Bike & Brew

I awaken before dawn -- coming from two time zones east, this is a constant of the trip -- but when I look out the window I see Skye and Holly are already outside, wearing lights on their heads and setting up the snack table and equipment. A lifelike fog (another constant of the trip) is rolling through town.

At breakfast we introduce ourselves and name the first record album we ever owned (for most, something by the Beatles). My cover's blown, and I discover that Dennis isn't the only one who's here for the microbrews -- many others are interested in beer, and they ask me for recommendations throughout the trip. "I love beer and I brewed at home -- when I had a home," Skye tells us, and John is also a homebrewer.

We meet by the bikes in the parking lot for the daily "route rap," a discussion of the route. The route description is scrupulously detailed, marked with points of interest and tenths of a mile. Holly goes over safety tips, and Skye shows us how the bikes work. They make it clear that if you don't want to ride, you can hop in the van at any time; one of the guides constantly patrols the route, while the other brings up the rear on a bike. We pack snacks and plenty of water and head for the coast road.

The first two hours offer some of California's most spectacular scenery. We skim cliffs overhanging the Pacific, pausing often to watch the surf pounding into the coves and smashing against huge, craggy rocks that jut out of the water. At one point, we're so high up that a peninsula far below looks like it does on a map.

We get a lesson in sharing the road with others, many of whom don't care much for cyclists. One truck seems bent on running Doris (my fellow "married woman traveling alone," from Washington) off the road, literally driving onto the shoulder. Folks in some areas are more hostile to bikers than others, Holly tells us, and the farther south we go, the more tolerant people seem to be.

We cut through Navarro River Redwoods State Park, where the majestic, towering trees stretch to the sky. The sun filters through, dappling the roadway. We startle a young deer and stop to examine some of the fallen giants. It's very peaceful, despite the fact that we're riding on a state highway and there's some traffic.

The route continues through hilly farmland into the Anderson Valley, and wineries start to entice us. Doris and I join Bob, Sandy, Leslie and Brett at Roederer Estates for a few samples. Returning to the road, I soon discover that drinking and biking don't mix very well -- not that I'm inebriated, but the wine makes me very thirsty.

By the time we reach the Boonville Hotel, we've gone 40 miles. A pack of our fellow riders is already sitting on the porch enjoying Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and Red Tail Ale. The Boonville Hotel is simply furnished in the Mission style, the rooms are comfortable, and the bar sells micros in bottles. Best of all, it's across the street from the Buckhorn Saloon, which resembles a house with a grain silo out front. This is where the Anderson Valley Brewing Co. "dynasty" began, before Ken Allen and company built a 30-barrel microbrewery up the road.

The brewpub has an open feeling. It's done in cedar and glass, with a tall, skylighted ceiling and large windows that let in plenty of light and views of the hills. The ceiling is covered with dozens of beer T-shirts, spread out like flags, and tavern puzzles hang over the bar. The bar counter looks handcrafted, with wooden beading on the side and a wooden top. A chainsaw-carved bear wearing antlers and a suit of knight's armor add to the décor, as do the tractor seat stools and a toy orangutan wearing a green hat and clinging to a lamp chain. The bar flows into the dining area, with more tables in a loft upstairs. All in all, it's a nice place to hang out, and we quaff Belk's ESB, Poleeko Gold and Deepender Dark Porter, along with nachos, calamari and other fried appetizers.

By dinnertime, my knees are really aching. I ask Skye if I should be concerned, and she says yes. Turns out, I've been riding wrong all these years, putting too much pressure on my knees. She advises I ride in a low gear the rest of the way. I limp up the stairs, slap on some Ben-Gay and hope my knees feel better in the morning.

Day 1: The adventure begins
Day 3: Bed down in Calistoga
Day 4: Touring Sterling Vineyards
Day 5: A long ride in Marin County
Day 6: The payoff, Golden Gate Bridge