I think there is more work to be done, but Hwy 9 is looking safer all the time.
It’s mating season so this guy is out looking for a companion. We ushered him off the road so he wouldn’t mess up someone’s car tires.
On our Mt. Hamilton ride last week (perfect weather) we also saw a giant tortoise behind The Junction store munching happily away on lettuce and carrots. At age 17 it’s just a teen-ager in tortoise years. Let’s hope its owners mention who gets it in their will. It could easily outlive all of us.
He never rode with Jobst, but as the country’s best cyclocross rider (6-time national champion, counting his Masters 35+ win), he knew exactly what it was all about.
It is offered here in its original wording as The Force Who Rides.
Laurence lives in Chimayo, New Mexico, where he rides on the area’s miles and miles of dirt roads. You can learn more about him by reading Cyclocross Magazine.
It’s one of the more spectacular rides in the Western U.S., which has a lot to offer from the Sierra to the Pacific Coast and Bay Area roads.
I rode there on Sunday, Sept. 14, which turned out to be a beautiful day for a bike ride, with the exception of the morning smoke from forest fires burning to the west and north. The smoke wasn’t bad and it cleared out by mid-morning.
My ride started at Crater Lake Lodge, altitude 7,100 feet, about 9:30 a.m. The only hotel with a view of the lake, it’s pricey and reservations need to be made months in advance.
We stayed in Klamath Falls about 1:15 away and, yes, there are no falls in Klamath. It would be more aptly named Raptorville. We saw dozens of hawks looking for a morning meal, perched on irrigation wheels in meadows by the roadside.
But I digress. My ride took a clockwise route, the obvious direction as you’re closest to the lake. There’s some huffing and puffing in the early going for someone used to sea-level riding, but soon enough I adjusted and the altitude didn’t bother me.
With 3,700 feet of climbing ahead, it came as no surprise that I had a long climb early on. Grades average 4-6 percent, so it’s nothing serious.
Because it’s late in the season, traffic was almost non-existent. If you’re really intent of avoiding cars, the road is closed for bikes only later in September.
With so many great views, the temptation to stop and take pics can add minutes to the ride, so count on at least three hours for the round-trip.
In the alpine setting, memories of past Sierra Rides rattled around. It’s easy to make the comparison, although the lake reminded me that this was Oregon and I didn’t have to worry about any 16 percent grades.
It’s almost impossible to get lost on this ride. I didn’t even bring a map. Just keep right at all the junctions. Over on the east side there’s a right turn to the Cloudcap Bay overlook, which adds two miles to the ride, for a total of 35 miles.
The east side is also where you’ll find the steepest descent where speeds of 40 mph can be reached if you’re willing to put up with the rough road.
While it’s all paved, there’s constant roadwork. Don’t be surprised to see short sections of dirt and construction. I’m sure lots of cyclists visit here, but I saw only two on my ride.
After driving on some of the approach roads, I can envision some long two-rides for hard-core riders. The roads are relatively free of traffic or have good shoulders. Hwy 97 out of Klamath Falls would be the lone exception. It has a narrow stretch bordered by lake and a cliff.
There’s a lot to see and do at the lake, including a boat ride, so plan on a day-long stay at minimum.
It bridges Skyline and 84, looking a lot like Old La Honda Road, but a bit steeper and straighter.
Surrounded by redwoods and a canopy of madrone and tan oak, it passes by the California Water Service watershed to the north and Wunderlich County Park to the south. As with many roads in the area, it was built for logging redwoods in the mid-1800s, before being purchased by San Mateo County in 1899.
As local cyclists know all too well, it’s closed to the public. Electronic gates block both ends to keep out all but occupants of about 25 residences near the road, tucked between watershed and parkland.
Here’s the rub
The county spent $350,000 in public monies to help pave the road. In fact, ever since 1964, San Mateo County has done more than its share to help landowners build their dream homes on Bear Gulch Road. Residents got together to form an assessment district back in 1964 and over the years the county approved it and finally paved the road in November 1979 at a cost of $1.2 million, with residents chipping in about two-thirds of the cost.
But like several roads up and down the Peninsula, it is partially owned by the county — and remains exclusively private.
Before the road was closed, the county seemed eager to keep the area open to the public and provide a road for residents as well. It hired a Redwood City engineering firm to design a road 22 feet wide, broad enough for two fire trucks to safely pass one another.
The public didn’t go for it. Who needed a road as wide as Highway 84? And besides, it was too costly.
Residents continued to pursue the idea until 1974, when Martin Wunderlich made a generous offer to sell Wunderlich Ranch (now Wunderlich Park) bordering Bear Gulch Road at an extremely low price. If taxpayers didn’t want a huge road before, now, with this classy land addition, they would never approve.
Bill Royer, chairman of the county board of supervisors at the time, and himself a former real estate developer, helped find a solution.
The county said that the area was a headache, that it was impassable during winter rains and sometimes closed in the summer from fire danger. Residents complained about people shooting guns and raising a ruckus.
Bear Gulch Road property owners met with county supervisors and public works director Sid Cantwell in 1976. County officials decided to abandon the road, then pave it at its current width of 12 to 16 feet, installing gates to keep the public out.
Not only would the landowners have their paved road, it would be private. In return, the county got a bargain on a paved fire road and access to Wunderlich Park for park vehicles in exchange for turning it over to private use.
A month after the road was paved, county supervisors held a public hearing to see if anybody objected to abandoning the road. Since the road width was not up to county standards [are they ever?], the county supervisors declared it as unsafe for public use; the vote for abandonment was unanimous.
Today the road is one of the best-maintained roads in the county, partly because it has so little traffic. Its surface is as smooth as the day it was paved [it was smooth back in 1989].
Even though it is the same width as nearby county roads, it has been declared unsafe, not just for cars but for bicycles, horses and pedestrians.
November 29, 1981
Riders: Jobst, Jim Westby, Tom Sullivan, Sterling McBride, Dave McLaughlin, Ted Mock, Bill Robertson, Rick Humphries, John ?, Paul Mittelstadt, Tom Ritchey
Route: Up Bear Gulch Road, down Swett Road, Star Hill Road to Native Son’s Cutoff, Tunitas Creek Road to Hwy 1, Stage Roads to Pescadero, Pescadero Road, up Alpine Road, down Page Mill Road
Weather: Cold, then cool, mild on the coast. Clear to partly cloudy
Tire/Mechanical failure: Sterling – flat
It has been said that a dog is man’s best friend. That may apply to bird hunters, but not to cyclists, especially when riders are on their bikes flying downhill.
Dogs and bikes have a nasty habit of colliding, like a magnet to steel. Jobst has had more than his share of encounters.
The riders showed up at Jobst’s doorstep well dressed for the cold weather. Sterling and Mack wore their new baby-blue foot warmers, inspired no doubt by the blue-footed booby commonly found on our Pacific shores.
Paradoxically, they dressed in shorts to face the numbing cold. I dressed more conservatively with a wool long-sleeve jersey and plastic bags for foot warmers. Everyone else suffered in regular cotton socks.
We took Sand Hill Road heading west on the newly paved and striped bike route. Jobst held a steady, yet conservative pace. He had already done some long rides over the Thanksgiving holiday. It was easy to tell because his red bike had a coat of mud, a bit more than you would normally see.
On Highway 84 outside Woodside, Jobst and Robertson became involved in a discussion (one often heard from Jobst) about nuclear weapons, overpopulation and the movies Alien and Wolfen. Jobst noted that the reason homes cost $100,000 on average around the country is because we are feeling the effects of a burgeoning population.
When people talk of head counts, they usually look to Bombay or Hong Kong. Overpopulation in the U.S. with its miles of empty prairie and high plains? No way.
The real riding began on Bear Gulch Road, a steep paved grade that never lets up all the way to Skyline Boulevard. Bear Gulch Road is also a very private road, so private in fact that a big steel electronic gate keeps out the curious near the base of the hill.
The road has a long and murky history involving wheeling and dealing, payoffs and greedy landowners who want their very own road. They paid to have it paved if San Mateo County would make it private and maintain it. [More on this later]
The county agreed but retained half-ownership. None of this ever stopped Jobst from riding on Bear Gulch Road, however. He grew up here and he continued doing what he had been doing since his youth, exploring the Santa Cruz Mountains by bike. Private property be damned.
We all followed along willingly, letting him deal with irate landowners when the time came. This Sunday was one of those times.
A mile past the gate we were stopped by a landowner driving an orange van. Maybe because Jobst is the tallest of the bunch, or because he looks like a natural born leader, he got tagged for a discussion about trespassing on the nicely paved road. The conversation went something like this:
“This is a private road, you know, so why don’t you turn back?”
“I know that,” Jobst said. “But look, we’re not trying to cause any trouble. We just want to ride our bikes through here.”
“But if somebody gets hurt, there could be trouble,” said the landowner. “We have to insure the road.”
“Well, the county technically owns half of this road. If it wasn’t for Mortimer J. Skinflint pushing the county supervisors so hard, this road would still be public.”
“That’s not true. This is a dangerous, narrow road. Some riders come flying down here and are a real hazard. [and we thought we were the only ones using the road]
“We’re not riding down and we never do,” Jobst claimed. “We just ride uphill. Besides, Old LaHonda Road is narrow and dangerous, and school buses drive it all the time. It’s a public road.”
“I don’t think you have all your facts straight about what this area is like,” the landowner argued. “What’s your name?”
“Brandt, Jobst, J-O-B-S-T.”
“Where do you live? What’s your address?”
“In Palo Alto. I’m in the phone book.” [they were still used back then]
“Well, the insurance is the real problem. We have to pay for it and we don’t want anyone hurt on this road and suing us.”
Jobst continued. “But I’ve been using this road even before it was paved. I know all about it. I bet I’ve used this road a lot longer than you.”
The landowner shot back, “I’ve lived here for 20 years.”
Jobst countered, “I’ve lived here longer than that.” [40 years]
The landowner never got upset during the conversation, but it wasn’t clear what he had in mind as he drove off.
We continued our ride, passing the landowner on the way as he worked on his house next to the road.
Jim, Tom S., and I fell off the back on the hard climb, no doubt a bit wasted from the previous evening of wine tasting.
After heading north on Skyline, we turned left onto the steep, pot-holed Swett Road and continued down to Star Hill Road, which turned to dirt soon enough.
But it was on a wide, gently sloping paved section where Jobst met his fate. A mongrel dog weighing at least 40 pounds dashed toward us, Jobst seemingly protected in the middle of the pack.
This dog didn’t pull up as dogs usually do. He barreled into us despite an angry chorus of commands from the riders. We all scattered and somehow Jobst tangled with the dog.
His bike fell out from under him and he rolled once, using his right hand to break the fall. He lay on the pavement for several seconds before moving. Then he sprung up and said, “I’m all right.” He only complained of a sore wrist and the shock of falling.
But Jobst’s bike wasn’t so lucky. I noticed that the paint had buckled in the downtube and top tube where they meet the head tube. Tom Ritchey came over to inspect his handiwork and determined that it was only warped, not broken, still safe to ride.
Jobst said this was his second dog collision. He had his other one 22 years ago with the same result — a broken frame.
Meanwhile, a motorist wearing his Sunday best drove up and honked at us to get off the road.
We continued the ride on Star Hill Road, peeling off onto the bumpy, leaf-covered Native Son’s Cutoff, a route only known to Jobst and friends. It turned out to be a muddy spoor after recent rains, so we slipped and slid down the road as our hands froze on the brake levers in the dark, dank forest.
Giant gray and and brown mushrooms covered the trail, which brought howls of delight from Sterling and Mack: “Shrooms!” Sterling then flatted, right where Tom R. had flatted a week ago, ruining an expensive silk sewup. That had proven enough for Tom, who was riding on new clinchers. [It was about this time that everyone switched to clinchers]
Back on Tunitas Creek Road we headed downhill, while Jobst turned back home, feeling the effects of the fall.
We headed to Pescadero on Stage Roads, stopping at the local grocery store for a bite to eat and to see Miss Pescadero 1981. We headed home over Haskins Hill and Alpine Road bathed in the late- afternoon sun on a November day.
Taking a page from past epic Jobst Rides, I headed to the coast and turned south for Santa Cruz and then even farther south to Corralitos.
I always bailed in Santa Cruz and headed up Mtn. Charlie while Jobst and friends continued south. I wanted to see if I had missed anything. On this Labor Day weekend it became clear that I had missed the annual Begonia festival in quaint Capitola by the sea.
This was one of those nice weekends where a long ride isn’t so bad when heading south on the Cabrillo Highway with a comforting 15-mph tailwind and clear skies. I missed out on the big waves earlier in the week from a distant hurricane, but there were still some decent breakers.
I marveled at the incredibly smooth pavement near Cascade Ranch. This has to be the smoothest stretch of pavement ever devised by Caltrans. Bravo.
After a stop in Davenport for an It’s It, I headed to Santa Cruz with more tailwind.
On this holiday weekend traffic backed up for miles as people jockeyed for a parking spot in Santa Cruz. Others wisely took the train from Felton. I negotiated my way along East Cliff Drive past the boardwalk and then crossed the railroad bridge over the mighty San Lorenzo River.
The river is more like a creek now, which is not a good thing because the city gets all its drinking water here. It’s no wonder they have severe water rationing.
Take my advice and stick to the narrow pedestrian path rather than taking the railroad, no matter how tempting the tracks might look when the path is jammed with walkers.
As I entered Capitola I noticed a huge crowd gathered on the Soquel Creek bridge downtown. I was asked to dismount and enjoy the begonia festival. This was the first time I had seen so many Begonians in one place. They looked indistinguishable from other Capitola residents, except for their fascination with Soquel Creek, where I was hard pressed to see much of anything. However, I later learned that the Begonians were worshiping floats festooned with begonias grown locally on 43 acres of prime begonia growing land.
I have every reason to believe that Begonians and Rosicrucians have a lot in common. Instead of begonias, the Rosicrucians worship, you guessed it, roses. Their headquarters is located next to the San Jose Rose Garden.
I left the Begonians, still pouring into Capitola, behind and headed to Corralitos through two scenic agricultural valleys known for growing apples — Valencia and Day.
As I rode past apple orchards next to Valencia Road I came across a most unusual scene – an unoccupied apple stand. Bella & Sons Orchard is unique in this regard – they trust people. I know, it’s hard to believe in this day and age, but you could help yourself to a bunch of apples for $4, and the bags were provided. I picked a green Washington apple. Delicious. I stuck $1 into the iron payment post and continued on my way.
After riding up Horrible Hames Road, I coasted into Corralitos and had a bite to eat, but didn’t feel like a sausage sandwich at Corralitos store this time around.
The rest of the ride took me up Eureka Canyon Road and Highland Way where I passed the usual crowded car park of mountain bikers enjoying Demonstration Forest. If they happen to be riding Trek brand mountain bikes I hope they check their forks because there’s a massive recall on the Suntour brand. I really feel sorry for companies that build mountain bike forks. It’s a losing situation.
Finally, I blasted down Old Santa Cruz Highway and noticed paving continues, which is a good thing because the road has a lot of cracks. And so ended a truly epic-style Jobst Ride of 123 miles.
I was reminded that we live in earthquake country this morning at 3:30 a.m. when I was awakened by the Napa temblor. It was mild compared to 1989 when I rode home from Cupertino to Palo Alto through streets with no traffic signals.
Fortunately the South Bay wasn’t affected this morning. I saw nothing out of the normal on the ride to Santa Cruz.
However, I noticed that Mountain Charlie Road has a new coat of pavement lower down, seemingly unpaved since Charlie McKiernan sold his toll road to the county of Santa Cruz in 1878.
Old Santa Cruz Highway also has a new coat of pavement near Summit Road. Most of the road hasn’t been paved in 15 years and it’s starting to show, with large fissures that could catch a wheel.
After eight years of trying, California cyclists have an added measure of legal protection from motorists who take pleasure in buzzing cyclists, starting September 16. Don’t think for a minute that these buzz jobs are innocent oversights. They’re mostly intentional and they send a clear message: “Get the hell off my road!”
It’s a daily occurrence and one veteran cyclists live with, knowing there’s little they can do about it. That may change with this law, combined with actioncams like the popular GoPro used by riders in growing numbers.
I’ve had more than a few encounters that were so close the gap could be measured in inches, including several Santa Clara VTA buses. Now I ride with a Mobius actioncam, and while it won’t save my life, it could be used as persuasive evidence before a judge.
But back to the bill, signed into law by Gov. Jerry Brown in 2013. In essence it says, “A driver of a motor vehicle shall not overtake or pass a bicycle proceeding in the same direction on a highway at a distance of less than three feet between any part of the motor vehicle and any part of the bicycle or its operator.”
SB 1464 by Alan Lowenthal was vetoed by the governor in 2012 because it authorized drivers to cross over double yellow or double white pavement markings in order to provide the minimum three-foot clearance when overtaking a bicyclist. In his veto message, Gov. Brown noted that the bill could increase the incidence of head-on collisions for which the California Department of Transportation could be liable. That provision was removed.
Ironically, the city of Los Angeles sponsored Assembly Bill 1371 put forth by Steven Bradford, State Assembly district 62, which includes Gardena and surrounding communities.
I don’t think this law will change behaviors, but if it saves one life, it was worth the eight-year journey through the California state legislature.
One of my favorite roads is Big Basin Way in the Santa Cruz Mountains, the section connecting Hwy 9 and Big Basin State Park, but let’s not call it by its official state moniker: Highway 236.
It’s a narrow, winding road where every turn is a blind corner.
Highway 9 (big Big Basin Way) looks more like a highway, and more so all the time as the state continues its widening project. There are two signal stops now, one at the Saratoga Creek pump station entering the twisty section, and the other about a half-mile up from Redwood Gulch Road.
The twisty section is being widened considerably. Whether or not other blind corners with no shoulder will be widened is not known. There’s another section slated for widening higher up between the two current work sites.
But back to Big Basin Way, or Hwy 236. I have nothing against car rallies, but the Porsche tour de force on Sunday coming at me was a bit much as they cut corners at every bend in the road. I stopped riding. They weren’t driving crazy fast, but with so many cars it didn’t matter.
On Skyline Boulevard I developed a powerful thirst, which could mean only one thing: a visit to the coke machine at the Los Altos Rod and Gun Club. I enjoyed a club soda while lounging on a deck chair. The desultory sound of gunfire and the American flag on the tool shed reminded me that I was in Reagan country.
It brought back memories of the early ’70s when I fired an AR15, its long-hair owner (who later became a lawyer) anticipating the coming “revolution.”
Jobst used to stop here for a drink. In addition to the secret coke machine, he introduced me and others to the joys of drinking from springs and chastised those who feared giardia or other beasties. He even eschewed the bike water bottle.
Only in his later riding years did Jobst start carrying a satchel with Pepsi, which he guzzled by the quart.