Bicycles and Espresso: A Saturday in the Hills

The alarm was 5:45. It was still dark when I rolled the bike out of the garage.

The Route

65 miles, ~3,800 feet of climbing. Out through the valley roads where the fog sits heavy until 9 a.m., up the main climb (12 miles, steady 6%), back down the exposed ridge road where the wind either helps you or punishes you, and home through the farm roads that smell like cut grass and manure and something vaguely sweet I’ve never been able to identify.

I’ve done this loop maybe thirty times. It doesn’t get easier, but it gets more familiar, which is a different thing and maybe better.

Two Cafes

The first stop is at mile 22, a bakery that opens at 7 and makes a cortado that is, without exaggeration, one of the best things in my regular life. I know the owner by name. She doesn’t remember mine but she remembers my order. This is a satisfying arrangement.

The second cafe is at mile 48, after the descent. I don’t like it as much but it has outdoor seating and by that point I’ll sit anywhere. Two more espressos, a croissant that was probably better three hours ago, and fifteen minutes of just existing before the last stretch home.

The Mechanical

At mile 39, my rear derailleur cable snapped. I’d been ignoring some mushiness in the shifting for a few weeks — a small cost, paid in full on a descent, in front of nobody, which is the only acceptable way to have a mechanical.

I have a habit of carrying a spare cable but not the tools to install it properly. This means I carry the cable as a kind of security blanket, which is useless. I made it home in the smallest three gears. The legs were already cooked so it barely mattered.

The Recording

The audio above is a field recording from the top of the main climb: wind, a distant hawk, my own breathing that I almost edited out but decided was honest. Recorded on a phone, which is fine. Sometimes the phone is the right tool.

---

The derailleur is fixed now. Next ride, Sunday.