Riding, riding, riding ....

The Carlsbad, CA, pier as seen from the location of my timeshare sales presentation

Since coming back from Europe about two-and-a-half weeks ago I've been continuing my bike-riding (and globe-trotting) lifestyle without much interruption. What is a retired guy supposed to do? Sit at home and read National Geographic and watch reruns of Cheers? Nah, that can wait for a few more years. Now is the time to do stuff.

Riding on the way to Ft. Worth, around the Ranger area, and in the metroplex itself

And so I did. Granted, I did spend a few days in Lubbock, just long enough to unpack, do laundry, buy a few groceries, mow the weeds, and catch up with who had died in the neighborhood. (No kidding, after Mr. Pope's death last year, now Kelly's neighbor to the left was found five days after dying in what seems to have been an alcohol/drug-fueled bathtub exodus. I didn't know this man but it still leaves you with a sense of sadness.)

With my buddy Smitty and his family (mother-in-law Pat, son Joseph, and wife Lori, from left)

Lubbock has had its share of early summer rains

A rare windless day in green Lubbock

Free barbecue at a local bank!

My daily bike rides through our Canyon Lakes area soon became monotonous, and so I decided to drive down to Ft. Worth for the July 4th holiday to stay with Janetta and Jon for a few days and continue my bike explorations down there. Honestly, I was impressed with the Ft. Worth trail systems and generally decent bike infrastructure that allowed me to ride from Benbrook all the way to downtown FW without having to use any streets. Thanks to my Locus app, I mapped out some fine rides, all one-ways where I would meet up with Janet at a brewpub and we'd drive back up to Benbrook.

Riding with Keith in Ft. Worth

As a nice benefit, my old friend Keith (formerly of Albuquerque) saw one of my Facebook posts and we reconnected for an afternoon's ride after not having seen each other for at least a decade. That was a fun afternoon, of course also ending at a brewery where we were joined by Keith's GF, sister, and mother (who was visiting from Minnesota). Janet met up with us, and we sampled some pretty weird brews at Martin House Brewing Company. Truth be told, HopFusion took the cake with not only really fine-tasting beer but also free hotdogs on July 4th!

If it hadn't been for the torrid conditions in the metroplex I could have almost been talked into looking for a house to buy. But holy cow, how can you breathe when it is 96F and the humidity is 90+ percent? Even early in the morning it feels as if somebody is trying to suffocate you with a wet blanket (wool, for sure, and moist and heavy), and after my 35- or 40-mile rides I was simply bushed. Lubbock is hot, and after recent rains people complain about "humidity," but they have no idea how bad it can be.

My rides in Southern California took me both inland as well as to the coast

And so I left for West Texas again, riding a few more days in the Canyon Lakes before heading out to Southern California. Back in early spring I had jumped on a Wyndham Resorts offer to purchase a three-night, four-day hotel package for $200 in Carlsbad, CA, just north of San Diego. In itself not much of a great deal, but coupled with a $200 American Express gift card after attending a two-hour timeshare sales presentation, well, a pretty damn good deal. For some odd reason, Wyndham put me up in a brand-spanking new Holiday Inn (part of rival chain IHG), and so I used some points and an $80 co-pay to extend my stay by another two nights. That took care of the potential need to switch hotels, and thus I really didn't need a rental car--Lyft and Uber are everywhere. So, make a long story short, I spent less than $200 on accommodations (I had to pay the room tax for the Wyndham part of the deal) and transportation from and to the airport for the entire trip. One purchased night in that particular HI costs $257. Sweet.

This was the second trip with the Ritchey Outback, the travel gravel bike. Granted, I did much less gravel riding than anticipated, but when I did, I needed this bike versus the regular road Ritchey. Every day, I went out for rides varying from about 30 to 55 miles, and even for the sales presentation in Oceanside I used the bike for transportation. Incidentally, that was the only day when the marine layer did not obscure the coastline, and it was a truly fun day down to the beach, the pier, and the surfers.

Because of the foggy conditions in the mornings (burning off around 10 or 11 o'clock) I usually had a late breakfast that also served as lunch. I have no idea why they gave me a free breakfast plus two free drinks in the nice hotel bar (where they had some good draft beers), but I know that it helps to be nice to the front desk personnel. Also mysterious to me is the fact that all kinds of IHG points have been deposited into my account, but I know when not to poke a stick into a hornets' nest.

My rides took me mostly inland. If you've seen some of my FB posts or Strava data you know how much I have been gushing over the almost ideal riding conditions in this part of the world. I don't think I've ever been anywhere in the world where bicycles are being given as much respect, protection, and recognition as in San Diego county. Roads and streets without wide bike lanes are the rare exception, except in quiet neighborhoods where the speed limit is 25 mph and there is no traffic to speak of. Striped bike lanes, buffer zones, signage, traffic lights that respond to a cyclist's input, physical dividers to keep motorists and cyclists apart, road markings indicating that bikes are entitled to the entire lane of traffic--wow. Add to that Ft. Worth-like trails away from the streets, such as the Inland Rail Trail, and you think you've arrived in heaven. It's simply amazing.

Equally stunning is the microbrew scene out here in San Diego county. Yesterday I was told at Wild Barrel Brewing that the current count of registered microbreweries in SD county stands at a little more than 160, but it seems to be difficult to keep up with that number since new ones keep popping up. I think I added something like 15 new breweries to my list (to the right), which as of right now stands at 299.

Two memorable ones were #299, Rouleur Brewing Co., just a mile or two from the hotel, as well as Stone's flagship location in Escondido, Stone Brewing World Bistro & Gardens. Now, Stone really can no longer be called a microbrewery, not with the volume they have. But they started out small and from what I tasted, their beer is still damn fine. Rouleur, which has been in existence just a few years, is totally cycling-themed with bikes, framed jerseys, race numbers, and lots of vintage photos on the walls and beers with names that have a distinct bike touch. OK, so I drank the Dopeur, a nice IPA, sitting under a flag with the Lion of Flanders, and I didn't feel like a cheat at all. Indeed, this was a good one for number 299. It'll be interesting which one will be 300.

So, this was another cool trip that had at its heart the bike. Really, what would I do without it? Well, we'll see how I'll keep my sanity as I will be in Winter Park, Colorado, for our 2019 USA Cycling Mountain Bike National Championships starting tomorrow (I'm putting the finishing touches on this blog entry in the Lubbock airport after a final ride in the heat this morning with my buddy Smitty) and there won't be a bike in the hold of my plane--just no time to ride for the next 10 days. But I'm sure I'll have lots of fun nevertheless.

Jürgen

The final week of my European "Spring Campaign"

Italy was fun, real fun, but our time down there didn't account for the entire three-and-a-half weeks that I spent in Europe on this most recent trip. After we had returned from down south there remained one more week before finally heading back to the US.

Returning from our trip on Monday night meant that we'd be in town for the weekly "Fritz Fahrt," a bike ride that starts just a few hundred meters away from Sabine's place at Bikefritz, a tiny, hole-in-the-wall bike shop that is being run by a retired cop and lifelong cycling aficionado. That's Italian and therefore an apt term to describe Fritz, who prefers to refer to himself as the capo and the riders as the ciclisti. No wonder that the team uniform is styled after the Italian flag, in red, white, and green. And it's not an easy thing to become a member of Team Fritz: This one is by invitation only.

I've talked to Fritz (aka, Friedrich Birkner) on numerous occasions, and on the morning of that week's Fritz Fahrt I went over to the shop to tell him about our Italian adventures. I guess that softened him up and he agreed to sell me a Team Fritz jersey, which I promptly wore that evening. It's quite a sight when about 40 riders congregate in the gravel parking lot of the shop for their weekly ride all of them--without exception--wear the jersey! Just like in any other club or team, there are slower and faster riders, and depending on how many ciclisti show up on a given evening, there may be three or four groups, divided by ability and speed. Sabine and I rode with gruppo tre, while Fritz himself preferred to take it easy with gruppo quattro. As you can imagine, the hammerheads are in groups one and two, and they will do around 60 miles when the days are at their longest, with lots of climbing thrown in for good measure. Group three seemed like a good compromise.

Our group was led by Sigi, a local rider who knows the region like his back pocket and who changes the route every week. I believe it was June 21 when we embarked on our excursion, the longest day of the year, and Sigi made the most out of it. We left the shop at 18:30 hrs, and it was just a few minutes before 22:00 hrs and getting rather dark when we ended up at the Garda, an Italian gelateria in Freising that is the de facto club home. Of the 14 riders who started in gruppo tre, eight or nine were women, and one of the guys dropped out after just a few kilometers after realizing that he should have ridden in gruppo quattro. Sigi's leadership style was a bit unorthodox, but fortunately I didn't understand most of the rather heated exchanges with some of the riders since his German is Bavarian enough for me to be left clueless when he talks.

Fritz holding court post-ride at the Garda

Thanks to our riding and climbing in Italy Sabine and I didn't have problems hanging with the group; actually, we were right in the middle of things. It was a beautiful ride that took us through the Holledau (or Hallertau), the world-famous hop-growing region north of Freising. The evening sun cast a beautiful light on landscape and riders, and it was really a fine ride, despite all the bitching and moaning that was elicited by Sigi's accelerations and unconventional antics. Eventually, several bike lights came out and a few feathery jackets were donned, and at long last it was time to forget all discord at the Garda over copious amounts of ice cream, Tegernseer beer, and potato chips that have become a hallmark of the post-ride get-togethers. Yeah man, free dschibbs. We rolled home (just about a mile) close to midnight. Sche war's! 

Dschibbs, Tegernseer Helles, and good company are the culmination of every weekly Fritz Fahrt

With Sabine still off from work, yet also with an eye on the weather forecast, we decided that instead of a two-night overnighter that we had planned with our gravel bikes we'd cut things down to a two-day, one-night trip. One of the reasons for taking my sexy-yet-underused Morati cyclocross bike to Sabine was that we had been envisioning bike touring possibilities for a while, and since Germany (as well as other central European countries) have lots of gravel bike paths, road bikes can go only so far. I've been keeping an old Van Dessel 'cross bike (that a friend had given to me years ago) with Sabine as a beater, and now we both have gravel-worthy bikes--no, there are no disc brakes and the transmissions are still manual 9-speeds, but they do just fine.

Gravel grinding along the Isar river on the way to Landau

More important than the number of gears is the fact that I brought my own Tailfin rack/pannier combination with me, and in a sudden fit of generosity (and also to try out my new German credit card) I had bought an identical set for Sabine to use as she sees fit. Must be nice to have a sugar daddy.... So, on Wednesday morning after the Fritz Fahrt we packed our panniers, loaded them on the bikes, and headed east toward Landau.

We had chosen a route that took us along the river Isar, which eventually flows into the Danube a bit upstream from Passau. Well, we were not going to go that far--Landau is about 60 miles from Freising, and we figured that was going to be plenty for this first-time cruise with loaded (albeit lightly) bags and riding mostly on gravel paths. It was not as if this was really super-adventuresome as Sabine had ridden most of the route at some point or another, but still, it was fun to know that we wouldn't have to turn around midway through the ride but would keep going.

For lunch we stopped in beautiful Landshut, where we had typical Bavarian fare (including the beer). It was a beautiful day to ride, with just the slightest tailwind, often in sight of the river, always away from traffic. In Dingolfing (a sleepy town made rich by a BMW plant) we treated ourselves to ice cream before finally heading to the hotel in Landau where we had booked a room for the night. After a shower and changing into normal clothes we were ready for one of the best pizzas I've ever had--fittingly, the restaurant has received some major awards. Check out the Pizzeria Gattopardo da Renato next time you find yourself in Landau.

As predicted, the weather turned on us overnight, but the rain mostly stayed away. Actually, the somewhat lower temperatures were rather welcome after days in the low 90s. We took a different route back to Freising, through the wide Vilstal where we marvelled at the huge fields of various types of lettuce that all seemed to be in the same state of maturity--who was going to harvest all of this, and where would it all be sold? Sabine suggested that the large supermarket chains must be behind all this.

Rails-to-trails (or Bockerlbahn) and the quaint town of Vilsbiburg

In Vilsbiburg we had another lovely lunch and, since the sun had tenttively appeared, we made the mistake of ordering yet one more beer and enjoying the afternoon for a bit too long. Well, if you're a cyclist you know how it all ended: We had to start picking up the pace, looking at the ever-darkening horizon, and readjusting the route after consulting the rain radar. But there wasn't much adjustment possible: Freising couldn't be moved from the west to the east. Grey clouds became black, and then we heard the first rolling thunder in the distance, soon to be followed by closer and much louder thunderclaps. The first sprinkles started, and we put on the rain jackets--less in hopes of staying dry than not to go hypothermic in what now was barrelling down on us like a freight train. We had hoped to rescue ourselves into Marzling, where Sabine has a good friend, but those last two kilometers might have been twenty. At the last moment we spied a metal, three-sided bus shelter, and before we were totally inundated we scrambled inside.

The ensuing thunder and lightning was deafening. It was bad, really bad. And the rain radar didn't show much relief for some time to come--and honestly, I didn't really want to ride the last five miles home and have to once again completely clean the bikes with the marginal tools that I have at my disposal in Sabine's cellar. So, we decided to call a friend who picked up Sabine who then returned with her car and we drove home. So much for being heroes on that 120-mile overnighter!

And that's pretty much it for my June cycling adventures. Sure, we rode a little more in my remaining days in Freising, but not much for me. Sabine, on the other hand, once again participated on Sunday in the Erdinger Stadttriathlon where she was the cyclist of one of the many teams that the City of Munich fielded. All that riding over the preceding weeks paid off when she turned in her fastest time ever, and she was rightfully proud of her feat. While she was racing, I was packing my stuff, and the next day I flew back to Lubbock. And guess what I've been doing in the week since coming back? Riding a total of 307 miles. What can I say?

Jürgen