Bohemianism is the practice of an unconventional lifestyle, often in the company of like-minded people, with few permanent ties, involving musical, artistic or literary pursuits. In this context, Bohemians can be wanderers, adventurers, or vagabonds.
-Wikipedia
Or cyclists. Strung out on Bohemian Highway with twin Freewheel/Hunter riders leading the way, the pandas started their journey. We caught the tail of the peloton before Moscow rode and settled down before the official “it’s on” at Hwy 116. I sat up, and looked around. I was last. Last place. Hmmm, there were others on the road behind me, having suffered from flats or minor phobias, but I was it - the tip of the tail of the peloton. So I did the only logical thing I could think of, I slowed down.
My move paid off. Jeb came chirping down the road. We rode side by side knowing that two pandas are certainly better than one. A third cyclist (though not panda, certainly bohemian) joined us. Her Flemish was flawless, and she was wearing a kilt and riding with cages on a “classic” steed. Becky (her name was Becky, not Ducky) explained that she was taking a dump when the gun went off and that despite her PRO status, she enjoyed these uncompetitive rides. While I couldn’t comment on her start, I certainly shared her enjoyment of the grasshoppers. We continued riding down Cazadero Hwy when what to my wondering eyes should appear before me but another panda! Becky headed down the road while the three pandas regrouped and continued through Cazadero to the base of Fort Ross where I soloed on to regain my place in line. Being last again was a bit daunting, but I shouted back to my panda mates “Don’t worry I’ll catch up.” A tall order, seeing there was no cutting. If I wanted to see another panda on the parcours, I better hustle.
And hustle I did. Fort Ross is truly spectacular climb. As I climbed, I started catching riders who had fallen off the back. First a couple of blokes stopping for a pee brake, then Becky, then another two. Another couple, then a few more before the summit. A left on Myer’s Grade and – whoa baby! Yeehaw! The descent was glorious. Not so much in terms of speed, but this descent could stand alone. It is all about forward, whereas many other descents are merely an afterthought, with the main attraction left behind. At the bottom I met up with the Pacific and some lads from Soulcraft. We pacelined down Rte. 1 each taking our pull. Thanks again Soulcraft! A left on Willow Creek (no time to stop for the Curry Special!) and a slog through the pocked pavement. At the base of Willow Creek I said goodbye to my companions (some stopping to help a fellow hopper, others dropped by yours truly ;). The start of the climb was in pretty good condition but the final third was a bit wet, mud sucking onto my road tires. Despite the conditions, I made it to the gate on my bike and faster that last month’s time (Hopper Old Caz). A quick piss while the boys at NorCal cleaned my drivetrain (bike, not ...umm, nevermind). Man, I felt like a PRO. Until …
Coleman Valley. Lonely Times. Oh so lonely. What songs do you sing when you are lonely? What do you say when you are lonely and who do you say it to? Up here my pace slowed, my eyes searched the horizon, my thoughts rode away with the only person to have passed me since Fort Ross. Behind me another was catching up. I was leaving, giving up … surrendering … succumbing.
Dam it Jim, snap out of it! And I did. I continued up Rte.1 to Bay Hill and back down. I was gaining speed again, gaining a sense of purpose. I was ready for enlightenment, I was ready for Joy! Although it was brutal, converting riders to walkers, I made it up with only a half dozen expletives. For every pitch Joy pulled from the earth, I pushed back. Deep breath, now Push! Heave! Ho! I did it! I had regained my place in line and I was going to finish. Time down? Perhaps, but efforts up.
Riding into Occidental I finally rejoined the other pandas for some cheers and beers. A fine day of riding and relaxing in the company of like-minded people.
