Tour de Sonomarin, A California Odyssey

By Fritz Van Orden

I recently completed California's Tour de Sonomarin 2008. Here is a brief overview.

Dateline Brooklyn, NY, 4/16/08. As spring drags slowly in on its muddy feet, employed East Coasters dream of riding their bikes in California in the summer. The solution: create the Tour de Sonomarin to intersect with your vacation, and persuade your California cycling buddies to participate.

Dateline Jersey City, NJ, 6/2. Things are falling into place. I got my time off, my airline ticket and my rentacar reservation. Dates for the Tour have been set and participants enlisted. My old pal Captain Triste has agreed to participate in the Tour. This is fortunate because he will be providing the lodging. I have contravened recommendations from General Cosgrove, my cycling guru, and instead of shipping my beloved steel-frame touring bike per her recommendation, will be riding a Trek Pilot (aluminum frame w carbon forks & seat stays) rented from a reputable Sonoma County winery/bike shop. The General also recommends I rent a bike with a 56cm frame, but my research indicates 54 would be better. We shall see.

Dateline Brooklyn, NY, 7/18, 10:30 pm. Packing. The flight is in the morning. Cycling shoes? Packed. Pedal wrench? Packed. Special polychlorophenol-free water bottles with retractable squirt nozzle? Packed. Odometer? Well, I removed it from my handlebars. Then I almost broke the sensor in an unsuccessful attempt to remove it from the spoke. I guess I won’t be taking my odometer. Lost the little black rubber band that keeps the odometer on the bars. The hell with it, I’ll deal with it when I get back.

Brooklyn, NY, 7/19, 7:00 am. The plane leaves at 9:30. Ready to go. Whoops! My pedals are still on my bike! Had to unpack the wrench to remove the pedals so I could take them with me. Woulda been fun trying to ride without my pedals…

Dateline Oakland, CA, 7/21, 10:00 pm. The ride starts tomorrow. I can’t believe it – it’s going to happen! My bag only made it under the airline weight limit when I transferred my pedal wrench to my carryon bag. The start of the tour has been changed – I’ll pick up the bike at the shop at 10:00 and Captain Triste will meet me there at 10:30. My only concern – the Captain is in much better shape than I am. He’s been a jock all his life and I’ve only been riding for three years. He once tried to kill me by getting me to do too many wind sprints in an Olympic pool. And in my preriding days he had me cycle up a suicidally steep hill on a rusty old 10-speed. He hasn’t demonstrated any such behaviors recently, but …

Dateline Sebastopol, CA, Tuesday 7/22, 10:05 am. Let’s see, where’s that bike shop? 6731 Sebastopol Ave.? Oops, I must’ve passed it! Now I have to make a U-turn and a left turn from the right lane into the parking lot. It’s good to know those Sonoma County drivers are as skilled with using their horns as they are in Brooklyn. Makes me feel right at home.

10:15 am. WeCoRev Bikes. They’ve rented out the 54 and I get a 56. Looks good to me. Dave, the bike tech with the sunburst tattoos, has put on my pedals, adjusted the noisy chain and showed me the goodies that go in the little seat post bag. He demonstrates how to use Shimano shifters and assures me it’ll take 15 minutes before using them is second nature. Well, at least I’ve still got my Campy socks.

10:30 am. Captain Triste is ready and waiting in the parking lot. I don’t recognize him in cycling gear. As for myself, I’m in New York summer mode – instead of a jersey, it’s a long-sleeved cotton shirt. A week of riding in the sun and I’ll still get a tan right through the fabric.

I’m used to riding with a rack and a handlebar bag – not this time. Gotta jettison most of the stuff I usually ride with. End up with a $20 bill, a credit card and 10cc of sunscreen. I wish I had the Captain to prep me before every ride. He’d eliminate my pre-ride futzing behavior in no time.

Wohler Bridge, Sonoma County, 11:30 am. An hour of riding and we’ve already seen a good representation of the sights of Sonoma. Vineyards. Huge gnarled valley oaks spread across Santa Rosa Plain. Vineyards. Redwood groves. Vineyards. Live oaks. Vineyards. Madrones, California laurels, buckeyes. Vineyards. The bridge is a sleepy old bridge over a sleepy section of the Russian River, which is pretty slow-flowing in the summer. A couple of lazy kayakers below.

Healdsburg, CA, 1:00 pm. We’ve cycled up Westside Road along the Russian River. Lunch at the Oakville Market deli. More high-end than Dean & DeLuca in Soho. Pepperoncini on my prosciutto bruschetta sandwich. When I lived in Sonoma County a millennium ago, Healdsburg was a hick town full of prune farmers. No more. I think we rode by a memorial to the last prune tree in Sonoma County right there next to the Chateau Schwartz Vineyard and Tasting Room.

Forestville, CA, 2:00 pm. It turns out Captain Triste sings while he rides. Today’s song is “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music.” I think I have a lot to look forward to. Vineyards.

3:30 pm. Back in the parking lot. That was an easy ride. I hope Captain T isn’t being too easy on me. I got into my rentacar and had started the engine before I realized I was still wearing my helmet, cycling shorts and cycling shoes. I am not obsessed.

3:45 pm. Whole Foods, Sebastopol, CA. I need to get some supplies for the rest of the tour. I’m looking for Coca Cola, which I only allow myself to drink on multi-day bike rides, and Gatorade powder to put in the water bottles. I overhear two Sonomacountians discussing their past-life-regression therapy. Silly me, looking for Coke and Gatorade at a Whole Foods.

4:00 pm. Fircrest Market parking lot, Sebastopol, CA. I guzzle my Coke and pack the Gatorade powder and peaches into the car.

4:27 pm. Thorn Ridge Ranch. Relaxing with Captain T and his wife Captain Normal, whom I have known even longer than Capt T, enjoying a local Sonoma County ale. Not to be outdone by the proliferation of wineries, local brewers have launched a plethora of ales. The fad seems to be very very hoppy ales. Unripe, bitter, hoppy. In a magnificent show of New York manners, I launch into a tirade about excessive hoppiness, while guzzling a brew or two. I hope Captain T doesn’t end up disqualifying me from the 2009 Tour de Sonomarin for this. As usual, a magnificent dinner with the family. Sesame chicken. Snacks include homegrown strawberries. Mmmmm. Ripe fresh peaches, raspberries. Calif style guacamole and chips.

9:00 pm. The Eagle’s Nest, Thorn Ridge, CA. I’ve been honored with lodgings in the Eagle’s Nest, the room of the Normal-Tristes’ oldest son who is off at college, and which sits perched above the roof of the rest of the home. The magnificent 5-peaked Mt. St. Helena can be seen to the north. If the trees on the south side lost their leaves, you could see the cone of Mt. Diablo. To the west, many parallel ridges are visible, with no indication of incoming Fog. This is very important. The Fog is the most important summer weather factor in coastal Northern California. It’s what keeps San Francisco freezing in August and why it can be 55° at the coast and 90° in the Central Valley, 40 miles away. The Fog likes to invade from the Pacific in the early evening, and if it retreats will usually do so in the late morning. Where and when The Fog is, was, will be, came in, went out, appeared, or disappeared, is a major topic of conversation in these parts – easily outranking discussions of vintages or strength of ales. We don’t want Fog for the Tour, because we left our neoprene winter riding outfits back on the East Coast.

Eagle’s Nest. 9:01 pm. Snoring.

Dateline Occidental, CA, Wednesday 7/23, 11:15 am. Our first big hill. Every few miles, Captain Triste helpfully describes what’s coming up. He wasn’t lying about this hill. It wasn’t so bad. I only had to stop and rest once. The Captain is a powerful rider and won’t let any hill beat him. He rides to the top of each one. I quickly evolve my strategy of hopping off and pushing when he disappears out of sight. This allows me to survive, catch my breath, and hop back on and pedal effortlessly when I get about 50 feet from the top.

Duncan’s Mills, CA, noon. We’ve stopped at the middle of a Russian River bridge again. A Tristeian tradition. Today’s song: “Ain’t no Mountain High Enough.” It’s astounding the number of mini-ecosystems we go through. Hills thickly wooded with live oaks and their friends. Long dark canyons completely crowded with redwoods – huge trunks with red bushy bark growing up and up and up allowing almost no sunlight to get through. Then you round a corner and it’s all bare windswept hills covered with dry grass, plus the occasional rock outcrop or a cow or two.

Jenner, CA, 12:30 pm. We reach the Pacific. Not a drop of Fog. A strong chilly breeze and bright sunlight. You feel like a chocolate sundae – the heat radiating from the asphalt on the road mixes with the cold wind. We go south on Highway 1 along the cliffs. Miles of waves breaking on rocks and cliffs.

Bodega Bay, CA, 1:30 pm. We stop for lunch at the Tides, where the gas station burned in The Birds. The Tides has been remodeled and is now just another tourist attraction. The fish and chips were generic – perhaps flown in from England.

Bodega, CA 2:00 pm. We ride by Tippi Hedren being chased by a couple of pigeons in front of the old schoolhouse. We stop at a memorial to Christo’s Running Fence, which ran through these parts some years ago. Just a faded poster – not even any parachute nylon. Everybody in Sonoma County has a square foot of the Fence, but …

Freestone, CA 3:00 pm. Long very gradual climb from Bodega. I’m going faster than the Captain on gradual climbs. He doesn’t understand the concept of cadence. I’m not sure I do either, and I’m not going to explain it here. I’m not going to go into steel vs. aluminum vs. carbon vs. titanium frames either. Well, not right now. But I’m definitely getting the hang of these Shimano shifters. Except when my angle is slightly wrong and I brake at the same time. Contemporary shift levers are also brake levers, so that’s easy to do. Must’ve been designed by the same people who brought you those shower faucets that control temperature and flow at the same time, or the auto hi-beam lever that’s also the turn-signal lever. We stop in a funky old roadside store that was here when I lived in the County a few decades ago. There were a bunch of old guys sitting drinking on the porch. They were probably sitting there as stoned-out teenage hippies the last time I came by. Coke was $1.89, 60 cents more than the Fircrest Market.

Barnett Valley Rd, Sonoma County, CA, 3:27 pm. I learn and adopt Captain Triste’s term for judicious arrangement of sensitive body parts: “adjusting your nachos.” Only later does he instruct me in the art of discreet but brazen roadside urination while standing straddling the bike.

Thorn Ridge, CA, 8:00pm. The family is out at classes, meetings and whatnot. It’s just me, the Golden Retriever and the cat. After a naked sunbathe to spread the burn over my entire body, a bit of a lounge in the hot tub. You don’t have to die to go to heaven.

The sounds of Sonoma: a small garden fountain. wind chimes. calls of a bird or two. one dog bark. a long pause. a motorcycle going up a distant hill.

Dateline Thorn Ridge, CA, Thursday 7/24, 6:15 am.
Picking wild blackberries. Captain Normal has promised to bake a blackberry cobbler if I pick the blackberries. She doesn’t know I’d pick ‘em anyway.

How to pick blackberries: Wear kevlar body armor, steel-belted gloves, goggles, a helmet and hobnail boots. Bring alcohol for the scratches and punctures you’ll get anyway. Even better, a fire truck with a cherry picker.

How to select the right blackberry: It must be very dark shiny purplish black. If there is even one little berryette that’s slightly reddish, the whole thing will be unripe and bitter, like a hoppy ale. If you pull at one and it doesn’t come right off in your gloved fingers, don’t keep trying. The perfect blackberries are the ones that fell off and rolled deep into the impenetrable briar patch while you were trying to pick that stubborn one.

Tomales, CA, 11:14 am. We’ve passed into Marin County. We’re now on the main drag of Northern California cycling. Every cyclist within 200 miles stops at the Tomales Bakery for the scones. Not quite up to the scones at CT Bakery in NYC, but they will do. A group of cyclists were on a multi-day trip from Chico CA to San Luis Obispo. That route might have more vertical miles than horizontal. Capt T sees the local hotshot triathlete riding the same model of Specialized Roubaix Elite that he rides and has his cyclistical coolness reconfirmed. The Captain is really not feeling up to snuff today – probably the burritos he ate at class last night. I suspect he wouldn’t be riding today but for me. He might have to be renamed Captain Supermensch.

Tomales Estero, CA, 11:32 am. A pelican floats above the slough, hoping for a dive bomb.

The Marshall Store, Marshall, CA, 12:07 pm. Pay dirt. The Marshall Store is really a small oyster bar between the Shoreline highway and the long narrow Tomales Bay that sits in the San Andreas Fault trough. Half-dozen oysters on the half-shell for $10. I think they jumped right out of the bay, which is at least twelve feet away. They were worth the airfare, the rentacar and the bike rental. Heaven right here on earth. The Captain pled upset stomach and didn’t touch one. I risked dehydration for the next hour because the only liquid I had was Gatorade, which I couldn’t allow to wash away the flavor of oysters.

Point Reyes Station, CA, 1:15 pm. The Captain has a sandwich and a nap on a picnic bench while I ride another ten miles on to the Pt Reyes peninsula to the little town of Inverness. When I return, I buy a sandwich at the market and only have to return once to get the tomatoes I ordered put on it. The town is aswarm with cyclists. A group of scouts are on their way from Portland to San Francisco. They’re carrying everything including sleeping bags and cooking equipment.

Tomales, CA, 3:00 pm. On the return leg. Each hill gets more and more difficult. If this goes on much more I won’t have the strength to push my bike up the next hill. The ocean breeze doesn’t let up. My fingers are numb. I can’t feel to shift. Didn’t pack my ibuprofen. Why did I think the Tour de Sonomarin was such a great idea? The circling shadows of vultures on the road ahead lead us on. The Captain must be feeling better and sings Twist n Shout, Baby it’s You and The Name Game.

Fallon, CA, 3:19 pm. Sonoma aromas or les eaux de Sonome:
California bay trees in the canyons. Eucalyptus leaves in dry fields. The anise has been freshly mowed at the side of the road and smells like licorice sticks. Sea spray. Cow barns and chicken coops. Fabric softener wafting from my freshly-washed shirt.

Eagle’s Nest, Thorn Ridge, CA, 8:58 pm. Ready to collapse. Actually, collapsed. The longest ride – 75 miles.

Dateline Graton, CA, Friday 7/25, 10:33 am. Andy’s Farm Stand. Unbearably fresh ripe apricots. Juice down the front of the jersey. Look! The new Gravenstein apples are in! Just last week I was eating excellent ’07 New York Jonagolds, and now we’ve got a new year of apples!

Coleman Valley, CA, 11:17 am. Captain Triste has warned me about this hill since the first day. I had to exert pressure to get him to take me on this route. Coleman Valley Road starts out straight up, and it gets steeper from there. But the grade isn’t that long and the rewards are great. We go through a valley that feels like it’s hundreds of miles from any city. The narrow road winds through old farms and forests. Then another long climb and we come out on the top of a bare ridge 1700 feet above the ocean. A view 30 miles to the south, past Bodega Head to Point Reyes. To the north the forested ridge beyond Jenner. Out on the Pacific a little bit of Fog backs up, upwind from Bodega Head.

The moon
Falls face-first into the sea
At noon.

Bodega Bay, CA, 12:10 am. The vertical drop is as hard on the brakes as the climb was on the thighs. We may need to return to the bike shop for an adjustment.

Valley Ford, CA, 1:15 pm. A pickup truck at the side of the road. Fresh-picked cherries. I’d stop but Captain Triste is ahead of me.

Hopalong Brew Pub, Sebastopol CA, 2:55 pm. After getting a wee bike adjustment, we retire to the adjacent alehouse. Choices are all double extra hop or triple extra hop. I try unsuccessfully to find a less-raw brew. I find a way to force myself to drink a pint or two.

Pleasant Hill Rd, Sonoma County CA, 4:18 pm. We stop at a roadside lemonade stand run by young entrepreneurs and have a glass. Delicious, and considerably less expensive than Hopalong Ale.

Eagle’s Nest, 9:01 pm. Another magnificent day. The Captains barbecued some burgers and we ate outdoors.

Dateline The Marshall Store, Marshall CA, Saturday 7/26, 11:55 am. Oysters again. Mmmm… I convince Captain Triste to try one. Gamely he does, but shortly thereafter swallows a Clif bar to kill the taste. Today’s songs are Beatles songs. All Beatles, all the time.

Olema, CA, 1:24 pm. A long, long, long hill. The Captain is way ahead of me. Two cyclists, a man and woman, zoom right past me, then breeze past Captain Triste as well. They must have consumed a dozen oysters each.

Samuel P. Taylor State Park 1:42 pm. Another dark canyon with redwoods. The narrow road with a bad shoulder is full of traffic. Brooklyn in the redwoods. At least the drivers have Calif ecotourist attitudes.

San Geronimo, CA. Two Bird Café, 3:01 pm. On a deck shaded by redwoods above Lagunitas Creek we enjoy a palatable Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. We share a deep conversation about life, growing up, and growing up some more.

Crescent Circle, Fairfax, CA, 5:05 pm. We’ve reached our destination – the home of Captain Normal’s sister Major Normal and her husband Major Tom. We are treated to a delicious barbecue and are served a Gewürztraminer that’s as good as Tomales Bay oysters. The Majors then serenade us with a live concert of ukulele and melodica music. Watch for their upcoming posting on YouTube.

Hot Tub, Thorn Ridge, CA, 7:59 pm. Another perfect day. The family watches a video upstairs while I watch the sunset. Still no Fog, but Captain Normal says sometimes it creeps in early in the morning.

Dateline Thorn Ridge, CA, Sunday 7/27. Capt Normal was correct. A strange ground fog slowly grew up from the valleys after dawn. It burns off quickly and we decide to ride east now that it’s a bit cooler.

Alexander Valley, CA, 12:42 pm. We’ve come up Chalk Hill Road in the dry eastern hills. Every mile gets drier and hotter. It feels like we’re on the Ponderosa Ranch – I expect to see a stagecoach emerge from the piney scrub and turn in to one of the wineries. In spite of my wearing a hankie under my helmet, I’ve managed to get a patterned sunburn on the top of my head that matches the airholes in my helmet. We cycle to the very flank of the magnificent Mount St. Helena. I want to continue on to Geyserville but Captain Triste convinces me we should head back. He says the headwinds can get quite stiff in the afternoon. I think it’s because he played a game of tennis early in the morning.

Pleasant Hill Rd, Sonoma County, CA 4:45 pm. We’ve ridden down the Eastside Road along the Russian River and are now climbing back up the Ridge. A little tiring. I guess it was a good idea to turn back when we did. Where’s that lemonade stand when we need it? In this part of the county, roads are on a north-south-east-west grid, in spite of the hills. A road will suddenly jog 90° to the left, then back 90° to the right. At t-intersections, it’s common for a road to continue at 90° while the straight continuation is a road of a different name. They say you get used to it.

Eagle’s Nest, Thorn Hill, CA, 8:56 pm. Dinner included a salad with nasturtium blossoms. Never before have I flossed nasturtiums from between my teeth. Truly a Sonoma County experience. For dessert: blackberry cobbler.

Dateline Thorn Hill, CA, Monday 7/28, 9:00 am. The bad news: Captain Triste has a previous commitment and will not accompany me on the last leg of the Tour. The good news: he has allowed me to borrow his bike for the day. I get to test the 54cm carbon Roubaix Elite. This was why I brought my pedal wrench – to remove the Captain’s pedals from his bike and put mine on. Having no guidance I’m at loose ends. The Fog is in. Do I wear an extra layer? Where should I go? Should I bring food?

Chileno Valley, CA, 11:59 am. The Roubaix is stupendous and allows me to climb hills much more easily. Bare hills, tailwinds, cows. Just off to the west lurks a huge white wall of Fog. It’s amazing that this area, so close to the SF Bay, is completely undeveloped. Perhaps the prevailing winds blew the developers away. Long straight rows of giant blue gum eucalyptus planted as windbreaks and lumber speculation fodder l00 years ago. Captain Triste discouraged this route – something about headwinds. The only disadvantage I see is no oysters. When I get to the edge of Petaluma sprawl, I turn back on Spring Hill Rd. Whoops! Where did this hill come from? This road is awfully rough. And the headwinds. All of a sudden I’m cycling directly into serious gale-force winds. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?

Two Rock, CA, 2:02 pm. I’ve made it through the winds. Now all I need is a place to find a sandwich. No stores of any kind. Rather than pressing on to the coast, I decide to head back up the ridge while I still have half a bottle of diluted Gatorade. Also a week of riding aluminum and carbon has left me feeling like I’ve been whiplashed. Maybe my next bike will be titanium.

Bloomfield, CA, 3:31 pm. I can make it up this hill. I’ve made it before. I can make …

Hot Tub, Thorn Ridge, 5:00 pm. The family is at the County Fair. It has been a wonderful tour – far better than I was hoping. If only I could have another week of this.

Dateline Sebastopol, CA, WeCoRev Cycles, Tuesday 7/29, 10:01 am. After riding down the hill one last time, catching a few wild blackberries on the way, I sadly turn in my bike and retrieve my pedals. It’s been an awesomely great ride. Better start making plans for Tour de Sonomarin 2009. We can do the entirely vertical Sweetwater Springs Grade (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/Sweetwater-Willow-Creek), or climb the Marshall Wall with oyster break (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/70-miler-from-novato-via-marshall-petaluma).