THE BABES

To a cyclist the number 13 followed by the % sign is scary shit.  That's exactly what I thought when I saw the number on my bicycle computer as I climbed Spyglass Hill -- holy shit!  You see I've basically been off my bicycle for a couple of months,  thinking that if I didn't bike my shoulders would heal, and all would be good.  But, it's been six months and the shoulders haven't healed, and since they don't feel any worse on the bike than off the bike, I figured I'd rather be on the bike.  Get my drift?   OK, now back to that 13%.

It all started on a Friday Babes ride.  I probably haven't written directly about the Babes because I've wanted to keep them/us a secret, but after today's fantastic ride (6/27/14), it's time to spill the beans.

The ride started after a 2 hour drive from my house to Pacific Grove, a quaint seaside community between Monterey, California and Carmel -- two gorgeous places that are on the list in the book A Thousand Places to See Before I Die.   All eight of us met up in front of the bathrooms at Lovers Point.  I know that doesn't sound very romantic, but you always have to start a ride near a bathroom.

TODAY'S BABES

ONE OF OUR MANY GORGEOUS VIEWS

We headed south, some of the time on the road, and other times on bike paths.   Riding through the toll booth at the entrance to 17 Mile Drive and not have to stop to pay was a kick because cyclists get to use the private road for free, while cars pay a rather hefty fee.  The weather started out a little bit foggy, which is typical for the California Coast this time of year, but after an hour or so, the sun came out, and we began shedding layers.   There had been some earlier rumblings about Spyglass Hill, so I figured there would be a good climb at some point, but I certainly wasn't expecting something as steep as 13%.  Most people laugh when they see how low my bike gears are.  I'm no dummy.    I did not get off my bike to get up Spyglass Hill.  I didn't even have to weave back and forth across the road like Miss Nameless, but heck, she made it to the top without stopping, so who really cares how she did it!

NO MATTER HOW MUCH I ENLARGE THIS PHOTO, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE
13%

Enough about Spyglass Hill because the rest of the ride was pretty comfy.  There were some rollers, of course, but to me that's a perfect ride.  I even like climbing hills, even steep hills, but it's better if I'm in top form, like I was when I rode Mount Tam last summer.  Even better than the roads was our delicious lunch at the outdoor cafe at the municipal golf course, often called Poor Man's Pebble Beach.  I played golf there once, but I hung up my clubs when I realized I was better at riding a bike. 

ANOTHER GORGEOUS VIEW LOOKING SOUTH TO THE VILLAGE OF CARMEL

CANDICE AND JULIE ON THEIR PHONES -- "HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?"

IPHONES HAVE LOUSY WIDE-ANGLE LENS, SO NOT EVERYONE MADE IT IN THIS PICTURE

After lunch we rode back through famous Cannery Row and the Monterey Bay Aquarium, or at least close to it, and then Fisherman's Wharf on a path that was very crowded with kids on trikes,  pretty serious runners, and tourist cyclists, which means bike riders who are slow and don't have a clue as to what they are doing.  Eventually we got on the sand dunes path that had a magnificent view south overlooking Monterey Bay and north to the beach town of Santa Cruz.  I've seen that dunes path a hundred times before when driving on Highway #1, but this was the first time I'd actually ridden it.  Very cool indeed.  

A VIEW FROM THE DUNES PATH LOOKING SOUTH TO MONTEREY

At one point on the dunes path, a few of the Babes turned around, but I kept going until I reached another Miss Nameless who looks like she's barely pedaling, but she goes like the wind.  She was sitting on a guardrail at the top of a short hill waiting for me, while I huffed and puffed up the hill to meet her.   At that point we decided to turn back and head for the commercial fishing wharf in Monterey because she was hoping to buy some fresh fish for dinner.  Well, the commercial wharf was really quite an interesting scene with very large refrigerated trucks waiting to pick up fresh fish right from the boats.   There were no tourists.  Just working stiffs and a couple of cyclists hoping  to buy fresh fish.  

CHECK OUT THE ICE IN THE RED CONTAINERS WAITING TO LOAD ALONG WITH THE FRESH FISH

When that didn't work out, we headed to a local market where we knew we could buy really fresh, and we did.  My friend didn't have a backpack or any place to carry the fish for the rest of the five mile ride back to our car, so she stored the fish packed in a plastic bag with ice under her bike shirt and zipped up her jacket, and prayed it would hold until we reached the car.  And it did.

WHAT A VERY CREATIVE WAY TO CARRY FRESH FISH

HOW MANY SEALS DO YOU SEE IN THIS IPHONE PICTURE?

The rest of our bike ride was pretty straightforward except when we went to load our bikes in my car which was parked in a quiet residential area just off a busy street.  That's when a lovely man came out of his house and said, "Ma'am, your car alarm went off twice today.  I thought you should know."  "Oh, my God," I said.  "I'm so sorry.  What happened?  How did you stop it?"  "I didn't," he said.  "It eventually went off by itself.  Then the second time the horn went off, I tried to jiggle the driver's door because I noticed it wasn't shut tight, even though the car was locked.  Again, the horn eventually shut off by itself."  Of course, I was mortified, but there was nothing I could do but tell him how sorry I was, and I hoped I didn't ruin his or his neighbors' day, but he seemed very nonchalant.  Just got in his car and drove away.



So, that's my story about today's great bike ride in Pacific Grove and Monterey with The Babes.  Just think.  Some people spend thousands of dollars to travel here and ride their bikes on the same beautiful route we did today.   All I spent was $15.00 for lunch and three-quarters of a tank of gas.

  

$15 BUCKS AND 3/4 OF A TANK OF GAS!

EXPLORING MY ROOTS - EPILOGUE

When I woke up in Samarina,  the sun was shining, and the sky was bright blue.   Where did yesterday's fog go, I wondered. Then it hit me.  Turning to Bruce, I said, "You know what that thick fog was about, don't you?"   Not giving him a second to answer,  I continued, "It's all because of my Mother.  She made it happen."  There was no doubt in my mind that my Mother was responsible for the fog we encountered yesterday because she wanted to make sure our trip to the high mountain village of Samarina was as dangerous and as difficult as it had been for her all those many years ago.  That's why she told me I could only go to Samarina in August because the snow would be gone by then.   Since there was no snow on our trip in May, like there had been in her day, she created the fog.   I couldn't wait to share my insights with Susan and Maddy.   "Oh, you are absolutely right," Susan said, and although Maddy never knew her great grandmother, she'd heard enough stories, so she agreed too.  You see that's the way Lucia Perkins was.  A little bit Miss Smartypants, a little bit Miss Vindictive, and a lot of Miss I-Told-You-So.   We all had a good laugh, but knowing that Lucia and Nick were along for the ride kept us smiling all day.  

LUCIA PERKINS, 1986

After a good night's sleep in Likos' almost-new hotel and an unusual breakfast of a thick creamy rice soup,  the four of us climbed in the red jeep, and with Likos as our chauffeur, we set off to explore the town.   The best way to describe our morning in Samarina is to call it a love fest with strangers.  To all the people we met, we were the Pispirikos girls (poor Bruce), and we had our introductory letter that my cousin wrote in Greek to back us up.  In some instances, we produced the family photos, and even though no one knew us, there were a lot of oohs and ahhhs and even more hugging and kissing.  To the Samarina villagers, we were their long-lost Vlach-American kissing cousins.

SOUP FOR BREAKFAST?

SUSAN TALKING WITH 86-YEAR-OLD ALEXANDRA WHO REMEMBERED MY PARENTS WHEN THEY WOULD COME TO SAMARINA TO  VISIT

 That morning we had an experience that can only be called one of those six degrees of separation things.  Here's what happened.  While having coffee in the platia (plaza) in front of Likos's restaurant, we met Zisis Davaras, who spoke pretty good English.  He overheard us talking, so he pulled up his chair next to ours and asked if we were from the United States.  "I have a second cousin who lives in Haverhill, Massachusetts," he said.  "Perhaps you know him."  Under different circumstances, I would have politely laughed and said No, the United States is a big country, and we live in California, thousands of miles away, blah, blah, blah.   But this time I told him my parents lived in New Hampshire, and they had many Vlach friends who lived in Haverhill.     "His name is Mike Valhoulis," Zisis said.  "Do you know him?"  "Mike Valhoulis," I shrieked.  Really, Mike Valhoulis?"  I was shocked.  "Of course, we know Mike Valhoulis.  He and his family were very close friends with my Mom and Dad, and I knew him too--a long time ago."  

DRINKING COFFEE IN THE PLATIA WITH ZISIS AND LIKOS'S BROTHER

LIKOS AND ZISIS DAVARAS READING OUR LETTER OF INTRODUCTION

(L-R)  ZISIS, MADDY, SUSAN, BRUCE & LIKOS'S BROTHER

  When Zisis heard my reply, he reached for his cell phone and punched in the number for Mike Valhoulis in Massachusetts, and lucky for us, Mike answered.  In Greek or most likely in the Vlach language, Zisis asked Mike,  "Do you know the Pispirikos family from New Hampshire?"  "Of course, I do," Mike replied.  "Well, there are three members of the Pispirikos family here with me in Samarina right now."  Then Zisis handed me the phone.   For the next ten minutes, we had a reunion with Mike, catching up on our lives, as Susan and I passed the phone back and forth between us.   Mike not only knew my parents well, but also my brother, who is Susan's father and Maddy's grandfather.   

ZISIS CALLING MIKE VALHOULIS IN MASSACHUSETTS

HELLO,  IS THIS MIKE?

AFTER OUR TRIP I SENT MIKE VALHOULIS THIS PICTURE MADDY TOOK OF SAMARINA

This small world story will underscore something that most of my close friends already know about me:  I have six degrees of separation and small world encounters often.  Some of the stories might make an interesting post, but until that time, I will tell you one more that relates to this Samarina story.  

A few months ago I went to see a new doctor about my sore shoulder.  He was a young guy with a long name that ended in "ouros," so, of course, he was Greek.  We took a few minutes to exchange details about our roots, and although his family was from the south, he was familiar with the village names of Samarina and Vouvusa because he thought that his in-laws' family may have come from there.  He gave me their email address and encouraged me to contact them.  In an email reply from his aunt, I learned that her parents were from Samarina and Vouvusa (formerly Biasa) too, and that their best friends in Haverhill, Massachusetts were the Valhoulis.  

GOOD-BYE SAMARINA

So, that's the story of reconnecting with my Vlach heritage.  A few days ago I was with a friend who had read the first installment of my "roots" blog, and I was touched when she said, "Your blog made me realize that I too have a tribal heritage."    I guess in some way we all do.