Rapha Stories RSS feed

Redwoods Ride

When we arrived in the dark at Palo Alto Bicycles at 6:15 Monday morning, we weren’t sure if more than a handful of the registered riders would actually show. It wouldn’t have been a surprise to see a thinned group since we had all witnessed the peloton suffering the day prior in a steady downpour during the first stage of the Amgen Tour of California. Flood warnings, sustained winds over 20mph and relentless, driving rains made the racers question California in February. Fabian Cancellara abandoned after winning the prologue, a handful of others would follow with an early exit. If it was wet, cold and nasty they sought, they could have found it in Belgium.

Living in the Pacific Northwest, we are accustomed to riding in the rain. ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing’ is a mantra you learned at a young age because if you didn’t go out when it was wet, you wouldn’t have many days on your calendar. But it’s different in the Bay Area, especially in Palo Alto, where the annual rainfall average is only 15-inches. Part of the reason why riding and living here is so fabulous is because it’s shorts and short-sleeves more days than not. Still, even with 1.6-inches of rain in the 24-hours before our depart, we had the full gruppo of 35 riders arrive, prepared for a truly ‘epic’ day.

Typically, early morning departures aren’t quite right, it leaves little time for espresso or admiring the details of a finely tuned bicycle while the sun rises. But, we had to set-out with a brisk pace from the start because we knew that the professionals would be quickly on our scent along HWY1, and there was no way we wanted to be caught. The pros would be inspired by crossing the closed Golden Gate Bridge, and assuming they didn’t wash away (which they didn’t), the parade would be flying down the coast in hot pursuit.

Our final destination was a charming wine store called VinoCruz, right on the finish line in Santa Cruz. The owners, Geoffrey and JP, were waiting to welcome us with flights of local wines, gourmet bites and a projector showing the race so we could watch the race unfold on Boony Doon. VinoCruz was 62 miles away, and all we had to do was climb the steep and steady Old La Honda road out of Palo Alto, keep strong on Skyline, tackle the Cloverdale climb, then enjoy the of the Cabrillo Hwy.

Our group broke up however right from the start. One group left late when a bike needed last minute resuscitation from the Palo Alto master wrench. Someone in the first group missed pointing out a hole that took not one, but two wheels out of commission of the riders behind. Suddenly, there was a group off the front, then a string of riders with bikes in disarray— and we hadn’t even hit La Honda.

Bob, who was again driving the sag-wagon, did his best to keep watch over the strewn-out group, but with the rolling road closures and the pro peloton following our route, we were really looking after each other. With the sever rains the roads were flowing with streams of water, rocks and sediment from the surrounding hills. The group of five or six off the front somehow escaped punctures, but the remaining 30 riders took their penance, dealing with somewhere around 20 flats for the day. Double flats, multiple flats at the same spot- as if instead of water, tacks were falling from the heavens.
We kept looking at each other, smiling, nodding and knowing that today was for the hard-men, and we were still driving on.

Without any extra tubes and very little brake-block left, we hit the Pacific Ocean at HWY1 and discovered the sun, and with it lifted spirits. Now we were on the same course the pros were on. Team and Marshal cars passed by, making us wonder just how much of a gap we had on the pros. With the fans starting to line the highway, occasionally shouting “you’re winning!”, it was hard for our group of escapees to not pick up the pace. A family dressed in full wetsuits cheered us on with their surfboards held overhead, a welcomed sign that Santa Cruz was not far.

As the day had started, small bunches of our group found their way through the race-day detours, earning a well-deserved glass of wine and an private viewing spot on the finishing straight. As we steadily trickled in and changed out of wet kit, a 10-minute downpour burst over Santa Cruz, one last reminder of the rains we had defeated to get here. As the sun came out on cue for Levi Leipheimer and stage-winner Thomas Peterson, we talked, ate, drank and toasted one another for surviving a hard day in the saddle.

On the ride back over the mountains in the motor-coach, the happy inebriated tenor of our group was inspired by riding and watching Stage 2. But no doubt some of the smiles came from hearing the severe weather forecast for the next day.