Great view of the city on a clear day from Sausalito

I was sitting on a bench in front of Pier 39, contentedly munching on a large cone of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream wondering what to do next, when I saw a couple of guys on sturdy road bikes whizz by. This was followed by a couple, then a family all wearing the same helmets and pouches on their handlebars saying “Blazing saddles”. Intrigued, I asked around and ended up in front of a kiosk with rows of bikes parked beside it.

The posted sign said that you could rent one for an hourly rate of $7 or $28 for a whole day. All they needed was your Visa or a deposit of $200, refundable once you returned it latest by 8PM. There were also some suggested itineraries with a brief rundown of the timings and things to expect. For example, you could bike across the Golden Gate bridge and continue onwards to Muir Woods to see centuries-old California redwood trees or fork over to the east and head down to Tiburon before taking the ferry across the bay for the return leg. Hmmm….the latter looked fun and easy to do so I signed up. Nevermind that I was out of shape and not dressed for the part – I was wearing cotton slacks and leather shoes when I should have been in jeans and a pair of Nikes. But at least, I wore a longsleeve shirt (for protection against the cold breeze) plus I had my trusty Nikon, some leftover Doritos, a bottle of water and a warm Miller Lite in my backpack. What could be more complicated than biking, I thought.

So exactly at 12:00 noon, I pushed off in the direction of the Golden Gate passing by the crowded shops and restaurants along Fisherman’s Wharf. Many people were out sunning themselves on the sandy beach of Aquatic Park where the biking lane curved out into the sea, giving a nice photo-op view of the city’s skyline across the water. The heavy fog that rolled in early in the morning had not yet lifted, thereby cutting off Alcatraz and the rest of the bay like a white sheet of cloth strung along a clothesline.

Fort Mason; Self-portrait on the thick grass in Crissy field

There was a steep incline up to Fort Mason and that’s where reality hit me: I was terribly and physically out of shape. Whereas several bikers continued up with ease, I had to dismount halfway, sweating and out of breath, to walk the last couple of meters.

I paused when I got to the top under a canopy of trees where some signs described the docks below as the staging point of the US Navy’s ships headed for the Pacific Theater during WWII. The present row of warehouses was now a staging point for some serious weekend garage sale judging from the beehive of activity going on amidst a chaotic pile of SUVs parked below.

Pedaling downhill (what a relief!), I reached a lengthy lawn called Marina Green sandwiched between the road and the beach. Here, people were strolling with their dogs, others were playing frisbee and touch football while some were flying kites. I stopped for a breather and demolished two hotdogs bought from a vendor nearby.

Next stop was Crissy Field, a kilometer away, where a large expanse of grass used to be an Army airfield in days gone by. I took a couple of shots of myself with my bike, using my backpack and a log that I found as an improvised tripod. A slight wind was blowing and the whole contraption almost keeled over knocking down the camera which I caught at the last second. Whew - the things that you do when you’re by your lonesome!

The fog lifted and bikers had a field day

More furious pedaling up Mason Street brought me to the garden at the foot of the bridge. Hordes of tourists flocked to this place busily taking their “We were here” shots to show to friends and family when they got home. I smiled upon remembering that three years ago, the wife and the two boys, with myself as official photographer, did exactly the same thing one late afternoon on our way to walking across the bridge. This time, I was more concerned about finding the loo and buying another overpriced bottle of mineral water.

Then it was up the bridge itself. My watch showed 2:00PM and the fog, miraculously, was gone. Heading north towards the opposite bank in Sausalito, the right side of the bridge was for pedestrian use while the left was reserved for cyclists. The whole span was about 2-1/2 kms. and you wouldn’t think that 80 years have passed since it was built. Hats off to the maintenance guys for the bridge is still in very good condition. The name “Golden” though is a misnomer since the steel girders, pylons and cables are all painted International Orange. Sure, it glows during sunset but it’s more of fiery red than gold. Oh well, “golden” sounds better and more dramatic anyway and, yes, there was gold in San Francisco which was built during the Gold Rush. The means justifies the name, I guess.

I pedaled slowly across, savoring the cool wind blowing on my face. Every now and then, I stopped to look down at the vertigo-inducing 67 meters where the turquoise sea flowed far below. Ships and boats of various shapes and sizes plowed through the waves while seagulls screeched like dive-bombers, picking scraps of food floating on the water. Quite mesmerizing really. Two interesting things happened while I was midway: a helicopter with sightseers flew beneath the span and later on, a large cruise liner passed underneath with horns blaring as it exited the bridge and headed towards the open sea. Probably it was on its way to the Caribbean or Mexico. Both people on the deck and on the bridge waved at each other like crazy.

A cruise ship slips underneath the bridge; The far off shore is Tiburon - long way to bike!

I made it to the other side after an hour and noticed that the road snaked up into several hills. Just by looking at the route I had to take to Tiburon, I knew that my legs couldn’t take it. What a far cry it was when I used to ride up and down the mountains of Antipolo on weekends without breaking stride. Uh, that was a quarter of a century ago.

Therefore, I decided to just push the bike up the very steep slope to the viewing point at the top of the Golden Gate Recreational Park. The best views of the bridge as well as the city were located here. The weather was perfect and nary a speck of a cloud marred the deep blue sky. Aah, this was great, I told myself, as I settled down on a bench to admire the spread in front of me and fished out my Miller Lite and crumpled Doritos.

I must have sat there for over an hour watching the ships passing to and fro as well as the people posing in front of me. There were two young girls giggling, with one extending her arm, Nokia in hand, trying to compose a shot of themselves. When I offered to take their picture, they politely refused, giggling some more - they probably wanted the spontaneity of the moment to take their own pictures. Well, the advent of digital photography has made instant shutterbugs of us all.

When I saw these hills that I had to climb, I gave up and went to the nearby viewpoint instead

Past 4:00PM, I felt it was time to go – I noticed signs of the fog slowly rolling in from the distance and knew that there would be no spectacular sunset to shoot.

This time, I had an enjoyable stunt freewheeling down to the foot of the bridge and though the span’s incline was a bit higher than the other way, it was still quite comfortable to traverse. All sorts of people in different kinds of bikes flowed in both directions. There were families with toddlers, yuppies, teenagers, old retirees, couples dating and old middle-aged geezers like me. We all experienced one thing in common: biking fun.

I continued onwards through Lincoln Blvd. with the Golden Gate Park some 6 kms. south as my destination. I haven’t been to that place yet and thought it was worth the ride. Until I got to Sea Cliff and saw a long upward incline in front of me. No way was I going to get over that hump, my burning leg muscles told me so instead, I turned left on California Street headed for downtown. When I got to Divisadero Street that led back to the waterfront, I decided to end the day at the Exploratorium though it was already late in the day.

Foggy afternoon in the Exploratorium; Fellow bikers take a break by the Bridge Cafe

Upon making another left, a mountain appeared right in front of me! The way through a couple of blocks in the direction I chose was all uphill and there was no getting around it. No bus nor street car where I could hitch a ride with the bike. So once again, I got down and huffed and puffed my way up the near-vertical incline. At one point, as I sat on the sidewalk to drink the last drop of water, I wondered what the hell I was doing there. Jeez, I told myself, I could have been in some fancy restaurant, wineglass in hand, enjoying the view of the bay! But once I got to the top (after what I felt was an eternity!) and looked down at the lovely cityscape extending out to the sea, I got my reward: fantastic sunset view.

Now the question was, should I chance a ride down the very steep road or walk instead? As I sat on the blazing (my butt was on fire!) saddle fingering the brakes and debating the two options, a top-down Beemer passed by and a pretty girl wearing a straw hat encouraged me to, “Yeah – go for it!” But after a couple of seconds, I decided that, nah, it was too dangerous, and thereby dismounted. Pretty girl saw me and yelled “Pussy!” I smiled weakly and shook my head. Better safe than sorry – I didn’t want any broken bones, much less, miss my flight home the next day because of a stupid stunt. Looking back on it, I think that's where a line is drawn when you're in your twenties and when you hit your forties. Twenty-five years ago, I would have caromed that downhill road with no second thoughts at all. Tsk, tsk, tsk.......does that mean I am wiser now?

Stunning view at the top of the hill; Pretty garden of a nice house

So I walked down the sidewalk content in admiring the lovely facades of the houses that I passed. I made it to the Exploratorium grounds but fog had started to blanket the place and since there wasn’t enough good light to take decent pictures, I continued back to the bike kiosk as darkness began to fall.

It was one helluva day but a lot of fun. If ever you find yourself in Frisco, go on a bike tour. You’ll surely enjoy a different perspective of the city, notably the Golden Gate bridge, that you won’t get any other way. As for biking Tiburon and Muir Woods, to me, that could wait for another day.