might imagine, many men are intimidated or even embarrassed to ask their doctors to check out their undercarriage.  So the goal is to raise awareness by minimizing the embarrassment of talking about the cancers.  The method doing so is by having its supporters (me) wear the most god-awful, flesh colored speed suit of a naked man, complete with abs and nipples, and a fig leaf covering the boy parts.  While the kit is not pornographic by any means, it is certainly off-color and possibly obscene.  And there is nothing sexy about a 225 pound guy in a flesh colored spandex skin suit.  Nonetheless, it succeeds in its goal of catching attention and creating something to talk about.

NNM, Young Daniel and Paul B enjoying the first rest stop in Petaluma

Accompanying me on the ride were several of my FOG Dweller buddies and a few friends of friends.  We were a strong crew of nine, with little intention for a hammer fest.  Most exciting was young Noah who, at 14 years old, was doing his first century.  Selfishly, I was thrilled for him to join us because his pace was certain to keep the group from flying through the course.  

One of many cow pastures that we passed.  We also went through a herd of sheep.

We did surprisingly little socializing at the start of the ride and proceeded straight to the course.  By the top of our first climb of the day, Big Rock on Lucas Valley Road, there were still a lot of people and plenty of bikes/bikers to pass.  Jeff B. and I took the initiative to hit the downhill a little hard to get out of the masses.  At the first rest stop, in Petaluma, I must say that I was really embarrassed to get off the bike and fully expose the NNM to the masses.  It was one thing to have someone make a comment about the silly suit as we passed each other on the bike.  But there was no hiding as I was surrounded by tons of people waiting in line for food.  I kept my sunglasses on as to not have to make eye contact with anyone in particular.  But the comments were unavoidable.  Most were extremely positive like “Whoa” and “Great kit, man”.  But others were more in shock and there was a significant amount of finger pointing and laughing.  The ice was broken when I was approached by a flamboyant gay guy who was hosting the food line as a representative for the AIDS Ride.  He can up to me and we bantered for a while which made the situation much more fun.  Then I bumped into a few acquaintances who are part of a very strong community of riders in San Francisco and Marin.  I got the token “Wow”s and we continued on.  But I also knew that my buddy Mark, with whom I rode to Aptos, was riding in that crew.  I innocently asked, ‘Is Mark with you guys?” and Mark chimed up from behind me.  Although we just rode together just two weeks ago, and we have hung out a few times since, Mark was horrified to talk with me, be in my presence or even acknowledge that he knew me.  I felt a bit uneasy to see how uncomfortable he felt seeing me in the kit.  No harm done and we have laughed about it after the fact, though.

Rest stop number 2 in Valley Ford

We picked up the pace heading west towards Tomales to our second rest stop at about mile 55.  It was at this stop that the NNM was in full form.  The entrance was about 100 feet from the parking area, so there was literally a red carpet walkway between the bike parking and the food.  NNM was on full display.  It was also at this stop that I had the most fun encounter of the day.  After being asked to pose for several pictures, both alone and with other riders, I was approached by a cute little racer chick with piercings and tattoos all over her.  She proclaimed, “We are going to take a picture together, and I’m gonna grab your nipple.”  Who was I to object so as she handed her camera to Young Daniel, I just shrugged and went with it.  We both laughed and we went our separate ways.  By the end of the day, she was not the last person to touch me without my solicitation to do so.

Jeff B, one of the speedster group that dropped me at mile 70

The third leg of the ride brought the vaunted Marshall Wall – an 750 foot climb over three miles that is an unwelcome sight after 71 miles behind us.  It was at this point that the speedsters of our group – Jeff, Young Daniel and Paul – left the rest of us for good.  For me personally, it was a time to downshift to low-low and just pedal without regard for speed.  I was still passing more people than I was being passed by.  But the climb gave me the opportunity to lower my heart rate and just spin for 20 minutes or so.  I may not be able to climb fast, but I can certainly climb slowly for a very long time.  After the Marshall descent, we stopped at the last rest stop of the day.  As I was pulling in, my racer chick was on her way out.  She feigned surprise as I walked past her and she said, “Sheesh.  You caught me by surprise.  I am just not use to being in the presence of a naked man.”  I responded that “Maybe you should try it more often.”  She just giggled and said, “Nope, men are really not my type.”  If the tats and the piercings were not clue enough, it was now clear that racer-chick was into other biker babes.  Too bad.  She would have made many of my single buddies very happy.

The fearless FOG leader, Scott, and his buddy Mark who drove in from Folsom

The last leg of the ride was the most fun.  The speedsters were way ahead of us (they chose not to stop at rest stop #3) and Mark, Scott and Noah stayed for an extra long rest after Marshall.  That left Iron Mike, Jeo and me to finish off the day.  There was about 20 miles of rollers left before we had to climb back up Big Rock and then another 5 miles to go after the climb and descent.  Mike took off early and left Jeo and me to chase.  I caught Mike just after the Cheese Factory and we dropped Jeo somewhere on Nicasio Road.  Mike and I got in a group of five and we just hammered through Nicasio and back onto Lucas Valley Road.  At that point, Mike started getting leg cramps, so I did all the work to pull him through.  I led Mike and me pretty hard, passing dozens of people for several miles.  What I thought was 3 miles turned into just under 10.  I was absolutely dying doing all of the work.  But I was also enjoying passing all those people.  And to think what must have been going through their heads as the NNM was reeling them all in, one at a time, and passing them all in the 90^th through 100^th miles of the course.  Hell yes!!  At the bottom on Big Rock, I declared myself done and let Mike pass.  I never did see him again that day.  I spun, again in granny gear, up Big Rock for the final few hundred feet of elevation.

Young Noah, age 14, mugging for the camera during his first century ride ever

I pulled into the finish line, 102.5 miles and almost 7,800 feet of climbing, to see Amy and the kids waiting for me at the line.  It felt great to be done and even better to get off the bike.  We made it through to the food lines and I collected tons of stuff for me and the kids to eat.  I downed two or three slices of pizza, half of a Chipotle burrito, some lasagna and also passed out brownies to the kids.  I caught up with the speedsters who had already changed and finished eating.  We cycled through the pictures and reminisced a bit before it was time to get home.  A marvelous end to a marvelous day. The NearNakedMan was an absolute hit.  But I don’ot think I will break him out for a ride any time soon.  For those of you that are so inclined, or if the pictures above gave you a chuckle, think about kicking down a few bucks for the cause.  Help raise awareness of male cancers and support another knucklehead to don the kit.  The philanthropy’s website is http://malecancer.org/ and you can make a donation in my name at http://www.justgiving.com/mbrasler .

The amazing paella dinner that was waiting for me upon my return home.  Happy birthday, Diana.

Wingman Extraordinaire

Johnny and I met up at our usual spot for the commute this morning.  He requested a 7am start time instead of our normal 6am because he had a date and an event last night.  Double duty in the PM called for an extra hour of sleep this morning.  Makes sense to me.  My extra hour of sleep caused me to be extra peppy on the ride.  But the peppiness did not manifest itself in a faster ride, necessarily.  It did, however, give me the strength to debate harder with Johnny regarding his usual liberal drivel.  You see, Johnny and I both claim to be pretty smart guys.  But we differ greatly on the political spectrum.  He trends towards left of left with the practicality of an economist (which means he spouts lots of tailor –made statistics in an attempt to justify his positions).  And I am firmly right of center, focusing primarily on fiscal practicality.  We tend to debate maybe once a week, only on our rides, and Johnny uses me as his test case to see if his cocktail party political logic will stand up to the masses.  I usually abuse him and poke holes in his logic, which better prepares him to defend his position when he has this same discussion with his friends who are much smarter than I am.  Anyhoo … without getting into the nitty gritty, this morning’s debate was around the educational system and how to solve the problems in California.  And, as usual, Johnny’s go-to solution is to throw money at the problem (“Its all about the kids”) … blah, blah, blah.

But this post is not about political leanings, its about our ride this morning and what an incredible wingman I am (I wish I were an incredible cyclist).  So as Johnny and I hit the MV Bike Trail, having been arguing for ten minutes or so, we passed this cute little thing dressed in a full team kit.  We both looked at each other and nodded in approval and kept riding.  My elevated heart rate - due to the debate - resulted in my pushing the pedals a bit harder, too.  And as we proceeded down the trail, we noticed that Chickey-poo had grabbed onto our wheels and was drafting us (this FatGuy does provide one of the best drafts in all of Marin County).  At the Mike’s Bikes light, we slowed and said our ‘good mornings’.  She acknowledged our efforts in dragging her around and we continued on together.  At another light, I chatted her up about her having to listen to our political debating.  She just giggled but the connection was made.  I further set the table for Johnny as I joked about what a raving Socialist he was … knowing that there was incredible odds that a woman, in Marin, on a bike, riding to work (she had a backpack on) would most likely be a bleeding-heart left-leaner, too.  So she and Johnny had a common ground.  As we (three) hit the Alexander Hill, I feigned being out of breath and let the two of them drop me (of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Johnny and Chickey-poo don’t combine to weigh more than me).

Johnny let her go ahead and waited for me (only sixty seconds) at the top of the hill.  I assured him that we would catch back up to her in no time.  Johnny informed me that during their brief time together riding up Alexander, he had learned that a) she was an architect, b) she recently moved to Mill Valley from the City to help her focus on her cycling and c) she recently competed in the San Rafael Twilight Criterium.  Not bad info for a six/seven minute conversation.

 

While Johnny and Chickey-poo raced up the hill, I stopped to take a picture.  It seems that the Sausalito winds were a little too much for this old tree.  The gutters, windows and roof of this house seem like they have seen better days.  But they fared much better than the BMW underneath.

Being, again, the giver that I am, I picked up the pace and dragged Johnny up to her, meeting her just north of the North Tower on the Bridge.  Now the Pimp move would have been to let her drag us across the Bridge and then comment about what a stud she was after we had crossed.  But, no, Johnny is a bit off of his game.  He stupidly passed her and rode ahead.  Chickey-poo didn’t take the bait and she stayed well behind Johnny.  I went for the gentlemanly strategy and stayed behind - in part not to insult her and in part to just enjoy the view.  Chickey-poo turned left off the Bridge in a less than optimal route and I caught up with Johnny and we got ahead of her again.  This time, however, I helped Johnny see the error in his ways and we pushed ahead to be sure to be leading the pack once again.

The ride across Chrissy Field made for fertile grounds for Johnny and Chickey-poo to germinate their relationship.  I dropped some Marin cycling knowledge and asked her if she rode for Team Exergy/2012.  She was flattered and responded, “Yeah … this is my last ride before I head off to London for the Olympics.  Joking.”  Boom … She’s got a sense of humor, too.  Johnny did his part the rest of the ride to charm her.  I kept my mouth shut and just enjoyed the young love in the air.  Johnny even strayed from our normal route and followed Chickey-poo on her normal course, getting stopped at a stop light as I continued on my way.  In hindsight, that was a good move, Johnny, picking the longest light to just stand there and stare into each other’s eyes as you waited for the light to turn.  

Johnny got her name and, with the information we collected earlier, he has ample information to cyber-stalk her and fill in all the details.  I would be shocked if he didn’t already know her first and last name, current address, where she works (including work phone number) and other pertinent information.  Well done, buddy.  You are welcome for all the hard work I put in for you this morning.  I may be an old married fart, but I still have some game.  And I am happy to use my skills for your benefit.  Many happy rides, Johnny.  I want to be in the wedding party ... as long as the wedding is in a tropical locale.

San Anselmo to Aptos

My wife decided to take a vacation with a couple of girlfriends and the kids down to Seascape Resort in Aptos.  I thought it would be a great idea to ride my bike down to Aptos to join them for the weekend.  Accompanied by the husband of one of the other moms, Mark (see 7/17 post for more info), we went for it.  We did very little pre-planning, agreeing only on the time and location of our departure.  Otherwise, the route and even the location of the resort were left to chance.   How hard could it be … head south to Aptos and then consult with Siri to get the final location of the resort.  Right?!?

My view of Mark from behind, for most of the day.  Ocean Beach.

We both stuffed down a solid breakfast, packed a ton of Cliff Shots, Gu, gels and other energy/nutrition products and hit the road.  We both had extra tubes and CO2, a little cash, our credit cards and our cell phones in case of emergency.  Mark talked me out of a backpack, so I dressed in short sleeves and a vest with the hopes of making it the entire way without a wardrobe change.  And having grown up in Woodside, Mark knew many of the roads and we both had a few ideas for options on the routes.

Careful of these sand swells on the highway.  They are way deeper than they look and can take you out in a second.

Crystal Springs Reservior

The first 15 miles basically followed my commute to work.  Mark commented as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge that he rarely rides on the Bridge any more, and what a treat is was to do so.  I agreed with him and still feel lucky to be able to do this almost every way to work.  After the Golden Gate Bridge we headed on Lincoln up towards the Legion of Honor.  Mark noted that I was feeling peppy up that climb and suggested that I should slow down a bit as we had a long day ahead of us.  That said, Mark, being 50% faster than me up any incline saw my being a half-wheel ahead of him as a sign of me feeling good.  So he pushed the pace a little (note the Strava PRs going up this incline).

Nope, not my Cervelo

Mark and I agreed that we would we would not shy away from elevation and we should aim for the least trafficked route rather than the most direct.  Safety first, right?  Knowing that we would spend plenty of time on the Coast, we opted to skip the sketchy Devil’s Slide through Pacifica and Half Moon Bay and go for Skyline Drive.  Skyline is basically a freeway with a bike lane.  On Skyline, there were several spots where we had to cross an on-ramp or off-ramp to remain heading south. In the fog of Daly City, these were less than optimal paths.  But we made it unscathed.

Detour to Woodside

We wanted to cross over to the Coast in through Sharp Park, but a road closure forced us to continue inland on Skyline to the Crystal Springs Reservoir.  This route is an amazing trail which caters to walking, running, slow cycling.  There were a ton of people out and it is clear that the trail is well used.  Mark and I commented about the impossibility of building a trail like this (basically a six mile concrete pathway through a forest) in today’s planning environment.  Despite the trail being enjoyed by tons of people, the trend nowadays is to protect nature by closing it off from people.  The more sane planning would be to appreciate nature by allowing people to responsibly interact with it.  I’ll get off of my soapbox, now.

Bridge across 280

At the end of the trail, we rode Polhemus Rd. which parallels 280 for a few miles, then crossed over 280 on a walking bridge.  It was a cool sensation to be over the freeway with all the cars passing underneath.  This turned into Canada Road which we took all the way to Woodside.  In Woodside, we turned on Mountain Home Road and I was immediately impressed by the size of the homes and lots, and the obvious wealth in the area.  Silicon Valley money is the real deal.  Allegedly we passed Larry Ellison’s house somewhere on that street.  I was hoping to stop for an open house, but there were none on a Friday.  Mountain Home turned into Old La Honda Road.  Mark warned me about this climb, and wanted to get his heartbeat up, so he went on this climb alone.   There is nothing like a 3.7-mile, 1,311 foot climb at mile 55 to make my day.  I took it slow, really slow (2,269/2,870 on the Strava segment) and enjoyed the pedaling.  About ¾ of the way up, I noticed a guy behind me.  At that point my ego wouldn’t let me back off.  So I picked it up just to keep him behind me.  Mark rode down and paced me to the top.  What a guy.  As an aside, some of the street names off of Old La Honda were hilarious.  Keep in mind, this is a long climb, even in a car.  Some of the last streets at the top were ‘Home’, as in “I am finally home” and ‘Upenuf’, as in “Up enough”.  Get it?  Pretty clever.  Mark promised me that we were basically done with the climbing as we reached the top.  58 miles and over 5,500 feet of climbing.  Nice start to the day.

My new best friend, Old La Honda

There is my view of Mark, again.  Dropping me.

What goes up must come down.  Three miles of downhill led to 10+ miles of hammering along the steady decent to the Coast along Highway 84.  Mark was pushing the pace pretty hard and we maintained north of 25 miles per hour for most of the way.  Drafting behind Mark most of the way, I was oblivious to the headwind that was battering the front.  Having ridden Mark pretty steadily for 7 miles, I decided to jump ahead and do some pulling.  I immediately was a) blasted by the wind and b)of course, picked a spot which undulated into an uphill section.  I pushed as hard as I could for a mile or two.  Mark could tell that I was struggling to keep up the 25+ MPH pace and he came to my side.  He then said something that he should have said, oh, 50 miles ago.  He stated, “I don’t mind if we are going 10 MPH or 25 MPH, its just nice to get out of the wind for a little while.”  Here I am killing myself to keep up the pace, not wanting to insult Mark with my inferiority, and all he wanted was a little rest.  Didn’t he know that I provide one of the greatest drafts in all of California?  If a rest is what you want, a rest is what you shall receive.  We continued forward and, at mile 75ish, we hit the Coast.

The California Coastline

 You will recall that neither Mark nor I knew exactly how far this ride was going to be.  I had assumed that we would be somewhere between 90 and 110 miles.  But I also realized that our detour into Woodside, rather than taking Highway 1 the entire way, probably added some mileage to the route.  Hitting San Gregorio at mile 75 was an ominous sign.  Add to that the fact that I had drunk all of my water on the Old La Honda climb and the Highway 84 sprint, the rolling hills of the Coastline were going to be interesting.  Luckily, we encountered a gale force tailwind almost immediately as we headed south on Highway 1.  This, again, made for a great pace as we headed onward.  But almost immediately, by about mile 80, my hamstrings and calves started to cramp.  I struggled for the next ten miles to keep up with Mark.  And by mile 90, Ano Nuevo State Reserve, I got dropped.  I kept Mark in my sights (a half mile to mile down the road), but I was struggling mightily with my leg cramps.  I was begging to find a convenience store on the Highway, of which there were none.  I basically soft pedaled up the rolling hills, losing ground on Mark, and then pushed on the down hills to catch up.  I really didn’t think I could keep going due to the cramps.  I didn’t want to complain to Mark, who was clearly taking it easy on me, but I truly had never experienced cramps like this ever before.  And furthermore, stopping was not an option.  There was no one to pick us up and, frankly, I had no idea where we were.

 

Davenport strawberry stand.  My savior.  First water in 30+ miles.  I was impressed by the do-it-yourself cash register.

Finally, at mile 101, we hit a strawberry stand in the town of Davenport that had water.  I was praying for some salt to help with the cramps.  But there was none.  I guzzled three bottles of water which did me a lot of good.  We refilled our bottles, ate the rest of my egg burrito and headed off again.  But five miles later, the cramps came back.  Mark dropped me, again, and I was the loneliest guy on the planet.  If it were not for the tail wind, I don’t think I could have kept my bike upright.  Although I was going 18-20 miles per hour, the tailwind probably provided 85% of that speed.

 

At mile 110, we hit civilization in Santa Cruz.  I was saved by the stop lights and traffic in both directions.  We passed a convenience store and Mark insisted that I stop and buy a bag of potato chips to help with the cramps.   Being frustrated, I whined, “Let’s just keep going.  Let’s just get there”.  That comment set Mark over the edge.  He responded, “For god’s sake, eat something.  You are going so fu&*ing slow.  No need to be a hero”.  And I got the point.  We went into the Quickie Mart and I bought the saltiest thing I could find … a bag of Cheetos.  My mouth rejected the taste, but the salt kept me from the edge.  It was city streets and stop lights from this point on.  We were a little lost and Siri did not do a very good job getting us to our destination.  But some locals  helped us find our way to the resort.

Starting in San Anselmo at 6.21am, after 122.8 miles, 7,826 feet of elevation and 5,531 calories consumed, we arrived at Seascape Resort in Aptos.  It took 8 hours and 30 seconds of time in the saddle, with only 33 minutes of rest, but we made it.  I jumped straight into the pool and immediately cramped up again.  The cramps and soreness continued until Sunday night.  But I was back into the normal commute come Monday morning. 

Sunset over Aptos.  Crescent moon above the horizon.  The picture doesn't even come close to doing justice.

Oh, and Mark is such a stud, that he decided to get some climbing in on Sunday morning before the car ride home.  He hit the hills and got picked up by his wife after another 60 miles and 4,000 feet.  Animal.

The Marin Century in two weeks will be a piece of cake compared to this ride.  Plenty of food and water will make for a leisurely 100 miles around The County.  Looking forward to that, and introducing you all to the Near Naked Man.  Stay tuned. 

 

Camino Alto

By now you have come to understand that Camino Alto - the 1.1 mile, 400 foot climb between Larkspur and Mill Valley - is both my nemesis and my best friend.   I battle Camino Alto every day, often twice a day on my regular commute route.  Heading into work, at mile five, it is the first effort that gets me warmed up.  And heading home, at mile 17, it is the beast that prevents me from seeing my kids more quickly.

So speaking of kids, I enjoy riding bikes with mine quite a bit.  We have done the Skoot bike thing, graduated to training wheels, and I am working on getting my son onto two wheels.  But my buddy Mark has taken riding bikes with his son (almost 5 years old) to a whole new level.  Mark rides a trail-a-bike with his son, Grant, all over Marin.  Their normal routes include round trips from their home in Ross to Sausalito (for coffee and hot chocolate).  Or even a one-way trip to Stinson Beach.  Mighty aggressive.  It goes without saying that Mark is incredibly strong on the bike and regularly blows my doors off when we ride together.  Mark does not do the Strava thing for his own rides, but he did set up a Strava account for Grant to track the rides that they do together on the trail-a-bike.

So Monday morning, after a leisurely commute to work, I get a text from Mark.  "BTW, Grant beat your time up Camino Alto yesterday".  I looked and he was right.  My previous northbound record on Camino Alto was 7 minutes and 9 seconds.  Grant (and Mark) did it in 7.03.  As I mentioned above, I don't usually go that hard on Camino Alto, as I only ride it following a 22 mile commute to work, a full work day and 17 miles home in typically horrific wind.  But Mark's text send me on a mission.  That entire day at work, I obsessed about how I was going to attack the hill.  On the ride home, I bumped into my buddy Scotty who is one of the top climbers in all of Marin County.  He holds tons of Strava KOMs and is regularly at the top pf all my friends' segments.  Scott giggled at my predicament of breaking my PR, but it also added a level of competition to our generally slow and boring ride home.

Scott set the strategy that we should hit the bottom of the hill hard, keep our momentum at a high cadence through the Scott Valley spike, then shift into the big ring and hammer to the summit.  Scott would leisurely stay 10-20 feet in front of me to give me a pace and a target (and I refused to draft off of him to gain an advantage.  Our strategy worked well up to the spike.  But my gears did not cooperate when I tried to shift to the big ring.  I spent about 15 seconds having shifted my big ring, but the gears did not move over.  I up-shifted my little ring, back and forth maybe ten times, to try and pull the chain in the big ring.  Finally, the gears went and I was in teh big ring.  But I had lost a lot of momentum and was also stuck in a very high gear.  As we approached the summit, I knew that we had cut significant time off of 7 minutes, but I was not certain how much.  But when I got home, I was more than pleased with my new PR of 6.03, carving more than a minute from my old time.

Pleased, that is, until Wednesday morning ... It seems that StravaMo, having seen that I set a new PR on Monday afternoon, set his sights on my time on his ride home on Tuesday.  And when I got online on Wednesday morning, StravaMo had beat my time on Camino Alto by one freaking second, 6.02.  So, of course, I was on another mission on Wednesday afternoon.  Using the same strategy as Monday afternoon, I gave the hill everything I had.  Luckily, I did not have the the big ring issues that I did on Monday.  And upon reaching the top, I truly had nothing left in the tank.  The data does not lie ... 5 minutes 58 seconds!!  Take that, Mo.  I'll be ready when you come at me again,

This big body is built for powerful sprints on the flats and maybe 20 second bursts up hills.  Going 100% for six minutes is simply too much work for the FatGuy.  Anyone want to challenge me in the flats?