JUST KEEP PEDALING

I jumped on my bike for a stroll up into the foothills early Sunday morning. The sun was up and doing its thing yet the air was still quite cool with a little bite and a young breeze was ramping itself up for an impressive showing later. I wanted to test my legs against some challenging climbs and enjoy some scenery along the way. That of course meant Gold Country!

California is a beautiful state with a seemingly unlimited amount of places to go that are truly magnificent. How this gem of Mother Nature came to be run by a bunch of corrupt, Marxist knuckle heads is anybodies guess but that’s a topic for another day.

Sunday’s ride was an uplifting and genuinely pleasant experience for me. I passed over the south Fork of the American River on the Salmon Falls Bridge and saw a couple dozen mountain bikers parked on the gravel lot preparing their machines for the days ride. A handful of kayakers were putting their boats in the water and some hikers were preparing to head onto one of the recreational hiking trails. The air had a feel of vitality and liveliness and although I was just seconds away from starting my first hard climb I felt balanced and quiet. Everyone out there just seemed happy and content.

I slowly chugged up Salmon Falls Road toward the top of the climb, which is marked by a Rhinoceros statue at the private entrance to a housing development I could never afford to live in. On the way I passed several wonderful horse properties, vineyards and mansions. Homeowners were out riding horses and cutting fire breaks. I could hear the distant sound of a chainsaw. I always hear chainsaws when I ride into the foothills. Make sure you bring a chainsaw if you ever move up there.

When I reached the Rhino, a group of senior citizen cyclists greeted me with a rather frightening amount of delight and joy. I soon discovered that the three mile climb to the Rhino is viewed as an accomplishment of significance for some and so I feigned additional fatigue and joined in their festivity for a minute. My day is coming soon enough.

I bid my new friends goodbye and descended down to Highway 49. I turned right and headed for Coloma. During a stretch of gradual descent I noticed that a large yellow bus had crept up behind me. There is no real bike lane on the 49 and caution is the key on this particular stretch. I was moving along at around 30 MPH yet the bus would not pass me. The road ahead was clear and I was riding the two inch white line on the roadside to give the bus all the room it needed. I decided to accelerate and try to get to a pull out somewhere down the road because the bus was making me nervous. I reached 40 MPH and was still riding the white line, a feat I didn’t care to pull off for much longer. The bus did not pass. At the bottom of the grade the road leveled and I slowed. The road widened significantly and the bus finally began passing me. As it pulled up next to me the driver opened the passenger loading door, slowed and apologetically informed me that his fifth grade class wanted to watch the, “guy on the bike ride real fast”. I laughed in relief and said I was glad to provide some entertainment. Every child in the bus pressed their heads up to the window and waived to me as they passed. How cool was that.

I left Highway 49 briefly to climb Marshall Road, which heads to Georgetown. I stopped part way up and took in the phenomenal view below. Everything was green and alive; the water in the gorge below was excited and alluring. The air smelled fresh and my recently acquired April to June exercise induced asthma relaxed and authorized me a lungful of air.

After descending back to Coloma, I noticed something very strange happening. Hundreds of People were walking all over the place looking at the ground. In their hands, each person carried a metal detector, or a golf club, or a stick. I soon realized what they were doing. They were looking for meteorite fragments. A week earlier a meteor entered the atmosphere, flew over the Coloma area and detonated into a zillion pieces. NASA rushed to Sacramento and flew a blimp over the area in hopes of finding one of the larger chunks. When news spread that a meteorite fragment could be worth a lot of money, another gold rush broke out! I wonder if any body hit it big.

The only bummer to an otherwise heavenly bike ride was the guy in the diesel truck. I guess he had it in for cyclists and as I struggled up the Lotus Road climb, he pulled up close to me, blasted diesel smoke in my face by gunning the throttle and then sped away. He was too late however to ruin my morning and I can only surmise he got out of it what he needed.

I pulled up to my house after three and half hours and collapsed on the recliner. The days prior to Sunday were emotionally challenging with life’s affairs and dramas. Riding my bike put me back in the ball game. I don’t quite know how to describe the synergy and oneness that develops between a person and their bicycle. On Sunday morning my bike helped remind me of the simple pleasures and spontaneous fun that can come from being young. I also realize more so then ever that life is better when there’s a Rhino at the top of the hill…………