A group of gals had already left to head home, so there were fewer loiterers on Sunday morning. Steph and I hung out shoving food down peoples' throats and trying in vain to organize the remaining stuff so that Jamie could carry it back to the Bay Area in her car. We finally got everything and everybody together and ready to head back to the Bay Area.

Steph, Tony, Peter, and I all headed out for the Subway in Jackson so that Peter could caffeinate (I really have to get him to start liking coffee if he's going to be my biker babe...). We stopped along the way to get the Pine Grove historical marker; I have to say, the boys are really good sports about sitting out in the sun while their womenfolk arrange bikes near slabs of rock and ask to be photographed.

It was nearing lunchtime anyway by the time we got to Jackson, so we ate subs at Subway (as opposed to just drinking soda) and chatted about getting home. Peter and I wanted to take some back roads, and Steph and Tony wanted to head home, so we split up.

Sunday was an interesting day for me, because it was one of the two times that I've ever led Peter on a trip (the other being our Marin practice run for Diana and my Wind Dancers ride). I know I've mentioned that I have the World's Worst Direction Sense Ever, and it manifests in severe performance anxiety whenever I have to lead a ride. I never have a problem riding alone, but I literally panic when faced with leading other people, especially for local rides. I guess I figure that if I don't know where I am out in the middle of nowhere, it's no biggie, but it's really stressful to demonstrate that I don't know where I am even in the area I've lived in for four years. I don't really talk about how much it bothers me to lead rides, because the usual response is always "oh, you're just not used to it, it'll get easier". That's true; it does get easier...but not for the reasons people think. The panic and anxiety is always there whenever I lead a ride; it's the dealing with that and not letting it effect my riding which gets easier. I don't think people really understand that, sometimes, it feels dangerous for me to lead, because I'm panicking and stressing out and trying so hard not to totally freak out that I'm not paying any attention to the road.

Anyway, Peter was really zonked out tired on Sunday, so I offered to lead. We were hopping on Highway 49 in Jackson and taking it straight to Coulterville, so I wasn't worried about missing a turn or having to navigate through a city or dealing with parking or anything. This was back country, and we'd be stopping for historical markers, so I could get my bearings periodically.

The ride itself was really nice. More 70-80mph sweepers and lots of wide open land. I really like Highway 49. We stopped for a few historical markers; it was getting too hot to stop and search out all of them, so if I didn't see the marker immediately by the side of the road after the "historical marker: 500 feet" sign, I didn't stop.

We stopped in Chinese Camp to sit in the shade for a while, drink some water and soda, and just sort of rest. It was getting really hot out (naturally; that's the story of my summer), and I was getting concerned about our water intake. I know Peter thinks I was being a nag, but all I'd seem him drink was soda all day, so I bought us some peanuts and bottled water, which he dutifully sipped while giving me the stinkeye.

Peter looked at a nearby map, to give me the impression that he wasn't actually mentally planning my demise, and found a neat-looking tertiary road that connects Highway 49 to Highway 132. It looked nice and twisty and interesting, so we decided to do that instead of taking 49 directly to 132.

Marshes Flat Road intersects 49 right at Moccasin, near the Hetch Hetchy Aqueduct. It twists and winds alongside the Don Pedro Reservoir until Blanchard. The first third is all open range cattle grazing; lots and lots of cattle guards. I stopped to take pictures of the cows, convincing Peter that we were going to get stampeded.

The second third of Marshes Flat is a gorgeous winding road through a small canyon. The leaves were starting to turn colors, and the hills were splotches of reds and oranges. I wanted to stop for pictures, but there weren't many places to stop, and I was pretty certain that Peter would have killed me for real, had I parked us out in the sun to photograph trees. We'll have to go back and check out that road and canyon area again.

I made my one wrong turn of the day at the end of Marshes Flat, but it was excusable, since we had to take another little road a mile or so to actually get to Highway 132, and it was unclear which direction we should turn. Highway 132 squiggles around, too, so even the GPS wasn't really clear. But we figured it out.

We took Highway 132 west into Modesto, which was fairly uneventful. I remembered most of the layout of that part of the city from having ridden through it after last year's Pacific Rally, and I wanted to get to Highway 99. I pulled over at the side of the road at one point to double check that I wanted Highway 99 north.

We moved the bikes over into the shade so that Peter could yell for a while about: not having stopped earlier; it was too hot out; why had I stopped in the sun, for chrissakes; no, he wasn't overheating and pissy, dammit, and stop nagging him about drinking water. We rode a few more miles and stopped at an In-N-Out on the other side of Modesto for milkshakes and french fries. Not terribly surprisingly, we both felt a lot better after some food and air conditioning.

The ride back after that was fairly uneventful; we took 99 north to 205 to 580 to Livermore and then 84 back home. Peter led on the last leg back to Livermore, since he wanted to take 84 and avoid the 580/680 interchange. I'm glad he did; I always forget about what a nightmare that interchange is. *shudder*

So that was the 2003 Pacific Rally. Overall, I think everyone had a really good time, did some fun riding, and got to know some cool people. And that's what the Rally is all about. :)