Mt. Tamalpais

Bill Bushnell — Saturday, June 5, 1993

I awaken early to the sound of rain hitting the roof. I get up anyway, hoping that the weather will clear by the time I leave. I don’t mind a little drizzle or light rain while on the ride, but I’m not anxious to leave the warm, dry cocoon of indoors when it’s raining outside with little hope for clearing.

At 7:00, I head over to the Cultural Center, which is the official start of the club ride. Of course no one is there. I guess all the Western Weenies are tucked in bed. The sun has come out. I think it’ll be a great day. (In fact I didn’t get rained on all day.)

The plan is to ride over to Union City BART, take BART to San Francisco, and then ride over to the San Francisco Bay Model Museum and meet Mark Chandler at 10:30 for a ride up Mt. Tamalpais via the Old Railroad Grade. The trip to Sausalito should take about 3 hours more or less. I have allowed an extra half-hour in my time estimates in case I miss a train or get a flat.

With that in mind, I return home to get my long gloves in case I get caught in a cold rain. By the time I finally set off for good, it is 7:32.

Since I’ve used up my time margin, I take the quick and sometimes ugly way down University Ave. out to Bayfront Expressway. The ride over the Dumbarton Bridge and up Paseo Padre and Decoto to the Union City BART passes quickly and without incident. A few minutes after I arrive on the platform, a train arrives.

While on BART, I see a very large rain cloud heading down the peninsula. The wind is blowing stiffly from the west-northwest, so I don’t think it’ll get me.

After exiting at the Embarcadero Station, I race a cable car up California Street to Taylor at the top of Nob Hill. Since it’s still early, traffic is light. The tourists all look at me as if I’m nuts riding my bike here. I turn right and head down and then steeply up and steeply down again to Filbert Street. On Taylor a taxi-cab with a woman passenger passes. The woman turns and stares as I struggle up the steep hill. She looks like her head is sewn on backward as she stares until the taxi crests at the next block and disappears down the other side. I turn left on Filbert and climb to Leavenworth, but the very steep next block to the top of Russian Hill is one-way in the other direction.

After snapping a picture of the “wall”, I take a look around for police cars and other traffic and begin the ride up. There is only one lane going down, and cars are parked perpendicular on the other side, leaving plenty of space for a bicycle or the woman doing her morning exercises walking up and down the block. A photographer is poised at the top taking a picture down the hill.

I get maybe 10 feet up the hill and my front wheel lifts off the ground. I try standing and throwing my weight as far forward as I can, but it’s no use. After a brief struggle, the bike bucks me off the rear. I have to walk; the hill is too steep for me to ride. I suppose it doesn’t help that my bike is very rear-heavy. This helps somewhat on steep downhills, but is a pain on uphills. It’s nearly impossible for me to ride up grades steeper than about 25%.

Even walking this one is hard work. Once I reach the top, though, it’s mostly downhill until I get to the Golden Gate Bridge.

I continue to Lyon Street, and then enter the Presidio and take Lincoln Blvd. to the south end of the bridge. Shortly after I notice a “Bicycles Be Advised” sign, I pass a military police car with flashing lights citing a hapless bicyclist, who, I suppose, just blew off the stop sign I’m approaching.

Once on the bridge I continue quickly across and down to Sausalito. The tourist town is still quiet as I head through and arrive at the Bay Model Museum five minutes ahead of schedule. Mark is warming up in the parking lot, and Richard Mlynarik has also appeared. Richard frequently shows up unannounced on my rides, which is O.K. with me, though I wonder if he’s ever shown up for the few rides I’ve had to cancel this year.

After eating a bite and using the nearby restroom, the three of us set off toward Mill Valley. We decide to take the cycle path all the way to East Blithedale. Mt. Tamalpais is enshrouded by clouds. It looks like it might be wet up there.

At East Blithedale we turn left and continue through Mill Valley. The road becomes West Blithedale and soon we’re climbing gradually along a stream lined with moss-covered redwoods. Near the end of West Blithedale, we pass around a gate and begin the gradual climb up Old Railroad Grade.

We ride slowly stopping several times to take pictures of waterfalls and of San Francisco and the Bay beyond. Since Richard and I both ride Bridgestone bikes (RB-1 & RB-T), we try to get them in the pictures. Maybe if we send Grant Petersen pictures of our riding Bridgestone road bikes on the fire roads, he’ll give us free bikes. (!) Mark rides a beautiful custom LandShark frame with drop bars and 700c wheels. Built especially to handle wide tires, his frame is used as a testbed for the variety of bike accessories he reviews for his newsletter, Crosswords.

At one point while Mark and I are talking about the latest bike gizmos and bicycling personalities, a small woman on a titanium-frame mountain bike passes by. Richard sprints to catch up to her. They both get a good laugh as he later apologizes to the woman and admits that the “little boy” in him got the better of him.

As we reach the West Point Inn, a few spits come out of the clouds above. At the Inn, we stop for a few minutes while I eat a snack and while Richard refills his bottle. It’s not far from here to Ridgecrest Rd. and the picnic area below the east summit of the mountain.

On the way up the remaining section of Old Railroad Grade, we are passed by a few cars. Where did they come from? Richard says he’s never seen cars on Old Railroad Grade before. Maybe they’re servicing the Inn.

Shortly after we reach Ridgecrest we ride the short distance to the end of the road and then relax on the tables overlooking the south side of the mountain. The view is magnificent. The air is clean and moist. To the south large rain clouds can be seen.

After resting for a half-hour or so, Mark heads back down Old Railroad Grade as he has other obligations today. I, too, would like to get home at a reasonable hour because I have to get up early the next morning. But Richard talks me into exploring some of the roads on the north side of the mountain. He originally wants to ride Ridgecrest to Fairfax-Bolinas Rd. and then return either through Fairfax or up one of the fire trails through the park, but since I had ridden Fairfax-Bolinas Rd. before, we decide to explore some roads neither of us had ridden. I figure I can take CalTrain home afterward and save some time.

Richard and I head down Ridgecrest to the Rock Springs Fire Trail. We turn right and begin a couple fairly steep uphill pitches. The soil is a little muddy in places, but we manage to maintain traction. On the other side of the ridge, we begin a long, rolling descent through a mixed deciduous and redwood forest glistening wet from the recent rains. The trail reminds me of Gazos Creek Rd. in the Santa Cruz Mountains. At one point we come out on a beautiful meadow, Potrero Meadow. The Trail hugs the boundary between the meadow and the forest. Here Richard offers to snap a picture of me as I ride down the trail.

The trail continues steeply at times. At the Rocky Ridge Fire Trail, we continue on the Lagunitas Fire Trail down some very steep pitches. As we round a bend we come out on a glorious 150-degree view looking west to northeast of Mt. Tamalpais. To the west we see Bon Tempe Lake, and slightly to the east, partially hidden from view, we see Lake Lagunitas. Luckily (for me), Richard’s front tire chooses to flat so we can enjoy the view.

While Richard repairs his tire, several mountain bikers come huffing and puffing up the hill.

“Boy, this road must be pretty hard on those wheels!”, one of them says.

“Oh, it’s just a stupid piece of glass I probably picked up on the paved road above.”, Richard replies.

“Well, I’ll bet it’s hard work riding your road bike on these roads.”, the mountain biker continues.

“No. People were riding road bikes here long before mountain bikes were invented. It’s really not that hard. And, unless you drive your bike on your car to the trails, it makes more sense to ride a road bike.”, Richard replies politely.

I’m afraid we’ve committed the sacrilege of riding our road bikes on trails that are considered the birthplace of the mountain bike. For the rest of our visit on Mt. Tamalpais fire roads we are the recipients of lectures, disapproving looks, incredulous looks, blank stares, even concern for our safety and sanity. Naked men riding unicycles might get as much attention such is the indignity we visit upon these hallowed trails.

We continue down some very steep pitches to Lake Lagunitas. We turn left at first. Just as I feel an urgent need to mix chemicals, a toilet comes into view. As we continue toward the dam, a mountain biker comes by.

“Did you guys come down the Lagunitas Trail?”, he asks.

“Yes,” Richard replies.

“It must be hard work on those road bikes,” he adds.

“No. It’s really not very hard,” Richard replies with just a hint of annoyance.

“Do you know where this trail goes?”, I ask, trying to change the subject.

“It just goes over to a parking lot around the corner. Where’re you guys headed?”, the mountain biker asks.

“We’re planning to take the fire roads around the mountain to Mill Valley,” Richard answers.

“Well, I sure wouldn’t want to ride my road bike on them,” the mountain biker shoots back as he rides the forbidden single track up to the platform near the dam.

We turn around and continue east around the lake riding off a couple of sharp dropoffs at the ends of the footbridges. At the east end of the lake we turn right on the Lakeview Fire Trail.

After a few short, steep uphills, the Lakeview Trail, and later the Eldridge Grade Fire Trail, winds its way gradually up the eastern flank of the mountain. Richard descends and sprints up short steep hills faster than I, but this time I manage to stay ahead of him. I am also wearing a long-sleeve shirt, and I know that if I slow down or stop, I’ll have to take it off because I am getting very warm.

At the Indian Trail, we pause for a few minutes and speak with an older fellow about biking on Mt. Tam. Both he and the woman he is with are riding older bikes with balloon tires.

We continue down the Indian Trail. The Indian Trail descends steeply in places, but very soon we reach the Hoo-Koo-E-Koo Trail and the Blithedale Ridge Trail. Another group of mountain bikers are stopped at the intersection. They warn us that the Blithedale Ridge Trail is pretty rough, but we press on anyway.

The Blithedale Ridge Trail descends very steeply on sandstone and gravel. I stop three times, once because I get myself on the wrong side of drainage rut that would lead me off the embankment, once to retrieve my pump (I don’t lose any water bottles this time!), and once because I don’t generate enough momentum to pull me over a short, >20% grade “wall”.

Despite the hard work, I find it fun and challenging. I don’t quite have Richard’s confidence or speed in descending on dirt yet. I suppose it’s more a mental rather than a physical block. I’m not anxious to learn from hard mistakes! Also, I don’t feel in control when my vision is occasionally blurred by the violence of the descent. With more practice I expect I’ll feel more comfortable.

I admit that given equal experience on a road bike and on a mountain bike, I’d probably find it easier to ride rough roads on a mountain bike. But, I’ve only got one bike (aside from my commuting clunker), and since 95% of the riding I do is on pavement I can’t justify spending an amount of money equal to or greater than what I spent on my road bike for the remaining 5% I ride off-pavement. I frequently mix my rides so that they contain both paved and unpaved portions as long as the roads go someplace interesting—I’m not interested in BMX-style mountain biking. Riding a road bike on the trails for 5 miles seems easier than riding knobbies on pavement for 95.

Further down the Blithedale Ridge Trail, we turn off on a trail whose name neither of us remembers and return to Old Railroad Grade and West Blithedale.

At the gate at the bottom a group of mountain bikers prepare for an assault on the mountain. The scenario is by now familiar.

“Did you come all the way down on those bikes?”, a tall shirtless guy with bulging stomach muscles asks.

“Yeah. It’s really not that difficult. We actually came around the backside of the mountain on trails more challenging than the Old Railroad Grade.”, Richard answers.

“Well, if you guys can do this on road bikes, we should be able to handle it, right?”, the guy says.

Others in the group laugh nervously.

We continue down into Mill Valley and stop for a while in front of the City Hall to eat a snack. Afterward, we continue down Miller to the bike path and then through Sausalito and up the hill to the Golden Gate Bridge. A fierce headwind blows as we approach the bridge, and I can see now why we’re supposed to walk our bikes around the towers. We still ride but very carefully.

Once in San Francisco, I follow Richard back to his place. We ride through the Presidio to Arguello, then to Anza, Stanyan, Page, and Fillmore. We stop at a teeny tiny but interesting bike shop just off Haight street called the Planetary Gear. We continue across Market Street and turn left on 17^th and continue to Dolores where we turn right and head up the hill to Richard’s place.

After visiting with his wife, Elizabeth, for all too short a time, we head down the hill again to 17^th street and then east to Indiana and the 22^nd Street Caltrain Station to catch the 18:35 southbound train. Richard commutes to and from Palo Alto every day and tells me that this is the first time he’s arrived more than one minute before or after the train leaves 22^nd Street.

What an ugly station! It’s nothing more than a pit between two tunnels capped by the I-280 aerial freeway. I worry that weekend bikers will have filled the quota of four bikes per train. If I’m denied entry, I’ll have to ride to the nearest BART station, take BART to Union City, and ride across the bay and through East Palo Alto after sunset and without a light. I don’t really feel like riding down Bayshore Blvd. and then down El Camino, though that would probably be quicker. I’ve done it before, and it’s an unpleasant ride.

The train pulls in, and the conductor frowns as he sees the two of us with bikes. When he steps out of the vestibule, he asks immediately to see my bike pass which I show him.

“Alot of people have been saying they have passes when they don’t, so we have to check everyone now,” the conductor says.

“I’m not getting on,” Richard says.

“O.K. Hurry up and get on then,” the conductor says to me as I fumble to put my pass away.

I hoist my heavy bike awkwardly up the steep, narrow steps, struggling for a moment before I manage to get it completely in the vestibule.

“It gets easier with practice,” Richard says as the doors close behind me.

I wheel my bike carefully down the narrow corridor to an empty seat on the lower level at the rear of the train. There is one other bicyclist to the rear. It sure is easier to take your bike on BART.

I decide to save myself 50 cents and buy a ticket to Menlo Park instead of California Avenue, and from Menlo Park, I take the quick route home via Alma, Willow, and Middlefield.

Ride stats:

distance: 76.1 miles

climbing: 5190 feet

total time: 12;07

riding time: 6:23

average speed: 11.9 mph

maximum speed: 34.5 mph

index: 97

irp: 8

mirp: 15

climbing density: 68

climbing ratio: 0.0129

An article on indexing can be found here.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

Please do not publish or distribute for profit without permission.