Briones is a pretty straight-forward place to ride. It’s either UP or DOWN. On some days it bites and on others, like today, it’s just plain fun. Originally slated to be a gathering with a bunch of friends in Rockville, today’s ride just sort of unraveled and in the end it was me and Chris heading out to Briones under an ominous slate-gray sky and 42 showing on the thermometer.
Quite by chance we met up with Darin and Steve, who like a certain un-named Marin-county denizen, were themselves off to a late start. Dependence on alarm clocks was clearly the problem here. But it didn’t much matter because on this day none of us were feeling our oats, so it was a placid affair from the go.
We dodged frozen cow patties as we thawed out during the climb up into a surprising amount of bright sun, the icy biting wind however made it moot. Along the way Steve scored another flat and after clocking supra-legal speeds on the descents, all too soon we were down in the floor of the valley. We grabbed a short section of cow trail that led us back to the road and for good measure, everyone picked up a handful of Goathead thorns. To add some texture to the event as I hopped off to do gate duties I stepped in a massive pile of festive green cow doodie. I was none too pleased to have the rustic scent of bovine excreta accompany me all the way home, but the cats were quite interested in my new aroma and followed me around with strange looks on their faces.
There’s no confusing Briones with Marin or other epic destinations, but as my old man likes to say, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.