Nato Bike Trip Journal
December 13, 2007
Sunday night I awoke with a shiver. My head was throbbing, and I kept moving my legs, rubbing them against each other for warmth, and they tired from this simple exertion. I spend monday in bed, reading and eating simple foods. Tuesday I felt better, but still weak, and worked on my car a little in the sun and fresh air. The rear axles of the car (one left, one right, coming out of the transmission) need to be well oiled and protected, so they lie inside axle tubes. At least, now they do. Before, they were lying on the ground, out in the open. Tuesday night I got my things together and slept fitfully, awakening at about 2AM and adjourning to the bathroom to blast the mucous from my head. Monday morning I awoke at about nine and had some oatmeal. I packed my bag. Contents:
1 Gallon liquid laundry detergent
14.4 Volt Drill battery and charger
2 shirts
a pair of mangled shorts
a currant cake
a copy of Christopher Hitchens’ “Letters to a Young Contrarian”
a stack of mail
one ~8oz. bag of rice
one ~6oz bag of oatmeal
A toilet kit with razor, toothbrush, deodorant etc.
Bag weight: ~ 25#
This bag I tied to the luggage rack on the back of my bicycle (Here is a bike that is essentially identical to mine: http://www.bikecult.com/works/collections/sab1935.html).
bicycle weight ~ 25#
My mother packed me a lunch, which I repacked into the document pouch in the center of my bike. A salami sandwich, bagel with cream cheese, two apples, two oranges, some traditional krumkake, a handful of candies and a bottle of water were to last me the day. I left the house at about 10:45 and arrived at the train station in about ten minutes. I purchased my ticket, got my bike hauled onboard and sat in the noisiest, most irritatingly mechanical sounding car on the train. There is a mechanism on a train that makes a loud “ting, ting, ting”
sound.
||– Speculation follows –||
There is a springloaded piston that strikes a bell, then is drawn back by an electromagnet and released, to strike the bell again. Repeat. This warning bell is sounded only under the following conditions:
1) The train is approaching a turn
2) The train is approaching a road crossing
3) The train is approaching another train
4) The train is approaching a residential area
5) The train is approaching an urban area
6) The engineer has decided that it’s too quiet
7) The train is approaching a straight stretch of track
||– Speculation ended –||
The duty cycle on the bell during the course of the trip was about 95%. I don’t know what the special circumstances were when they turned it off. Maybe it overheated? I don’t know. We arrived in San Francisco at the 4′th and King station. I got out and thought briefly about taking the golden gate transit bus for $8.50 that would bring me to my house within about 2 hours. Instead, I headed northeast down king street until I hit the embarcadero. I cruised along the bay and watched people doublepark, or just park terribly. I saw couples holding hands and grungy guys and smartly dressed women and folks in wheelchairs and people sitting on the grass. I rode north and then west, hugging the shore. A three masted ship, built either in the style of, or literally in, the early 1800’s provoked memories of the ‘Age of sail’ program I went on in junior high. The Ghirardelli sign loomed off to my left, with a ridiculous number of struts supporting it. I wanted to tell their engineer he’s an idiot, and go redesign the thing myself, because part of the job of a sign maker is to make the sign attractive, and their sign makes me think an army of OCD spiders got together to support the sign, and when you’re trying to sell chocolate, you don’t want people thinking of spiders.
Okay!
I proceeded along the coast, passing Fort Mason and not looking back. I found a nice bike trail through Crissy field and then began my ascent toward the Golden Gate bridge. Here, for the first time, I had to walk my bike. The road was just too steep, and I’d been riding for about half an hour. There were a pair of German tourists (at least I think they were German… they looked German and looked like tourists, but what do I know about German tourists?) who were following the same route as I. We leapfrogged a few times and they passed me as we arrived at the bridge. One of them took pictures from the seat of his bike looking backwards. I was surprised he didn’t crash. There were a pair of small sailboats traveling parallel on the bay, and their wakes extended out for miles. I was amazed at how vividly the wakewash water stood out from the rest of the bay. The light reflected off it was somehow a different shade, like the waves passing through there were tempered by the passing of the ship.
Arriving at the opposite end of the bridge, I took a break. I ate an apple and drank some water. I took a bite of my sandwich, but wasn’t really hungry. I began the descent into Sausalito. Sausalito is a lovely town with relatively flat streets, and it somehow made me think of Norway, though I’ve never been. It seemed terribly civilized and almost overly clean. The downtown was pleasant, but not overbearingly so. Los Gatos downtown sometimes seems overly commercial, as do most small towns. As though they exist entirely as tourist traps, or rich-folk hangouts. Sausalito had nicely dressed, but unpretentious people and shops. At least that was my impression, flying by at an average of 8 miles per hour as I did.
I continued northward, finding a pretty clean and straight bike trail. I passed through Corta Madera uneventfully, stopping on a park bench to eat my sandwich and drink some more water. I pumped up my rear tire approximately every seven or eight miles or so… about once an hour. I passed by the Larkspur Ferry. There were tons of signs around, and I kept hoping I wasn’t going to end up HAVING to go on it, and I was pleased that I could in fact just ride by and wave. As I continued down the road, I encountered the only person on the trip who didn’t like bicyclists. An early-twenties asshole with gelled hair and a collared shirt leaned out the passenger window of a Prius and yelled “You fucking suck at riding a bicycle.”
I was taken aback for a second, felt angry, and then amused. I continued down the road, missed a sign that indicated I was getting on 580, and ended up accidentally taking a detour to the edge of the San Rafael bridge. I got myself reoriented and headed northwest away from the bridge and San Quentin prison.
I cruised on up to central San Rafael and then made a critical error. I didn’t realize how far south San Rafael really is. I thought I ought to hug the shore and that I’d eventually make it over to highway 37 / sears point and from there to Lakeville highway, which would take me up to Petaluma. Using that as my geographical basis, I turned down Point San Pedro road. The road was heading along the shore and to the east, which was exactly where I thought I wanted to go. The shore along that area is composed of large chunks of rock. It was obviously built by humans. It was starting to get dimmer out, perhaps around 4 or 4:30. I progressed without incident. The view from the road over the bay is really quite lovely, and as the sun was just beginning to set, the colors in the sky were fantastic. I passed a yacht club and the sky was pale pink and blue, sort of a pastel pallette, and I thought “Man! These pastel colors over the yacht club make me think that yacht owners must be pussies.” So if you’re considering painting your yacht pastel collors, know that it’ll make some people think you’re a pussy. I’d go for bright blue (pthallo blue is my favorite) with electric-orange highlights. That would make me think “Damn! That guy has excelent taste in yacht paint colors! He is badass.”
Also at this point in the trip my legs finally really began to burn. I’d been riding essentially continuously for about 4 hours or so on a heavy bike with a heavy bag after being sick and not having ridden a bike in a year (or so… I don’t know how long it’s really been since I biked). I was on probably my 15′th wind or so. I thought that the hiking I did with Simon in the canyon killed my legs as dead as legs could be killed, but I was pushing that level of leg-exhaustion at that point in my trip.
Point San Pedro road eventually turned inland and got a lot steeper. I began to get a bit worried, because I was walking my bike and it was getting rather dim out. When I got to the top of the hill I was climbing, I activated my electric dynamo generator for the front and rear lights. This little thing rubs on the front wheel and generates electricity to power the lights. It was inconvenient because just as it was getting dark and I was getting tired, I had to pedal harder to generate power for illumination. I entered China Camp park with the sun below the horizon and began the long ride through the well wooded park. It was four-plus miles of windy, hilly roads. As I paproached the end, there were some guys putting their bikes into the back of a truck. One of them said to another “Man, we were gonna send out the helicopters for you! It’s getting late!” I chuckled internally. I knew I was perhaps halfway home, at best. I didn’t know I’d actually spent nearly the last 45 minutes on a complete waste of time. I found out soon enough. As I emerged out of the trees and into a small town, I realized I had no idea where I was. I saw some cars moving rapidly in the distance and dared to hope that it was highway 37. It wasn’t. It was 101. What! WHAT! How the hell was I back at 101? I went away from there to the east! I was thoroughly convinced I was still facing east. With the sun down, I’d completely lost my sense of direction. I called friends, got my bearings and realized that, it being 5:30, and dark, and cold, I probably ought to call it quits. So I found an A&W, ordered a rootbeer float, and called Sahaj to come pick me up in his girlfriend Sarah’s truck. I enjoyed my float, went over to sahaj’s, had a drink, watched some TV, found that I was incapable of standing and ended up getting home around 11.
It was an excellent experience. Next time, I’ll plan my route better, start earlier, put less crap in my bag, bring a map(or two) and make it the full distance.
Until next time!
