I’m not exactly sure what the cause was, but my trip changed at this point. You may have noticed that a while back I stopped keeping the detailed statistics on my daily riding time, milage, and spending. Often during the trip I would go a few days without writing in my journal, then catch up when I had chance. At this point I let a few days go by, then a few more, and I never wrote the remaining journal entries. It was partially due to writing fatigue, but I think the major factor was the fast-approaching end of my journey. I really didn’t feel ready for it to end, and I believe I was in denial about how close I was coming to the finish line. Writing journal entries would be a reminder of the truth, and so I avoided it. Now, years later, I face the task of writing the missing journals from memory. It won’t be the same. I won’t even try to fake a sense of continuity. It may, though, be a form of relief and renewed interest for both the writer and readers. If you’ve followed me this far, you’re probably ready for a change too! Let’s see how it goes.

Riding into San Francisco from the coast was both harrowing and blissful. Highway 1 became busier here, with some tight turns, narrow shoulders, and road construction. It was when I turned to climb to a ridge above the city that things got better. The air was warm and moist, and the work hard. At the top of the ridge I was stunned by the sight of alabaster San Francisco spread out below me.

I had agreed to visit Maxine, the writer I met at Shirleyanne’s place, at her house in San Mateo, so I turned south. There are some really pleasant parks and bike paths that descend from the hills here, and I didn’t have to confront true urban riding for some time. When it came I was ready, and found my way to Maxine’s without much trouble.

I recall Maxine’s house as very comfortable, just up the hill from a busy streetscape full of restaurants and offices. I felt welcome there, but I don’t remember much of what we did. I thought Maxine lived an attractive life.

I think it was during my stay at Maxine’s that I had the idea of attempting a ride around the bay. I thought I might be able to get all the way around to Annemarie Sudermann’s house in Berkeley via Menlo Park in one long day of exploration.