Back in the Saddle - Day 48 – 36 miles

You might think after 8 glorious days off the bike I might have been raring to get back on the road. I can't lie, I was not ready to ride again. I'd spent an amazing week with my girlfriend in hotels and heated woodland cabins. Having lost a fair bit of weight on the first leg of the trip I'd managed to pile it back on thanks to 3 days of all-you-can-eat buffets in Yosemite National Park. I'd slept in beds as big as some people's flats, a far cry from my little tent. I should have set off yesterday but decided to spend an extra day in San Francisco. It turned out to be an excellent decision to delay. An unexpected storm flooded the entire Bay area. Some places in San Francisco were several feet under water.

Today the weather was good and so was the forecast for the foreseeable future. I stayed at the hotel until check-out time and grudgingly hit the road. I'd been really happy with the way the concierge at the hotel had looked after my bike so I tipped him. Tipping a concierge isn't something I'd done before. As I casually slipped him $5 I felt like Richard Gere in Indecent Proposal.

For the first few minutes the bike felt a little alien to me but before long I was riding well. As I tackled a few of San Francisco's famous hills I was happy to notice that I hadn't lost too much fitness during my time off. I left the city via the Golden Gate Park, an impressively large city park with some really beautiful wooded areas. As I exited the park I was once again riding alongside the Pacific. The coastal road I'd planned to take had a large barrier blocking it with yellow tape bearing the warning, 'Police line do not cross'. I considered my options for a moment then decided I could get my bike under the barrier so it was worth a go. Once past the barrier I hopped on the bike and pedalled down the wide, empty road. A deafening siren bellowed out behind me. I thought the cops were on my tail. My heart skipped a beat. I was only a couple of miles from Alcatraz. A pretty boy like me wouldn't last a day in jail. I turned around expecting to see a couple of squad cars on my tail. There was nobody there. The siren stopped and a loud voice boomed, 'This is a test. This is test of the outdoor warning system. This is only a test.' I figured this must be some kind of tsunami warning system. I was in the clear. I relaxed and continued down this abandoned highway running alongside the beach. This was pretty good, I was starting to get back into the swing of things.

As I continued along the coast I got my first taste of the thick sea fog that is so common in this area. It moved across the road like thick smoke.

I stopped off at a supermarket near Daly City. As I locked up my bike I was reminded of the mock-celebrity that a heavily loaded bicycle brings during any stop-off. I noticed everybody in the car park staring at me with fascination. I was approached by a young man. 'You look like someone who appreciates art and literature.' He was holding some small books. 'I do but I don't like to carry extra things.', I replied. He told me that he was selling children's books for adults. I did not envy this man. I cannot imagine it's too easy to shift something like that in a Safeway car park.

As I walked into the shop a man said he liked my shirt, the second person to do so today. I was wearing my new cycling jersey I'd bought a few days previously in San Francisco. The shirt has the California State flag on it which features a Grizzly Bear. It is an awesome shirt, I was pleased to see the public were receiving it well.

After buying some groceries I sat outside and ate PBJs. I missed Kate, Beth and Brian. Our car park picnics were always fun. Sitting there on my own was simply not the same.

A few miles down the road I began a climb up Devil's Slide. At the top of the hill the sea fog was thick and the visibility was down to only a few metres. The road had no shoulder and it was a pretty scary ride. To my right I knew the cliff edge dropped away into the ocean but all I could see was a wall of grey fog.

As the road descended back below the fog I saw my first pumpkin farms. I found it almost comical to see these fields filled with giant orange pumpkins.

As I arrived at Half Moon State Beach I was unsure what to expect. Having rested for 10 days and it now being late in the season I didn't know if I would find other cyclists. I was happy to meet a friendly couple who'd coincidently spent the last 10 days resting in San Francisco. The campground was quite good. The hiker/biker section was infested with rabbits but pleasingly right next to the beach and showers.

I set up my tent. I felt clumsy compared with how well-practised I'd become before taking a break. I sat down to read my book. I was happy to be camping again. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed what I had come to recognise as the signature of a crazy state park homeless guy. Despite there being loads of free space in the campground he decided to set up camp right next to me. This could really ruin my evening. He came over and introduced himself and shook my hand. His name was Joe Galloway. Certain names lend themselves easily to the addition of a Crazy prefix. Crazy Joe Galloway rolls so easily off the tongue. I looked at Joe's bike. He had mounted a laundry basket on the handlebars. It was filled with used cans and bottles.

My preconceptions about Joe were gradually swept away as we got talking. Joe was not crazy. He was a smart guy. Intentionally homeless rather than unfortunate in some way. He busked and made jewellery to avoid 'working for the man'. He introduced his dog to me as Bru, apparently named after the last high king of Ireland. Bru sat on the table in front of me and attempted to lick my face at every opportunity. Bru had little understanding of the human concept of personal space.

Joe got a camp fire going and said he hoped I didn't get homesick as he was about to play some English folk songs. He was a pretty good guitarist but a fairly weak singer. This meant his interpretations of Fairport Convention and Pink Floyd songs were sometimes a little hard to recognise but quite creatively presented. I enjoyed listening to him play but not as much as Bru who fidgeted around the table and barked excitedly during some of the bits he liked best.

Joe cooked a lamb curry for himself and Bru. I wasn't sure whether dogs should eat curry or not but Bru looked in excellent shape so I guess his diet of human food wasn't doing him any harm. Joe offered me some of the curry. Had I not been vegetarian I'm still not too sure I would have wanted to eat the same meal as a dog.

It was a pretty good first day back. I needed a good day to ease me back in to the outdoor life. I think I'll sleep well tonight. Things could be a lot worse. I could be sharing a tent with a curry-eating dog.