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bicycle ride
May. 1st, 2009 11:56 pmHad you used your little gaze-o-scope to see what I was doing about 1:30 Friday afternoon, you might have been a bit surprised, knowing me. It was a cold, even a slightly wet, day, yet I was riding my bicycle along a road at the base of the nearby mountains, crowing "I did it!" to myself.
What I'd done was ridden all the way down from the summit of the mountains above Palo Alto along the obscure back road that had been an obsessional interest of mine since I was, oh, about ten years old. Twice during my energetic childhood I actually bicycled all the way up those hills, once from either direction, only to be stymied by the fact that the upper portion of the road was private and inaccessible, though shown as a through road on the maps of the day.
It's been well over 20 years since that upper portion was bought up by the park district and turned into a public trail, so I could have done this at various times, given ownership of a bicycle I felt comfortable riding miles into the middle of nowhere. So satisfying this obsession wasn't exactly a top priority. But this time I was determined to put it off no longer, and late spring was the best time: not too hot out yet (and it was a perfect day for that) and during wildflower season - and yes, up on the mountaintop meadows there was a feast of wildflowers.
But one thing I wasn't going to do was ride the bicycle up. Even as a wiry kid, that was mostly beyond me, and I'd walked the bike most of the way. Nowadays I haven't the stamina to ride up a seriously measurable hill at all. But since one of the many fine features of my new car is that lowering the back seat creates a space large enough to fit the bicycle, and one of the many fine features of the regional park is a head-of-trail parking lot where there used to be none, I drove up to the top of the mountain on the main road (the one I'd biked up on one of my childhood expeditions) and then rode it down the trail and back road.
The first couple miles, along a dirt road open only to service vehicles, were indeed still mostly up, and that was slow going. At the very top are some fenced enclosures bristling with antennas and other exotic electronic equipment. Warning signs on the fences reveal what they're for, but I fancy that Homeland Security would rather I not say. After that I began to coast downhill, first slowly on the dirt road turning into ratty decayed pavement, then when the public road begins, and the hillside mansions and vineyards along with it, on smoother pavement at greater speed as the slope becomes steeper at lower elevations. Finally to the bottom, back to civilization, and pedaling smoothly along basically flat roads and on the new pedestrian/bicycle bridge over the freeway, and home. About 3 1/2 hours total.
After which B. and I headed back up the original hill in her car to fetch mine. That was true love, because she doesn't like twisty mountain roads. But I shan't be doing any more one-way bike tricks like this again. Forty years of wanting to prove it possible to get from A to B on this route, and I finally did it.
Unfortunately anything more than occasional short bike rides is hard on my knees, which I already knew; and I expect to be hobbling around more than usual the next few days. But it was worth it.
What I'd done was ridden all the way down from the summit of the mountains above Palo Alto along the obscure back road that had been an obsessional interest of mine since I was, oh, about ten years old. Twice during my energetic childhood I actually bicycled all the way up those hills, once from either direction, only to be stymied by the fact that the upper portion of the road was private and inaccessible, though shown as a through road on the maps of the day.
It's been well over 20 years since that upper portion was bought up by the park district and turned into a public trail, so I could have done this at various times, given ownership of a bicycle I felt comfortable riding miles into the middle of nowhere. So satisfying this obsession wasn't exactly a top priority. But this time I was determined to put it off no longer, and late spring was the best time: not too hot out yet (and it was a perfect day for that) and during wildflower season - and yes, up on the mountaintop meadows there was a feast of wildflowers.
But one thing I wasn't going to do was ride the bicycle up. Even as a wiry kid, that was mostly beyond me, and I'd walked the bike most of the way. Nowadays I haven't the stamina to ride up a seriously measurable hill at all. But since one of the many fine features of my new car is that lowering the back seat creates a space large enough to fit the bicycle, and one of the many fine features of the regional park is a head-of-trail parking lot where there used to be none, I drove up to the top of the mountain on the main road (the one I'd biked up on one of my childhood expeditions) and then rode it down the trail and back road.
The first couple miles, along a dirt road open only to service vehicles, were indeed still mostly up, and that was slow going. At the very top are some fenced enclosures bristling with antennas and other exotic electronic equipment. Warning signs on the fences reveal what they're for, but I fancy that Homeland Security would rather I not say. After that I began to coast downhill, first slowly on the dirt road turning into ratty decayed pavement, then when the public road begins, and the hillside mansions and vineyards along with it, on smoother pavement at greater speed as the slope becomes steeper at lower elevations. Finally to the bottom, back to civilization, and pedaling smoothly along basically flat roads and on the new pedestrian/bicycle bridge over the freeway, and home. About 3 1/2 hours total.
After which B. and I headed back up the original hill in her car to fetch mine. That was true love, because she doesn't like twisty mountain roads. But I shan't be doing any more one-way bike tricks like this again. Forty years of wanting to prove it possible to get from A to B on this route, and I finally did it.
Unfortunately anything more than occasional short bike rides is hard on my knees, which I already knew; and I expect to be hobbling around more than usual the next few days. But it was worth it.
