Pigeon Point Lighthouse to Santa Cruz, 32 miles


Rocking a tailwind I flew from the hostel down the Cabrillo coastline towards Santa Cruz.  This is when riding a bike is like wings taking flight.  Hills are inconsequential, mere opportunities to go even faster on the descent.  I really let her have her head on a long hill before Davenport, reaching 40 mph. I know, I know, not too smart? But the roads were clear, the bike in top shape, so I told myself “trust”.

This is what I told myself Saturday night riding the back of Scot’s motorcycle, as he raced over the San Francisco hills after we saw Tron at the IMAX.  “Trust” as the motorcycle cruised up and over and down the steep inclines.  I closed my eyes and practiced the deep breathing which I had done earlier in the day.  Honestly, he wasn’t going very fast.  I just like having control brakes.

Maybe I use my brakes too much on the Miyata.  Psyche myself out thinking of how much pain I would be in if something happened going down a hill too fast.  So I usually keep it below 30 mph.  Not today.  We flew, past hang gliders, past endless beaches, past suft school, past beach volleyball bikinis. I rolled into Santa Cruz in no time and rode straight to the Kiva House day spa, straight into the hot tub, then into the sauna.  As sunny as the day was, I’d gotten quite chilled riding, so the heat felt wonderful.  Ahhhhh.  It’s another glorious day in paradise.

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