I flew solo yesterday. I had many options-retail therapy, spa day and many trails to hike. I chose Mount Diablo. I headed to Mount Diablo State Park mid morning. I arrived. Well sorta. There was a dead end with a sign giving a new address that was billed as the “closest address for GPS.” I went there. It was a parking lot with pay to park envelopes but no signs or trail maps. There was, however, a trailer. I was hoping to find a human. I did not. But I did find a small hinged metal box. There was a map inside with another address for Mount Diablo. 20 minutes later, I arrived. There was a gate and a park employee taking the $10 per vehicle charge. She handed me a map of the park and showed me where we were and told me to make sure I followed the posted speeds and to use extreme caution when passing bicyclists. Apparently I had “decided” to drive to the summit. I’ve been a passenger on mountain roads before, but never the driver. I drove up the turning and twisting North Gate Road with sheer drop-offs for 45-60 minutes. Driving behind the bikes until it was safe to pass was absolutely unnerving. I layered up for the windy chill and lingered at the summit, checked out the visitors center and purchased 2 prints of artwork created by the Works Progress Administration during the Great Depression. I watched with admiration as one by one, the cyclists I had passed arrived. Time, breath, sunshine, water and a cliff bar restored my nerves and I was was almost looking forward to the drive down the mountain. For one thing, I knew I would hug the inside for the majority of the drive-fewer chances to fall off the edge and die. For another, I knew I wouldn’t have to drive behind struggling cyclists-on the way down they could go faster than vehicles and zoomed all over the place. You know, it turns out that that is more anxiety inducing than driving behind them. I took a turn at South Gate Road so I could explore Rock City. Much warmer there, I started peeling layers. I enjoyed the walk to Artist Point and the view from Artist Point equally. When my adventure ended and I was safely on flat-ish land, I treated myself to an outstanding burger and delicious Belgian Strong Golden. Mountain drive, 5000 steps, burger, beer… I’m pretty okay with solo. But I definitely prefer adventuring with my adventure partner.
