The Orange Couch

High on a rural hilltop overlooking the Pacific Ocean is an orange couch. How it got there is known only to the people who placed it, no doubt under the cover of darkness, but perhaps not. It could have been put there in broad daylight. Maybe for a photo shoot, or to liven up a picnic. Whatever, and however, as I plodded up the road in my lowest gear, hoping that maybe I forgot I had one more gear I could shift into, and no matter how many times I flipped that gear leaver, the answer was still “no,” the orange couch appeared, mirage-like. Doing its siren call: Come hither. Stop. Rest. Enjoy the view. No one will get hurt. It's okay to stop.

Temptress, ugly vinyl couch. I can't stop and rest upon your soft cushion. I have work to do. I have a Strava segment to complete! If I stop, it'll screw up my stats. And... I'll never get started again on this hill without falling over.

The sofa happened to mark the end of the steepest part of the climb. Not the end of the climb, but the end of the mile long 12% (more?) grade that seemed like it wouldn't quit from the first soul-sucking bend upward.

After the couch, the climb mellowed and we regrouped. Riding along the ridge top, we could see from Mt. St. Helena to Mt. Diablo. A stunningly clear day (due in part to the winds that helped and fought us) rewarded our efforts. Springtime is my favorite season and Spring in Northern California is without parallel. The famous golden hills are bright green with young grass fed by the winter rains. Lambs learn to graze on this sweet grass and yearling calves frolic and chase us along the fence line. Older, wizened cows look on indulgently at the silly humans.

If ever I consider leaving California, a Spring ride in the Sonoma and Marin countryside cures me of that notion. Ask me again on a foggy July day.

The day's ride had been brought to us by SAG stops 1, 2 and 3. Welcome roadside attractions for hungry cyclists needing to replenish their water bottles, munch on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or roasted potatoes (food from the gods). The past several rides were self-supported, so seeing our SAG support volunteers comforted and nourished our bodies and our minds.