It’s All Over Bar the Riding

Where to start? It’s tempting to describe the Climate Ride moment by moment from Sam, the first friendly face at 8am on Saturday morning who told me where to register, where to bring my bike, and...but no. That would get really tedious, really fast. So I’ll start where I am: near dinnertime on day #2 at Caspar Beach Campground just south of Fort Bragg. I’m sitting in my campsite by a little stream surrounded by daisies and buttercups and young redwoods decked out with their sweet spring light green tips. I rode 128 miles in the past 2 days and I feel on top of the world. Also pretty amazed. I rode how many miles?! Is this really me? Riding the Climate Ride??

Tomorrow is the possible century: that is one of the things foremost in my mind. Will I be able for it? How will I feel at Mile 70, the deciding point? Yesterday I rode 70 miles, more than I have ever covered in one day. As I spun into camp, feeling like a million bucks, Blake the ride director high-fived me and I blurted out that I had just ridden longer than ever before. Last night during the evening talks, he said he had been told that by a few people and asked us all to stand up. We got a round of applause. Welcome to the spirit of Climate Ride! 

Someone asked me as we rode today why I had joined a team to ride (lots of people do it solo). I heard myself say “I wanted to belong.” As mildly pathetic as that sounds, I reflected afterwards on how true it was. Newly post-divorce, living in a new town, and without a lot of the community I had been part of during my marriage, last year I was consciously looking for something to be part of. Then I got on a road bike for the first time, and it just all sort of unfolded. Seven months later, I’m riding 320 miles over 5 days from Fortuna south to San Francisco with a bunch of strangers, several of whom are fast becoming close friends. As my mum used to say, stranger things happen at sea. But not many of them.

The night before the ride started, 125 of us piled into the back patio of the Eel River Brewing company for a pre-ride dinner and feast of locally brewed beer. Knowing only one person (whom I had met all of once), I found myself at a table with some folks who quickly proved excellent dinner companions. My favorite was Ken, the founder of a cool environmentalist organization (Environmental Working Group) that certifies organic and environmentally friendly products. As we downed some excellent local brews, he was heard to announce: “It’s all over now, bar the riding.” Hit my funnybone. We were all a bit nervous and punchy. Months of training, some serious fundraising, and here we were, the night before the ride. It felt like that moment when the pilot of your airplane announces over the PA that if anyone is not traveling to New Delhi, it’s time to leave the aircraft.

Along the way, there have been many more laughs and moments of absurdity, thrill and a surreal sort of joy. One of them just happened. I’m sitting at my wooden campsite picnic table, writing this and listening to Gregory Alan Isakov, and Lac, one of the ride leaders, comes by with a tray of caprese salad hors d’oeuvres. I’d been eyeing them at the camp kitchen earlier and I’m really hungry. Dinner is in five minutes, he says gently, as I take little hit of mozzarella/tomato/basil. Seriously? This is camping? Well, yes. Camping Climate Ride style. If you have ever clipped into a road bike in your life, or even if you haven’t, I earnestly entreat you to consider taking part in this event. It’s a cliche, and the same could be said of any random bend in the road of the day, but it WILL change your life!