At the signal, we stream onto the road and up the first grade, front-runners setting a fast pace in a tight pack, followed by an unravelling line of recreational riders. Breaths come hard and fast. Well-oiled chains buzz around the endless loop of cogs. The serious riders sit in rows of two, three and four, tucked in behind the leaders to cheat the wind. Occasionally a long paceline forms, bikes like links of a chain, wheel to wheel, rocketing forward.
Riders fall off the pace, shaken from the back.
Small groups form and carry on at an easier pace. For those who care to look, the rolling hills and cloud-swathed forests give way beyond the summit to long straightaways and winding stretches beside the river. Under the warming sun a sea lion pops his head up, gazing at the curious company. The tree leaves are all shine and shadow as they turn in the morning breeze. A passing rider remarks upon the beauty all around us, then accelerates away.