Mt. Diablo State Park
The first challenge was to find a working bathroom without a line a mile long. The second challenge, after exiting the BART train, is all the stop lights getting out of downtown Walnut Creek. None of them are timed, so we had to stop at everyone. By we, I mean Rick and Amy, Tom, and myself. All seasoned riders we four. Now, at this point I should mention I listed this ride as a C paced ride, and any B paced people should form their own group. A pacers were advised to do some other ride. This was my way of psyching people up for a workout at a good pace, but I may have scared off the vast majority of people with this semi-bluff. But my group today was up for it, and its nice to know I don't have to worry about them.
Amy got a flat early on, a nail went into her rear tire sideways. We stopped to fix that in Alamo. Resuming, we climbed the false flat of StoneValley Rd. and following a rider in front of us, found a new entrance to the Diablo Country Club, a very pretty community built around a lush green golf course. So we were able to avoid Diablo Road entirely, a good thing as I deem it hazardous for riding because of the narrow roadway.
We merged onto the road past the Athenian School just at 10am. It has been repaved for the Tour of California coming soon. Ironically, it took a bike race to pave a road that has been falling apart for 30 years. Anyway, it was much better than the cracked, potholed menace it was before.
Starting into the climb, there was a quick selection as I led off the front with Rick, but soon he went back to ride with Amy, so the remainder of the climb I did solo. Tom rode his own pace as usual. I felt good and springy up to the saddle junction of north and south roads, which is around the 7 mile mark. I stopped once along the way to refill my bottle and once to use the restroom, but didn't stop at the saddle, I felt good so I kept going. Not much later I considered the wisdom of that decision.
The winds were up on Diablo. It was not as warm as forecast, not 75, not 70, maybe not even 65. The first 7 miles seemed to be a climbing tailwind, which is very nice, but then after the junction they turned into gusting, chilling headwinds. When you are climbing, this is like letting air out of your tires, or loading your bike with bricks, or feeling like you lost your energy. It takes mental toughness to battle a steep climb with wind in your face. This is just what we had today. My lower back was starting to throb for some reason, my legs lost their snap, but several things happened that motivated me to continue at a steady pace.
First, I had been riding a short bit with a woman who had the same pace as me, and we chatted casually on the lower slopes. It was her first climb of Big D. I encountered her again on the upper stretches, and felt a kinship in shared experience, which was nice. Second, I pulled off the road at one point to stretch my back and Warren, an Alameda Velo rider, came up from behind and greeted me, so I rode a mile or so with him. Thirdly, I encountered a woman on a Lemond similar to mine that had been signed by Greg Lemond himself, and we discovered we had been on the '09 Death Ride together but didn't know it until now. Again, nice. In fact, she outrode me on the "Wall" portion: the heinous last stretch of steepness before the parking lot. She had lower gears. Enough said. Throughout the climb I thought of "summoning the V", which means digging deep when the going gets unpleasant. I think I did a fair amount of that, especially that last part.
The wind was really bracing up at the top, 20-30mph steady, and almost cold, although the sun was out in force. Stan, from Alameda Velo, was shivering in the museum's stone portico, out of the wind. He had no jacket or arm warmers. I did have arm warmers, but no jacket either, but I was warmer than him. After a while he entered the museum and returned wearing a green Mt. Diablo T-shirt. He also had some Diablo Review pamphlets that he stuffed under his jersey. Great Idea. So I stuffed some under mine too, but didn't buy a T-shirt. I ate some roasted potatoes I brought. I watched people trying to fill their water bottles from a fountain whose water was flowing out sideways from the wind...funny! My phone started beeping, but I couldn't retrieve the message. I figured it was a call from my people below aborting some part of the climb, so I decided to head down.
Rick and Amy were just below the parking lot, in the more sheltered overflow lot, and Amy shared a peanut butter and banana sandwich with me, which tasted mighty good. Tom had stopped below somewhere, so we embarked on our descent to find and regroup with him.
It was a skin penetrating cold that met us. The pitifully thin papers under my jersey did help, but not much. I found it hard to be in the drops, as my neck was locking up. The cold wind was constricting my muscles and they were no longer supple. It hurt, so I rode more upright on the brake hoods most of the time. The wind that seemed to push up from below were now pushing against us, blowing us around. But soon we were down at the saddle and it was warmer already, still windy. Then the long descent north, the wind howling in our ears the whole way.
Back in the valley of Walnut Creek, it was warm again and nice. We made our way along the Contra Costa trail as far as we could, then a section of Ygnacio Valley on the sidewalk to the BART station, where the others bid me adieu at mile 40-something. I had decided to go into town and get a coffee, eat something, and ride back to Alameda, a further 25 miles or so. It was so nice out, and I was feeling good.
At Peet's, sitting out front on the sidewalk, I had a funny encounter. A middle aged woman was trying to get a senior citizen to get into her pickup truck.
woman: "Al, get into the truck please. Sit down Al. No, Al, now just get in and sit down. Sit down Al!"
Al was having none of it. He stood there defiantly. The woman's phone rang and her attention was diverted. Al took the opportunity to wander. He saw me, maybe my bright kit colors attracted him, so he came over to my table.
Me: "hey Al, how's it going?"
woman: "AL! GET BACK IN THE TRUCK!"
AL: : (mumble mumble mumble...points with his finger towards Peet's and says " they put all the things in there"
Me: (making circular motions with my hands) " we orbited around then landed here"
Al: nods in agreement, then mumbles some more, pointing into Peets
Me: "I agree completely. Why even try to pick one place over the other?"
Al: smiled at me then walked to the truck
woman to me: "thanks for talking with Al!"
No, I wasn't just fucking with him. His reality was so random that it seemed appropriate for me to be just as random. I nicknamed him Al Z. Heimers, the poster senior for that terrible affliction. I don't mean to make light of it. I did connect with him on some level rather than shun him. That means something.
Coffee'd up I hit the road once more and had a splendid ride along the Lafayette-Moraga trail, a beautiful tree lined path through the hills where the train once rolled. I felt good, all I wanted to do was ride, and I was doing it. All seemed right with the world. Eventually I had to climb Pinehurst road at mile 58 and but by that time my body was on autopilot and kind of numb, and it just rolled beneath me in due course. I was a little shaky at the top so I stopped and ate the remainder of my potatoes and a Powerbar. I dropped down Shepherd's Canyon then over to Fruitvale Ave to do battle over road space with the crazy muthafuckas that drive around on that street. I don't apologize for that remark. They honk at me for no reason, cut me off, pull out suddenly, open doors, and one time, a long time ago, threatened to "pop a cap in my ass". But it is the fastest, most direct route back to the island.
I finished the ride alive and intact. 67miles/107 kilometers. One big windy assed mountain. 8.5 hours from start to finish... riding into overtime! Drillium saddle comfort? Thumbs up!! A great day to be out giving it all to the bike.
Thanks for Reading, and keep Riding,
Flash
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