Fabulous trip. I rode from my house in Los Altos to the Union City
BART, a good part of the ride in the Baylands. Since I was plenty
early, I had no trouble with bikes not being allowed. Note to other
riders who take the elevator down when they get to the Walnut Creek
BART station: you're supposed to run your ticket through the machine
when you get out. It's not obvious.
The Google directions from the BART to North Gate Road are correct
(more or less) but difficult to follow. You find yourself on the
Contra Costa Trail, and then at some point Google helpfully says "Turn
right." Um, yeah? There were a lot of chances to turn right. But I
managed to find my way to the bike path by the hospital, which was
delightful, and then to Walnut and North Gate, and up I went, starting
around 4:00.
At the junction, there were other riders of course, and all they could
talk about was the race. And then just after I left the junction to
continue climbing, as I was stopped to snack or put on a sweater or
something, three other bike tourists passed me, two of them women. I
wondered if they were us, but they were another bike touring party. I
speeded up to try to stay with them, ending up ahead of one of the
women and behind the other, pulling into the campground at around 6:20
or so.
I promptly became the laughingstock of the entire campground as I
dithered about trying to pick a campsite that would have flat spots to
camp, and also a place for Manny's hammock. Finally I decided to just
pick one, put up tent and began to cook dinner (what would end up to
be my first dinner. It was good, but as you'll see, it didn't take.) I
was just eating my asparagus and cooking my noodles when along came
Dustin. He didn't like the campsite I had wasted so much time picking,
and by that time neither did I, so we decided to move to a different
spot, the very spot we camped the last time I was with a Riv group. I
ate the rest of my dinner, packed up my tent, noticed that although
the initial campsite I had picked was pretty crummy it had a
spectacular view of the sun just going down in a haze of gold, and
moved to join Dustin.
We had our flashlights on by the time Manny, Tommy and Bill showed up.
Yay! Time for second dinnner. Dustin cooked us vegetables and some
delicious sausage. Manny, a prince among men, offered us all
bacon-wrapped hotdogs. Bacon-wrapped hotdogs! Yum. If it's good, it's
better with bacon. Or cream. Or both. I shared nothing, but next time
we go camping I'm cooking pancakes and Nutella for breakfast for all.
There was a gorgeous fire, but I'm still jetlagged from being in Spain
last week (I took one ride in the other Sierra Nevada) so I just went
to my tent to get something, and next thing I knew I was waking up and
it was 2 in the morning or something.
I got up in time to get the last of Bill's coffee and say goodbye to
him. He asked if he should summit Diablo before he went down to go to
work. Of course, I said stupidly, forgetting that by saying that, I
was committing myself to summiting it later. Now that it was light, I
could see everyone's bike. Dustin's I had already seen, a handsome
Atlantis gorgeously kitted with Saddlesack, front bag and a stylish
tweed handlebar bag. Manny's loaner Hunqa was a beauty as well, also
kitted with a shiny new Saddlesack. I could imagine riding that dandy
loaner, it would be easy to "forget" where Rivendell is, and be, alas,
unable to return the bike Every time I see a Hunqa I have to remind
myself that even though I think the gray/red paint job is the most
beautiful thing going, I have no need for a Hunqa and wouldn't ride
it.
Quite a bit later the rest of us rode to the top. By that time, I
realized that if I stayed to watch the race, I'd be facing a 75 minute
BART ride and then 30 miles riding at rush hour-- and I wasn't at all
sure I'd be able to avoid the BART rush hour ban, so I decided to just
head home, passing a stream of happy cyclists going up the other way.
At least on North Gate, almost everyone was arriving the proper way,
on bike, though I suppose cars came later.
One mysterious guy was driving from the junction up to the summit with
a bike on his car. I thought to myself, "What's the bike for, dude?"
but the more apposite comment would be "What's the car for, dude?"
Near the bottom, the race officials were spraypainting every pothole,
a time-consuming job on North Gate Road, which does not appear to have
been beautifully maintained lately.
I tried to put my ticket in the BART reader in Walnut Creek, but it
didn't work because I hadn't swiped it yesterday. Oh well. The station
agent fixed it all up. Next time I'll know better.
The Dumbarton Bridge, never a delightful trip, was particularly
challenging today because of a wicked crosswind. Every time a truck
passed, I'd get buffeted. It would have been frightful for a light
rider (but I am not one) on a light bike (but my loaded Atlantis
definitely doesn't qualify). Once over the bridge, I headed home
through the Baylands, with a north wind at my back. Then along the
Stevens Creek trail, and home.
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