Monday, August 3: Swank-kay!

(From Left: Chicago Diane, Chicago Terry, Travellin' om, LA Caroline)

The morning is cloudy and nippy. I'm confused. Isn't California supposed to be bright and sunny? I bought flip-flops and shorts back in Lincoln just for this climate, and I had damn well better use them!

I meet up with LA Caroline at breakfast where we discuss Scooter Libby and the TV show Monk. She asks me about forensic accounting. I find it impossible to lie to her, and spill my guts immediately. I'm just a lowly Software Architect, not the exciting Forensic Account who busts the Bernie Madoff's of this world.

Houston Harry and Houston Caryn sit at our table. Houston Harry asks me about forensic accounting. LA Caroline giggles a little bit, I suppose waiting to spill my guts again. I don't. I go on a lying rampage. I invent colleagues, research projects, a Curriculum Vitae, courses to teach, and a current obsession with Enron. Houston Harry said he hates regulation, and I tell him that forensic accountants don't want any new laws. They are too busy enforcing the laws already on the books. I pull this all out of my ass, and Caroline is looking rather shocked.

Well lying through my teeth is fun, but biking is even more fun. Here's how it works on our tour. Each morning we get a cue sheet for the main route. There are little side trips mapped out as well - you can do something simple like visit a winery, or more complex and challenging like tackling a hill. Sometimes a winery sits on a huge hill and you do both. There are a few break points where we can get snacks, and we're counted to make sure we're not lost. (All of us have cell phones so we can make a call). We all meet up for lunch, then diverge again.

Lemme tell you - this is swanky! At a rest stop you get off your bike, grab a snack at the snack table (often they're homemade, like the granola bar+peanut butter+banana+chocolate one). By the time you get back to your bike, they have filled up your water bottle. Ahhhhh!

And they have solutions for every problem. Too tired? Just call the van and they'll pick you up. Flat tire? Well, that's not very likely with their thorn-resistant tires and sealant, but if it happens, they just replace the whole wheel.

We start off riding, and accidentally I get in with a slow pack. I find myself pedaling while braking, just to look like I'm busy but not boastful. It gives me time to notice the scenery. It is breathtaking! There are vast hills on the east and west sides of us, filled with brown grass and trees - kind of desert-y. The grapevines, however, are lush and green. Huge windmills, like the one you see to the left, blow any frost off at night.

The sky clears to a bright blue, the sun is pounding, yet the air is a perfect 68 degrees - dry and yet soft. Later one of my hotel mates says, "It's like this every day." I always think that'd be boring, but now I wonder. There's so many microclimates and terrains all squished together ... it's like getting lots of variety every day. And that's at least as good as getting variety over the year.

Our first rest stop is at Mumm Napa Valley where they make Champagne. And yes, we can call it that. By treaty, all countries of the world agree to only allow sparkling wine from France's Champagne region to be called Champagne. But the U.S. didn't sign that treaty. It was drawn up in the 1920's, when Prohibition still ruled the land.

After the tour, I rode out with Raleigh Sherry and Andrea. They are much faster than my previous contingent, but not outrageously so. I have a good feeling about them ... that they and I will do a lot of cycling together over the next week. We get to St. Helena for lunch first, and go to a local deli. The vinaigrette they put on Sandwiches, according to Andrea, was to die for. She was about ready to lick it off the sandwich and suck it out of the bread.

In the St. Helena park, I talked with the mother-and-daughter team of Atlanta Jean and Laura. They have taken a lot of vacations together, all over the country. Laura is color blind. Yeah, I thought the same thing - doesn't the color blindness gene appear only on the male chromosome? But this is a different kind - she actually sees colors, but they're incorrect and blurred together.

Atlanta Jean and Laura feel most like the Midwesterners I just left behind. No BS. People you could hug immediately and not embarass them at all.

While the others are milling around time, I'm kinda restless. So I take the 17 mile option to Calistoga, up one side of the Napa River and down the other. It was a nice jaunt, more like the ones I take at home on weekends. I pass the Old Faithful Geyser (in small print: "of California"). Doug tells me, "It's so phony, not even the tourists stop there." Meanwhile, I feel my legs starting to burn. It was so cold and cloudy in the morning, I didn't put on any sun screen. Uh oh.

In the afternoon, Chicago Diane and Terry and LA Caroline and I loaf around the wineries. We go to Beringers, which is huge. I do my first actual wine tasting there and get some good picks. Their reserve Cabernet is fantastic. We visit the Grapevine Wreath Company where ... as you might expect, they make all kinds of art out of dried grapevines. All in all it was a very lazy, strolling kind of afternoon.

At dinner, Boston Geoff and Elaine sit across from me. Boston Geoff tells how he got a heart attack at 38 years old. That's a life-changing thing, of course. I think it accounts for the couple's unusually strong bond. He dropped his chronic smoking and stress, concentrating his vices into one: swearing. He's really good at it. For some people, four letter words are carelessly used, but he uses the f-word as a well-placed exclamation point.

Boston Elaine wants to know which of my statements is a lie. What does a forensic account do? What brand of cigarettes did I smoke? What book did I write? What kind of dance lessons did I take?

She finally runs out of questions, sits back, and concludes, "You're a serial killer."

It is the crowning accomplishment for the day!