Take a bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge

Golden Gate Bike Ride

Ok, so I told you we’re not hard bodies looking for an endurance race, but here’s one that we just couldn’t resist. We took that trip to San Francisco that I’d been promised, and there are more sights and sounds in that city than most entire countries have to offer.

Tom mysteriously decided we needed new bicycles when we left for this trip, and we proceeded to load the new bicycles up on a rack at the back of the truck when we left. I had no idea what he had in mind, and was just under the impression that we were simply going to get healthy.

So we arrived in town, and did all the great things people do in San Francisco. There was Fisherman’s Wharf, a trip up Highway 1, Chinatown, the famous San Francisco Trolley, and oh, so much more. I was in heaven!

While visiting Fisherman’s Wharf, Tom stopped off to talk with the people that rent the bikes to ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. Well, I still didn’t get the picture…

So when he showed me the map of how people rent the bikes and ride across the Golden Gate Bridge, he mentioned that we should do that. So now you know… We got up the next morning and called the bellman to have him rig up the truck with the bike rack.

Our Golden Gate Bike Ride Begins

We began the trip at Fisherman’s Wharf, just as the people do that rent the bicycles. It was quite a ride along the waterfront, past all the restaurants and next to the sailboats. We wove gingerly between tourists as they jaywalked in front of us, and continued our trek.

Then there was a stretch of road through the Precidio where we rode along near the water. The view of the bridge is awe-inspiring from there, so of course I stopped for a few quick photos. From there it was a hard climb up a rather large hill, that had us both pushing our bikes.

And then, there it was! The Golden Gate Bridge is oh, so breathtaking from her bike paths. I felt the wind blowing on my face, ever so slightly lifting my helmet atop my head. I lagged behind Tom to watch him and reassure myself that yes, he was going all the way. As the trucks, cars and the occasional bus whizzed by us, my husband resolutely continued on his way across this immense span of orange steel.

When you get up on the bridge, there’s a nice wide path (big enough for passing) to ride on. It’s sheltered from the traffic by a sturdy fence, so it’s absolutely safe to ride there. On the opposite side is a similar path used by pedestrians walking the bridge, so you don’t have to worry about competing for space or anyone getting hurt.

Halfway across, we stopped and gazed off in the distance at the skyline of San Francisco spread out before us in all it’s glory. Then once more he was pressing onward, but now with a more confident air. Or could it be that he was now on the downhill side? As we approached the end of the bridge, there was a road curving downward, reserved for bicycles. As it merged with the road to Sausalito, we realized our adventure was not quite over yet. Yes, there was still the road into Sausalito to ride before we could board the ferry and return to “The City”, as it is referred to by the natives.

The winding streets led through a housing district, and then more tourists. Sausalito is a town filled to the brim with quaint little shops and tiny eateries. The shopping had to wait for another day, however, as Tom was tiring rapidly. We wound our way amongst the shoppers and dropped in an exhausted heap on a bench near the ferry dock.

I left my bike with Tom and went to a nearby shop for some ice cream, his favorite treat. When I returned, I looked into the eyes of a triumphant, formerly wheelchair bound, man. The ice cream was just what it took to let him know how proud I was of his determination. I kind of thought, if he could do it how could I refuse? So I kept pushing him forward until he accomplished what he set out to do.

Then the ferry arrived, and we boarded with dozens of other bicycle riders for the trip back to San Francisco. The fog rolled in and the cold chilled us to the bone, as is the way in San Francisco. As we slowly made our way across the bay, I snapped photos one after another as my fingers iced over and froze into position on the camera.

The Golden Gate Bridge was shrouded in fog, and The City huddled beneath a smothering white blanket. To the left was the Oakland Bay Bridge, and we rounded the eerie island of Alcatraz and soon eased into the boat dock.

Here’s where you might think this long, tiring journey might end, but it wasn’t complete without the final stretch. We once more mounted our bikes and rode down past several more piers until we finally reached our truck, parked near the Boudin Bakery. We loaded the bikes onto the bike rack, and wandered into Boudin’s for a couple of bowls of soup. Of course at Boudin’s, the soup comes in a bowl you can eat. And the Sourdough is amazing in San Francisco. Ah, a perfect ending to a perfect day!

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