Zayante

Today I went for a long ride through Santa Cruz, and back on Zayante Road.

Consider the rate of posts on this site, you might imagine that I'm doing all sorts of rides and just not writing about them. Perhaps they're not sufficiently noteworthy. And to a degree that's true -- I commute to work on the bike most days, and those rides are clearly not memorable. But all other rides are included here, because I have clearly have no standard for noteworthy-ness.

In this case, a long weekend means that I had time for a non-commute ride, despite the heat. I decided to head through Santa Cruz as usual, but in a very slight variation I decided to take Zayante Road back, since I hadn't done that in a while (not that I've ridden anything else in the area recently).

I got started around 8 after watching the end of the opening stage of the Tour de France. It was already a little warm. I felt pretty good on the ride past Lexington Reservoir into Santa Cruz, despite not doing any climbing for a year or so. San Jose-Soquel Road was very smooth on the descent.

I had planned to get lunch at Betty Burger, which is conveniently located and has outdoor tables, which is I think is only fair to my fellow diners. In the event I got there shortly before it opened at 11, so I dawdled. After lunch I was noticeably more sluggish, but it was also much warmer.

Zayante was heavily damaged two winters ago, and frankly I didn't know whether it had been repaired. But that was a long time ago, so I figured all was well. Imagine my surprise when, after climbing much of the way up the road, I started to see "Road Closed" signs. Turning around would have been very costly, and the heat was beginning to sap my meager strength. But living in this area has trained me to ignore most road signs, and this was no different. As it turns out, it was tree trimming. I waved and rode through it.

Today's ride was 71 miles, with 5600 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer was on the first part of the Zayante climb, just before the "Road Closed" signs as it happens. That's also when the heat was really getting to me, so it felt difficult, too.

Elevation Profile

Devil's Peak

Last week I got a chance to participate in a group mountain bike ride near Yosemite, up to a lookout station called Devil's Peak.

The ride was organized by the Tenaya Lodge, and I rode a rented hardtail mountain bike with worn out shocks on the front.

The view from the lookout tower

The ride was basically an up-and-back climb, riding up a road that starts paved and gets gradually more primitive as it gains altitude. Almost all the way up it's a comfortable fire road, but the last mile near the top gets a little steeper and considerably more rocky. With my always-modest mountain bike handling skills atrophied from years of disuse, that last mile was a bit of a challenge.

The peak is at about 6900 feet, and has the panoramic view you would expect. It's a suitable reward for the effort, and photographs just don't do it justice. One of our guides was apparently a park ranger, and he gave us a combined geographical and historical tour of the area by naming the neighboring peaks and then explaining the history behind those names.

I was worried about descending that rocky bit near the top, but in the event it wasn't too difficult, even with the traffic of my fellow riders. On the way down we took the opportunity to try two sections of single-track, which was plenty of fun but still well within my meager abilities. Near the end was a two-mile climb, not particularly steep but seemingly never-ending.

Elevation Profile.
The sharp peak isn't real; the elevation drifted over lunch.

The whole ride was about 23 miles. The elevation on my Garmin drifted up about 200 feet while we ate lunch at the top, so while I recorded about 3000 feet of climbing, I wouldn't swear to it. The most difficult kilometer was certainly the one near the peak, not only because it was steeper, but also because of the quality of the road, and of course the altitude.

Mount Umunhum, Again

Today I took a second trip up to the top of Mount Umunhum, just because it's there.

Today's trip was much like the one three weeks ago, including being awfully difficult.

The view from the top, with the tower just behind me.

There wasn't much different with this ride, except that there was no difficulty parking at the top, and hence no traffic control (this was around 15:00, for the record). It was a perfect day, at what I would imagine was a peak time, so it looks like the initial rush is over. Mount Umunhum apparently has enough capacity to handle the crowds.

Elevation Profile

Just like in the recent ride, the whole thing was just under 30 miles, and the most difficult kilometer was the start of the climb up hicks.  I'm tempted to think that the most difficult 100 meters was, for me, the very last stretch to the traffic circle at the top. It's not quite the last 100 meters of Mount Diablo, but after a long steep climb it's tough.

For some reason my Garmin gave me 3400 feet of climbing today, whereas three weeks ago it was 3300. I knew this ride was tougher!

Mount Umunhum, at Last

Yesterday I did something I thought I might never get to do: I rode my bike to the very top of Mount Umunhum.

Mount Umunhum has been infamously inaccessible for years, but finally opened to the public on September 18, 2017. I've been poking around Umunhum for a long time -- my first post on this blog described a ride in 2010 from Loma Prieta to near the top of Umunhum. According to everything I can piece together, my first ride in the area was April of 2009, when I only made it up to Barlow Road. A month later I made it all the way up to the yellow gates, past the "legal" limit.

A perspective I've been waiting for.

In the years since I've ridden on and around Mount Umunhum several times (and written about it: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6), always stopping at the annoying signs. Well, almost always.

When the opening was announced I was very excited, but last weekend I was out of town, so yesterday was my first chance. I was concerned that there would be a lot of traffic, which while true turned out not to be a problem.

As has been true for the last couple of years, most of the cycling I do these days is just commuting, and these days I don't even have an excuse to pass through the hills near Saratoga. I was sternly reminded of my lack of climbing when Hicks turned upward.

When I got to the top of Hicks, the parking lot at the base of Mount Umunhum Road was full and all the feasible parking along the road was occupied as well. I've never seen more than one or two cars in that lot.

There were also a lot of cyclists on the road. I would guess that most of the time I've spent on Mt. Umunhum Road has been entirely alone. In my numerous trips I may have seen one or two other riders, but it's been rare. This time, there were dozens.

At the Bald Mountain trailhead, previously the end of the line for cars, a park ranger was turning cars back. Apparently the summit parking lot was full, so they were only letting cars up as they came down, one for one. And of course the Bald Mountain parking lot was full as well. I expect that this won't keep up; Mount Umunhum will never be as isolated as it used to be, but it'll settle down after the initial interest falls away through autumn.

November 2015

Same stretch, September 2017 Look how nice the road is!

Since they were turning around cars, there was very little traffic to deal with on the last stretch of road. And what a road! What had been a pitted, crumbly mess, where you had to pick your line on the climb as if it were a mountain bike trail, is now a perfect surface.

My previous high point, this time in February 2011.

The same stretch now. So much more inviting!

It was a joy to pass by the road to Loma Prieta, after a recent report that even that stretch could open in my lifetime. Maybe the popularity of Mount Umunhum will lead to some momentum on that front?

I came around to where the gate used to be, reaching as far along this road as I've ever been. I've skirted a few gates in my time, but this one had cameras, and I assumed that my messing around here would at some point cause someone to be dispatched to check it out. That seemed unfair to them, so this was a line I had never crossed before.

As it happens, this point also marks the end of the main climb. From here the road is flat or descending for almost a mile, before one final kick up to the top.

The junction with the road that leads over to Mount Thayer comes just before that final kick. It appears to be a ranger facility, with a parking lot where the Air Force station housing used to be. I didn't look too closely, but I saw no other trace of that little village remaining. That's the best outcome, of course, but I still wish I had got a chance to see it as a ghost town before they returned the area to nature.

At the top it's all about the tower, and the views. The whole valley was laid out, under an unfortunately distinct layer of brown haze. On the other side you can see over the mountains all the way to Monterey Bay. There is such an advantage to reaching the very top of a mountain, compared to any spot lower down. I'm so glad that Mount Umunhum joins the set of accessible peaks in the area. Now it's time to work on Loma Prieta and Black Mountain.

The views are the enduring value, but it's the tower that demands your attention. Even bigger in person than I had imagined, it provides a focal point for the whole ride, and finally reaching it after all these years was wonderful. In the past I've thought it might be best to let the tower go, but now after seeing it in place, plus a photo in the shelter of what it looked like with a bright red and white checkered radar dish on top, I can see what we need to do: preserve the tower, and in fact rebuild the dish. Wouldn't a colorful hat be the perfect decoration for that tower?

I spent quite a while at the top, soaking in all these new amenities, and then finally started the long descent. I've noted before that the descent here was unpleasant -- it was too steep, and the road was full of dangerous potholes that could send you careening off the unguarded side of the road into a ravine. And it used to be so isolated that it wasn't a question of whether you'd survive, but whether you'd even be found. None of that is true anymore; the road is now a pleasure to descend, with just a little traffic, both cars and bikes, to deal with.

The rest of my ride was a descent through New Almaden, then home.

I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm so glad that Mount Umunhum is finally accessible, and apparently quite popular. I'll be visiting again pretty frequently, I think, and encourage you to do so as well. But there will only be one first time I've seen all this, and that was today.

Elevation Profile

Yesterday's ride was just under 30 miles, with 3300 feet of climbing. The toughest kilometer was that first kilometer after Hicks starts climbing, as usual. That first half of the Hicks climb averages 14%. The whole 5-mile climb, including both Hicks and Mt. Umunhum Road, averages very nearly 10%, despite the brief flatter parts. That's one steep climb.

Boulder Creek and Crumbling Shoulders

It's been way too long. Too long since I've written here, and too long since I had a ride worth writing about.

As it turns out we had a long weekend, so I decided to make time for a long ride. I've been irregularly commuting, and through that I've been getting lots of miles on the bike, but it's been far too long since I enjoyed the mountain roads. So after watching the Tour de France stage this morning, I started off just before 09:00.

I didn't have a fixed plan, but I did want to see what was happening at the washout on Highway 35, which at the time looked impossible to repair. Toward that end I headed up Black Road, then turned right on Summit until I saw the "Road Closed" signs. As it turns out the construction crew also had a vacation day, so it was quiet.

Construction at the Highway 35 washout... I think.

Looking at the original shots, it wasn't clear whether they would reconstruct the road in place, or reroute since so much of the hill had disappeared. This construction clearly rebuilds the road in place, but the area is so transformed that it's hard to believe it's the same place. Where there two major construction areas on 35? In this area there's already a single lane running through, and major drainage improvements going on.

One of several washouts awaiting repair,
this one on Bear Creek Road.

I didn't expect to be able to pass through, and I stuck with the loose plan to head down to Boulder Creek for lunch. Bear Creek Road had several areas in which the road narrowed to a single lane, which obviously was going to be a theme for this ride.

When I got down to Boulder Creek I learned that Foster's Freeze is closed on Mondays, which was certainly a disappointment. I wanted to head up via either Zayante or Mountain Charlie Road, so I headed down Route 9 in the company of much traffic. I got a flat (steel belt wire) near Brookdale.

I stopped in Felton at Mountain Roasting for a very good consolation sandwich. I decided to continue down to Mountain Charlie Road, in part because I had recently looked up where the Laurel tunnel exits under Glenwood Drive, and wanted to see that. I headed that way on Graham Hill Road, which until then I hadn't known was a steep climb out of Felton. My commuter legs were definitely feeling it.

The Laurel Tunnel entrance under Glenwood Drive.
It's just north of Eagle Road, for the record.

I enjoyed Bean Creek Road, then continued on Glenwood past Mountain Charlie Road to see the tunnel entrance. Except, despite knowing what to look for, I rode right past it. I ended up seeing much more of Glenwood Drive than I intended, but that was interesting on two counts: first, the road surface became the twin of Old Santa Cruz Highway just to the north, skinny and concrete. That's fitting because this was indeed part of that path before Highway 17 was built. The other thing I noticed was that there were lots of cyclists on this stretch of road. That part I don't understand; to my knowledge this road, while quite pretty, dead-ends at Highway 17. What's the attraction? What have I been missing all these years?

I went back to Mountain Charlie Road and headed back toward home, the heat now conspiring with the length of the ride to drain my already-meager energy. Among all the damaged roads I had been riding all day, Mountain Charlie Road was a survivor, with relatively little damage despite its many overhanging hills and trees.

Ride profile

Today's ride was just over 70 miles, with 6100 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer of the ride was in the second half of Black Road, which averaged about 11%. The kilometer of Graham Hill Road, leaving Felton, was close at nearly 10%, but felt worse due to the heat, the traffic, and the recently-eaten lunch.

It was great to get back into the mountains, but what became clear to me is that I'm not in the same kind of shape at all. First, I haven't done any climbs recently, and no long climbs for ages. Second, my commute is less than two hours of riding, so I can easily ride full-out. That's a lousy strategy for a longer ride, and one with climbing. Pace is the key for old, slow rider.

Progress on Mt. Umunhum

Opening up access to the summit of Mt. Umunhum seems to be making progress, however glacially. In a recent Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District Board Meeting (minutes), the board addressed an issue that's been discussed on this blog before: access to the road leading to the summit. Specifically, MROSD is working on plans to re-pave and partially rebuild the road, and have initiated proceedings to acquire rights to the road through eminent domain.

Planned work near the Bald Mountain Trail Head

The road passes through private land. That's not necessarily a problem; lots of public roads do that. Normally the public holds an easement, a right to use the road. That's a restriction on the landowner's rights, but in exchange they get the use and maintenance of the road.

In the case of Mt. Umunhum Road, I'm under the impression that the road was built to support the Almaden Air Force Station, and clearly the landowners benefited from its construction. Five years ago I assumed that whatever easement was in place was still in force, and the Open Space District may have agreed, but the homeowners construed the easement to apply only to official use. The Open Space District has been trying to negotiate with the owners but they haven't budged, so the last resort is condemnation. Don't feel too sorry for those landowners; they will get an improved and well-maintained road, practically zero new traffic, and about $400k each.

The plan to pursue eminent domain was made late last year, and it was covered in the Mercury News and by Ray Hosler, too. What's new (to me, anyway) is that the process has actually begun. The agenda for the MROSD Board Meeting for May 25, 2016 reads, in part:

In order for the District to construct road improvements during the 2016/2017 construction season, condemnation proceedings for Mount Umunhum Road rights have been initiated with the Santa Clara County Superior Court to obtain possession of the necessary rights.

Woohoo! I don't know much about law, but I'm pretty sure that in order to finish a case you have to start it at some point, so that seems like a milestone. More seriously, I'm sure it would go more quickly if the landowners would settle, but if they were reasonable we'd have had access long ago.

The minutes linked above are a pretty interesting read, as meeting notes go. The plan is not only to repave the road, but also to address drainage and stabilize slopes along the road. The new road will also have pull-outs and improved guard rails. The minutes include detailed drawings like the one included above for the whole route, from Hicks to the summit.

When I started riding my bicycle up Mt. Umunhum I wanted to see the old Air Force station in its "ghost town" state, before it was torn down. I guess that ship has sailed, but perhaps the consolation prize will be a legal ride up to the summit some time before I'm too old to make it.

Kona, Hawaii

On December 30th I got a chance to go cycling on the Big Island of Hawaii. I didn't reach my goal, but I had a great time not getting there.

We planned a week-long trip to Hawaii, staying on the Big Island, and it looked like I might be able to get in a couple of days of riding. Then the plans changed a little, and it turned out the bike shop was closed on New Year's Day, so my time was becoming constrained. Nonetheless, I packed some bike gear along with my swim trunks.

There are lots of pretty roads around Kona, but there's one unusual feature: a road that goes up to 13,800 feet, starting at sea level. Mauna Kea is a dormant volcano, and there's a road to an observatory at the top. After a little investigation, I realized that the observatory was not going to be possible for me, but the visitor's center, at 9,200 feet, might just be possible. So that was the goal.

The starting point in Kona

One of my constraints was that I didn't have a full day; I had to pick up the bike after the bike shop opened, then return it the next day before it closed. Therefore, best case, I only had about 8 hours of riding available. That wouldn't be enough to get me up and back, so the plan was for my wife to meet me somewhere up the mountain as dusk fell.

I was at Bike Works Kona before it opened, and was on the bike by 9:30. I rode down to the water, mostly to zero the elevation on my Garmin to zero. As it turns out, I started right at the swim and run start of the Ironman triathlon.

The Garmin was already reading 90+ degrees, so I bought an extra bottle of water and strapped it precariously under my seat. I had read that there was no water on my chosen path, so I was hoping this would be enough.

The road out of Kona is immediately a climb, reaching about 1600 feet before becoming more gradual. At that point the temperature also dropped into the high 70s, and I began to hope that my plan might be feasible after all. Unfortunately the temperature quickly rose back into the 90s, and I was consuming water at unsupportable rates.

Looking down toward Waikoloa

There are few roads on the Big Island, so those few roads tend to be pretty busy. The Mamalahoa Highway that I was on had a serviceable shoulder and only moderate traffic. Eventually I turned onto a highway that led across the island -- two lanes in the uphill direction, and one on the downhill. The climb became a little more pronounced, there was much more truck traffic, all signs of trees or other potential shade disappeared, and the vast expanse of asphalt amplified the heat noticeably.

Needless to say I was beginning to struggle a bit. I also realized that I had entirely forgotten to put on sunscreen, so I was going to have a price to pay for this climb. Eventually I realized that it just wasn't to be, and turned around. The visitor's center could be a goal for another day.

Elevation profile

My ride ended up at just about 60 miles, with 4700 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer was that last one, on the Daniel K. Inouye Highway, but the grade there was only about 7.3%.

If I were to make an attempt at this ride in the future, I would either need a cloudy, cooler day, or more support -- there's no way for me to carry enough water otherwise. Bike shops in the area recommend a number of climbs, but not this one. I suspect that's just because this ride isn't particularly pretty or otherwise rewarding, except in altitude. Next time I might be tempted to follow their advice.

Mountain Charlie Road

It's another holiday, so I get another ride. This time it was down to Santa Cruz, and back on Mountain Charlie Road.

The last couple of days have been rainy and we're traveling after Christmas, so today was basically my best chance. I was concerned that the the Los Gatos Creek Trail would be a mess, but it was wet and firm, with lots of puddles but no ruts forming.

I once again took Rodeo Gulch Road, mostly to enjoy a little extra isolation. As usual I stopped for lunch at Betty Burger, where it was just barely warm enough to sit outside, if you were in the sun.

Seabright Beach

After lunch I made sure I got a good look at the ocean, then headed up Glen Canyon Road to Bean Creek Road, and took Mountain Charlie Road home.

Elevation Profile

Today's little ride was just over 70 miles, with about 5700 feet of climbing. The toughest kilometer was the top part of Laurel Glen Road and the first part of Rodeo Gulch Road, where it averaged 9.8%. All the other climbs are much easier. It was a great day for a ride, and if I'm lucky I may get one more ride in 2015.

Umunhum

Yesterday I took advantage of the long weekend to sneak out for a non-commute ride up Mount Umunhum.

Normally I try to fit in a long ride on these long weekends, but the day after Thanksgiving I woke up pretty late and was lazy, so I only had a few hours. Meanwhile, there's been a lot of work on the mountain since the last time I saw it, so I wanted to see what was up.

As far as I can tell, the last time I did this ride was April 2014. Since then they've constructed a little parking lot at the gate on Mount Umunhum Road, the highest point cars are currently allowed.

Plenty of parking

Basic facilities

There's a nice little parking lot and bathrooms, but no water that I could see.

No change in the road surface

If I understand it correctly there are plans to re-pave the road when they open access to the top, so it's no surprise that it hasn't been worked on yet. It's not a problem when climbing, but when descending the 10%+ grades it can be tricky.

I'm sure the quality of the road hasn't changed much, but this time I found myself unable to dodge several large potholes. It's nerve racking, but then again a smooth road surface might encourage reckless descending.

Even more emphatic signs

The next change one notices is that MROSD has put up new signage blocking the road that's even larger, 100% redder, and generally more emphatic. Before too long we'll be able to ride (and even drive) to the top; why they still can't allow bike and pedestrian traffic even one foot further than this is a mystery to me.

New facilities at Quicksilver

After a long cold descent I rolled through New Almaden, and saw new construction at the Hacienda entrance of Quicksilver park. There too they've erected a little bathroom and they appear to be in the process of building a bell tower for some reason.

What I learned from this is that, in building a bell tower, one apparently installs the bell before even finishing the exterior. Who knew?

I had a few extra minutes of sunshine and no interest in riding along Almaden Expressway, so I took Harry Road past the entrace to the IBM Almaden facility, where it winds through a hilly little residential area on the way back to Camden.

Elevation Profile

All in all a really enjoyable ride -- perfect weather, I felt good on the steep climbs, and it fit neatly into the afternoon. It was just under 25 miles, with a little over 3000 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer was the lower part of the climb up Hicks, which averages well over 14%.

Big Basin and Zayante

During an unusually complicated weekend, I had a rare chance to go out for a nice long ride.

I've been doing my evening 25-30 mile commute very regularly, but I've only put together a couple of longer rides this whole year. Once I realized I was going to have a free day, my thoughts drifted to the top of Black Road. I haven't been there in... forever. Then thinking a little more, I remembered that I've never climbed Gist Road, so that got in the plan, even though it meant cutting out the prettiest part of Black Road -- the part that had inspired the route in the first place.

Gist Road, with a fabric-covered hill

The morning was heavily overcast but not terribly cool, and I got on the road at 8:30. I headed up to the Lexington Reservoir, negotiated the little dirt track next to Highway 17, and started up Black Road. There is no shoulder on any of these roads (Black, Bear Creek or Montevina), so while there's not much traffic it's all inconvenient.

Gist road was very quiet, mostly a winding single lane. Very pretty.

A Really Big Tree

I had forgotten to eat any breakfast, so the rest of my planning revolved around lunch. I decided to stop at the Foster's Freeze in Boulder Creek, so at the top of Gist I took a right and headed toward Route 9. As I was decending 9 I was a little early for lunch, so at Route 236 I headed toward Big Basin, to extend the ride and mostly to enjoy the woods.

Upper Zayante Road

With lunch managed I wanted to find a way to climb up Mountain Charlie Road, again just because I hadn't been there in a long time. I headed down Route 9 and took a left on Glen Arbor Road to avoid some of the traffic. Along that route, you see signs for Quail Hollow Road heading to E. Zayante. That would be a new route for me, and riding on Route 9 and Mount Hermon Road to Scotts Valley would be unpleasant, so: Zayante it is.

At the top I headed right, descending to Los Gatos on Old Santa Cruz Highway. All day I had felt pretty great, up for any options, but by now I was feeling the unusual (for me) distance and climb, and just headed back home over Kennedy.

Elevation Profile

This little outing was 77 miles, with 7300 feet of climbing. The hardest kilometer was Gist Road, at nearly 11%. I'm happy that I managed to see my old haunts again, and indeed that I still have that range. But I hope to have a few more open days during the upcoming holidays.

Santa Cruz and Big Basin

Yesterday I took advantage of the holiday weekend to take my first long ride of the summer.

 

I've been riding a lot lately, but it's all in the form of my daily commute between Mountain View and Almaden. I don't seem to be able to make time for a long, all-day ride on the weekends anymore, but on a long weekend I can normally fit one in. This weekend is Independence Day, so it fits the bill.

Rodeo Gulch Road

I didn't really have a plan, but since it's been so long since I've seen Santa Cruz I decided to head down that way. On a day destined to be pretty hot I got an early start, rolling into the cool (but definitely not cold) morning at 7:30. I took my normal route over Kennedy to the Old Santa Cruz Highway, rolling through the redwoods on a cloudy morning.

After a quick descent on a quiet San Jose-Soquel road, I took the turn onto Laurel Glen Road to enjoy the woods a little more. At the northern edge of that road I decided to take Rodeo Gulch Road, which was new to me, toward Santa Cruz. It turns out to be a pretty little one-lane road.

Crossing the San Lorenzo river

I meandered through town mostly aimlessly, except that I wanted to see the ocean before heading back into the hills. I ended up crossing the San Lorenzo on the old railroad bridge next to the Boardwalk, as I often do.

The river trail took me to Graham Hill Road, which in turn took me to Felton. Graham Hill was busy with traffic and steep, but the sun was tamed by clouds and I continued to feel great.

At Felton I turned on to Route 9, and continued north to Boulder Creek. I detoured onto Glen Arbor Road to try another road new to me, not to mention get away from traffic, but it seemed like there were a lot of cars there, too.

A redwood along North Escape Road.

After lunch at the friendly Foster's Freeze I headed toward Big Basin State Park, this time taking Park Avenue to avoid a traffic a little more. As I continued on 236, the clearing skies allowed the sun to beat down and the effort on the climb began to tell. My morning of pleasurable cruising was becoming an afternoon of work.

The park headquarters was crowded, and an overflowing parking lot meant that the road was clogged. I topped off my water and rested a bit, then headed off on North Escape Road for a little peace in the shady forest.

North Escape Road

One of the advantages of North Escape Road is that you don't have to contend with the traffic on the skinny side of 236, but on this trip I actually encountered my first-ever traffic on the upper part of North Escape Road, in the form of a park ranger heading the other way.

Once I got back on 236 I was exposed to the sun for the rest of the climb, but enjoyed the brief relief offered by the shade of occasional trees. As I continued up Route 9 I was calculating whether this ride would end up being 100 miles. Calculations done on the bike are always comically difficult. I suffered up the climb, but enjoyed the descent. I went back home the usual way, following part of my daily commute, and went home a slightly circuitous way to go over 100 miles.

Elevation profile

Yesterday's ride was just over 100 miles, with 8100 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer, on this day of moderate climbs, was on the upper part of North Escape Road. I'm pretty exhausted today, but if these long rides are going to be rare, I suppose I ought to make them count.

Following Jobst Brandt

I never met Jobst Brandt.

I moved to the Bay area in 2008, and soon developed an interest in cycling in the Santa Cruz mountains. As I sought more interesting routes through the mountains I inevitably became aware of Jobst Brandt and his extensive experience, writings, and influence.

Jobst Brandt on nearby Umunhum Road
Photo by Ray Hosler.

The first way Brandt influenced me was describing some of the great rides around here. Brandt's adventurous spirit and disdain for arbitrary restrictions inspired many of my exploratory rides. In my case, the influence often came second hand. For example, one of my first rides to Loma Prieta was directly inspired by Bill Bushnell's route, which in turn was suggested by Brandt. Many other rides were directly inspired by Ray Hosler, who carries the same spirit. Brandt also contributed to catalogs of climbs like the Stanford cycling routes page, which I used to rely on extensively.

We're lucky that Brandt's later career coincided with the rise of the Internet, and specifically Usenet. I don't know where this sort of memoir, interesting and useful but without the polish or audience required for magazines, could have been published otherwise. Having said that, it's worrying how many of the reports are filled with broken image links.

Jobst Brandt simultaneously testing
theories of slick tire grip, cornering
technique and helmet use.
Photo by Ted Mock.

Another of Brandt's legacies is his extensive writing on bicycle-related engineering, including his strong opinions on myriad topics on rec.bicycles.tech, and of course The Bicycle Wheel. I'm an engineer (software, anyway) and appropriately skeptical of marketing disguised as innovation in the cycling industry, so I have a natural affinity for Brandt's attitude. But I'm also an indifferent and lazy mechanic, so I read it only as a spectator.

Just climbing the sign is impressive
for an older guy.

For me, Brandt's most direct influence was his annual cycling trip in the Alps. Every year he undertook a trip similar in scale to the Tour de France, carrying his gear on the bike and staying in hotels. That style of touring directly informed my trips in 2012 and 2014. Of course his days and his trips were vastly more arduous than my own; maybe someday I'll work up to that level.

The influence continues. Brandt also often rode across the Sierra Nevadas and back; I may try that this summer. And he described a long ride through New Idria that sounded really interesting to me, but it was later closed by the Bureau of Land Management. It is reported to be open again; maybe I'll try that some time.

Finally, I'm pretty old, so Brandt's example is especially inspirational to me. He routinely enjoyed long, all-day rides through the mountains well into his 70s. In 2010, for example, he reported a typical ride up Bonny Doon. A ride of 110 miles and 8000 feet of climbing at 75 years of age? It would be impossible to believe from anyone else.

Note the smile (from Bill Bushnell's blog).

I'm sorry I never met Jobst Brandt. He's gone, but I continue to appreciate and benefit from his wisdom and his example. Rest in peace.

Mount Tamalpais and the Marin Headlands

Yesterday I took a brisk ride from San Francisco up and around Mount Tamalpais.

I've had lots of time off recently, and I was looking for something a little out of the ordinary for me. Mount Tamalpais sounded interesting, and I've only been there once, two years ago.

Starting off, looking at the road ahead.

Armed with only vague memories of the route from 2012 and an almost complete lack of any other planning, I set off early in the car. I was headed for the Vista Point just on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge. As I drove through thick fog on 280 (so thick that the sparse traffic slowed a bit), I remembered that the Golden Gate Bridge no longer has cash toll booths. I don't have FasTrak, and I couldn't remember whether that would be a problem (answer: no, not a problem) and couldn't easily check. I decided to find parking in San Francisco and cross the bridge on the bike. And having made that decision, it was obviously better in every respect.

As I neared the bridge a search for parking brought up Inspiration Point, a scenic spot in the Presidio. When I got there it was literally empty, so I thought I must be violating some rule. Nonetheless I parked and started riding in the cold morning air, just after 8:30.

Somebody has placed French-style markers on
hills in the area. This one was on Corte Madiera Road.

Everything's so much easier in the morning. I crossed the bridge, passed through Sausalito to the Mill Valley/Sausalito bike path, and made my way up to Mill Valley with little traffic, whether car, bike or pedestrian. From Mill Valley I took roads up through the little towns that surround the mountain (Corte Madeira, Larkspur, Ross, and San Anselmo). Finally in Fairfax I turned onto Bolinas Road (passing an inviting coffee shop already packed with cyclists) and began the climb.

Alpine Lake

The first part of the climb goes past a golf course, after which car traffic decreases noticeably. It climbs a little more until descending to the beautiful and quite full Alpine Lake reservoir.

After a snack on the dam in the warming sun, I began the climb up away from the lake. Cars were parked all along the narrow shoulder of the road here, but few people were in sight. I guess there are hiking trails around there?

After a beautiful section of thick, dark woods, the path continues on Ridgecrest Boulevard. On this section the trees give way to grassy hills, currently a gratifying green. It offers the first views of the Pacific, and eventually Bolinas and Stinson Beach.

Bolinas Bay, as seen from Ridgecrest Boulevard.

The Lookout Tower on Mount Tamalpais

After this section the road turns toward the north-east and heads up to the nondescript West Peak, and finally the East Peak. I enjoyed the views while eating my remaining food, then hiked up to the observation tower. I could do that because I wear "mountain bike" shoes with SPD clips, not enfeebling road bike shoes. I can't imagine why anyone would choose the latter.

After that I headed downhill... very briefly, because one must immediately climb back to the West Peak. But then it's all downhill into Mill Valley, and from there the bike trail takes you back into Sausalito.

Instead of heading directly back across the bridge, I stayed on the road (Conzelman Road, apparently) to enjoy the views west of the bridge. I hadn't been up here before. It was now mid-afternoon, and appeared to be a nightmare for many cars seeking few parking spaces. It was nice on the bike, although a little steep in sections.

Looking back on the bridge and San Francisco from Hawk Hill.

I crossed the now-busy bridge, and found that the once-quiet roads in the Presidio were now backed up with cars waiting to cross the bridge. The Inspiration Point parking lot was now overflowing and crowded, partly due to people taking up spots while on long bike rides, I suppose. Things look a lot different in the afternoon -- the lesson is that if you get a reasonably early start, everything's easy, and later it becomes a huge hassle.

Elevation profile

Yesterday's ride was a little over 62 miles, with 5457 feet of climbing. The most difficult kilometer was the final climb up toward the East Peak of Tamalpais, at 8.1%. That's it for the holiday rides; now back to work!