Local Grown

   Throughout the night, a brisk cold wind had blown in off of the ocean, but by morning it had completely dissipated and Albert awoke to cobalt-blue skies and the growing warmth of the sun as it began to reveal itself over the eastern ridge line. It was still early, and Albert took some time to enjoy the dawn by strolling through Bodega Bay’s small marina and over her dunes. Early morning was his favorite time of the day. For Albert, this was the “quiet hour,” when most people weren’t yet up and there’s was a sought of pre-day calm, where an anything is possible kind of feeling hung in the chill morning air.

   Whilst sitting on the dock of the bay, Albert found himself in the company of J-Bird and decided to strike up a conversation on the subject of a posting he’d noticed that read, ‘Local-Grown.’ J-Bird, in great detail, explained the benefits to both the consumer and producer of purchasing locally-grown goods. She explained how by buying local, it enhanced the economic, environmental, and social health of a particular place, and that it was a means of cutting out the global corporations, processors, manufacturers, and shippers, providing the consumer with a fresher product, one that was conducive to a much more healthy lifestyle. An alternative to large, grocery chain stores, packaged, frozen, and travelled foods, where the middle-man controls the quality and reaps the financial profits. Albert had a hundred questions for J-Bird, who he felt was a wonderful representative of mother nature, but with the morning fleeting, opted to hold his questions for a later date.

   By ten, with a head-full of great new food knowledge, Albert was back on the road. Leaving Bodega Bay, Highway 1 turned inland and slowly rose its way up to the small town of Valley Ford. Thereafter, the road took a ninety-degree right turn and rolling over challenging hilly countryside, headed for Tomales Bay. This area, as the road paralleled the sparkling bay, with its Eucalyptus trees and water views, was quite lovely. Here Albert noticed an increase in fellow cyclist on the road, and gathered that this area must be quite the popular spot – taking in the location, he could understand why. At Point Reyes Station, Albert took Sir Francis Drake Boulevard and with a noticeable increase in elevation, temperature, and poor road surface quality, headed up and over to the town of Fairfax. Beyond came the towns of Larkspur, and Marin City, and here, just north of San Francisco, Albert sadly recognized a change in attitude amongst his fellow cyclists. Over the past three weeks of open road cycling, he’d been greeted by the genuinely friendly, smiles, waves, and nods, from every cyclist he’d encountered, but suddenly here in this neck of the woods, the spandex crowd appeared to have their noses turned up – here, sadly, there was a stink of cycling-snobbery in the air.

   At the peak of Corte Madero Road, off in the hazy distance, Albert caught his first glimpse of the impressive San Francisco skyline. Albert rode through the small tourist town of Sausalito and climbing up a steep wind-blown hill, pulled up to the entrance of the Golden Gate Bridge – standing firm since 1937, this was one of the most famous tourist attractions in the world. One thousand, two hundred and fifty miles from home, dodging the hundreds of tourists, Albert rode across to the City of San Francsico.

   Albert made his way through the popular Golden Gate Park and into the legendary Haight-Ashbury district, a mix of touristy camp, post-punk trendies, and neo-hippies. Continuing on through the lively Castro neighborhood, Albert rode down into the Mission quarter and finally ran out of yarn, sixty-five miles from Bodega Bay.