Anachronism. Something out of place, in time. That’s the Pelican Inn - our homebase and a fitting juxtaposition to the days ahead.

The peeling hand-painted sign, non-existent cell service, and well-worn bar stools seemed to balance the ‘AI is going to take over the world’ vibes of our Rivian R1S, carbon-laced mountain bikes, and proximity to Silicon Valley. The cacophony of email and text alerts segued to a symphony of cicadas and bees, of wind whipping past rolled-down windows, and waves lapping against the sand.

We had set out on a road trip to ride Mt. Tamalpais or Mt. Tam as the locals call it. Stretching over 2,500 feet above the Pacific and the sun-baked Muir Beach, Mt Tam is a spider web of trails that feels much farther away from downtown San Francisco than the meer 13 windy miles would attest.These same trails were home to a generation of cyclists that stuffed balloon tires onto their steel single speeds and let gravity pull them down the loose twists and turns, unburdened by their simple coaster brakes’ insufficient friction. The first downhill bike race took place on these steep descents, fittingly named “Repack” because they had to repack their coaster brakes after the excessive heat from braking would vaporize the grease. The trail with the same name on the North side pays homage to that race, though our much more modern, knobbier tires wouldn’t have the opportunity to grip that same dirt…this time.

We wanted to get a comprehensive-but-chill taste of what Tam had to offer riders today.

Enter our friend and local ‘guide,’ Drew. Drew grew up on the other side of Mt. Tam, and after much internal debate about trail options and combinations, we settled on our two-day route: longer and scenic on the first day, and more tech-focused on day two.

DAY 1: MOUNT TAM DOUBLE

The Pelican Inn, nestled into the fog-funneling valley of Muir Beach, seemed to ground us in the history of the area. We were set to spend the next few days pedaling over and around this historic mountain. Our bikes couldn’t be more different than those original cruisers. But no one was complaining!

We drank coffee on the lawn, rolled our modern steeds onto the sand at Muir Beach, and rode over the mountain with our sights set on a delicious lunch in Mill Valley.

We had a pretty big day ahead, but plenty of time to take it all in and o keep our goal of ‘chill’ within reach.

The mountain is big by most folk’s standards, and many routes up and down can be frustratingly fire-road heavy (there’s a reason gravel bikes seem to be so in vogue here), but with a little work we focused on double and singletrack and weren't disappointed.

It’s worth noting that unlike almost anywhere else on earth where mountain bikes are a popular choice for two-wheeled travel, 95% of the single track on this mountain is, perplexingly, illegal to ride. Mountain biking was invented here (though we’ll hand it to the folks in Crusty, not perfected). This is the result of, candidly, a small group of locals with too much free time using the concept of conservation as a weapon, who believe mountain biking is in some way less deserving of the use of these mostly underutilized trails. As a result, there is an ongoing battle between the park rangers who enforce these trail use laws, and the locals who ‘poach’ the best of the goods. While tickets are few and far between for most, the principle of the matter is what irks most local riders…and that ticket I got on Christmas Day 2012.

We made sure to keep our rubber within the lines of legal, and truly don’t feel as if we lost much other than some of the more techy lines that go down the north side of the mountain.

We ascended Diaz Ridge, which starts directly across from the Pelican Inn, then up and around to the East Peak of Tam via Deer Park fire road, then navigated the Railroad Grade. This was once the steepest railroad in the world, now a trail gateway and coyote haven.

We descended via Eldridge Grade, Hoo-Koo-E-Koo, and then Tenderfoot (the highlight) into Mill Valley. (If you’re recognizing names, Gary Fisher did name more than a few bikes after the area). We had lunch at the location of the old lumber mill and namesake of the town. Now, it’s the home to two excellent cafes, some cool shops, and a toy store. There’s plenty of bike parking designed to keep your ride in your line of sight. People know the deal here. 

As we sat down, I felt grateful that I was with a crew who agreed that pocket-Haribo candy and hydration mix isn’t a real lunch, no matter the popularity of the hashtag.

We had pizza and margaritas, one of which we regretted immediately after we started riding, but I’d argue the satisfaction in the moment was worth it.

We climbed out of Tam Valley and up onto the mountain via Railroad Grade again, and made our way to Pantoll Ridge. 

From here, there was a descent that we felt was undersold. It's not pure singletrack. It wasn’t perfect loamy dirt. But it was fast, flowy, and narrow enough to keep your brain engaged with whoops-a-plenty. This dropped us right down onto the famous Highway 1, where we then took a route literally through the backyards of some houses (legal!), and ended up almost crashing into the bar of the Pelican Inn. We loaded our dusty steeds back onto the Rivian sporting a fresh new Super Duty and locked them up for the night, beers in hand.

Fish and chips accompanied a beach view at sunset. It’s easy to see why people like this little village. One more beer, and we called it a night.

DAY 2: TAMARANCHO, THEN HOME

Whatever it takes to make singletrack legal I guess? In this case, it takes….actual Boy Scouts. 

Tamarancho is a Boy Scout camp in Fairfax, a tiny town about 45 minutes north of the Inn. Because the land is private, the anti-MTB folks couldn’t touch it, and for only $6 each, we could ride it all day. It’s maintained well and there’s a little something for everyone. The trail system has expanded brilliantly in the past decade or so. Steep. Narrow. Flow. Tech. Gnarly. It’s where most local kids cut their teeth and learn to love the sport.

Tamarancho is a loop with a series of connecting trails that are all really fun. Difficulty and distance wise, it’s basically a-la-carte, but we did a basic loop and opted to descend the flow trail twice, then head back out to Fairfax, capping the day with a beer and brat at Gestalt House. Sweat and muddy tires are standard there. 

Two days of escape, this adventure was a success. 

If you are a gear person, (which I’m guessing you might be if you are reading this article) we were fairly over-biked for the journey we took. Someone could do this on a coaster-brake cruiser, a beat up truck bed with a slab of carpet over the gate, and a prayer like they did in the old days.

1. But the funny thing is nobody wished they had ridden something different. The days of having a one bike quiver (and one rack quiver?) are upon us. But like really good suspension that lets you take on that drop that Drew definitely did not tell us about, you never know when you’ll deal with the unexpected. Though we didn't touch the capabilities of the new Super Duty, we felt comfort knowing it could handle whatever we could throw at it from e-bikes to fat bikes and everything in between.

Next week, we’re heading to the fabled Downieville, the Sierra Buttes gem, for the second time this year. It’ll involve serious 4x4 trails to access and the bikes will take big hits at high speed. We are content knowing the bikes, rack, and R1S can get us there and back.

We truly live in the golden era of equipment. Sure it’s relaxing enjoying the vibes of yesteryear in an old pub to remember simpler times, but I wouldn’t trade this moment in MTB evolution for anything. But I would still trade my Haribos for pizza and a marg, any day.

Words and photos by Jordan Rosen