Rednecks and Raccoons - Day 22 – 39 miles

We all knew today would be tough. The previous night everybody was studying the map and elevation chart with grim fascination. There were 2 different thousand foot hills between us and our next campsite. I delayed setting off even more than I usually do. It was midday before I set off. Another thing I've learnt on this trip is that the anticipation of the hill is nearly always worse than the hill itself. As soon as I left the park the climb began. It was actually quite pleasant, not too steep and the road was very quiet. I passed a mountain biker with no bags pushing their bike. I pedalled on past at a nifty 5MPH feeling like Lance Armstrong. I reached the top without too much drama and feeling super-fit decided I might have a go at the hike to the viewpoint from the top. I studied the sign at the trailhead and saw the hike was a 5 mile round-trip. Without hesitation I hopped back on the bike and sped down the hill.

Half way down I slammed on the brakes, not believing what I'd just seen at the side of the road. I was 400 feet above sea-level, the ocean was miles away. Despite this, I was in the middle of a sand-dune stretching as far as I could see in all directions. Even more confusingly the usual mountain pine forest was growing throughout the sand-dune. It was quite beautiful, like some kind of alien planet.

I enjoyed another 20 miles of coastal scenery and gently rolling roads before reaching the second thousand foot hill of the day. I felt pretty confident at the bottom, having already made fairly light work of hill number 1. This hill was far less pleasant. The road was quite busy and the shoulder narrow. It's difficult to say whether the grade was steeper or if I was just more tired having already ridden 30 miles. After 20 minutes, convinced I was just rounding the final corner I went for a sprint finish. As I sprinted round the corner it became clear I was nowhere near the top. I felt like an idiot. The rest of the hill was even more of a struggle having used all my energy during my pointless sprint.

After limping the last few miles I made it to the campground and met Elan, Kate, Brian and Beth. For the first time the campground was near a town so we decided this was a good opportunity to go for a drink. As we prepared to leave I noticed a sneaky raccoon descending on our camp. It seemed unconcerned that we were watching as it walked up to one of our neighbours tents and began eating some food he'd left outside his tent. The fellow camper was asleep in his tent so we went over to tell the guy that a raccoon was eating his food. The guy didn't seem concerned, I think he was deliberately feeding the raccoon.

We found a bar. It was a fairly rough-looking establishment with clientèle to match. We were all drunk after our first pint. A cycle tourist is a very cheap date. We were approached by one of the local 'women'. She was, in her own words, intoxicated. The toothless hag asked us where we were from and what we were doing in town. Brian said that we'd all cycled across America in order to drink at this bar. She was looking for someone to play pool with her and her friend. Elan gladly volunteered. I was glad he was keeping the locals entertained so we could return to pleasant conversation. It wasn't long before we were all a bit rosy-cheeked and ready for bed.

Back in my tent I had trouble sleeping, convinced every noise I heard was the raccoon trying to steal my food. I could now understand how Elan had been driven to use pepper spray on one a few nights back.

It seems for now at least I have found a bunch of similarly paced, really good people to travel with. We are all starting to plan our days together with the intention of camping in the same place each night. These kind of shared experiences seem to accelerate friendships but I'm also aware that things can change quickly and this little group could disband as quickly as it came together. For now though it is a great way to travel.