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Sunday, May 24, 2009

Sunday Morning - Squeezing In Rides Where I Can

Left the house at 5:00 am on the road bike - with lights.
Weather was less than ideal with fog spilling over the valley all night keeping temps in the low 50's at best.
Traffic through the valley was superb - otherwise known as - nonexistent.
Winds were stiff out of the south visibly whipping the fog past me as I climbed through 1000' on the north side of Mt. Diablo. The 2000' marker - nearly slipped past unnoticed, obscured by a vast wet blanket.

The North Gates had been closed at the bottom of the climb, so I skirted by, close to the sign stating that they wouldn't open till 8:00 am. I basked in the solitude, ever wary of the same. A climb to the very top seemed unwise now, since a spill could leave me rather cold and lonely for several hours. My plans changed over the next few miles, and I established an alternate route, that sent me down to the South Gate - avoiding the final climb to the peak.

I was completely alone for the nearly 7 miles to the ranger station and turn toward the South Gate. Not one suicidal ground squirrel scampered across my path.

The South Gate descent was brutal, exposing the wisdom of avoiding the summit. I was nearly blind in the fog and frozen within minutes.
I passed 3 separate adventurers cycling up the other side, and one other on foot. It was now getting light, and late.

8:00 am in the shower was the original goal, but the detour ended up extending that by 10 minutes.

Made it to church by 9:00 am.
Probably should have stretched a little more prior to sitting for an hour.


  1. Mom--of course. Brings to my mind, "I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses....and He walks wih me and talks with me...." You can now roll your eyeballs back where they belong. In case any one is wondering, this a about our mother/son discussion of the hymn to which I referred.

  2. I'm sure you weren't insinuating that I was the rose. Interestingly though, it did provide quite a setting for prayer. I frequently found my mind wandering into a conversation with the creator yesterday in the solitude. But, as far as that hymn goes, I still think it ranks right up there with tennis court puddles for shallowness.