Nick has been in, out, and away for a while, so we were quite happy to get an evening ride in together on Wednesday. We climbed to Veteran's Park (huff, puff) and attempted to retrace by memory where our fearless leader had previously led us through yards by moonlight. We didn't find the way, but we did find some occasionally rooty, often steep, and once flanked by a 3-story staircase trails and fire roads behind the Presidio.
I know, you already knew about them and explore them in your sleep, but we didn't, so leave us alone in our discovery.
The last of these roads sent us flying steeply down one of those "damn, even if this is the wrong way, there's no way I'm turning around" hills. We did not end up at the bridge as planned, but rather had to sneak through a gap in the fence to spit out onto 68 a half mile down from it. So we rode up the hill and then climbed up under the bridge and into dripping fog. I didn't know fog dripped, but I guess a San Francisco woman collected 60 gallons one summer in her rain barrel from her roof. Who knew?
So we got the cache. I'm not telling what's in it, but it's in our desk drawer now.