I was surprised how dark
the clouds were when I looked out on Saturday morning, but I knew there
was a "slight" chance of "brief" thunderstorms, so I kept preparing
for the ride. JB called and said it was raining at his place. I stepped
out, and a few drops had started to fall. I told him I was still going,
though. He said he and Ron would see me up there. I knew that Michael
and Ray were on their way too. As I pulled into the rainy parking lot,
three lycra-clad guys were lined up under the eaves protecting Iron
Ivan. When I got out, they waved me over to the only dry spot. Michael,
JB, Ron, and I could find no areas of the sky that seemed to be getting
lighter. Everyone described driving through an area of downpour getting
there. Ray pulled in and right up next to us, finally figured out how
to roll down his passenger-side window, and asked what we were going
to do. Once we figured no one else was going to show, we decided to
drive to Sutter Creek for coffee and to see what the weather would
do. That's when Phil and Brad pulled in. Phil has ridden with us a
few times. They agreed to meet us up there. In the restroom parking
lot, the rain was still steady and the air felt like late winter. We
put on our jackets and walked to coffee. The place was fairly busy,
but not nearly as busy as it would get later--after the aerobics class
got out. With that and the farmers' market, the place was loud and
jumpin. Our gang got a couple of tables, some coffee and treats, and
sat there, telling stories, asking questions, joking, exploring the
nature of the cycling universe and other things for an hour or two.
We lost track of time, but did keep checking out the window. The rain
was steady the whole time. Finally we walked slowly over to the parking
lot. Several of us stood around not quite knowing what to do and disappointed
that we'd come all that way and couldn't continue to enjoy the company
on wheels. Phil and Brad pulled out. John and Ron finally got in the
truck and left. Michael and I stood there under the restroom eaves
and wondered what happened to Ray. Then he sauntered around the corner
and told us that he'd been in the Dog Bakery. He told us that the first
thing that the person at the counter asked him was what kind of dog
he has. He was forced to confess that he has no dog, just an imaginary
dog so far. That led to a hilarious discussion of his entire transaction
at the bakery--imaginary treats for his imaginary dog, paying with
imaginary money, having the proprietor play along and return his imaginary
change.
The three of us were standing there in a line, under the eaves, all with
our Erma jackets on. An older couple walked by, the woman gave us an up-and-down
look and said hello. I think she assumed we were city employees, but couldn't
figure out what we did exactly. We then realized we could be the valet
parking attendants for Sutter Creek or maybe the restroom attendants?
We were very reluctant just to pull up stakes and leave. Michael had to
get back to pick up his girls. Ray couldn't pass up the chance--his first--to
do some shopping in town. I had been standing there watching people carrying
away some nice looking corn and cantaloupes, so I wanted to check out the
farmers' market. Their business was poor on a rainy day, so I also assumed
there would be good deals. Ray and I walked over, split at Eureka St and
assumed we'd see each other in 3 weeks. I got cantaloupe, bok choy, cucumbers,
corn, peaches, walked back, and drove out of town. The rain was very light
by then, but I had plenty of packing to do for my trip...
As I was passing Mule Creek Prison, my cell rang, flashing Ray's number.
He asked how far away I was. I thought he was broken down and needed help.
I pulled over at Irish Hill. He said the rain had stopped, the roads were
drying and did I want to ride. I said, "Sure." He wanted me to come back
to SC, but we compromised on Ione since I was past it already.
There we were at 11:00, pulling back into a wet parking lot in Ione again,
three hours after our original start time. At 11:20, we pulled back out
on bicycles and headed back to Sutter Creek. We were going to do the standard
coffee route in a very non-standard way. An hour later we were back in
a dry Sutter Creek. We'd started with our jackets on. We'd taken them off
at the peacock farm on Sutter-Ione and wished we hadn't even brought them
from then on. Sutter Creek didn't even resemble the town we'd been in earlier.
For one thing there was no pounding music with an amplified woman shouting
about "Attitude!" There was also no farmers' market. We did a quick bottle
refill and headed up the creek.
This part alone made the choice worth it. The creek road was dry except
in a few sheltered places. But the creek and the woods smelled like a coastal
forest after a cleansing storm. It was overcast, dark, the woods looked
denser than normal, thick with brush, ivy, moss. And everything emitted
a contribution to a bouquet of scents, making a full course feast for the
senses. We paced ourselves, enjoying the air, the sensations, the coolness,
the tropical experience, the fact that we decided to ride, that we were
rolling through this rare world, and enjoying each other's company.
At Volcano, as soon as we stopped, we could feel the cool-damp-humidity
close on us and make sour skin seem to seep. It was not hot and not cold.
Rosie come around just after we sat down and chatted with us for a while
about working for God as church maintenance person in town.
Up Rams Horn at a steady, moderate pace, both of us warming completely
and feeling really good. We were also beginning to realize that we did
not have to rush. I switched my mind around and made this into a day that
was entirely mine and open for spontaneity. We could do whatever we wanted.
First item of business: the run down Shake. We just missed the 50 mph on
the bottom of the upper run, marking 49 mph, which was to be our top speed
of the day. I knew I didn't have the training to do anything more than
follow Ray, who was feeling good. He pulled back a notch on his hardcore
pull, but it was still a fast run through Mama and Papa. Then over the
hump and down into Sutter Creek for the third time. We decided to water
up again just in case we decided to go farther. We were both already thinking
that the standard ride wasn't going to be enough. The town looked like
yet another town this time. We started realizing that it felt like the
day before that we'd been there for coffee. Then came the poker discussion:
I opened with Willow-Irish; Ray saw my WCIH and raised me a Stoney Creek.
I countered his Stoney (which did not sound appealing) with a big bluff--Middle
Bar! Oh, no--he agreed.
Off up Sutter Hill and down Jackson Gate. Being Ray and me, we were thinking
coffee house, but we also knew time was short, so we were going to bypass
the one in Jackson in favor of my picking up some sunscreen at Bill's store.
But Judy, the owner, came out an shouted for us to come in and see our
photo. Ray went back while I went to Bill's. In the cafe, Ray had said, "What
the hell" and had espressos waiting. We sat there, talked with Judy, checked
out the big Erma's Diner photo in a prominent place on the wall.
Then over to Middle Bar. It was rougher going down than I remembered. The
bridge is fully open now. The far side is actually less rough than I remembered.
The scenery was beautiful back there overlooking the swollen Moke River.
We rushed through a dead-looking Paloma, the only sign of life, a dog barking
somewhere. The run down Paloma Rd was one of our favorite parts. What a
fast, graceful run that is. It's one where you can easily keep ahead of
cars because of the curve placement. Then over Pardee Dam, up the other
side and the zip down Ray's TT area, but cut short, as we had agreed to
turn on Coal Mine to add some miles and take us by our third coffee shop
of the day. To our surprise K's Coffee was still open. We sat overlooking
the lake and sipped our third espresso of the day. Ray says we broke a
record by having 8 shots each. Ray being Ray, he was wishing we'd had a
triple in Sutter Creek too to make it 9.
Down Curran and over Jackson Valley, we were calculating our mileage. Hey,
we'll have 75. No, it'll be more like 80. At Marlette, we had to add another
little bit to make it 80 or 85 or something. Anyway, I lost track. Ray
said we had to turn onto the highway and just go to the bridge and turn
around. At the bridge he said we needed just ".08 mi"; I heard a lot of
silence behind me. I knew what he was thinking. When we turned on Irish
Hill, I knew we were in for it. Ray had made a turning in his mind and
I was stuck. I was tired, but over Irish Hill we went. Ray, the engineer,
calcuated that we need to go over Forest Home to 16 and turn around. I
filled up at the corner there and we started back. I steeled myself, knowing
that Ray was still feeling frisky. He said that a good run over Irish Hill
takes only 14 min, so we'll probably do it in 20 and then just cruise home.
Ray being Ray, that wasn't going to happen. He hit it right after the top
of the first hill and we zipped and slooshed Irish Hill in what would have
been a good pace any day. 15 min later, we were at the highway and headed
home. Back at the parking lot in Ione yet one more time, pulling in just
as the sun was going down, we had tallied 101 miles for a "no-ride" day.
By the time we toweled off and changed, it was dark. We sat there for a
while anyway, drinking water, eating garlic almonds and cookies, thanks
to Ray. Throughout the day, including sitting there in the dark, we could
not believe we'd done all that in one day. That original meeting and drive
to Sutter Creek in the rain seemed to be a week before. It felt as though
we had ridden through every part of California, the coast, the redwoods,
the mountains, the foothills, the towns. We'd also ridden through almost
every kind of weather--overcast, coastal fog, mist, and full sun finally--everything
but rain. A great adventure because it was unexpected, unplanned, organically
grown, just a couple of guys riding bikes. (EH) |