The perks of living in San Francisco and working Cupertino continue to unfold. The amount of quality riding within twenty minutes drive is astounding, and we are often lucky enough to hit it at quite the most beautiful time of day. This one, Saratoga Gap, really took the biscuit – I get to do this after work!
I am quickly learning that, while the US does not have the extensive, endless path and trail network of the UK (and no doubt the rest of Europe), linking towns, cities and villages past and present, it does have an astonishing array of state, regional and national parks, preserves, wildernesses, forests and coasts. Private properties butted against total wilderness, rather than the UK’s funny mixture of farms, pubs and little lanes. I don’t think it’s better or worse per-se, but it is taking some getting used to, knowing it’s usually impossible to actually go anywhere on the trails; just drive in, enjoy it, and drive home (sometimes stopping for In-n-Out Burger).
Grinding upMarc and Dominic head enjoy the downhillThe view northAscending at sunsetThe most astonishing scene
I got the call last week to join a crew of people on the annual Color Run, held at Candlestick Park … what is that, I hear you say? It’s a fun run, where you get absolutely pelted with paint, every 1000m, ending up in a completely crazy, multi-coloured finale of techno and tacos.
Why? No moral. No ‘stop-racism’ message built in. Just paint being pelted at you, surrounded by screaming people … a fun day, with some great people.
Like a washing detergent advert
Entering the zone!Betty looks happy after the blue stage (the best colour in my book)High-five!Blue on orangeThe after party- and more high-fivesSlightly less clean hands at the end of the eventYou missed a bitThe fun part was now travelling home on public transport (thankfully there were several thousand other people doing the same thing). Some of the Chinese tourists on the Muni did look confused!
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It was easy to imagine the Three Amigos strolling through town (and into Starbucks – it was bloody hot!)
Palm Springs, located just over one hundred miles from LA, is a traditional playground for the stars of Hollywood. Offering seclusion and a balmy winter climate, it became fashionable after the war, and the well-healed commissions allowed architectural modernists to flourish in the desert.
I was invited by a set of old Glasgow University friends, one of which was getting married at the impossibly cool Parker. Combined with the July 4th weekend, it made for a great get-away for a few days, and a chance to catch up with some of my old mates; plus of course setting up some sofas in LA to crash on when I make the trip down.
I have never been anywhere quite like it. As if air-lifted from space, lush vegetation, palm trees and swimming pools are set against a backdrop of a brutal, arid landscape. The place is entirely unnatural, and feels very much like being on a film set – I found myself tapping rocks and walls to see if they were fibreglass. I felt a touch guilty, thinking of the madness of spraying water mist into the pedestrian areas, the unimaginable volume of water needed to maintain perfect green golf courses, and the energy requirements to keep everyone happily air-conditioned. It was the polar opposite of attitudes in San Francisco (at least on the surface), but accompany the sun setting against the mountains with margaritas sipped by the pool and I can begin to understand the charm.
A 26ft high Marilyn Monroe graces main street, naturally.Heading up on the gondola (a rotating gondola no less) was a refreshing break from the heat in the valley. Strangely, the trees in the glades up in the cool air secrete an oil that smells much like vanilla. Time for ice cream!Joel surveys the sceneBouquetThe trees up there were twisted – literally. Like rope, they had a helical structure I had never seen before. Very interesting, I thought.Cressida cools down.And this is the result of said heat and sun … but Cressida persevered through, editing the wedding movie.The wedding itself was at the impossibly stylish Parker.An impossibly stylish hotel, filled with impossibly stylish people.Steven and James hit the aisle … congratulations, chaps!Job done. Time for drinks!Unreal scenes at every turn.Mountainous desert at the end of every street.The sun sets on a fun long weekend.Sunset Strip
I had a last-minute invite from Maartin & Marieke to join them with their brother Kees in a cabin up in the woods. Just the job to escape the city. A great day of hiking, more than a few beers and hilarious laughter, and the next day a solo ride into the wilderness, somewhere in the hills behind Abe’s family home.
Flotsam & JetsamA walk in the woodsThe NederlandersUp in them thar hills
Downieville lives in mountain biking folklore as home to some of the best riding on the West Coast. Site of the famous Downieville Classic bike race, it’s the spiritual centre of ‘all-mountain riding’; combining cross-country and downhill disciplines into one.
Booking at the last possible minute, we scored accommodation at the delightful Lure Resort – camping, but without the headache of tents.
The riding? Some of the most intense, varied and scenic riding I have ever ridden. And the town was probably the most genuinely friendly places I have been in this mad little country I now call home.
Bikes are loaded up onto the truck – it wasn't all being lazy; it was up in the 90s in the valley, and considerably cooler up in the hills.Insanely, we rode up alongside Paul, from Paul's Components fame … slightly star struck!At the top of the first climb, we topped 2200m … rather tired!Endless single track along the ridgeAnton takes a quick power nap at "A Tree"One of the many stream crossings of the first dayGo too quickly, and you might miss this crucial right-handerFirst of many!Day two, on the Downieville DH course … Anton rips one of the turnsHanging on the bridgeDominic managed four punctures … all by himself!Cooling the legs in the river after the rideThe Lure Lodge – I think I might be back!
A couple of months of expectation and marginal planning, and it was all almost ruined by yours-truly setting the Monday-Friday alarm on his iPhone, rather than the ‘other’ alarm, set for the next day only. So, 5:25am, and Marc is waiting outside my house with the engine running, waiting for the Brit to emerge from slumber.
Yeah, not that one (the 3200m one I keep around as a title, to remind me of the time I awoke to climb Kinabalu in Malaysia).
“We’ll have to go on without him…” (or more likely less polite words to that effect, and in German)
6:20am, I awoke, proud of the fact I tuned my body to wake before the alarm sounded – at least for all of ten seconds as I stare at the clock on the wall in horror. “SHIT!”
Throwing my things into the car (almost literally), I career off in the direction of Palo Alto, and screech to halt at the registration desk, apparently still with time to sign up. Frantic SMSs to Marc sent, new helmet purchased (yes, it was sitting on the kitchen table) and away I go up the hill, alone with my thoughts and Clif bars for quasi-breakfast.
Sounds of the forest waking up for the day were rudely interrupted by one panting British cyclist on his way up the first major climb of the day (“out of my way, scumbag trees!”). No souplesse, no elegance, just mashing the pedals on the way to the first food stop of the day. Check the phone for messages (Marc still 40 minutes ahead!), and off I go down the road, slip-streaming the first stragglers on the descent towards the Pacific.
Three quarters of an hour later I slide into the mid-morning fuel stop. More than half-way through the course, and with a crazed look on my face, I hear a ‘Jonny!’ and turn around to see Marc waiting with our other team member. In my exhaustion and jubilation at seeing them, I lifted my bike to turn around and dutifully knocked over both someone else’s bike, and my own in the effort to save the first one. “Hi guys…”. Further muffins crammed down my gullet, M&Ms poured mostly into my mouth, and we are away – I felt the relief washing over me, and could finally start enjoying the ride.
And so we did. Riding up Route 1 towards San Francisco, we took in deep sea cliffs, arid hills patch-worked with forested gullies and horses copulating by the side of the road. Some of the old stage towns around there were fascinating – I suppose there is no real reason why these ‘startups’ of the day weren’t successful against San Jose or Palo Alto, but at least we are left with the old buildings and odd general stores.
Turning inland, we began the climb back into the trees. At this point, we were both overtaking large numbers of slower participants, and being trounced by local cycling clubs – there is always someone faster than you. Twisting its way up through the hills, it was surprisingly steep, and suitably punished my 60-mile year-old legs.
One immense downhill and a puncture later, and we landed back in Menlo Park. Rolling past old-growth Silicon Valley stalwarts such as HP and Lockheed Martin was something special – especially when high on endorphins and adrenalin. Visions of barbecues guided the way for the final ten miles, and thus it came to be – we did it!
I’ll be back next time, but perhaps setting two alarm clocks. More importantly, we raised some good money for the American Diabetic Association – thanks to all those that reached into their pockets.
Rest stop at about the 65 mile mark.Girl on the right selling lemonade – 50c well earned!Marc at the top of the final climb. I had meant to get a more triumphant-looking photo, but I was too busy cramming my face with muffins (between three of us, these are literally all the photos we took).
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Hello all! I am raising money for the American Diabetes Association by riding 120km around Silicon Valley … and starting from the Lockheed Martin facility. Over 6100ft of climbing and a long day in the saddle.
I had the pleasure of Sam swinging by for a week of mountain biking and food. Some awesome days in the saddle, hitting up trails in Marin, the Peninsula, and then a fine finale riding out of Santa Cruise, and up to see the Amgen Tour of California cruise by. Good times!
The only way to sense the scale is to look at the trees on the left, and realise that they are … trees.
Language is funny. You spend the year throwing around superlatives, describing new features on Facebook or the texture of your new favourite Burrito, and are then totally disarmed when you go somewhere like Yosemite, and faced with things that really are ‘awesome’ (in the base sense of the word), ‘massive’ (as in, unimaginably heavy’?) and ‘amazing’ (oh come on). Without the ability to describe anything in a meaningful way, all you can gawp and try in vain to compare it to other places that you have been, and mostly failing.
Yosemite is ridiculously, completely unnecessarily gorgeous. Like a set from a Star Trek movie (perhaps one of the pleasure planets where people run around in togas and seduce secondary members of crew into a life of endless procreation), there is forever a CGI waterfall in the background and vistas stretching off into the distance.
Four days of unbroken sun above our heads, snow underfoot, and yet weather warm enough for t-shirts was a perfect backdrop for enjoying a birthday with my family. Great food, wonderful company, and an awesome location; literally.
Entrance to the valley, on some of the finest roads in California (not saying too much, there).Mum and Dad enjoy the vista. It's impossible to stop yourself from screeching to a halt in each siding to enjoy the views on offer.El Capitan rock – a genius of naming.Incredible arcs of rock look like an impressionist; the brain is not capable of dealing with such scale for more than a few minutes.A good day to fly overheadFirst major hike of the weekend, up past the snow line.The same waterfall features in most of the images.Switchbacks – ah for my mountain bike.Don't look down!Oh look.Half dome on the left, and more waterfalls on the right – we hiked up to the first one the next day.Attempting to link up with the previous day's hike … we turned back after we decided it was getting a bit hairy … it's hard to appreciate, but there was a substantial cliff to the direct left side of this.Instagram delivering the goods again the next day in our hike up to the falls.One thing I love about my Mum is that we notice the same things at the same time.Back to the house for the most delicious possible artichokes. Mum & Dad drove through the 'Artichoke Capital of the World', and we spent the weekend laughing about it until we actually tasted the things.
Loonies inhabit all corners of the city. The baseball stadium is no different.
One of my minor ambitions during my stay in the USA was obviously to head to baseball game. It was extra-special to go there with my old man, and reminisce about all the other baseball games he didn’t take me to as a child while not growing up in America.
Sell-out crowdI spent much of the match trying to remember the rules, and then recount them to Dad with some semblance of sense. The guy in front of us almost caught a ball, though, and the crowd around him berated him for the rest of the game for having dropped it. Good times.Bleachers.The rush to get home.
