Tuesday, August 4: The Hess Option

It is the morning ride overview, and Doug is pointing at a 6 mile loop on the map. "It's a really beautiful winery, but the roads to get there are really steep. That's why it's an option."

Raleigh Andrea asked, "Like on a scale of 1 to 10, how steep is it?"

Doug thought a second. "7," he said. Then he immediately backpedalled, "but my 7 may be different than your 7." He thought a second more. "Let's put it this way. If you all started up the hill, I think 3/4 of you would need to walk your bike part of the way But the good news is ... if you do this, then I can use it as a barometer for all the rest of the climbs this week. It's like 'It's worse than Hess' or 'It's easier than Hess.' You know."

(Left to right: Travellin' Tom, Me, Houston Caryn and Harry, Philly Arve and Connie, Boston Elaine and Geoff).

So more than half of us take the option. We start pedalling up the hill and it's pretty simple at first. Then the hills start appearing. We get to the top of one, only to find it's a false summit and continues on beyond - maybe around a curve or after an extremely short plateau. I start out behind Philly Arve, the million-year old guy who worried me the first day. About halfway to the top, I pass him up. "He'll never make it," I said to myself.

On the last hill, I'm in absolute first gear (1st gear in front, 1st in back) wheezing and whsipering, "Mommy!" under my breath. I move slowly but steadily. There is no shame in using the Granny Gear - there is only shame in stopping. Finally I make it to the top, and I practically fall off the bike in exhaustion. Woo hoo! I am one of the 25%!

And then, I turn around and see Philly Arve puffing up the hill. He pedals into the bike rack of Hess Winery and says, "Well, that was hard." I pick my jaw off the ground. Holy crap! This guy is healthy for a guy any age, much less in his 70's. Boston Geoff tells me Philly Arve works out with a trainer every day. Wow! All I can say is ... I hope I'm that buff when I'm his age. I have a newfound respect for him.

The 7 of us in the picture above make it, in addition to Raleigh Andrea and Sherry, who get there far ahead of us. That's close to 50% of the people making it without walking. Doug had underestimated us!

The Hess winery has a unique, stunning 3-floor collection of modern art. One of the pieces, a flaming typewriter with real flame, holds me transfixed for minutes. Another, a video portrait of 4 rocks displayed through grainy red-filtered film, hypnotizes me. A lot of people find modern art sterile and incomprehensible, and a few of my compatriots agree. But I find myself with emotions and impressions that only modern art can hoist to the surface. Add some really tasty wine to that, and you have the stuff of memories.

For lunch we meet at the Chateau La Fleur winery and have Doug and Dan's homemade Chinese Chicken Salad. It's fantastic! After the Hess option, we were famished and ate everything in sight. It's the beautiful thing about a bike tour. Eat all you want - you just burn it off later!

We get on the road again and start plowing through a different kind of country: forest-y and deep sided. We scrape the sides of the hills. I marvel at the contrasts between different patches of groundin the valley.

Houston Harry calls out, "I hear wild turkeys!"

I go, "Where?" Two seconds later KA-POW - I'm in the ditch. The front gear teeth dig into my calf. Y'owch! But a minute later, I'm back on the road and forging ahead. And really, what's a bike tour without injuries? How does anyone know you've been riding unless you have marks to prove it?

We end the day's 30+ mile long ride in Sonoma, California. The beautiful town square is lined with shops and an espresso bar, where I park myself for a doppio. People are setting up for the farmer's market and I watch them.

The Zucchini Races are split into three divisions: small, medium and large. Kids take Zucchini, add wheels and decoration, then let them go down the track. Prizes are given for the fastest and the prettiest in each class. (Basically, whatever is not the fastest is designated the prettiest, so everyone gets a prize.)

I love the crowd here, and I walk around eating a carton of pad thai and surveying everything Kids congregate in their school cliques around the duck pond. Families are spread out on blankets enjoying whatever they've found at the stands. There's wine, of course. A kid of about 3 pulls down his pants in the middle of the grass and pees on the lawn, moving back and forth to create a sprinkler effect as his mother is busting a gut laughing. Yep. This is California. The rules are a little different here.

After seven-layer bar ice cream at Ben and Jerry's, I end up at Murphy's Irish Pub for the after-market party. A sign says, "We don't have Bud ... don't ask!" Mad Dog is playing acoustic guitar on the patio. He plays every Mississippi John Hurt song ever recorded, and pretty well I might add! Mad Dog is a brewer by trade, and offers everyone in the crowd one pint of his signature IPA. (I decline, sticking to Dewars all night. I have sponsors to appease.) During his break, I talk to him about the Deep South and Delta Blues.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the back parking lot as a guy sucks toke after toke on a joint. This is Calfornia. I feel the culture start to sink into my bones and heal old wounds. For the first time, I understand why people move here. And stay.