Day 6: Santa Rosa to Olema; 66 miles
 Tuscany or Sonoma? - A strange and enjoyable day, we went from the warmth of Sonoma wine country, straight into the damp, foggy and cow-infested highlands of the coastal region. Like going from Tuscany to Scotland in 10 minutes. Emblematic of why it's so tough to dress for the weather in this area. Today was one of the shorter routes of the week, yet took the longest. Simply because today was "relax and stop everywhere to eat" day. Not that we didn't hammer in places, which Ken, Pete, Roberto and I still managed to do. It was also one of the most beautiful days. The day also served as a microcosm of the Bay area in general, and more specifically, the North Bay area. We started in Santa Rosa, which is in Sonoma County and rode to Occidental, which is an absolutely cute little town. From there, we took the hillier of the alternative routes up and over Coleman Valley Road to the sea. This was an experience. First, there were sections on this climb that were comparable in difficulty to Spring Mountain Road, which we suffered through yesterday. I was wearing long fleece tights and a relatively heavy long-sleeve Castelli jacket, mainly because it was cold and foggy in Santa Rosa, and that was what was expected on the coast. Which it was. Unfortunately, going up Coleman Valley the fog had mostly burned off so I was a bit warm. But it was still rather remarkable, because here we were riding through an area that could have been Tuscany, full of sweeping valleys lined with vineyards. But once we topped out on Coleman Valley, we ran into fog and this rather surreal moonscape, populated by gnarled trees, clumps of grass and tortured looking bushes. And cows. We almost took out a few along the way. There were also cattle guards again, which are metal grates essentially, strung across roads to keep the cattle from ambling down the road very far. They're more annoying than dangerous to cyclists. But we went from rather warm to very cool and damp in a matter of minutes. Such are the vagaries of the Bay area and its microclimates, and one of the reasons I like it so much here. You just never know what to expect. The descent to Highway 1 was somewhat treacherous. The road was winding and choppy, and given my experience coming off of Mt. Hamilton, I decided discretion was the better part of road rash and took it easy. But the reward was no less for the effort. We dropped down under the fog to the ocean, in all its glory and strength. That provided its own adrenaline rush. At the bottom, I crossed Highway 1 to a spur of rock and let out a yell. From there, it was a short and relatively easy spin into Valley Ford, where Roberto just held me off by a wheel in the sprint to the city limits sign. If I'd have seen the sign a few seconds earlier, I probably would've taken it. We snacked (too much) in Valley Ford, then spun through a remarkably harsh, uncomfortable five miles of fog and headwinds; very Scottish and totally unwanted. But we cruised downhill into the town of Tomales Bay where coffee was in order. From there, it was another five or seven miles to Tony's, where we stopped for oysters and chowder. The raw oysters were superb. Another rather quick and progressively warmer (as we moved farther inland) five miles and we pulled into the town of Point Reyes Station, and a coffee and snack break at the Bovine Bakery, which has really wonderful stuff, and is a regular ride stop for Marin County cyclists. From that point, it was a very relaxed two-mile spin to our campsite at Olema Ranch campgrounds. As is an apparent tradition, Roberto hung our bikes by their seats from the nearest large tree, where they will spend the night, hopefully moderately protected from the mist that is blowing in from the sea. Which is strange considering the moon and stars are still visible. Tonight we were given a huge treat. Karen Salinger, one of our riders and the operator of organic produce powerhouse Veritable Vegetables, was able to talk one of her best customers, Charles, the owner/chef of the Slanted Door restaurant in the Mission, to not just provide food for dinner tonight, but actually drive up here with staff and prepare a gourmet meal of French Vietnamese cuisine. This is a restaurant that's almost impossible to get a reservation at, yet here we were 40 miles from the City and there they were cooking this incredible meal of spring rolls, cabbage salad, sea bass, chicken, ribs and pork tenderloin. I'm very stuffed right now. And I didn't even get to dessert. After dinner, we had our final communal meeting, with each of us getting the chance to express our best and worst moments of the Tour. Almost everyone said they enjoyed the riding, the people and the setting. Some of the bad moments were truly difficult, with people nearly getting knocked off their bikes, and the lowest, Ken's girlfriend, Susan, getting spit at by some kids on a school bus. My worst moment, of course, came at the base of Mt. Hamilton, where some of my skin still remains. But my best happened right after the crash, when I got back on my bike and rode another 40 miles, then three more days, bitching and moaning a pretty fair amount along the way (which Roberto is quite sick of by now), but riding nonetheless. But the ride has also deepened my appreciation for my adopted home, and the need to support organizations like Greenbelt that protect it. I will probably reflect more on this after tomorrow, and hopefully fill in some holes in this diary and send you the complete text. For now, I bid you ciao! Go to Day 7: Olema to the City; 46 miles 
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