That tells you something about how this ride ends: after a long day on the coast the route finishes on the far side of the water, among the suburbs that fill the shelf between the bay and the dry brown ridges behind. Fairview and Castro Valley are a few minutes away, Hayward a little further, and the whole district sits directly on the Hayward Fault, which is a fact most locals have made peace with.
You are here to be done. After hours of fog and cold on the Pacific side, the East Bay is a shock of warmth, with the same sun that was lost behind the marine layer all afternoon still baking the golden hills. If you came over one of the bay crossings, the San Mateo-Hayward Bridge is the long low one nearby, running seven miles over shallow water and salt flats where egrets stand around in shining numbers. Traffic on the bridge and along the freeways is heavy in the late afternoon, so a delay for coffee before the commute thins out is not a bad idea.
The hills above Hayward and Castro Valley hold some pleasant riding for anyone with spare energy: narrow lanes climbing through oak and grass, regional parks with views back across the water, and a surface that ranges from fresh to patchy. Cattle graze right to the edge of the road in places, and in spring the slopes turn a green so vivid it looks painted. By July they are the colour of a lion.
Fuel is everywhere, with Hayward's population of over one hundred and fifty thousand giving you any chain or bike shop you might want, and Dublin to the east adds more. Food leans toward Mexican, Afghan and Vietnamese, as it does across much of the Bay Area, and there is almost always a taqueria open late if the ride ran longer than planned. A good place to say goodnight to the day.