King Ridge

King Ridge claims the rep of the best road ride in Northern California. Combined with Coleman Valley, it's 71 miles of steep ups and fast descents. Other than a few tailwind-assisted miles on Highway 1, where obese camper vans sit impatiently on your shoulder, the roads are almost all one-lane no-car. It's the centerpiece of Levi's GranFondo next month (which seems to me like a ridiculously expensive century with timing chips - but for a good cause).

Anyway, yes, it was great. Sun all day except the fast foggy miles on Hwy 1 and the first section of Coleman Valley. Felt strong, though I sandbagged on the Ridge to avoid blowing up early. In fact, I went so slow on the steep bits that these annoying little gnats could keep pace and make tora-tora-tora raids into my eyes. Just when I ran out of water, I came across the Fort Ross School Sunday Market, where I learned delicious tamales from Honduras are wrapped in banana leaves, instead of corn husks.

On the way home, I stopped by Freestone for an orange chocolate scone and a round of great nutty fruity bread with cardamom. Then a strawberry milkshake in Sebastapol. After-ride eating - the best eating.

I failed to sell my Atlantis frame this evening. The damn stem is seized in the head tube, so I'll have to get the shop to knock it out.