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Over the Golden Gate Bridge

Friday 19^th September

Petaluma to San Francisco CA 51 Miles

Was it only this morning we left Petaluma?  I’ve had a few adventures since then.  I’ve been over the Golden Gate Bridge and I’ve ridden up and down Lombard Street.  I’m not sure which was more exciting.

It was a later start this morning because of the short ride but I was wide awake by 6.45 and needing my breakfast.  I’d had a good supper last night at Applebee’s and then had to hit my emergency supplies at 11.00 when I realised I was too hungry to go to sleep.  I did sleep pretty well after that but still had my hungry head on this morning.  Luckily breakfast was hotel’s continental so I could go any time.  We loaded some time after eight o’clock and I was riding away under a clear blue sky by about twenty past. 

We went through Petaluma proper this morning. It turned out to be quite a big town but it was still a town with character rather than a centre-less, soulless sprawl.  I was sorry not to have the opportunity to sample Pedroni’s World Famous Potato Salad, which was advertised outside one restaurant.  Just how famous does your potato salad need to be before it becomes world famous?  What is it famous for?  Is celebrity potato salad any better because it is famous or has fame gone to its head?  Maybe the undiscovered potato salad starlets would be tastier.  Such thoughts keep one entertained on a Friday morning in Petaluma. (Have you petted your luma today?).

We left town along a lovely leafy street of good-sized fairly old wooden houses with pretty gardens and soon we were climbing out into golden dry pasture again.  We crossed into Marin County.  I think Don Ross used to live in Marin County but I have no idea where.  Certainly it was fun to be in the county after which one assumes the bikes are named.  I saw my first redwinged blackbird, which was really lovely.  I’ve heard their trill a couple of times but never seen one and have wondered if maybe it’s just a starling imitating one, but today I saw two, fairly close together.  They look so smart, with their glossy black plumage and bright red epaulettes.  Having seen two, I thought I might see lots from now on but they were the only two I saw all day.  I have seen plenty of Brewer’s blackbirds with their purple-blue sheen, though.  A couple of kestrels were perched on telegraph wires looking down thoughtfully.  They look like they are calculating complex mental sodukus.  At the summit I took my jacket off because it really was pleasantly warm and I saw another egret flying very close by.  The snow-white bird against the blue sky over the golden hills was enough to make me watch for a while and savour the moment.  Then I sailed down the other side.  It was a cracking descent after a good climb, and there was quite heavy traffic, which was a bore because there wasn’t much shoulder.  I heard later that there was a diversion from another route so it was unusually busy today.  But there was very little wind and the scenery was lovely and the traffic wasn’t a whole bother really.

We turned off after16 miles anyway and got onto a quieter road, passing the Nicasio Reservoir.  There was a flock of white birds on the far side.  I thought they were egrets but they appeared to be swimming rather than standing on the edge. If we were in England I’d have said they were swans or if we were further east I would have said they were white pelicans. I don’t know what these were.  The road went past a lot of livery stables and ranches.  This is serious horse country.  We also went through some surprisingly forested areas.  I am constantly surprised by the changing vegetation around here.  At the end of Nicasio Valley Road, though, there was an offensively green golf course.  Grass that colour does not belong out there.  I find irrigation slightly discomforting at the best of times when it is used for agriculture, but when it is used for leisure it is not in good taste. Talking of leisure, there were lots of cyclists.  I saw several packs out for either training rides or club rides, as well as quite a few individuals obviously out on day rides. Why weren’t they all in work on this Friday morning?  They can’t all have been retired or shift workers.

The town of Fairfax was at 28 miles and it was a nice place.  We were routed through residential streets and there were lots more cyclists there.  When we came out into the main street I saw the Seattle group again but there were loads of other riders too.  Our SAG was there at 29 miles.  I stuffed myself crooked because my hungry head was still in control.  Some ABB alumnae/i had been through earlier and given us some chocolate brownies and some chocolate chip sponge cake squares as our SAG treat.  I did not hold back. I even tried some Brie that they had bought for us from a nearby cheese factory. By the time I rode on I was much fuller so scrapped my idea of stopping for a second breakfast and decided to hold on for lunch.

We’d had half a column of instructions to get us 28 miles into the ride.  We then had nearly two full columns to get us to Sausalito at 40 miles.  It felt like we had turns every 0.2 miles as we wound and wallered through the streets of Fairfax, San Anselmo and Ross.  Each little town had its streets of shops and cafés, and the whole area had a definite air of prosperity.  Ross is having its 150^th birthday party tomorrow and marquees were going up on their park, with tables being set up each with a sunflower as a centrepiece.  I hope they have a good party.

We had a corking climb along a narrow, twisting lane, that switchbacked its way up what Mike calls “spit curves” (if you get ahead of your buddies you can spit on them from the curve directly above).  It was cool in the shady residential streets, though.  I wouldn’t want to live on that hill but plenty of rich people obviously did.  At one stage there was a tree in the middle of the road – or rather the road had gone round the tree both sides, rather than disturb the tree.  So there were just arrows directing our traffic to go to the right of the tree and I assume on-coming traffic was to go to the other side of it.

What goes up must go down, so we dropped into Sausalito and had a lovely couple of miles on a dedicated bike trail that ran across some marshy wetlands.  The tide was coming in and I stopped at a little wooden bridge where a Great Blue Heron and a Great Egret were fishing only a couple of feet apart.  You could see all the little silver fish jumping around in the water as the tide rushed through the gap under the bridge.  Then a brown pelican flew in and several times it crashed down very near us to fill its beak with a mouthful of fishy water.  I got good pictures of all three because they were so close.

Last night, Barbara had explained in no uncertain terms that we could not arrive at the hotel before 3.00, so we all knew we’d have to kill time in Sausalito.  I went with Boaz and Bob to a coffee shop that was right on the water’s edge, overlooking the house boats on the calm blue bay. I got very excited when I saw teapots but they merely filled the teapot with something approaching hot water and stuck the teabag on the side for me to put in it any time I felt I had a spare moment and had no other more pressing engagements.  Call me narrow-minded, but what is the problem with putting the teabag in the pot at the moment of inception?  What am I missing?  There must be a reason but I’m blowed if I can see it.  I had a lovely peanut butter and jelly sandwich with crisps and we sat in the sun and chatted and killed time in quite the most humane way.

When we finally rode on we were faced with the most magnificent view of the Oakland Bay Bridge, and the city of San Francisco laid out before us.  I was glad we had lunched just before we got to the seafront at Sausalito proper.  It was very busy.  We wound our way up the hill to the Golden Gate Bridge, and I remembered that road from my first morning on the Challenge when we rode down that hill leaving San Francsico.  I was so new to it all then and so nervous of being on the wrong side of the road.  This time I had no problem negotiating a slightly hairy left turn across busy traffic to get us to the visitor area of the bridge.  We took lots of photos of each other and then we just got onto the cycle lane and rode over the bridge.  It was busy with pedestrians and cyclists of all sorts but it was still a really grand thing to do.  The view was magnificent and the crossing was just great.  OK, so it’s just riding over a bridge, but it was the Golden Gate Bridge on a sunny (-ish) day, and that was good.

From there we rode pretty-much the route that Colin and Nancy and I walked a fortnight ago when we took Lightning along the beach and it was almost exactly three o’clock when we got to Lombard Street.  If we turned right we were 0.1 miles from out motel.  If we turned left and rode eight blocks we could go up the very steep three blocks of Lombard Street and see its very steep downhill winding section.  What the heck, eh?  We turned left.

When I first saw it, I said to Bob and Boaz, “I’m not going up that”, but of course I did.  It was a case of being in a low gear, holding your nerve, having the confidence that you wouldn’t lose traction on your front wheel, and just going up and getting to the top before your lungs explode.  This we all did and it was very satisfying.  Apparently there is a brief section that is 27% and most of one of the blocks is about 25%.  When I saw the other side of the hill and the winding section down the other side I said, “I’m not going down that”, but of course I did.  It is brick paved rather than tarmac.  I picked my way down carefully, hanging on to my brakes for dear life and trying not to skid.  Halfway down someone called out encouragement and I said we shouldn’t let fear keep us from a great adventure, and a clear English voice rang out from somewhere, “I hope you’ve got a spare pair of clean pants”.  I love the English abroad.

Bob and Boaz made it safely down too, so we all had a High Five, and then shouldered our bikes and walked them up the steps that go up the side of the street – which was the only way back up as it is one-way down the winding bit. (I was pleased when I realised I could carry my bike back to front, with the rear wheel in front of me and my handlebars facing the way I’d come, so I could carry it on my left shoulder and not knacker my right one. I don’t know why I’ve never thought of that before.) It was quite a trek just carrying the bikes back up to the top but then we rode down the very steep straight bit, again hanging on to the brakes for all we were worth.  I still hadn’t stopped shaking when I got to the hotel, and it was a challenge just to sign in.  What an adventure.

It was quite a long walk to supper, down at Ghiradelli Square, near fisherman’s wharf.  We were at Lori’s Diner, a good burger and pasta place with a great view over the bay.  Then we all retired to Ghiradelli’s to get ice cream.  At last my hungry head is satisfied.  Now I just have a sleepy one.

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