The toot was, as luck would have it, loud enough to interrupt the conversation to which I had been listening. I heard both women giggle and the conversation died. As we walked down the center aisle of the 757, I heard one woman ask the other which row her seat was in. "Nineteen," came the answer. I glanced down at my boarding pass still displayed on my phone. Row 19D came the answer to my unspoken question. Interesting.

19C continued the woman directly behind me. "Oh... I'm only one row different!" Exclaimed her travel companion. Both of them had probably already forgotten the giggle they had shared just moments before. As I approached row 19 and placed my bag in the overhead bin, I'm guessing the memory returned accompanied by the horror that the might be sitting next to the farter. Then, confirmed when I placed my windy oriface in the center seat on the same side of the aisle where one woman's ticket indicated.

For a moment, I relished in the fact that she must be cringing inside at the 4 hour flight sitting next to the guy who might be gassy the entire time. A moment later, I hoped I had another in the chamber.

Alas, twas not to be.

At the baggage claim in San Francisco, I helped the same woman lift her bag of the carousel as it had become trapped at the top where she couldn't reach it. Her friend commented that it must be nice to be big and strong like me. To that, my aisle-mate said, "He's great. He was an awesome seat mate and now he's helpful at baggage claim!"

I found the AirBnB without issue. Located the keys under the mat as promised, and made my way up the stairs. The instructions weren't clear as to which door I should enter at the top of the stairs. On the right, apartment A. On the left, apartment B. A mental coin flop decided it for me and I jammed the key into the lock on door B. Winner!

As I walked down the hallway, I noted the rooms. Right side - laundry room. Left side - locked room with "1" on the door. Right side - kitchen. Left side - bathroom. Left side - bathroom again... weird. Right side - open room with "3" on the door. Straight ahead - open room with "2" on the door.

My instructions told me that I was in room 3. So, I drug my suitcase, my laptop bag and my camera bag into the nicely appointed bedroom. There was a desk and a side-table, an armoire, a 3-drawer dresser a nice queen size bed and a night stand. Everything I would need for 2 nights and then some. From one of the windows you could see a part of downtown SF.

With my walking legs all warmed up, I decided to walk from McAllister & Steiner to 425 Jefferson St. Three miles.

It was a really nice walk. That city is so pretty and so nice that I could spend days just wandering around. Here are some pics I took with my phone along the walk. The house reminded me of my memory of the Mrs Doubtfire house. More on that, later.

I picked up the rental bike without any problem and rode back to the AirBnB picking the steepest, hilliest route I could find. Once back the the house, I changed into riding gear and grabbed my camera bag to go do some sight-seeing.

As you can see, I west west toward the ocean making my way through Golden Gate Park. There were people everywhere in the park. It was a beautiful afternoon despite the threat of rain. About half way through the park, the threat became reality and I had to hide under a tree as a light drizzle wet the pavement.

As I waited under the tree, where the pavement was still dry for the moment, I heard some commotion on the hill directly behind me. Not knowing what kind of exotic wildlife I might spot, I pulled out my camera, spun around and snapped this picture. Wildlife indeed. I continued my ride toward the coast after the rain let up a bit. It was still sprinkling, but it wasn't enough to keep me from riding. I stopped and snapped some pictures of the things that grabbed my eye as I rode along. This one old, majestic tree just screamed at me to snap some photos.

And, the bison didn't seem to mind me snapping some shots, either. Riding on farther, I eventually reached the beach. There, I found some kiteboarders who were just coming in. There was one brave soul still out there riding despite the fact that virtually everyone else had given up. As luck would have it, I snapped a few pictures of those guys, too.

They said that the wind had been better earlier but that none of it was in the forecast. It just came up without warning. We get winds like that here, too... rarely. By April 4th, I usually have half-dozen water sessions under my belt. This guy said that he usually has 25 sessions by this point in the year. That moved San Francisco higher on my list of places to live some day. Not that it needed any help. It's already high on my list. I just can't afford it... EVER. Any way, he was rolling up his wet, sand covered kite as the wet sand just seemed to cling to his kite like crabs cling to a $5 hooker.

Farther up the coast to the north, there's The Cliff House restaurant which overlooks Sutro Baths and the beach below. Of course... more kite pictures.

I continued around to the north side of that same park area and spotted some great shot opportunities. The shots of the waves crashing into the rocks at Sutro Baths are some of my favorites

Then, the rain picked up again. I had one small tree to hide under and I'm not sure how long it was going to keep the ground (and me) dry beneath as the rain had been coming down for a few minutes already. I took my chances and stayed there until the rain had passed, again. It didn't take long. While I waited, I snapped off a few more pictures of the park and the ocean.

Little did I know what waited for me as I rounded the corner after the rain had stopped. I was literally 100 feet from being able to see the bridge when I snapped those last few pictures above. I pedaled around the corner and I was greeted with the most amazing and awe inspiring view that I've seen on a bicycle to date. I share that with you here... now.

...but wait, there's more. I snapped a few shots of the far shore because I thought the light and the shadow from the clouds were pretty cool.

Then, I rode on a little closer to the bridge and snapped some more shots.

As I rode past this group of people, I didn't realize at first that it was a wedding ceremony. When I got close, I heard them talking about the rainbow and what a good omen it is. Then, I realized it was a wedding. Rain on your wedding day = good luck. A HUGE rainbow landing on the Golden Gate Bridge as a gay couple takes their vows on a cliff side overlooking the bay = priceless. I wish them ever lasting happiness. I know I will always remember the day of their wedding. Even if I have no clue who they are.

I wandered along that path for a bit. It went from paved to gravel to a single track path through the steep hills. Since I was on a rented road-bike, I didn't chance it. I turned around and went back out the way that I came. That, of course, led me back to the kiters. Though, this time, it was a completely different group of guys. The B-shift had shown up. I stopped and talked and took some more pictures. Of course.

From there, I decided I had seen enough for the day and I made my way back to the AirBnB. I parked the bike in my room and looked up the closest grocery store on Google Maps. It was less than a mile away, and I didn't have a bike lock (left it at home), so I walked up and got some food. On the way back, I stopped at Subway and got a sandwich. I washed that sandwich down with some local(?) craft beer. They had a nice selection at the Safeway, but only one porter and one stout. Hardships... right? I was asleep by 9:30 that first night. Of course, my body thought it was 12:30 and I had been up since 5:15. It was a long day.

Since the Golden Gate Bridge is just a mile or so from where I rented the bike, I went to the bike rental place, first. The sign on the window said they open at 8 and it was 8:15 when I rolled up. Unfortunately, as is typical for California, Open/Close times are more like approximations than actual deadlines. I tried calling the phone number on the window. Nobody answered.

I had a spare tube in my saddle bag, so in a worst-case scenario, I could just change that back tube. That would leave me without a tube and I was heading up Mt. Tamalpais. That didn't seem wise. Not entirely sure what my plan was, I rode along toward the bridge when I happened upon a Sports Basement. In the parking lot, there were at least a dozen cyclists getting ready for their ride. I turned into the parking lot and rode up to a guy who was standing with his lift-gate open. As I arrived at his back bumper, I noticed that he had a pump which I promptly asked to borrow. He agreed and I changed my tube right there in the parking lot. Then, I went inside and bought a replacement tube. I should have bought a 6-pack.

At the base of the bridge, I met up with some other riders who introduced themselves as Pete, Moses, Pam, and Bill. They were chatting with another group and I thought they might all be leaving together. I struck up a conversation with Pete and asked him about the ride they were doing. Pete wasn't sure. It was apparently Bill's choice. However, they did intend to climb a hill or more. Pete asked Bill and Bill rattled off some roads and destinations that my or my not have included some towns or valleys or mountains. I can't know. But, Pete turned and said that they would lead me up to the point where I can take a right hand turn to go up to summit Mt Tam.

Perfect!

That was what I wanted to do! It wasn't the Alpine Dam ride. It was a bit more direct than that. It did, however, get me to the top of Mt. Tam. Along the way, I stopped a few times to take out my phone and snap a picture or two. The first picture is one of the areas along the climb where you can see the Pacific coast. The second, a panoramic, is a bigger view of that same spot. Here it is full size. Later, I stopped at one of the steeper hills to capture yet another stunning view. These two are looking back at the city - I think. I wanted to give you some idea of the hills that I was climbing and the next two seem to give you a vague idea. They capture the difference between the grade and a flat-ish surface above and to the right in the picture looking up the road and up the hill. The next one, believe it or not is 180 degrees from the first road picture... looking down hill. Cameras just don't do a good job of capturing hills. Nor do they do anything to convey the pain and suffering of climbing those hills on a bike. Worse still, they can't capture the elation and exhilaration experienced when one sets a difficult goal - like climbing Mt Tam on a bike - and reaching that goal under your own power and with little or no help from others. I'm not sure where the last two were taken, but I'm including them here because they seem more like the Mt Tam climb than the Hawk Hill ride from Sunday. In any case, these are typical of the views that I took in over the course of two days of riding in the hills north of San Francisco. I hope this helps you understand why I go to these meetings early just to ride a bike. If nothing else, I hope it helps you understand what makes me tick.

And more beautiful scenery from along the ride...

At the summit, I wanted to get some pictures of the brand new Black Swamp Cog Monster jersey. I think this may be a tradition that I've started. Climb a big hill, get a picture of the BSCM jersey at the top. That'll give me something to post on the brand's website once it's up and running. There was an information board at the top of the hill where you're facing back toward the city. It gives you mileage to each of the landmarks in the distance.

Now, the fun begins. After eating the remaining trail mix I'd brought with me, I sat at the summit for a bit. Then, I went back to the water fountain to fill my water bottles. I had to wait a moment as 6 or 7 young ladies who had also just climbed Mt Tam on their bikes filled their water bottles. They were giving a hard time to one of their group who was wearing a short sleeve jersey, bib shorts, no leg-warmers and shoe covers. Admittedly, it did seem odd. She immediately defended herself by stating that last winter, she got frostbite on several of her toes while doing a 50 mile bike ride in February... in Minnesota!

One of the girls turned to me and said, "Who plans a 50 mile ride in Minnesota in February?"
"Minnesotans!" was my reply as I filled my water bottle.

These girls seemed nice and one was from Flint, Michigan. She asked where I was from and when I said Toledo, she said, "Oh... that's where we stooped for gas on the way to Cedar Point every year."
That's not exactly what Toledo aspires to be known for, but... I'll take it.

We all started off to descend together and I was looking forward to some conversation as I'd been riding by myself for a while. Unfortunately, they rode on ahead as I realized that my front tire was flat.

Flat Tire #2 of the day!

Unreal.
I pulled off to the side of the parking area and replaced my tube lamenting the fact that I wouldn't be riding down the hill with the company of those lovely young ladies and their chatting. Apparently, I missed a spot when I checked the nearly finished product for pinches. A pinch is when the tube gets stuck under the lip of the tire and then gets pinched between the tire and the rim when you inflate. It sounded like a gun shot. I had just put the wheel back in the forks when BOOM!

Flat Tire #3 of the day!

The tube exploded. Before I inspected the damage, I envisioned a hole in the tire. I thought for sure the tube had exploded with such force that it surely had destroyed the tire. I'm pretty sure I yelled out an expletive as tossed the wheel to the ground, ripped off my gloves and took off my helmet. I was sure that I was up the creek without a paddle. Or, up the mountain without a tube as it were. The thoughts racing through my head were troubling. How would I get back to the AirBnB, now? If I called the bike rental place, would they come get me? If not, would a cab or an Uber car come this far out? And if they would, could I afford it?

Just before I plopped my ass on the ground in defeat, as I reached for my phone to call San Francisco Bikes, another cyclist came over and offered me a tube.

"Thank you so much!" I said.
"No problem."
"Do you, by any chance have a spare CO2 cartridge?" I asked explaining that this was my third flat on the day. "Sure thing. Here you go," he said handing me a CO2.

My focus shifted from searching for my phone to searching for my wallet. I handed him $10 and thanked him profusely. At first, he rejected the remuneration, but I insisted. He had no idea how much money and effort he had just saved me. Ten dollars was easy. I'd have gladly paid $20 at that point.

Another pair of cyclists came over to see if I needed anything and stayed there chatting while - once more, I changed out my tube. This time I made extra sure to run my fingers around the inside of the tire (again) and check for pinches (again)... and again for good measure. The last thing I wanted was another flat! Satisfied, I inflated the tube with the CO2, mounted it on the bike, gathered my garbage and the gear that I'd spread about the area. I packed everything away, spotted a garbage can where I could dispose of the old tube and CO2, and made my way off the top of the mountain.

Descending on a road bike on a two lane road with little or no traffic is a blast. Reaching speeds of 40+ MPH is exhilarating! It's one of the other rewards of riding a difficult climb such as this. I was just beginning to enjoy that reward, when I heard the unmistakable sound of Pssssst-fsssst-fsssst as my back tire sprung a leak at 38 miles per hour. Flat Tire #4 of the day!

I slowed, then walked my bike over to the oncoming traffic side of the road and began walking my bike down toward a parking area where I saw several cars parked. Surely there would be a mountain biker with a patch kit and a tire parked there, right? As I walked along, one rider passed me going up the hill. He didn't slow or offer to help. He was suffering a great deal on his climb. I could see it in his face. I didn't blame him. If I were riding alone and I only had a single tube and CO2 to rescue myself, I don't think I would have offered help, either. A moment or two later, the two guys that I had talked with as I changed out my front tube rode past on their descent. They recognized me instantly. I held up 4 fingers indicating that this was flat #4 on the ride. The first rider said, "Oh my God. You've got to be kidding me!" Just then a rider on the ascent slowed and asked if I needed anything. I told him, "Fourth flat of the day. I need everything." Without even stopping, he reached into his jersey pocket and handed me a plastic bag containing a tube and a threaded CO2. He continued on his climb saying, "I have a patch kit and a buddy just behind me. Pay it forward when you can."

What a great community! Without them, I would be trapped at the top of Mt Tam, or be walking down the mountain in cycling shoes or bare feet. Or, I would be shelling out a ton of money for someone to come get me.

The rest of the ride down went without incident. Thankfully.

My goal this time was to get some pictures of AT&T Park for Aimee. She's a big Giants fan. I'd love to take her there one day so that we could watch a game together. In place of that, here are some pictures that I took as I rode around the park.

Behind the stadium, there's a marina. It's not all sailboats, but it sure looks like it. I took these pictures for my parents to let them know that they're always in my thoughts, too.

The deck shoes left on shore reminded me of the time when we went camping and half-way to the campground, I realized that I was barefoot and I didn't pack any shoes. I have no idea what the story is behind those red, tattered shoes. But, I wondered.

Saturday night, I used Yelp to help me figure out where I should eat. I found a bar/restaurant called Fly. When I walked in the first time, there were no seats available at 8pm. That was surprising. Well... only a little surprising. I walked down Divisadero street a ways and then back up looking for one of the other restaurants. It was either closed and gated so that they didn't even have a sign showing, or Yelp was wrong. Eventually, I found myself back at Fly. Just as I approached the door, a couple stood from the bar with their to-go box in hand. Perfect timing! I walked in, snatched one of their seats and ordered a beer. I got a Bourbon Barrel Stout. That was quite tasty. After I sipped on that while I waited for and then ate my pizza. As I saw others being served prior to my pizza arriving, I thought I'd made a mistake. The sandwiches looked awesome. Then, when my pizza arrived, I was contented. It tasted amazing and it looked delicious, too. When I finished my stout, I asked to taste another of their 20 or so draft beers. I didn't like it. Instead of taking some pizza home, I scarfed down the last of it before walking back to the AirBnB. Exhausted, again, I retired before 10pm.

Sunday, the plan was to go back to San Francisco Bikes and have them check out the tires/wheels before heading out to do "The Headlands" AKA Hawk Hill. First, I had to grab some breakfast. The first place I sought out on Divisadero was closed. I walked along a little farther and found a coffee shop with an amazing smell wafting out onto the sidewalk. I stopped in and ordered a cup. It was pretty good. Nothing spectacular. Not worth recommending the place, but a good cup of joe. After I left there, I walked south a little farther before I found my breakfast spot. They were just opening up. In fact, the sign said open at 8 and it was 7:59 when I tried the door which was still locked. I took a seat at one of their outside tables to wait, but I didn't have to wait long. The Bean Bag Cafe opened a moment later. As you can see from the picture I linked there... they have a wide variety of tasty dishes to choose from. I really enjoyed my breakfast!

After breakfast, I had to make my way with my luggage and my bike across town to the hotel where my employer would be putting me up for Sunday through Tuesday. To accomplish that I called a cab. 90 minutes later, I was checked in at the hotel and ready to ride.

Having that out of the way, I made my way to SF Bikes. When I got there, I was explaining my flat woes to Bobby, the guy from the Czech Republic who had waited on me last year when I rented the bike. About half way through the story, a security guard for the facility walked up and listened in on the conversation. When I was done telling my tale, he looked over at my bike and said, "Yup... that's flat alright."

Flat Tire #5 of the weekend!

Unfreakingbelievable!

Luckily, this time, I was near where their mechanic has his shop. Bobby directed me to that storefront and I made my way over there before setting out for Hawk Hill.

The next time I pulled out my camera, I was at one of several overlooks along the road that is the Hawk Hill ride. It is a beautiful place and I will certainly do that ride again. Next time, though, I'll probably do 2 or 3 laps. It's a great hill workout. It's just shorter than I thought. Here are the pictures that I took on the ascent.

Beautiful, isn't it?

I stopped once to take pictures as the descent started...

Then, as I made my way farther down the 18% grade, one-lane road, I noticed a guy off to the right who had his bike upside down on the handlebars/seat like we used to do when we were kids. I've never seen a cyclist do that with a bike worth 4 or 5 figures. As I got closer, I noticed that he had his back wheel in one hand and the tire in the other. The tube was hanging off the wheel and he was trying to figure out how to get the tire on over the tube. Here was my chance to pay it forward!

I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side and asked him if he wanted some help. He sure did! He had never changed a tube before and had no clue what he was doing. I stepped him through the process making sure to give him the little secrets that come from having replaced 5 tubes in the past 2 days. When it came time to inflate the tube, nothing was working. His CO2 cartridge failed. Mine failed - though, mine at least released the gas. All of it went into the tube and I thought we were in good shape until I took the nozzle off the stem. Then, it all leaked out again. Apparently I had unscrewed it too far... or something. A moment later another guy came screaming down the 18% grade and yelled out, "Do you guys have everything you need?"
"Do you have a hand pump?" I asked.
He looked down to make sure before answering, "Yes!"

It took him a while to stop and then he had to walk back about a tenth of a mile to get back up to us. When he got there, he introduced himself as Chris. That was when I learned the first guy's name... also Chris. I really need to work on my interpersonal skills. I suck at connecting with people. Not in a Dexter kind of way... more in an Absent Minded Professor kind of way. Any way... Chris offered up his pump and we attached it to the stem and began pumping. Nothing... it just wasn't taking air. When we gave up on the hand-pump and tried to take it off, it wouldn't release. When it finally did, it took the guts of the stem with it. Clearly this was a bad tube. Luckily for Chris #1, Chris #1 also had a patch kit. We went back to the first tube, and patched it. Then, I put it on the wheel, set the tire, and hit it with a CO2. Chris #1 was back in business! I helped him get the wheel back on the bike and Chris #2 and I rolled away. I let Chris #2 get ahead of me when I stopped down at the lighthouse to take some pictures.

The next time I saw him was the Roundabout after the climb back out of the valley. He was sitting at the center of the roundabout and I gave him a "high five" (though it was low for me) as I rode past. Then, I stopped to take some action shots of riders on the descent right near where I had stopped the first time.

I don't know any of those people. I just thought it was a cool spot to stop and take pictures of riders who came past. There were a bunch of bird-watchers stationed at the same place. They seemed to be really interested in a couple of the birds flying overhead. Just down the hill from that spot, there was another view of the bridge. I stopped again on the bridge to see if I could recreate the incredible shot that I have as my background picture on my home PC - but with a better camera this time.

I didn't succeed, but I did get some nice shots. After that, I made my way down toward the base of the bridge because it felt windy enough that some brave souls might be out kiting under the bridge. Apparently that's a favorite spot for locals and tourists, alike. There were no kiters, but there were surfers who kept catching these little curls as they rounded the corner at the base of the bridge. It's not world-class surfing, but they were having fun. That's all that matters!

As I stood there, taking pictures of the surfers and the other wind addicts, a father/son pair walked up and the kid remarked at the chain that hung just feet in front of me. I hadn't even noticed it. Now, it's my new background image.

Then, I spotted a kite. Like gravity, I was drawn toward it. It wasn't windy enough for a kite. And, seeing just one kite on the bay seemed weird, too. I pedaled over to a place where I could get some shots of him. He was on a hydrofoil board. He was working hard signing the kite, but he was able to go up-wind at will and he looked like he was having fun. It's not my cup of tea, but like I said, he was having fun. That's all that matters. Admittedly, I took way too many pictures of him. I was hoping he would do something more exciting. Something besides mowing the lawn (going back and forth).

The hotel where I stayed was ok. The bed was REALLY short, though. Each night, when I lay down to catch some Zs, the first thing I had to do was kick out the sheets from the foot of the bed. I swear, the beds were 10 inches shorter than standard. For in-room coffee, they offered a Kurig machine, but only one regular and one decaf K-cup. Feh.

Sunday evening I med up with my friend Peter Shepherd. We enjoyed a great Italian meal and a bottle of wine as we caught up about work and family. Mostly work, though.

Monday was meetings for work followed by a dinner at a small local restaurant. It was nice.

Tuesday, after our marathon meetings for work, we went to The Cheese School of San Francisco. That was fun! We learned how to work with sourdough starter and feed it and care for it and cook with it. Here are some of the pictures from that experience. My phone died, so I don't have any pictures of the final product. It was delicious, though.