The Geysers: Healdsburg to Cloverdale and Back on My SuperSomething

My hometown of Santa Rosa sits in the center of Sonoma County, California, a region known for its wine and cannabis crops. Sonoma County features 19 distinct wine appellations, each recognized for having unique soil, climate, elevation, and proximity to the Pacific Ocean. Growing up here, I always disliked the snobby wino culture and the monocrop which seemed to consume every last acre of native grassland and oak woodland to erect geometrically perfect and ecologically discordant rows of grapes, grapes, and more grapes. But I've grown to appreciate the seasonal rhythm of the vineyards, especially when their vibrant rows of vines, heavy with fruit, start to turn gold, signaling the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. I love this time of year in Sonoma County, so I wanted to share it with some friends. 

Just north of the sprawling working-class suburb of Santa Rosa is Healdsburg, an upscale yuppie tourist town with a distinctly European feel. It should come as no surprise that Healdsburg is roadie heaven, since road biking and wine growing are a timeless combo. The town itself sits in the center of three different American Viticultural Areas (AVAs): Russian River Valley, Dry Creek Valley, and Alexander Valley. The route I selected for that Sunday would pass through all three of them over the course of 55 miles and 5,000 feet of elevation. 

I made plans with Chris McNally and Sean Hipkin to meet in downtown Healdsburg on Sunday morning. While they were driving up from San Francisco, I picked up some breakfast and a cappuccino from Quail and Condor, a top-notch bakery that has earned a nomination for a James Beard Award and a spot on The New York Times best bakeries list. I cannot resist a canelé, so I brought a few extra for the fellas to fuel our journey and inspire our legs.

The first ten miles through Dry Creek Valley are rolling two-lane rural roads alongside massive vineyards. I'm sure tourists who've never seen wine grapes being grown are quite impressed out here while they drunkenly pedal from tasting room to tasting room, but for me it's just filler miles. There isn't much of a shoulder and those vineyard management trucks love to floor it, so we stuck to a single-file paceline until we hit Dutcher Creek Road, where we were able to stretch out and chat a bit as we rode three abreast on our first small climb and descent of the day.

We crossed under the 101 freeway onto Asti Road and pedaled along the freeway frontage, passing the ill-fated Cloverdale Smart Train station, which was built thirty years ago in anticipation of a passenger train that has yet to connect to this station. It's either a symbol of the failure of this region to properly implement a functional public transit system, or maybe it's a beacon of hope for the bright future of public transit in Northern California. I love riding the Smart Train and I'm rooting for it to eventually connect all the way to Cloverdale!

We skirted by the town of Cloverdale and smoked a j packed with Sonoma County's finest in the shade under the bridge at the Russian River, which was running quite low at this time of year. A few flat and pleasant miles later, we arrived at the base of Geysers Road. 

Known to locals as simply The Geysers, this remote road climbs up 3500 feet along Big Sulphur Creek up to Geyser Peak, the site of the largest geothermal power facility on the planet. At the base of the climb there's a sign that says ROUGH ROAD, and I thought, "That's a pretty good description for my SuperSomething – a 'rough road' bike." Outfitted with 700x50 tires, my XL SuperSomething is set up for off-road adventures, but it still feels fast and floats like a hovercraft over the broken and dilapidated road surfaces throughout rural Sonoma County.

With the Peak behind us, we started our descent. We soared down to the valley floor, dropping about 2,350 feet in 10 miles. Descending this road takes real concentration – there are sudden changes in the grade, or cattleguards installed at the apex of a critical turn, or in some sections the blacktop gives way to loose gravel. Pay attention, The Geysers teaches us. Pay attention or you will suffer.

I love when a ride features a mid-route stop at a cafe or restaurant, and the Geysers descent ends at the Jimtown Store, a classic roadside market which now serves freshly-made dim sum. I devoured a tofu-broccoli bao and savored a refreshing iced americano. It was nice to share a moment on the shaded patio with some friends, catch my breath, stretch my hamstrings, and prepare for the final leg of the route. Then we softly pedaled our way back to Healdsburg. 

If you're interested in riding this route, The Geysers is open year-round and is probably best in the fall or spring when the weather is cool and the colors are popping. It's roughly 55 miles and 5k of climbing, and the steepest grade is about 11-12% in the final mile to the summit. There aren't any options for water once you're on Geysers Road, so fill up your bottles beforehand. There also isn't any cell service once you're really out there, so ride carefully. If 55 miles sounds like too much road for you, there are shorter and less challenging options all over the place. Do whatever feels best for you and have fun!