Bike Party coming from Panhandle

On September 7, I wrote that the day before I rode out to Fillmore to catch San Francisco Bike Party coming from Panhandle but I missed them so I followed a couple to Hyde Street where I found everyone. A close acquaintance was leading and one person I knew from the East Bay had a music bike. I said hi to the regulars and we rode through the SOMA with a bunch of other people I knew.

I caught up with an acquaintance who had greatly recovered from personal tragedy and caught a glimpse of a few people I hadn’t seen in a while before we arrived at Yerba Buena where I chatted with bike mechanics and regulars I knew really well. I also tried to chat with new people but that turned out to be difficult. I went on the Yerba Buena Park stage and met a really new personality and and his friend from the east coast and that was a treat. I spoke to a ton of other people, especially an old school cycling advocate with whom I spent a lot of time chatting.

The ride left and we rode SOMA through the Giants Ballpark and Mission Bay and eventually we made it to a park above the Caltrain tracks near Islas Creek. By then I was with a friend from Sunnyside and some ride leaders.

From here the ride headed up Chavez then and wove through alleys parallel to Mission Street. These two cool girls were in front of me a lot but they seemed really interested in following that one guy from Critical Mass who likes to “surf.” At Mission playground we stood around for a while but then relocated to Dolores Park where I said bye to the remaining crowd before going to bed at home.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Inkwells

On September 3, 2024, I wrote that I had just spent the night at Olema campground with my twin nine year old boys. The three of us got on my electric cargo bike and went to the coffee shop for a snack before riding up Bolinas ridge on Drake Boulevard. A very large pick up made the ride suck but the rest was OK. There was construction on the roadway.

At Tocaloma we continued up the Cross Marin Trail. We rode to Samuel P Taylor’s hiker biker site number 62 and discovered there were a lot of cyclists planning on staying the night. We went to the ranger booth and paid for the site. When we got back to the site, we met some off the kids around the campground and I chatted with a neighboring camper who had an RV. He told us about the other cyclists at staying in our campsite and I realized that I probably knew them.

I took the boys to inkwells and we jumped in – I shuttled the boys across the lower pool. Later we rode to the Indian restaurant in Lagunitas and we had the chicken kebab. The boys really liked it. A whole bunch of people I knew from Bike Party and Butter Lap showed up on their bikes to eat. It slowly developed into one big party. The food was delicious. We also hit up the general store before they closed and I got the boys ice cream.

A couple of people, brother and sister, were standing in the parking lot, talking. The lady explained to us that her brother is occasionally in Point Reyes Station being colorful and expressing himself like it is a big performance. She told us that he is a cool guy – different. It was cool to find out more about the local character. She told us she’s from San Anselmo and she liked my son’s sweater. I guess her friend makes them.

I noted that the ride back to the campsite was easy. I let the boys play with the other kids while I prepared to wind down. At one point, I couldn’t find one of the boys and the other one led me on a wild goose chase looking for him. We found him nearby but not until after some parents asked us if we were ok.

The boys returned to playing and then our co-campers showed up. I hung out with them a little bit and had a beer. I was alone until late.

We got up at 8am. A neighbor offered me coffee and the boys didn’t help pack. The other campers left a bit later, but it took me until 1030 to get ready to go. One of the stragglers left just before us. I got a photo of the inkwells but skipped swimming. I decided later that I had missed an epic swim day. I took the boys to the coffee shop called Pump. I got them hot cocoa, and I got a cup of coffee for myself. The shop have this special marshmallow thing.

After that we climbed White Hill. We beat some roadies to the top and only a few motorists passed us on the climb. One was rude near the top. We did the speed limit on the way down. One of the boys held my hat. The ride through San Anselmo made good time. We met the gang in Larkspur after a few pictures we boarded.

I bought the boys sprite on the boat and after bidding everyone farewell at the terminal I got the boys soft serve ice cream. The ride up Market Street was easy and once we had unloaded the bike and I started laundry at the laundromat. The boys were a bit crabby when we got home but I took them to the taqueria where we saw one of the boys' teachers through the window of the bar next door.

 
This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

We climbed up Bear Valley.

On September 1, 2024, I wrote that the day before the boys woke me at eight in our campsite in Samuel P Taylor. One of them dumped redwood duff on me. We were camping in the hiker biker overflow site number 62.

I fed the boys and had them take the tent apart, but did all the rest of the packing for our trip to Olema. I noted that we rode down the Cross Marin and passed a family of 4 to 6 kids all of which were riding bikes. I took pictures of Devil‘s Gulch, which apparently has a campsite.

We looked at Jewel trail, but we didn’t want to do the work. The family passed us at Tocaloma. On platform Bridge Road a few motorists passed us. I pointed out Black Mountain to the boys. From Platform Bridge to point Reyes Street Station I knew there would be traffic and conflicts. The first segment is down but at a slight angle. I immediately had to cross and pull off for a dump truck.

As we moved along, I managed the cars and noted that there are a few straight aways but a couple slight inclines. Then, on the last rise, I crossed over to let people queue at the intersection with Highway One. Then I passed the queue and descended to Point Reyes station. I was disoriented at first, then we sat at Station House for brunch – French toast with croquettes and a grilled cheese. The popovers were good. The meal was wonderful

We went to the grocery store and got enough for a couple of days before checking in and setting up at Olema Campground. Then we rode to Bear Valley the Visitor Center. As we headed up the trail, we took took care to be polite to the hikers and when we reached the spot where bikes are not allowed to bike, we started walking.

We saw slugs in a rivulet and passed a few hikers. There were a few downed trees and I tried referring to the last two trips we had made to remind the boys that we had been there before. We passed through this one downed tree where a lady was going the other way and I wanted to chat with her but it was a fleeting moment.

Another hiker told us the beach was 2 miles away, which I was incredulous about, but after a shady forest , the trail signs only said Coast Camp or Stuart Trail. I noted that, in retrospect, we should’ve gone down Stuart Trail. I also noted that the coast Camp Trail used to have a trail to Arch Rock but I discovered that Arch Rock had fallen apart or toppled a few years previously so the trail was gone.

Eventually , we started back. The only route to the beach that way was another mile from there and all of us were tired. We started looking for spots we remembered from the descent: the shady forest was cool, there was an open hillside, the downed tree. Along the way, one of the boys had picked up tree branches, all of which looked like a gun. We passed the rivulet again.

I was relieved when we had made it back to the bike because all of us were tired. We climbed up Bear Valley. We passed a bunch of hikers. The trail crosses the valley a few times but it is only Bear Valley Creek. I noticed also that none of the crossings seemed to be bridges. We passed a few more hikers. There was this giant log of which I took a picture.

We passed the Bear Valley Visitor Center and one of the boys dropped their sunglasses. A car almost crushed it. We went to eat at Due West in Olema and ordered a few things that were good. The boys were staring at a tennis tournament on the TV. They kept saying that it was the Olympics, but I knew it was the Open.

I had salad because I thought they wouldn’t eat, but they did so I didn’t have much to eat and I was generally displeased as we prepared to go to bed. I had a headache. So directed the boys brush their teeth and we went to sleep as soon as the sun went down

I woke at five in the morning on the day that I wrote this and felt a bit better. The boys got up and they played with one of the kids in the camp that morning and we made plans to return to Samuel P Taylor.
This is an occasional series chronicling my life.

This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Packed for Bike Party

In mid August 2024 I wrote that the day before I went home and got packed for Bike Party.

I enjoyed the ride on BART to 12th street and got off at N Berkeley. I followed the map to Rose Park and found the crew. I walked around and I saw people from one of my group chats. I saw an organizer I knew. I learned the sad news that one of the group had passed away. She was a regular Bike Party and I didn’t really know her.

The ride headed up to MLK and Albany and then to some park and I hung out with people. There were tamales. A couple of people from the chat headed to Hotsy Totsy which was a temptation I was bummed to have passed up.

I rode with the group into Richmond to some park near 580. A few other people I knew took off. We rode to Richmond Bart then and after chatting with a few people I got on a train home with a bunch of people. I got off at Montgomery and rode home which turned out was better than Civic Center.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

The Tunnels on The Pass

On August 8, I wrote that we woke at six in the morning at the campgrounds in Donner State Park. My alarm went off and I stayed up because we had a tight schedule for catching our train home that day. I consolidated the bags and noticed that my boys do OK stuffing sleeping bags, pads and tarps.

We ate the rest of the trail mix and I drank a coffee. By 845, we were packing the rest into our bags. I knew the train was running late but took no chances. We caught a ride from Tart Connect at the park entrance. The boys had been having a hard time carrying their heavy backpacks and I had been noting throughout the trip that I needed to get a bigger bag for myself.

Our ride arrived quickly enough and we made the station with 15 minutes to spare. I felt like that was really close. The train pulled up, we got our bags and boarded. There wasn’t much trouble while we dropped our bags and I brought the boys to the cafe car. A short moment later I went to the rear of the train to get a picture of the tunnels on the pass.

After that we found a nice space at a table in the observation car. I posted to Twitter and got the boys beverages. I noted that I would be that we would be in Colfax soon.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

I Explored the Peninsula

On August 7, I wrote about the fourth day that my twin nine year olds had had during our week-long camping trip to Donner Lake. The day before my older sister had visited us from Reno.

We got up that morning at 9:30 and got dressed and fed. The boys were not terribly rebellious. We walked to the small regulation levee on Donner Lake’s outlet lagoon where we found a really interesting green stone in the riprap. I tested its hardness –striking it with the other rocks nearby. The rocks were of various types but I used a piece of granite, which is generally the hardest substance around. I also found slate, which I was able to verify by separating it into individual slabs.

We walked to the beach in the northwest section of the lake – presumably where the Donner Party had been stranded. The boys dug in the sand and I took in the view. Some lady with a rescued greyhound was blowing up a paddleboard. Another lady with a dog deflated her paddleboard. One couple had three short dogs which kept greeting and interacting with us. A familiar looking couple, with a few kids showed up as we left.

We walked to the north of the beach and back to the dam. The boys were sad to leave their sandcastles but they were hungry too. So, we walked to the campsite and I gave them a snack. I found us a shaded spot to get ready to go swimming. The plan was to jump off the rock in the lagoon, do the swings, visit the beach again, go to the island and then finally the spit which protects the lagoon, which I had been calling it the peninsula and the only way to reach it by foot is to walk through the boat ramp

At the rock it was easy, because there were only a few people: kids, some couples. We then swam across the lagoon to try the rope swing but the boys were not as competent as I assumed. Plus there were grass plants in the water and the boys were grossed out by it. I was also completely unprepared for them to hitch a ride from some lady on a paddleboard and to avoid returning!

I discovered that one of the boys had been building a gravel stash at the beach and wanted to return to where we had been earlier that day. So, we were there for a while. The familiar looking family was leaving at that point. I felt like it was a missed opportunity to not chat with them. They seemed friendly but didn’t really talk.

Eventually, it was hot and I wanted to take a dip. So I carried the boys one by one to the island between the lake and the outlet lagoon. The swim was short but the boys were too small. When we were both on the island, I found one of my boys deep in conversation with a lady. The boys both ended up playing fetch with her dog. When the lady and her dog got onto her paddleboard and left, we continued our exploration and set out to swim to the peninsula.

There is an intermittent sandbar which continues all the way out to the island below water, which occasionally is substantial enough to walk on. In fact there was even evidence that there used to be some kind of bridge from the island to the peninsula. I was able to walk halfway to the peninsula but when the water got too deep I ended up swimming over. I took both boys across that way. It turned out to be a lot of work.

There was a pontoon boat with a family on the peninsula. There were also a ton of kids building a sandcastle and that ended up occupying all of our attention for a good while. I explored the peninsula alone – around the small pond. There are a lot of spindly pines which made it difficult and many are dead. When I returned to the sandcastle party on the beach, I fell into chatting with one of the parents of there. They had rented a house on the lake

I took the boys back into the thicket and we slowly made our way up the peninsula to the boat rental. Then we walked over to the rock on the lagoon again. There was a family doing cannonballs trying to get everyone wet. It was really funny. The boys were lazy sitting on the small beach there.

We walked to the campsite then. The boys were crabby but once they had some ramen things were good. We started to wind down for the evening and I consulted the Amtrak site. The train was “on time” and I noted that it was probably half an hour late. I knew that we would need to get up at 6:30 or 645.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.