Day 1. San Francisco, CA to Vacaville, CA.

Synopsis

10 August, 2003 -- Day 1.
San Francisco, CA to Vacaville, CA.
40 miles.

It has begun. I woke this morning at 5am to finish up some last
minute packing details before cycling on down to the bank for a few
benjamins before rolling on to the San Francisco Ferry Building on The
Embarcadero to catch the 9am ferry to Vallejo.

Of course I was nervous last night and had a hardtime sleeping. Even
after as much planning and preparation I had done, I still was feeling
nervous about the whole adventure. "am i taking too much?" "what am
i forgetting?" "how will my body respond?" "and what about my mind?"

I arrived to the ferry building somewhere around 8am -- an entire hour
before it was time to depart. Grabbed a Peet's coffee and sat
overlooking the Bay Bridge thinking about the weeks ahead of me. I
really hope that that no single hour of the trip will be as
anxiety-laden as that one was. Just waiting for the ferry to arrive.
I had begun the trip but not really just yet. I could have still turned
back.

On the ride down to the ferry building, the tail-end of my bike seemed
just a little wobbly -- definitely more so than the other times I had
toured on this bike. I am guessing that the weight of the gear is
possibly a tad bit too much for the rack that's on there, and that I
should keep my eye on it for a couple days to see how it holds up.

Upon arriving to Vallejo, I switched on the GPS and hit the road
toward Davis. The day's plan had been to head to Davis but stop
anywhere between for the night if it made sense. At one point during
the roll through town, as I climbed up a steep pitch in my granny-gear
through a residential area, a man parking his bitchin camaro asked
where i was headed. "phoenix" i said. "NO SHIT" he said. I rolled
onward.

One of the true joys of traveling this way is how easy it is to meet
and talk to people. When you roll up to a convenience store riding-in
on some contraption which looks half-bicycle,
half-some-damn-sciFi-looking-thing, people can't help but ask. Even
the most rugged of men get up the interest to ask 'what is all that
stuff youre carrying'... 'youre riding to WHERE?' 'NO SHIT'.

It's a good thing I brought the GPS. Today already proved that true
once. Somewhere outside of Fairfield, I missed a turn that I was
supposed to take and found myself a tad lost. With the GPS I could
easily find the road I was supposed to be on and weave my way back to
it through neighborhood streets. Awesome. Oh, and for those of you
who are curious, I am following maps prepared by a company called
"Adventure Cycling Association". I will very rarely be too far off of
their path...

As I type, I rest in an Alamo Inn right next to I-80 in Vacaville. I
chose to stop here for the night instead of continuing on to Davis, as
the late-morning start landed me in no-man's-land in the middle of the
blistering sun in the middle of the afternoon. Tomorrow I will close
out the leg to Davis, visit some bike shops to make some minor
adjustments and probably grab a brew somewhere before bunking up in a
motel again for the night... I definitely am trying to play the first
week or so of this trip fairly conservatively as I try to ride into
shape, get adjusted to the bike, to the altitude, and to the heat.


The Route

From SF, took the Vallejo ferry, then rode on country roads to Benicia,
Rockville, Cordelia, Fairfield and finally into Vacaville.


The Bike

The back rack is a little wobbly so I will move some of the more dense
stuff from the rear to the front panniers.

The front-left brake pad was rubbing ever so slightly, so will need
to make some more minor adjustments before moving-on.

The Body

As I lie here, my hamstrings have definitely become a bit tight. A good
warm shower followed by thorough stretching should do the trick. It feels
good to be sore again.

Am also a tadbit dehydrated, so am enjoying the A/C, drinking tons of water
and avoiding any alcohol or caffeine.

Tomorrow

Off to Davis, which will be under 30 miles, by way of Pleasants Valley
snd Putah Creek Roads through Winters.


Snapshots