Issue #17: Parallel tracks

Adventures on rail (with bikes)

By Miles Cooper

Boarding one of Caltrain’s bike cars in San Francisco bound for Palo Alto, I looked around. And not surprisingly was met with interesting bikes and riders. Caltrain is the San Francisco peninsula’s unsung workhorse rail line. For decades it moved commuters, sports fans, concert goers, and pleasure seekers via heavy diesel locomotives between San Francisco and Gilroy. In the past few years the line was converted to electric, speeding up travel times. Those heavy diesels take longer to decelerate and accelerate into and out of stations. As a diesel-style rider myself — consistent but never very snappy — I get it.

Oh, the places you’ll go!

Caltrain, like many rail services, recognized the benefit of bikes. Bikes allow folks to get to stations without the need to park a car, and on the other end to ride to their destination. Caltrain runs two dedicated bike cars per train. What started as a commuter benefit has become much more, however. On this particular Saturday I was riding the first train south from San Francisco, bound for the 9am Alto Velo group rides starting in Palo Alto.

Caltrain, and the other rail services that encourage bikes, did not intend to build greater community. Yet it happened organically, particularly on Caltrain. Caltrain’s dedicated bike cars concentrate riders together. It’s the unintended added joy of every rail-bike adventure. Every time I ride I either run into folks I know or meet interesting riders.

On this particular weekend morning there were some bike commuters. While there are all types of bike commuters, some particular fields favor bikes because of the odd hours. Healthcare providers with swing shifts, when connecting transit is scarce, are one such field, and there were a few in Stanford Health vests and scrubs heading to work. In my mind I quietly gave thanks for their dedication. Our daughter, who is healthy now, benefitted from their life-saving care during a year-long cancer battle at age three. To this day I can’t see a Stanford provider’s logo without welling up.

While the weekend bike cars carry some commuters they are also hotbeds for the spandex and adventure set. This particular Saturday was no exception. As the train pulled into its second station, affectionately known as The Pit for its deep cut location on the far side of Potrero Hill, a couple riders I knew boarded. I said hello and learned they had scored coveted slots for the docent-led ride in the forbidden forests around Crystal Springs reservoir.

Your multimodal author. All aboard!

This expansive protected watershed for San Francisco remains off-limits, yet tantalizing. Someday, perhaps, I’ll ride there. Someday, perhaps, the region will be opened to the public for recreation in the way Marin Municipal Water District, East Bay Municipal Utility District, and others currently allow. I got an outline of their day’s expected ride. I also heard a little bit about bigger adventures. While the day’s ride was a small adventure for her, Emily Bei Cheng shared a little bit about one of her recent outings. She had ridden Lost Dot, a 1,200 km race in Europe for women, non-binary, and trans riders.

Why do I name drop? To emphasize the joy and serendipity in bike-rail encounters. I was simply heading to a local ride and got to hear about world adventures from a cycling celebrity. Talk about big rides whetted my appetite. Yet as a father with a 12-year-old and 14-year-old who (blessedly) still want my company, I treasure adventure stories as ways to experience big bike outings vicariously. In future years, health and spirit willing, I’ll go big again myself.

As they disembarked I reflected upon some of the outings rail afforded me. My past adventures almost always started by rail. My adventure partner for the last thirty years lives in the Los Angeles basin. Loading my bike in Oakland, fully assembled, onto an Amtrak Coast Starlight (beautiful and slow) or San Joaquin (gritty and less slow) luggage car was always the moment the adventure felt real. Handing that bike up always produced a few skips in my heart: I was on my way. As the train carried me to my destination I would contemplate the planned outing, scrolling Google Earth when connectivity was strong enough. Deep multiday dirt forays into the Angeles Forest. Using other rail (Metrolink) and bus for a Big Bear-to-Pasadena fire road push. Upon arrival I’d walk back to the luggage car, be handed my fully assembled bike, and be able to ride to my LA destination.

Los Angeles Union Station.

Why the fully assembled references? To emphasize just how easy it has gotten for cyclists to use Amtrak as a connector. In times past Amtrak required bikes be broken down into a bike box to go onto a luggage car. No more. For through riders, say someone riding from Seattle to Portland (or further) this creates tremendous opportunity.

My only Amtrak sleeper car experience was another bike adventure. Oakland to LA’s Union Station, then the Southwest Chief to Flagstaff. As I settled into sleep, rocking back and forth, I watched the full moon light up the desert. I arrived in Flagstaff in bitter early cold, grateful for sun and movement as I made my way south. The canyon descent into Sedona’s red rocks took my breath away.

I roused from my reflections — still on Caltrain. I understand the concept of presence and living in the moment. And yet I often find myself planning the future or contemplating the past. I was glad I roused myself. I ended up in a conversation with a couple other riders I did not know. They were headed to the Spectrum ride, a hammerhead special.

The bike ride that day was a particularly marvelous one, nicknamed Crazy Horse for its long descent to a gate, behind which was Neil Young’s ranch. The road has super low traffic since one can’t go through. And since one can’t go through, we reached the bottom, reassembled, and climbed our way up and out. The microclimates included redwoods, grassy meadows, and golden poppies.

Nothing like a sunset view from a train car.

On the Caltrain ride back I of course ran into more cyclists. A few intrepid Thursdays.cc riders were on their way back after a full day’s ride from San Francisco to Santa Cruz and then over the mountains to Santa Clara. Hearing about it made me tired. Listening in to their tales with me was another rider who I had met on BART on our way to a Mt. Hamilton ride a month prior. On that ride he kept the fact that he worked at Ritchey — OG bike royalty — to himself.

I disembarked in San Francisco feeling sated. My personal bike adventure was perfect for me at this point in my life. What nourished me beyond my own ride was the interaction with others and hearing their stories. Big rides in Europe. Quiet rides in watersheds. Hammerfests. Coastal and mountain pushes. Simple commutes. All riders, all interesting, and all sharing space. It made me appreciative for what we’ve got and the through line — here parallel pieces of steel — connecting it all.