The Friday Cyclotouriste

Organic New Zealand Kiwi Fruit

I recently pedaled up to Alpine Lake and had the foresight to pack a little fruit and one of these spiffy stainless steel Japanese Suncraft knives.

As I bit into this juicy kiwi, I remember thinking:

How is it that I’m sitting here now and eating a tiny fruit that was harvested on the other side of the earth?

There was no judgment over the astronomical (one might even say grotesque) carbon footprint of my organic New Zealand kiwi – it was simply a sense of wonder that I live at a time in human history where such an act is even possible.

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Note: After writing the above post I discovered that a “sense of wonder” is a recognized concept in science fiction literature. It’s related to a “numinous” experience. Here’s an excerpt from the Wikipedia entry:

The sense of wonder is related to, but not identical to, the concept of the numinous…the numinous, in this case, is the understanding that there is something not directly comprehensible, but large and entirely other, in the world. The sense of wonder, by contrast, is the understanding that there is something that one had not fully comprehended — or perhaps had not even recognized that there was something to be comprehended — until that point.

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The Velo Hobo (aka Jack from North Carolina) was kind enough to spotlight me in one of his recent “featured rider” posts.

Initially, I told him I was a little embarrassed by the distinction. The cycling community is full of so many riders that are accomplishing amazing physical feats or doing other extraordinary things with bicycles. I felt a little inadequate in this regard. But I’ll continue to do my part, whatever that may be. Thanks Jack!

And this reminds me. I’ve been remiss in acknowledging other blogging friends and supporters of The Friday Cyclotouriste to whom I am most grateful. They include:

• Myles at Rat Trap Press;
• Eddie at The Everyday Cyclist;
• Esteban at velo-flaneur;
• Alan and Michael at EcoVelo;
• Meli at Bikes and the City; and,
• Dave at Yurtville.

All are amazing blogs. I encourage you to visit.

(P.S. The above picture, which I sent to Jack, was made with the camera on the ground using the 10-second timer on a recent Thursday evening ride up the hill near Alpine Lake).

This past Friday I intended to ride to Alpine Lake and back, one of the top 10 short bicycle rides known to humankind IMHO.

But I got distracted by all the wildflowers and only made it to the top of Azalea Hill.

Last time up here I made this photo. I thought I’d share an alternative version highlighting my flashy yellow wind breaker.

And here’s a clumsy attempt to make another 10-second timed exposure at the nearby trail head. (The ground is super saturated and muddy. I had trouble getting set before the shutter released.)

Azalea Hill Trail Head

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I live in a region with a drought prone mediterranean climate and so expressing one’s feelings about the rain (its frequency and abundance) is a local past-time and, I think, a reflection of becoming a true inhabitant of this dynamic ecological assemblage.

I love the rain — especially late season March/April rains, but it also reduces my riding (above is a fair weather picture from a mid-month ride).

And despite many rumors to the contrary, rainfall this year is just “average”. But “average” = “great” because now our reservoirs are finally full.

Stats from MMWD’s website:

Average year-to-date rainfall (inches): 46.3

Actual year-to-date rainfall (inches): 45.1

Current, reservoir storage (% of capacity): 99

Same time last year, reservoir storage (% of capacity): 84

Now we need to hope plans to restore native Coho salmon populations will soon start paying off.

Atop Azalea Hill

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There’s a lot of cloud cover, but the East Bay is just visible on the far horizon. Mt. Tamalpais is the third peak from the right with Bon Tempe Lake right below.

(I combined five images to capture the whole panorama. Here’s my favorite example of this technique: Nicasio reservoir.)

The making of this photo:  (1) place camera directly on road (2) set the 10 second timer (3) grab bike (4) run into the frame and hope to hit a good mark to optimize composition and hope for no cars (5) wait for shutter to fire — still hoping for no cars to come up from behind (6) get the camera and myself off the road as quickly as possible.

I tried this twice (this was the first). It worked just as I had hoped!

Azalea Hill pass

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This is an important spot  — the intersection of Bolinas-Fairfax and Pine Mountain (fire) roads. Mountain bikers and hikers will often drive here to start at the trail head; road bicyclists will often rest and take water here.

By all means, make the short 10 minute hike from this pass to the top of Azalea Hill (EL 1,217′). You’ll be rewarded with a 360 degree vista including a great view of Mt. Tamalpais and Bon Tempe lake and sight lines extending across the bay to the Campanile on the UC Berkeley campus and continuing on to Mt. Diablo.

In between rain showers I went for a little ride around downtown Fairfax today. I spied this cruiser, parked under an awning to keep it dry, I guess. Not even a lock! It’s all good.

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The Friday Cyclotouriste wishes everyone a happy New Year’s Day, 2010.  As you spread the joy and benefits of riding bicycles this year may you suffer few flats, encounter many interesting people, consume delicious food and drink, and experience only tailwinds during all your rides!

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A Prius ad was being shot at the top of Bolinas Road and Ridgecrest.

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Riding back up the Bolinas ridge was a struggle.

The road climbs 1500′ in only four miles and as I described in my ride report the ‘man with the hammer’ was sneaking up on me. This pull-out along the serpentine road gave me an excuse to stop and rest, which turned out to be a brilliant idea! I ate half a sandwich and felt better.

The wikipedia bicycling glossary has this take on ‘the man with the hammer‘:

…a phrase that describes what happens to a rider who suddenly loses the ability to race, as in “The man with the hammer got him” or “He got hit by the man with hammer“. This is a reference to the experience boxers have when their legs become powerless and weak just before collapsing (as if they have been hit with a hammer) following a severe blow to the head. The abruptness with which this happens differentiates it from hitting the wall. Alternative expressions are “‘tapped’” short for “he got tapped by the man with hammer”.

Maybe it was the wall I avoided. Either way — hammer or wall — I needed rest and food.

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The turnaround point of my ride: the mouth of the Bolinas Lagoon.

(For a cool aerial perspective of this spot, click the geotag under the image then click the satellite map and zoom to taste!)

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A small fishing boat moored off Wharf Road in downtown Bolinas

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Star Route Farms, one of the oldest organic farming operations in Marin. Founded by organic pioneer Warren Weber, a renaissance man who taught a Shakespeare course at UC Berkeley that I took when I was a grad student.

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A distinctive non-native species found all over rural Marin county. They grow like crazy, shed lots of leaves and bark, and have a really strong aroma. For me, they’re as familiar a part of the landscape as native Manzanita or Douglas fir.

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Highway 1:  looking across at the approximate spot where the sign signaling the way to Bolinas (to the left) would be standing if the locals didn’t keep tearing it down to discourage outsiders from visiting.

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A pesky cyclotouriste with a camera (now at sea level having descending from Bolinas ridge) causes a Snowy Great Egret to make haste.

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Over the ridge and heading toward the ocean, I’m treated to a glimpse of the Bolinas Lagoon, the Bolinas Mesa, and the Pacific Ocean (visible in that order from near to far).