down to Devon by bike

Devon is Bike Town. It's not far from here, but sometimes seems like another world. It's a small town and according to my sons, there's nothing to do there -- or so say the Devon young people.

But they do have the River and apparently some excellent bike trails. I've never actually ridden IN Devon, just TO Devon via the Range Roads and Township Roads south of here.

Since the wind was from the southeast yesterday morning, I decided it was the perfect day to ride to Devon -- I'd ride against the wind all the way down and with a tailwind coming home. And so it was.

I rode past my friend the white donkey, past some miniature horses and a flock of goats. The acreages are definitely more interesting down this way.

 I also saw a sign that I feel sure belongs to a friend of Piglet's uncle, Trespassers Will. This sign read: "No ....sing." Short, perhaps, for "No singing"?

The ride is fairly flat -- just some small ups and downs -- until Highway 60 where one finds The Big Hill. Riding south it's down first and then up. Against the wind. It was a decent climb.

Once at the top, I decided to go into the town and see if I could find the bike shop I've read about. I didn't see it, but I did notice that the lampposts are garnished with banners featuring cyclists of all ages, urging onlookers to "enjoy the ride." Cool!

After a brief stop, under this banner, for a drink of water, it was time to turn around and go back.

Downhill first this time. And this was downright scary. The shoulder was full of gravel which seemed to have washed across the road in last Friday's rain storm. There were mounds of gravel as well as a thin layer over the entire shoulder. I rode slowly, braking the entire time. Because of the gravel I couldn't see the rumble strips and ended up bouncing along on those for a few meters, shaking my bike and my entire body. Coming off the rumble strips, I encountered piles of gravel and nervously applied the brakes, trying to keep control. I managed all right, but it was definitely not the fun downward sail a big hill like that should be. And to top it off when I reached the bottom, it felt like something was wrong with my back tire. I stopped to check it out. It was fine; it must have just been the gravel underneath that made it feel sluggish. But when I started off again, I discovered I couldn't clip into my pedal. When I stepped off into the gravel/sand mix, apparently I clogged up the cleat. So I had to stop again and poke around to dislodge the little bits that were stuck. Finally back in the saddle, it was a surprisingly easy climb up to the top and I was on the way home.

As I had expected, I had a nice tailwind and it was a fast ride. I did have to stop at one point when I saw a coyote standing on the road in front of me. It stood and stared for a good minute before ambling off into the bush. I am always afraid to get too close, but took a photo from a distance.

By the time I got home, the temperature was about 26 degrees with a humidex of 30, so I was not sorry to hit the shower. It was a good ride -- 66 km and even with the constant braking on the downhill and the headwind for the first 33 km, I increased my average speed by 0.1 km/hour.

san francisco - wednesday evening

 

  Another solo bike ride.

Hubby said he'd had enough of riding for the day, but I wanted to do some more exploring. Specifically, I wanted to check out 

"The Wiggle." 

It's marked on the bike map handed out by Bike and Roll, and when I googled it, I was intrigued. 

I was also curious to see downtown San Francisco.

So, I looked at the map and decided that I'd pretend to be a bicycle commuter working downtown in San Francisco. 

I'd ride on Polk Street to Market and from there use The Wiggle to turn around and head back.

It was a decently steep climb on Polk for the first couple of kilometers, but after that it was quite flat. And there's a bike lane all the way. So I rode and rode until I hit Market Street.

It was about 6:00. There were lots of cyclists. Lots -- maybe 20-25. The intersection of bike lanes at Polk and Market, while beautifully marked and glowingly green, was a bit confusing. Riders going in every possible direction. A mysterious flashing yellow bike light. 

 

I stopped and asked one of the waiting riders -- a young woman on a comfort bike -- how to get to The Wiggle. She was very kind, giving me excellent directions and explaining what the flashing light was about. So on I went, up a fairly steep hill to the easily-spotted Safeway, where I was to turn right.

Here again, I felt a bit baffled. There were markings on the pavement -- big green squares with arrows -- but I wasn't sure exactly what they represented. Another youngish woman happened to be riding next to me, so I asked her whether I was on the Wiggle. She assured me that I was and told me to follow her. We rode together for several blocks, turning right and left, ignoring stop signs, and talking about our lives cycling in two very different cities.

When we'd finished with the Wiggle, she asked me where I wanted to go next. When I told her I was headed back down to the Bay, she recommended that I first stop to look at The Painted Ladies houses in Alamo Square, and she pointed out the way.

Another steep uphill climb and there they were --

the painted ladies

other beautiful homes in Alamo Square

I loved the look of this old school building:

an old school in Alamo Square

   

Looking down from Alamo Square Park

I wasn't quite finished with the steep uphills yet -- I had to ride up for another three or four blocks, but after that it was downhill all the way to Fort Mason.

I had to turn around and take some photos of the hill I'd ridden down. Riding down was worse than riding up!

 

I wasn't far from the hotel now, but somehow I got lost. Yesterday afternoon I'd ended up at the same place and found my way back to the hotel with no trouble via city streets, but this time I followed another cyclist across to the bike path. He was going west, and I had to go east, but how hard can it be to follow a bike path? Harder than it sounds, apparently. I managed to ride into a residential section of Fort Mason and was so completely bewildered than when I saw yet another young woman ride her bike up to a house and dismount, I raced over to ask her for directions. She turned out to be from Norway, working in San Francisco, so we had a nice little chat before I went on my way and finally arrived back at the hotel.

Roller Coaster Road

Today was one of those days when I have trouble getting motivated to ride. It started out cool and windy, whereas I like warm and calm. And I have a lot of work to do around the house. But I finally set out at about 11:30, riding north -- against the wind. When I reached the top of the second hill, I took a little jaunt east, because I saw there was new pavement on the road. I wondered if maybe it had been paved all the way to some other paved road. But no, the pavement ended, superseded by the ubiquitous gravel, so I made a U-turn in one of the subdivisions and rode west to Roller Coaster Road. 

Just before the turn, I heard a loud squawking type of noise and looked up to see a hawk flying overhead, holding a fish in its claws. It flew around a bit, showing off its prowess as a hunter, before disappearing, presumably to enjoy a good meal.

Shortly after this, I turned onto Roller Coaster Road, one of my favourite spots. This road must be one of the county's best kept secrets; only once have I seen another cyclist on it. I have, however, seen deer and a fox. Today as I was labouring up one of the short steep hills, battling a head wind along with the sharp incline, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. Standing as still as a statue in the ditch, there was a deer, staring directly at me. It watched as I rode past. I was a little slow to react, but once I'd passed it, I realized I should try to get a photo. So I clipped out of the pedal, cringing at the unavoidable metal-on-metal sound. The deer didn't move. I very gently put my bike down on the ground and began to step gingerly toward it, but it bolted, stopping for a second or two once it reached denser foliage before taking off out of sight into the woods. Of course I was sorry I didn't get a photo, but still grateful to have had the chance to see it.

On I climbed to the top of this series of hills, after which I turned around and sailed down. And I do mean sailed. With the wind on my back, I hit 52.7 km/hour.

I decided to return to town by riding down this road to the service road, and it was a pleasure to have the wind on my back as I rode south on Jennifer Heil. 

It wasn't a long ride -- only about 36 km -- but it was definitely a good one, and I am happy to have three days of riding ahead of me this long weekend.

home again, home again

It was great to be back this week -- back to our own bed, back to work, back to cycling in Edmonton.

It's true: traffic really is quieter in San Francisco. I realized that it is probably because there are so many hybrids there and, of course, so few trucks. The buses are also electric. I'm not sure of the reason behind fewer sirens down there, but I do know I heard numerous sirens every day this week, along with the cacophony of other traffic noises. 

San Francisco drivers also have this strange habit of stopping for orange lights, whereas here in Edmonton, every day, at every intersection, I see people run red lights.

On the plus side, I had a renewed appreciation for the stretch of River Valley trail that I ride for about 5 km each morning and afternoon. Although at times it is well-used, it is nowhere near as busy as the multi-use and dedicated bike trails in San Francisco, and it was a dream to ride. Ditto the shared pathway along 100 Avenue. 

And the hills -- well, I am pretty sure the hill leading up behind the Royal Glenora into Ezio Faraone Park is a more challenging climb than any of the hills along the bike routes in San Fran. 
 

It's all uphill from here!

downwind

Yesterday morning, as I rode along the flat stretch of the River Valley trail, a fit-looking guy on a sleek-looking road bike came sailing down one of the steep trails from Glenora. He landed ahead of me and continued to hold the lead until we reached the little hill that takes you up onto River Road trail. At that point he slowed down and I found myself right behind him. After we reached the top I had to decide: is he really a slow rider, one that I should pass? OR if I pass him, is he going to pass me ten seconds later? He did look pretty fit, and he was riding the superior bike, so I was giving it some thought when he turned his head and let fly a wad of gob. It sailed past me at the 20 km/hr speed of the east wind, narrowly missing my head and shoulders.

Just showing the importance of looking behind before you decide to clear those passages in a big way.

Needless to say, this helped me decide that I definitely wanted to be in front of this guy and I passed.

san francisco - wednesday p.m.

Angel Island. 

I was skeptical. 

It was about 12:30 and the last ferry departs the island at 3:45. 

Would we get stranded somewhere on the island and miss the ferry? 

Even if that didn't happened, would it be worth it to go over there just for a couple of hours? 

Oh well, I decided to live dangerously and agreed to go.

We got off the ferry and found the steep uphill bike path that leads to the Perimeter Road, an excellent paved road that circles the island, passing the old fort, the old immigration centre and other historical buildings.

From pretty much any spot, the views are amazing.

 There were some decent hills -- both up and down.

And it was nice and shady, so even on a warm sunny day, we kept cool.

Once again, we made it back to the ferry landing with time to spare.

 

   Ours were the first bikes on the ferry -- and the last ones off:

 

 I was glad we went.

san francisco - wednesday a.m.

Let's try again for the Golden Gate Bridge. 

That's what we said after breakfast Wednesday morning. After all, we're in San Francisco. We've rented bikes. You can't rent bikes in San Francisco and not ride across the Golden Gate Bridge.

And so we made our way back down to the Bay Trail, which even at this rather early hour, was busy with cyclists and pedestrians. 

It's not easy to ride to the Golden Gate Bridge on a warm and sunny July morning.

There are the slow-moving crowds -- tour groups on bikes, couples on bikes, families on bikes...

 

There are the Trail Blockers -- people who stop smack-dab in the middle of the trail because they want to take photos or because they need to discuss their plans or just because they can.

 

And then there's Obama. Yes, I mean President Barack Obama, who just happened to be in San Francisco at the same time we were, and who just happened to be heading to a luncheon fundraiser at a private home at the same time we were heading for the Golden Gate Bridge.

We had to stop, but this was something worth stopping for -- the full motorcade, with motorcycles and fire trucks and sirens and multiple limos, followed by VTOL aircraft taking off in front of the bridge. Sadly, I am not a videographer, and while I thought I was filming the whole thing, apparently I was holding up my camera and watching the procession on the LED screen. I did get one lone photo:

After this excitement was over, the Park Rangers opened the trail and we rode onward and upward. Once again, I was ridiculously pleased to be the first to reach the top of the hill. 

This time we followed the right people and found the entrance to the bridge without any difficulty. But, if we'd thought the trail down by the shore was busy, we had to find another word to describe the multi-use path on the bridge. Very busy just doesn't cut it.

When we came here last time, about 12 years ago, it was October. We were not alone on the bridge by any means. There were some other tourists. But it was nothing compared to now. The path was so packed with people, we both agreed that we didn't even want to walk across, let alone try to ride a bike. 

Proving that you can indeed rent bikes in San Francisco and not ride across the Golden Gate bridge, we turned around and headed back down.

Being big fans of Alfred Hitchcock movies, we had to visit this spot from "Vertigo" -- the place where Kim Novak jumps into the water, to be rescued by a bedazzled Jimmy Stewart.

 And one more shot of the bike path and Hubby forging a trail through the crowd.