Cyclin’ On The Dock Of The Bay

I feel like the theme of the last week has been ‘taking chances’. The wedding was a result of Rob taking a chance and coming to America, we took a chance asking for a tour of the winery in Apple Hill on Tuesday and yesterday, in San Francisco, we took a chance on two wheels.

After a 90-minute drive from Sacramento into downtown San Francisco, Alex, Chris, Andy and I found ourselves at Lori’s Diner, near the wharf, weighing up our options, over an Oreo milkshake.

I saw some people cycling across the street and had one of those lightbulb-above-the-head ideas. Ding! Let’s hire bikes and cycle to the Golden Gate Bridge! It took some convincing of the others, but my persuasion skills won through and we soon found ourselves peddling along the beach towards one of America’s most iconic landmarks.

I was paired with Alex while Chris and Andy were on the other tandem – in matching white t-shirts and jeans. Like some sort of Bike Buddies. Bless.

Everything went swimmingly, racing along the seafront, the wind in our hairs, ringing the bell at pretty girls we passed, and we were soon at the foot of the Golden Gate bridge.

We had a little pep talk about going single file across the bridge and stopping mid-way to take photos, and then we were off.

We had to peddle like mad (well, Alex, Andy and I did, because Chris, who was on the back of Andy’s bike, just put his feet up the whole time) because the wind was immense. It was like cycling in cement. But we battled on and made it to the other side – a mile or so later.

Then disaster struck. Just when everything was going great, I started to get a little over-confident. Apart from going in a straight line all along the bridge, we had to cycle around both legs of the bridge. On the second one and massive gust of wind blew right into us as we were exiting the turn.

After two hours of cycling a little bravado appeared and I tried to take that turn at speed. The wind decided against that, and as I tried to turn the bike resisted. The result – crashing into the barriers. Poor Alex, who had no control over anything, went flying over the bike and landed on her arm.

I fell forward but managed to put my hands out. The most damage I received was to my ego, heavily bruised after I had been doing so well.

We brushed ourselves down and headed back, much slower than before. Dinner at a seafood restaurant and a journey down Lombard Street, the most crooked in the world, and we were on our way home. Tired and bruised, but content.

We’re now in Lake Tahoe, on the California/Nevada border. It’s a stunning location and the perfect place to relax after a hectic week.