Budd Lake 2 - 9/2013
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Bike Items for Sale - Here's a photo journal of bike parts that I'm trying to clear out of my workshop.
Shipping is $10 or (actual shipping charges + (optional) insurance charges + delivery confirmation fee), whichever is greater. I will try to find cheapest shipping option (e.g. USPS for US Domestic delivery) or will ship according to your carrier of preference.
Some of the parts are new, some are used. If you think my item pricing is off or you're buying multiple items, please make me an offer.
I am selling everything "as is". But, if you buy an item that is dead on arrival, damaged in shipment, or you believe you got a raw deal, please contact me as soon as possible so we can work out a solution. Given the time involved in selling these items I am not making a profit on this and am more interested in seeing components and parts I no longer use but that have remaining useful life to find a home with other bicycle enthusiasts, where they will be used instead of collecting dust in my workshop.
Contact me at the following . It will help if you include the links to photos of the items that interest you. All prices are in US Dollars.
Entire Blog - Display the entire Blog for all years. This is a large file!
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 106 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 5280 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 3156 kJ (877 wh) |
Panoche and Idria, December 18, 2004 - A ride from Paicines, California, on a crystal clear late fall day out and back over Panoche Pass, through the Panoche Valley, Griswold Canyon, Vallecitos Valley, and up San Carlos Creek to the near ghost-town of Idria, CA, site of the New Idria quicksilver mine.
| Bike Ridden: | Gold Rush |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 63 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 5000 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 2861 kJ (795 wh) |
Black Mountain, December 4, 2004 - A Western Wheelers mixed-roads ride up Black Mountain and other nearby high points in the northern Santa Cruz Mountains, California.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 74 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 4990 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 2834 kJ (787 wh) |
Coast Ride, November 28, 2004 - A typical San Francisco Peninsula ride from the south bay area out to Pescadero, San Gregorio and back up Tunitas Creek Road.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 75 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 5520 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 2931 kJ (814 wh) |
Hull Lotta Hills, November 6, 2004 - Randall Hull's Western Wheelers ride up Page Mill Road, north on Skyline to CA92, then back through all the lower hills of Belmont, San Carlos, and Redwood City, California.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 81 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 4360 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 3072 kJ (853 wh) |
Tour of Southwest Marin, October 30, 2004 - A Western Wheelers ride around all the scenic parts of southwestern Marin County, California. I rode with Zach Kaplan and Ken Holloway most of the day.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 54 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 3430 feet |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 1813 kJ (504 wh) |
Watsonville to San Juan Buatista and back, October 16, 2004 - A ride with Ron Bobb from Watsonville, California, through Aromas to San Juan Bautista, back over the San Juan Grade and through the hills west of Aromas back to Watsonville.
| Bike Ridden: | Gold Rush |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 101.8 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 5400 feet |
| Total Time: | 10:32:43 |
| Riding Time: | 7:39:44 |
| Avg. Speed (moving): | 13.3 mph |
| Max. Speed: | 35.7 mph |
| Max. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 491 watts |
| Avg. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 149 watts |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 4116 kJ (1143 wh) |
Backroads of San Benito County, October 2, 2004 - Ron Bobb and I started from the Windmill Market parking lot in San Juan Bautista at 0815, headed north briefly past the Mission and onto some local farm roads that headed into Hollister. After passing through the central part of Hollister we started up Santa Ana Road and continued past Quien Sabe Road on Santa Anita Road.
We stopped halfway up the short climb through the narrow canyon near the top to observe up close a male tarantula crawling slowly but deliberately up the center of the road. After taking a picture we coaxed him off the road before pressing on to a high valley overlooking the Quien Sabe Creek watershed near Buena Vista Ranch.
We took Browns Valley Road (dirt) for the next 6.2 miles over a couple of low ridges into some intervening valleys, including Browns Valley, which must have been named sometime in late summer or early fall where hardly a stitch of green could be seen, before plunging steeply into the Panoche Creek watershed.
The road was fairly easy to ride in this direction. A couple sections had some larger loose rock, and a couple of other sections had a washboard surface from too much spinning and skidding of wheels, but on the whole the road was well-graded and not too loose. Everything was dry and brown this time of year, but I imagine it would be green and filled with wildflowers in the springtime. The road fords Panoche Creek (something to remember if we come this way again in spring) before climbing back up to Panoche Road on which we turned right and continued into Paicines where we stopped at the store for a snack break shortly before noon.
We continued south on CA25 toward Pinnacles with the aid of a moderate tailwind. Every time I ride down this way it seems the vineyards are pushing farther south of Hollister. Ground squirrels could be heard squeaking in the fields next to the road and could be seen as they darted across the road ahead—one even dared me by crossing directly in front—and hawks, vultures, and other birds of prey could be seen circling overhead.
We made good time. Around 1300 we reached the summit of the short climb that crosses from the San Benito River watershed to the Salinas River watershed and shortly after the Bear Valley fire station where we stopped to top off our water. The firemen invited us inside to get water from their cooler. We wished them an uneventful afternoon as we set off down CA25 and then turned right onto the mostly unpaved La Gloria Road. The sign said 18 miles to Gonzales. I wondered if it would be dirt the whole way.
La Gloria Road starts at 1462 feet elevation, climbs in fits and starts up Bickmore Canyon, steeply for the first mile, and then rolls for another mile before climbing more gently up the long shallow valley. This part of the Gabilan Mountains lies just north of Pinnacles National Monument and is folded and bumped in odd ways due to its proximity to the San Andreas Fault that runs just east of CA25 in this area.
We came upon a couple small groups of long-horn cows walking along the road. The ladies trotted ahead of us for a while before turning around and glaring at us as we went by, the tips of their sharp horns pointing in our direction all the while.
Bickmore Canyon leads to Parks Valley, where the next item of interest we came upon was a rather foul looking pool of water to the left of the road, in front of which signs enjoining the public from swimming had been placed. Nothing could have been further from our minds.
The west end of Parks Valley leads to a local maximum that due to the odd foldings of these hills marks the true boundary of the watershed between the San Benito River and the Salinas River, only detected as we were able to coast briefly downhill into Williamson Valley where its creek flows north through a notch in the hills into the South Fork of Willow Creek.
Ron, who was riding a couple hundred yards behind me, was lucky to see a "rather large" roadrunner standing in the grass by the road.
Soon we found ourselves at the west end of Williamson Valley, the Monterey County line, and the ridgeline of the Gabilan Mountains that form the east side of the Salinas Valley. We took our last picture looking back east down the gentle valley with a healthy handsome oak tree in the background. The air temperature that had started in the mid-80's Fahrenheit along CA25 had now cooled about 5F with a noticeable increase in humidity. After crossing the Monterey County line (2350 ft), La Gloria road plunges down Henry Sands Canyon into the Salinas Valley, barely visible through the milky haze below.
The descent reminded me of the ride down from the top of the Wasatch Range into Bountiful, UT that I had done last summer, only the latter elevation drop was about twice as great. For its steepness the road was remarkably smooth. A few of the inside corners were quite dusty, off-camber, and slippery, but parts of the road appeared to have a layer of old asphalt underneath. Still, it would be a strenuous climb in the other direction.
At the bottom of the steep descent we passed a gun club practice range where the dirt road ended abruptly, 11 miles from CA-25. We continued down the paved road into an increasingly gusty side/head-wind into Gonzales for lunch. For the entire dirt section of road we were passed by only two cars going in our direction and two going in the opposite direction.
After stopping at the Subway shop for a late lunch we started what was the most difficult part of the ride, north toward Salinas along Old Stage Road into what felt like a gale of a headwind, but was probably no more than 20-25 mph. The only good part was the wind was a nice, cool sea breeze.
Ron was worried about the late hour (1630) and of having to ride the last bit in the dark, so he hammered on ahead. I tried to keep up at first (230 watts and 15 mph), but then decided that not getting side-stitches from lunch was more important, so I backed off (180 watts @13.5 mph). On our bikes drafting offered little advantage, but neither of us could have sustained more than 10mph had we been riding upright bikes. I put in my earplugs to cut down on the wind noise.
Halfway along Old Stage Road I caught up to Ron who had stopped to put on extra clothing. We were beginning to enter the coastal fog. He told me to go on ahead of him, and I figured he'd catch up if he still had legs. Once under the fog, the wind became less strong, although it was still a headwind. Traffic on Old Stage Road was light but heavy enough to be a mild nuisance, especially when motorists passing slower traffic in the opposite direction came directly towards us at 70 mph, oblivious to our presence on the road. There is little to no shoulder along this section.
As we neared Natividad we could see through a gap in the fog the sun shining on the buildings at the top of Fremont Peak, the mountain that marks the north end of the Gabilans. Old Stage Road makes an easy-to-miss right turn just before crossing Gabilan Creek.
In spite of the "No Dumping" signs, some of the locals appear to use this lightly-traveled section of Old Stage Road as a roadside dump for all manner of human refuse, with an especially high concentration of brightly-colored domestic rubbish: baby and childrens clothes, old and broken cribs, strollers, washing machines, kitchen appliances, and childrens toys. It looked like the aftermath of a tornado hitting a Wal-Mart.
At Crazy Horse Canyon Road we turned left then right again on San Juan Grade to climb back over the ridge to San Juan Bautista. At the top of the false summit of San Juan Grade we stopped to eat, and I put on some extra clothing for the last few miles of downhill as the air temperature had dropped into the mid-50's F.
The descent was swift and as bumpy as paved roads get, the surface being a quilted patchwork based on the now cracked and tilted, old concrete slabs of the pre-WWII road between San Juan Bautista and Salinas. We arrived back at the Windmill Market parking lot at 1850, just as the sun set.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 90.7 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 4970 feet |
| Total Time: | 6:00:03 |
| Riding Time: | 5:20:29 |
| Avg. Speed (moving): | 16.9 mph |
| Max. Speed: | 53.3 mph |
| Max. Power: | 497 watts |
| Total energy to rear wheel: | 2809 kJ (780 wh) |
High Sierra Fall Century, September 18, 2004 - On our last day in the mountains, I awoke early and departed from the condo on the High Sierra Fall Century. I started by climbing out of town and out to US-395 on the "scenic loop".
The weather was windy and threatening rain in the morning and later in the afternoon but was dry, if windy, during the middle of the day when I was out in the high desert to the east of the Sierras.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 70.9 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 5260 feet |
| Total Time: | 6:20:47 |
| Riding Time: | 4:59:55 |
| Avg. Speed (moving): | 12.7 mph |
| Max. Speed: | 39.7 mph |
| Max. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 412 watts |
| Avg. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 155 watts |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 2808 kJ (780 wh) |
Mount Hamilton by Moonlight, August 29, 2004 - I had done a moonlight ride up the mountain twice before, both times about 10 years ago, so it was nice to reacquaint myself with the experience. I had also ridden up Mt. Diablo once, having to climb over the gate and sneak past the ranger station. Sunrise on Diablo is arguably a more spectacular affair since unobstructed views can be had all around, and there is the top turret of the museum in which one can take refuge if it’s windy or cold. All of my previous moonlight rides were in December and January when sunrises are late and the air is very clear, but COLD. This being a summer ride, I expected pleasant but hazy conditions. I was not surprised.
I left home at about 0310, about a half-hour later than I had planned. Of course the neighborhood was dark and quiet; about the only cars on the streets were police cars. I saw no drunks. Temperature was a very comfortable 64F, so I started in shorts and short sleeves, but I brought my long top and long pants in case it was cooler while standing around on the mountain. There were three distinct temperature zones on this ride, warm in town, cool in the valleys I rode through on the way up, and warm again at the summit.
The trip through Santa Clara and San Jose was relatively quick and uneventful. I managed to cruise through most intersections on green lights, but there were a few obstinate signals that sat “all red” until a vehicle arrived (e.g. Capitol and Hostetter in San Jose) and a couple that didn’t register my bike. With all the police cars about, I opted not to blow any lights.
I managed to get myself to Alum Rock Ave. and Mt. Hamilton Road, the base of the climb, in about an hour. A sign at the bottom warned that the road was closed at Grant Ranch Park 8 miles ahead. I pressed on anyway, figuring that I’d turn around only if someone was awake and guarding the road at this hour, an unlikely proposition. I saw no evidence of closure anywhere on the climb. Perhaps the sign had been erected in connection with the recent fires near San Antonio Valley, and the responsible party had neglected to remove the sign after the road re-opened.
For the trip across town and up the first climb into Halls Valley I ran my Niterider 15w headlight, adding a helmet-mounted 5w Nightsun Sunsport on the downgrade into Halls Valley. I used one of the late-model Vistalights in full blink mode in the rear. I was passed by two or three SUVs going up, and by several going down, including an ambulance, fire truck, and paramedic truck. Cars passing in both directions slowed down and obviously took time to look me over while passing.
The plan was to meet up with a Western Wheelers ride somewhere along the way to the top or at the top. They were to start at Crothers Road and Mt. Hamilton Road at 0230 and would be climbing slowly. As I passed the intersection I looked left, but saw only one truck. I did not see the ride leader’s car as I went by the intersection. Maybe he decided not to do the ride. I had already ridden halfway, so I pressed on even if I was to ride alone the whole time.
After crossing Masters Ridge I could hear owls hooting nearby to the right and the lonely plaintive howl of a coyote further off to the left down in the valley. Several times my passage seemed to startle one or more unseen beasts (most likely deer or pigs) in the underbrush. At one point a dog began barking furiously, alert to any unfamiliar noise or odor passing his master’s territory. Further up the mountain I did see a few deer near the road, their unblinking eyes glowing at me from the dark.
About one mile uphill from the entrance to Grant Ranch Park I stopped to shut off my Niterider which had been running for about 2 hours. For the remainder of the middle climb I ran without a headlight, seeing only by moonlight. There’s something elemental about riding off into the dark and quiet of night on a deserted road. Everything was a shade of gray, the moonlight shining brightly enough to ride slowly uphill but too dimly to lend color to my surroundings.
Rocks can often be found on the road next to cuts in the hillside, but the moon was dropping too low in the sky to shine directly upon them. Even though I knew most of the rocks were in the downhill lane, closest to the uphill side of the road, I tried to ride about 2-3 feet from the white line or from the center line, where I knew auto tires passed, where the lane was most likely to be clean. I encountered no rocks.
At the second downgrade I turned on the Sunsport and descended into the darkness of Smith Creek canyon, about 150 feet of descending. As I started the third, final, and longest climb (~2100 feet) I was starting to feel the effort in my legs. I had hiked about 7.5 miles the day before, and my muscles were still a bit sore from that. The moon was getting old and was starting to pass under a distant smoky haze as it sank over the Santa Cruz Mountains to the west, so I continued to run the Sunsport on the final climb.
As I passed Kincaid Road I figured that I would be getting to the top with not much time to spare before sunrise. About halfway up the last climb the sky began to lighten in the direction of the mountain. I tried to keep the pace high, but my legs were getting tired, “pedaling in squares” as Phil and Paul would say. I had only stopped once since home and only very briefly.
Somehow I managed to haul myself up the last hill to the observatory building at 0619, 3:09 after leaving home. No one was there and the building was locked. The great shutter on the dome over the refracting telescope was closed tight. I rode around the building, then realized that unlike the winter sunrise that enjoyed an unimpeded view from the railing at the east side of the building, the summer sunrise would be further north, partially obstructed by Copernicus Peak, the highest peak on the ridge. So I descended back to the main road (San Antonio Valley Road at this point) and headed east to where I knew the road had an unobstructed view eastward past Copernicus Peak, near where the “1” is painted in the middle of the road. This meant riding about a hundred feet down the east side.
As I approached the turnout where I planned to stop I ran into the ride leader, Piaw Na, his tandeming partner, and one other cyclist I had never met before in person but whom I remember from more than 10 years ago, Radek Aster. They had initially ridden up to the observatory about an hour earlier but were chased off the peak by an overzealous Sherriff’s deputy since the road to the observatory was officially closed at night—“Didn’t you see the sign?!” He apparently chased them (none too politely) east down San Antonio Valley Road to the turnout where they were stopped to watch the sunrise. I saw the Sherriff’s SUV parked at one of the houses along the road, but I did not see Mr. Deputy as I rode by.
We had barely 10 minutes to exchange pleasantries before the sun rose on cue at the predicted time of 0636. Just before popping above the distant Sierra Peaks over Yosemite, the sun cast a remarkable shadow of several characteristic dome-like shapes westward into the Central Valley haze. Unfortunately, none of us had brought a camera to capture this fleeting image.
After the disk of the sun was fully revealed we turned around, climbed back up the road and then descended back to Crothers Road. (I thought of pressing on through Livermore but thought better of it when I remembered the uncomfortably hot weather forecast for the coming day and that the temperature was already a balmy 68F.)
On the way down I stopped briefly at the small parking area at the top of the middle climb. Color had returned to the land that was waking from its slumber. A number of small unseen birds in a nearby oak had found their voices, and smaller animals seemed to be waking, all twittering and squeaking in the morning light. Further down the road I startled several large coveys of quail, and at one point I saw what looked very much like a roadrunner dart across. I half expected to see a coyote in pursuit. (I didn’t think roadrunners could be found in this area.) This first hour after dawn seemed to belong to the wildlife. At the main entrance to Grant Ranch Park I passed the first bicyclists climbing the road, and further down a couple more groups of cyclists were getting an early start.
I stopped at Crothers and Mt. Hamilton Road to say goodbye to Piaw and his partner. While we were talking a couple of other Western Wheelers arrived from the direction of the mountain. We learned that they had started late, about 15 minutes after I rode by on my way up. They watched the sunrise from the summit, but I didn’t see them there, having just missed them before I continued to a less obstructed viewing area down the east side. They said they saw us descending while they sat at the railing on the west side.
After saying goodbye I continued down to Alum Rock Park, but the park was closed, presumably due to fire danger. A large orange sign had been placed in the middle of the road that is normally closed to autos specifying a number of conveyances that were to obey this closure. e.g. No autos; no joggers; no pedestrains, no bicycles, no roller skates, etc. (They missed pogo sticks.) I can understand closing the park to autos, but joggers, pedestrians, and cyclists? I suppose people who visit the park that way could be smokers or worse.
To enforce this ban one of the rangers had been assigned to guard the entrance and to turn people away. “Park’s closed,” he said unsmilingly through his open window. Based on my occasional visits to the park, I have begun to think that nothing would make Alum Rock Park management happier (and make their jobs easier) than to close off the park altogether to the public. So, I returned home mostly by the way I came, arriving home at about 0930, hungry, and just in time for a generous second breakfast before taking a shower and a 2-hour nap and then enjoying the rest of the day.
| Bike Ridden: | Rotator Pursuit |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 134.3 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 8700 feet |
| Total Time: | 11:24:11 |
| Riding Time: | 8:38:54 |
| Avg. Speed (moving): | 14.4 mph |
| Max. Speed: | 51.5 mph |
| Max. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 471 watts |
| Avg. power to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 150 watts |
| Total energy to rear wheel (PowerTap): | 4678 kJ (1299 wh) |
Marin Century, August 7, 2004 - Ron Bobb, Randall Hull, and I rode the Metric Double, starting at the more civilized hour of 0730. Along with several hundred other cyclists, we began with a short hill (Las Gallinas) through north San Rafael and then began the westward trek on Lucas Valley Road. I was still wearing my long-sleeves by the time I got to The Rock at the top and was starting to sweat beads. But the descent into Nicasio proved to be rather cooler than the weather forecast had led us to believe: thick, dense fog that obscured the vision of anyone wearing glasses. I moved mine down over my mouth so that I could see. We exited the fog somewhere on the climb over the ridge between Nicasio Reservoir and Hicks Valley and stopped for about 15 minutes at the Lincoln School rest stop for a stretch break.
We rode together past the Photocrazy trap but became separated on Marshall-Petaluma Road as Ron and I tried to stay away from the squirrelly pace-lines. The climb over the ridge to Marshall went relatively quickly; the max speed on the descent to CA-1 peaked at 51.3 mph.
A cyclist stopped at the intersection called out, asking if I was wearing anything “under there”. “Sometimes!”, was the reply. The next several miles I pressed on by myself trying to stay clear of pacelines, but found myself passed by them on the rises only to pass them again on the descents. Somewhere along here I passed Randall who had gotten ahead of me on the climb over the “Marshall Wall”. The road leveled out as it reached Tomales, and I was able to maintain a good pace with the tailwind. Between Tomales and Valley Ford, the road was still thick with cyclists, and I “enjoyed” the same push-me, push-you effect.
We reached the rest stop at Valley Ford and lingered until about 1120. I saw Peter Borenstadt and Randy Gillette each riding a “Gillette” carbon-fiber high-racer and low-racer, respectively. They had started earlier than we and were riding 100 miles, so they were preparing to return to the start.
We continued north on CA-1 exchanging the crowds of cyclists for the heavy auto traffic making its way to Bodega Bay and the Sonoma Coast beaches to the north. The turn off to Bay Hill Road came not too soon.
We climbed moderate grades through eucalyptus groves, reminding me of some of the roads between Aromas and San Juan. Unfortunately, all this climbing came undone on the very bumpy and at times pot-holed descent back to CA-1. The ride north on CA-1 was along the coast at this point. The air was even a touch cold. When we turned off onto Coleman Valley Road a few miles to the north the air felt hot and still.
Coleman Valley Road climbs steeply and hotly for about a mile and a half before reaching the top of Irish Hill, where it continues a rolling climb to a summit of about 1100 feet—I was beginning to wonder why this road was named for a valley and not a ridge—before dropping quickly into Coleman Valley itself. Coleman Valley Road reminded me of the local road, Lobitos Creek Road, which tops out along Irish Ridge.
After another short climb the road climbs briefly to a T intersection with Joy Road. Oh joy! Randall was waiting here chatting with one of the other cyclists on the ride, and a short time later, Ron rode up. While we were eating and resting the first group of cyclists on the 200-mile course came through. We saw them come in later at Valley Ford, but I don’t remember passing them. They must have stopped somewhere or got off course somehow.
On Joy Road we still had some climbing to do, but not much. After getting caught behind a long line of cars that turned off a half-mile later, we began the fast and bumpy descent back toward Valley Ford. Somewhere along here I bested my previous maximum speed and convinced myself that Marin and Sonoma Counties must maintain their secondary roads to lower standards than the other bay area counties. We continued at a more moderate pace back to the Valley Ford rest stop, arriving around 1400.
We lingered for a while eating, drinking, and chatting before pushing off on the remainder of the course where we expected a significantly flatter profile. Middle Road had one short, steep climb, but the rest of the ride into Petaluma was quite pleasant with a strong tailwind that became warmer—about 20F—as we got further from the coast. We rode together over much of this course, but at one point Randall stopped to check his cleat, I stopped further down the road, and Ron kept going. As I tried to start up I stalled when my cleat wouldn’t release and did what Randall described as the slowest topple he’d ever seen.
After I righted myself we both pressed on and tried to catch up to Ron, but he was too far ahead. I am certain that Ron rides faster when he’s in front of us than when he’s behind us.
Randall and I snagged about 1 bonus mile when I found myself on auto-pilot on the road into Petaluma. We headed for the park where the rest stop had been located previously on D Street and found ourselves amidst a farmer’s market.
We lingered at the Petaluma rest stop for nearly 45 minutes while snacking and otherwise cooling our heels and toes. We ran into Ken Holloway here. My guess is that he came in just behind us but didn’t do the bonus mile we did as I doubt we would have been overtaking him at our more relaxed pace.
The ride out of Petaluma involved a couple of moderate hills, one on I street and another on Pt. Reyes-Petaluma Road. Along this section we passed many blackberry patches whose sweet scent was pungent in the warm afternoon air.
The remainder of the ride went without incident through Novato and back into San Rafael. We arrived around 1900 and enjoyed a feast of a dinner.
Overall it was a well-supported ride on a beautiful course.
| Bike Ridden: | Gold Rush |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 79 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 4200 feet |
Ride to Santa Cruz, July 18, 2004 - My sister, Laura, and I rode from my house in Sunnyvale to Santa Cruz. We rode the long way through La Honda, Pescadero, and down the coast.
HPV Fun Day at Hellyer Park Velodrome, May 16, 2004 - One photo from that event.
| Bike Ridden: | Gold Rush |
|---|---|
| Distance: | 95 miles |
| Cumulative climbing: | 7000 feet |
Montara Mountain, May 1, 2004 - A Western Wheelers mixed-roads ride up Montara Mountain, California, through Half Moon Bay, and then up the Purissima Creek Trail. Only Steve Prothero joined me for the off-road portion of the ride up Montara Mountain and down into Half Moon Bay, and again up Purissima Creek Road before we descended home.
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