Noisy peacocks woke me. Usually when I’m camping it’s young people
singing songs and drinking beer late that keep me awake and old people leaving
early that wake me up. No people at the
campground so Nature provided the alarm clock.
My first task is boiling water for the coffee press. We had two coffee-presses--Daniel was a Scout and he remembered the Scout motto “Be prepared”, so he brought one. There may be a Starbucks on every corner almost everywhere but you don’t take chances with essential items. My backpacking stove is easier to get fired up than the Coleman but it takes so long to boil water using my pot from home I might should have invested in a back packer kit with the sculpted corners to improve the heating efficiency. I threw in the “might should” for a recognizable regionalism effect. I say it all the time, might as well be honest enough to write it. I like to pour in the water and start the steeping, then walk away far enough so that when I return I can smell the coffee. If I had time I would do bacon but what a mess. Smell is almost worth it though. When it’s outside I wonder if coffee and bacon make the wild animals envious (or frightened)? First cup is so pleasurable, it would be nice to let the boys sleep to whenever teenagers have had enough sleep but we’d be doing afternoon riding for sure. I start packing up. Soon I’ll wake Hardy have him drive me the 12 miles to Davis where we finished yesterday and we’ll pick up Ralph to head to the Start. He’ll come back, wake Daniel, pack up everything, and then meet us for lunch somewhere between Folsom and Placerville. Sooner, if one of them wants to ride rather than explore the UC Davis campus....
My first task is boiling water for the coffee press. We had two coffee-presses--Daniel was a Scout and he remembered the Scout motto “Be prepared”, so he brought one. There may be a Starbucks on every corner almost everywhere but you don’t take chances with essential items. My backpacking stove is easier to get fired up than the Coleman but it takes so long to boil water using my pot from home I might should have invested in a back packer kit with the sculpted corners to improve the heating efficiency. I threw in the “might should” for a recognizable regionalism effect. I say it all the time, might as well be honest enough to write it. I like to pour in the water and start the steeping, then walk away far enough so that when I return I can smell the coffee. If I had time I would do bacon but what a mess. Smell is almost worth it though. When it’s outside I wonder if coffee and bacon make the wild animals envious (or frightened)? First cup is so pleasurable, it would be nice to let the boys sleep to whenever teenagers have had enough sleep but we’d be doing afternoon riding for sure. I start packing up. Soon I’ll wake Hardy have him drive me the 12 miles to Davis where we finished yesterday and we’ll pick up Ralph to head to the Start. He’ll come back, wake Daniel, pack up everything, and then meet us for lunch somewhere between Folsom and Placerville. Sooner, if one of them wants to ride rather than explore the UC Davis campus....
Ralph is ready at 8 at the
AmeriSuites. The clerk lets us load
Camelbacks in the kitchen because the state of California apparently can’t pay
for water in the campgrounds. We would
have paid a camping fee if someone had asked. I hope they get some money to
unlock the bathrooms and turn on the water and pay a ranger. Now Death Valley has gotten The Ask down
perfectly. They put a little Kiosk in
the middle of nowhere and say put $20 in the slot to visit. The quietest, loneliest place outside a cave
and they want you to pay to visit Hell. I wanted it on record we were in there
so I paid the fee with a credit card. If
we got lost, the obituary could read--”last seen at Hell’s Gate....”. It took us a while to find where we finished
yesterday because it is right on the map edge.
The day was already feeling warm when Hardy drove off leaving us riding
into the sun.
I don’t want to be too categorical but the
next 10 miles on the Yolo Causeway Bike Path were the worst of the trip. Headwind, sun in the eyes, riding beside I-80
which was noisy as sin and large trucks keep plowing you with their bow
waves. There should be some of that
beautiful California scenery on another route.
We rolled into Sacramento.
Stopped by an RV at a light
behind a svelte lady on a beater bike.
When we got up close enough to greet her, Ralph and I were struck by her
lack of teeth. From the back she looked
20, from the front-homeless. Ralph
wanted to show me the Capitol so we headed downtown and joined a demonstration
of a bunch of purple shirts.
They were some union of something like public service work. They undoubtedly wanted some money from Arnold before it was all gone. The grounds are nice--they have police riding bikes that politely ask you not to ride bikes on the paths around the State House. We moved to the roads and wandered around looking for a good way to get on the American River Bike Trail. Old Sacramento has cobblestones--a care must be paid kind of place to bike and we eventually got on the trail. We were passed by a lot of zippy bike clubs with matching pro look outfits. Several moms exercising with their babies worried me because they seemed so far from civilization but being from there they undoubtedly knew how to get on and off without going the entire 20miles. It’s not really well marked but no need to over sign for first (and only time) riders. Some danger from club riders. We stayed to the right in case some club was pace-lining the opposite direction. We did hitch a ride for a few miles but we didn’t get a real warm fuzzy feeling they wanted a touring bike (or strangers)on their wheel. Miles do evaporate in a paceline though.
They were some union of something like public service work. They undoubtedly wanted some money from Arnold before it was all gone. The grounds are nice--they have police riding bikes that politely ask you not to ride bikes on the paths around the State House. We moved to the roads and wandered around looking for a good way to get on the American River Bike Trail. Old Sacramento has cobblestones--a care must be paid kind of place to bike and we eventually got on the trail. We were passed by a lot of zippy bike clubs with matching pro look outfits. Several moms exercising with their babies worried me because they seemed so far from civilization but being from there they undoubtedly knew how to get on and off without going the entire 20miles. It’s not really well marked but no need to over sign for first (and only time) riders. Some danger from club riders. We stayed to the right in case some club was pace-lining the opposite direction. We did hitch a ride for a few miles but we didn’t get a real warm fuzzy feeling they wanted a touring bike (or strangers)on their wheel. Miles do evaporate in a paceline though.
We stopped at a River Park and it looked
like a company picnic on Wednesday!
Grills, tents, softball games,
smoke everywhere. It was very warm, over
100. Ralph had his thermometer, he’s
techno savy and would do the NWS weather on his laptop in the morning,
downloading hourly wind and temps. With
his Edge 705 he is a real data enthusiast.
I, by contrast, yesterday forgot
to put on my HR chest strap and today I
forgot to charge my GPS cycle computer, so it quit after 25 miles. Batteries are a curse. I could never have a car that ran on
batteries. Solar power sounds sexy but
anything that relies on batteries worries me.
I have bad luck with batteries. I
had a 65‘Rambler with no hood lock and my battery was stolen a number of times
and when I went to the used battery places to purchase another one, I always
felt I was buying mine back. My video
cam is always dead when I want to use it. It takes a special person to organize
their life well enough to keep everything charged up.
The day just keeps getting hotter. Short hill in Folsom is steep but only a
problem because we are not entirely certain of the route and reluctant to ride
back down to follow the map. Generally the hills are not bad. Ralph purchased a thin wicking headband for
me that is a Godsend for sweat.
Sunscreen and sweat are tearing my eyes up. I go through three terry cloth headbands but
they are too thick and slide under my helmet slightly blocking my vision. The Halo headbands wring out and dry out
quickly. We stagger in to Cameron Park
for lunch at an empty pizza place. The
Mexican place yesterday and the Italian today are low on customers. I had a
beer and burrito yesterday-making the afternoon ride in the heat harder. Won’t make that mistake again. I’m famished so I’ll have a beer and 5 slices
of pizza..... We spread out and enjoy the air conditioning.
Suddenly my right thigh cramps. I am 57 years old and have been warned of
cramps my entire life--from my mother not letting me swim after eating to
bicycling buddies warning of them and getting massages after a fast club ride
to prevent them. But I’ve never had
one. Wow! what an experience. I can see why you don’t want one in the
water. The guys thought I was having a
heart attack, the way my face froze up with alarm. We cooled off for at least an hour before
pushing off for Placerville. We tried to
get a beer in Placerville but it was getting late so we pushed on to Lucinda’s
Bed and Breakfast past Somerset. The
uphill road out of Placerville is
relatively shady and traffic light. I
was expecting some cooling effect from the altitude change but from my
perspective, it only got hotter.
The B & B had only us there. We had asked about camping for the boys and
they found us a flat place on the horseshoe pitch but were kind enough to say
the boys could sleep in the room on the floor to enjoy the A/C. We had a one bedroom place and plenty of
room.
There is only one place to eat in Somerset
and it does not take advantage of its monopoly pricing power. It is the best restaurant in the whole
world. Maybe you have to ride 84 miles
to come to that realization but the owner is cheerful, the only waitress is
perfect, and the food incomparable.
Molly, our waitress was a delight and we would still be there if she
wasn’t married.
That reminds me I should mention marriage.
I am married and what I am about to say bears no resemblance to MY marriage at
all. That’s why I am an expert and
happily married. I want to be completely sexist about this: Women and men could have a partnership with
equal rights but you know, that’s not really marriage. My dad had it about right when he opined that
men make all the big decisions and women all the small ones....there just
hadn’t been any big ones to make in 50+ years of marriage. Every marriage is
unique and its own thing but generally from a guideline standpoint it would be
useful if we could say the man’s job is the purpose of the marriage and the
women’s job is the relationships around the marriage. Men do the meaning, the women do the
nurturing and caring. In short not a
partnership, a mutual sacrifice.
Marriage is a sacrament, so it needs a sacrifice. A mutual sacrifice of different responsibilities. Cheating is less than 100% commitment. As President Carter pointed out, we all do it because people aren't naturally at 100% capacity, as they say we use 10-15% of our brain power. Obviously we underperform. If the women thinks she
signed on with a doofus or the guy wants to run around, great, they are
candidates for the usual boy/girl relationship called serial monogamy. Gay people can play too. Same rules.
I think we should have something called a legal partnership. All marriages are legal partnerships but not
all legal partnerships would be marriages.
Why shouldn’t the church get to decide whether it’s a marriage or
not? If one church says a member can
only marry once and another says you two guys can’t marry at all and another
says you can marry as many times as you can say “I do” well that’s just viva la
difference. Find a congenial
church......
Tomorrow we will rise and go to the sun--50
miles uphill to Carson Pass and then the mother of all descents. We are ready.
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