Day 6 • March 7, 2012 • Lagunitas to San Francisco • 33 miles
The day dawned clear, cold, and extremely wet in our renegade camp. Barely above freezing with an extremely heavy dew. We spent a good chunk of the morning like lizards searching for a sunny patch of ground. When we finally got warm enough to break camp we dashed a mile down the road to a café in Lagunitas for a warm breakfast. There we met Anne and Brian. We chatted about family origins, genealogy and such.
At a quick potty break at the Mill Valley Community Center we found some very enthusiastic supporters in Mordy, Mateo, and Moriel. They really wanted to ride the trike but this is the best we could do. They escorted us out of the area and onto the bike path.
After the bridge we thought we were home free. But the Adelaide Inn, the hostel we were staying at the next couple nights, was perched atop downtown San Francisco. We began following GPS guidance until about halfway up Laguna St when we decided to navigate around the climb a bit. Garmin, when are you going to include elevation in your bike routing algorithm? The last couple of blocks, on Taylor Street, I didn’t have my lowest several gears because they started jamming. Foreshadow alert, cue ominous music. Nothing looked amiss on a quick inspection but no time to deal with that now as we had to check in to the hostel where our trikes would be inaccessible and rather tightly packed for the duration of our stay. The Trets was laying inverted on top of the trike.
The hostel is in a very old hotel (two of them, we stayed in the Dakota) with a very old elevator. The kind with the inner accordion door at the base of which you expect to see severed fingers. Zoe had no such fear and kept her fingers intact while finding every opportunity to pilot the elevator. On our initial inspection of the room we rode the elevator to the seventh floor without a problem. When we returned with all of our gear, the elevator wasn’t working and we hoofed everything up seven flights of narrow, steep stairs. I’m not sure anyone really knows how the elevator works; a certain amount of magic or incantation seems part of the equation. The staff’s debugging consisted of flipping a magic switch somewhere and then waiting for an appropriate sounding clunk. All we heard was a click. After the seven flights it never failed us again.
Here’s the view from our room. Interesting things on roofs around here.