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Like just about every other time I've climbed Mount Hamilton recently, I thought that perhaps this time I'd continue through to Livermore for a 100-mile ride. And like every other recent time, that didn't happen. This time it wasn't even close.
|The briefly green Joseph D. Grant County Park|
On the second climb, it became clear to me that I wasn't going to Livermore today.
|The Reverend Hamilton|
I struggled up the mountain, and reached the windy top just as clouds were beginning to hide the sun. After an invigorating juice drink (or two) I had a pack of peanut M&Ms (or two) and headed back to the car.
On the way down it was shortly after noon, and while the sun wasn't bright it had shone earlier. The flowers, therefore, were on display in their yellows, blues, purples and especially the oranges of the California Poppy. That was gratifying, because one of the pleasures of riding behind Mount Hamilton is seeing the exuberant wildflower displays. Or so I hear; I haven't managed to get back there during the spring. And I suspect I've missed my chance this year., too.