Print this pageExcerpts
The following are excerpts from Bicycle Journeys with Jerry. A few words may change, in that editing takes place up to the moment the manuscript is sent to the printer.
PROLOGUE
Life is a journey. Much of that journey I have taken on a bicycle. Even though there are thousands of folks who have done what I have, there are millions who have not. This book was written to induce as many as possible to see and wander the wonders of these United States. It need not be by bicycle, but folks should get away from their immediate environs -- even if they live in paradise -- and experience someones else's paradise.
This compilation of travels starting in 1996 is the result of my recent retirement. It is pretty well documented that after thirty-five years of regimented work life, a person needs a replacement activity lest one become a couch potato and succumb to various depressions or unhealthy living. Anyone who has seen me attempt handyman chores knows this activity to be a source of depression and avoided at all times. As far as computers, the last time I tried to install a program I gave myself a case of shingles. I admire those who are into woodworking; several friends do that and it seems to be a great retirement activity. Too bad I didn't start twenty years ago, but given my estrangement with tools, perhaps it is all for the best that I didn't.
What I am interested in, and can do reasonably well, is ride a bicycle! I have traveled around the United States and seen some great areas of the country.
Though I am not one who really likes being away from home, I've found that the feelings of awe and wonder that washed over me in the presence of Mother Nature, and the enjoyment of meeting folks who live in their particular patch of paradise rejuvenate the spirit. As I revisit my notes and photographs from each trip, the enjoyment returns. I have learned that if you leave your presumptions and supposed dislikes behind, you can not only enjoy yourself, but become more rounded in your outlook on life.
Why should you read about my travels? Three reasons. One: If you are an average cyclist or need a reason to become one, and are open to the idea of using the bike as an excuse to sightsee (or sightseeing as an excuse to cycle), my experiences will help you choose the proper path. I have tried to include travel observations, so you can be sure to include these places on your itinerary. The second reason is for the story of how I progressed from being a solitary cyclist to a more social being and came to actually enjoy cycling with people. Hopefully, reading my book will provide the incentive you need to make a positive change in your activities by reaching out and discovering a wider world, whether or not you travel on two wheels. The third reason is if a cross-country bike trip has ever flitted through your mind, Stage 5 is designed for you.
Rather than having Chapters, I named my sections Stages, in keeping with a bicycle theme. Stage 5 is my cross-country bike trip, and the following is the first cycling day of that trip. If some of the words are not familiar, do not worry, there is a Definitions section at the front of the book.
CYCLING COAST TO COAST
June 10
SAN FRANCISCO TO FAIRFIELD, CALIFORNIA
(Elevation 12') (81 miles)
We were all up early and had breakfast starting at 5:30 A.M. and milled around the lobby until it was time to have the officialgroup picture taken at 6:30 A.M. in the very scenic garden. ABB (America By Bicycle, the tour group) knew that later most riders would appreciate having the group shot. Yet I know for a fact that for one of the pictures taken, one of us (not I) was mooning the camera. Then we retrieved our bicycles and gathered under the entrance for the grand departure. Not surprisingly, the sky got lighter but remained overcast and chilly, about 50 degrees, and most of us had our tights and jackets on.
Usually tour organizers try to pair roommates by gender, then by age, and sometimes a third criterion like similar interests, if they bother to ask that question. Perhaps it was done on a whim: putting the only two people on the tour named Jerry together. As it turned out, we were quite compatible, even with the twenty-year age difference.
Marilane and I had visited San Francisco several years before. We'd taken in Chinatown, Ghirardelli's, the cable cars, Coit Tower, Lombard Street and all the regular touristy spots. I had see Steve McQueen in Bullitt. Why, then, on this return visit on a bicycle, didn't the hills concern me? Hmmm!
We had been advised the previous night that a hill would greet us just a mile from the start. In the introductions one of the sexagenarian riders, Tim, said that a friend had asked "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" This question provided the motivation for him to sign up. I mention this now, because less than ten minutes into my adventure, I stood in the street, lungs gasping for air, legs quivering almost uncontrollably, about two hundred yards from the top of this really, really long, really, really, steep hill. My heart rate monitor had again hit a new height, and I had chalked up a totally new experience: not being able to complete a hill climb.
The wheel-dipping ceremony took place sixteen miles from the start and ABB had us going a safe route that avoided a lot of tourist traffic. Once there, I took off shoes and socks and carried the bike the eighty yards across the sand to reach the water. Even if it is traditional and symbolic, it felt a little silly to be dipping my rear wheel in the Pacific Ocean. John took the picture. He did not take a picture of what appeared to be a dead, beached whale a little ways down the beach, nor did I venture any closer to it myself. It would have been another new experience, so I guess I will be one experience behind for the rest of my life.
It escaped my reasoning how ABB couldn't have known, or just forgot to tell us, that the very same day in San Francisco, the Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon was taking place. While not the Ironman distance, it is still pretty formidable competition. The swim is one and a half miles with some treacherous currents, sea lions, and cold water. The bike ride is only eighteen miles, but steep hills, and the eight-mile run includes Baker Beach with deep sand and the dreaded four hundred steps.
Not that I cared, except our map showed us on the same streets. So as we climbed more steep hills, we were entertained by the competitors going by on the other side of the road. Unfortunately, when they got to their turnaround spot and U-turned, we were now on their course. The ride marshals did their best to keep the course clear, and for the most part we kept to a parallel street, bikeway, or on the sidewalk.
One of the competitors who had had a flat actually asked Jerry for a tube. He proclaimed himself desperate and Jerry had the right kind (it was a long stem, short stem thing: he had a short one but needed a long one). Marshals notwithstanding, once we were close to the bridge, we just hopped on the course and rode with them. We figured the competitors knew how to pass cyclists, and by then all of the leaders had long gone. Of course, not all of the competing cyclists had a moose hanging from a Camelbak.
The ride across Golden Gate Bridge proved uneventful. I had expected a heavy wind. You have to believe the Chamber of Commerce folks, this really is a must-do experience. For those mechanically minded, the cut-out of the cable at the start is impressive. If you can find a pretty day and can do it, a walk across would be sensational. Even the view from the bike elicited feelings of awe. Of course, you would want to pull over and stop into one of the many places set aside for viewing. The skyline, the ships (if there are any), the hills, the bridge itself are all worth your time. A great beginning!
We had a SAG stop in a rest area on the other side, took more pictures of San Francisco, and then made our way through Sausalito. This quaint town of artsy folks and shops would be another day-long side trip on any other vacation, but on this day we just wound our way through town with the help of Alison, who lives here, and on up Hwy 101 and Hwy 37 to Fairfield. Once away from the coast the weather cleared, and we could shed our coats and tights and enjoy the cycling. The Sonoma and Napa Valleys were to our left, but they too would have to wait for a different trip.
One of the roads we were taking had been closed to traffic, and we tooled along not having to worry about any vehicles. Then we came to the eight-foot chain link fence stretched across it. Ah! Our written instructions were to shoulder our bikes and walk around it to the north. Jerry and I went in the other direction, less than ten yards and quickly got to the other side. Afterward, we learned some cyclists actually climbed the fence, neither reading the instructions nor seeing that it only went a few feet to both sides of the road. I didn't ask how they did it. Well, how interesting! Today really had a stream of "firsts."