I was woken at around 7am by Joe. His hollering at Bru seemed far less endearing early in the morning. Over breakfast Joe played me a few more Fairport Convention songs in his inimitable style that I find it hard to believe makes him any money on the streets.
As I was making breakfast I ran out of gas for the first time. It's not that easy to find the white gas that I use in my stove so I got some tips from Joe on where I could likely find some. I can of course burn unleaded petrol if I need to but the additives clog up the stove so I prefer not to. I headed into town and managed to find an enormous 5 litre can. I decanted it into smaller bottles but had to throw most of it away as I couldn't carry such a large amount of gas on my bike.
Once on the road I was passed by 6 guys on 3 tandems. They were doing a tour but they had a support van to carry all their equipment. They were a little embarrassed to explain this to me after looking at all the gear I have to carry.
Later on a Dutch man rode alongside me. He was riding a triathlon bike that probably weighed as much as one of my water bottles and cost as much as a decent car. He asked if I had any sun lotion as he was getting burned. I pulled over and gladly gave him some. In return he gave me a pack of hydrating jelly shots. I'm not convinced they did anything other than taste delicious. I downed the whole pack of 6.
Near the end of the ride I reached Santa Cruz. It seemed like a really fun town where everybody was either surfing or riding a bike.
I arrived at New Brighton State Beach, a nice hobo-free spot next to the beach. For dinner I ate macaroni cheese out of a packet. I had to add plenty of soya bacon bits and chilli flakes. There is a direct relation between the quality of the meal I prepare and the amount of overpowering spice I have to add.
I noticed my right hand had swollen up and was quite painful to use. I wasn't exactly sure why but I suspect it was to do with the way I was positioning my hands and changing gears whilst riding. It was painful enough to make me think I may not be able to ride the next day. I was unable to type my blog and it was too painful to hold my book so I had to lie down and listen to my iPod until I fell asleep.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Monday, 26 October 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
The End of Part One - Day 38 – 35 Miles
I was raring to go today. I'd been looking forward to today for a long time. My ride today would take me across the Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco. I would then take a break for around 10 days and see my girlfriend. This stop would mark the end of the first half of my trip and give a much needed rest after the last couple of weeks of non-stop, hard riding. Sadly it would also see the breakup of the group of wonderful people I've been riding with for the last few weeks. Kate would be finishing her journey in San Francisco and flying home to Australia. Beth and Brian were to continue on to San Diego to set up home there after their recent marriage.
It was a short ride today and I'd ridden in the San Francisco area before so I was expecting an easy day.
All 4 of us rode together today, stopping after 10 miles in the large town of Fairfax for second breakfast. Leaving the town we missed our turn off and nearly ended up on the freeway. There were hundreds of cyclists around today on training runs out of San Francisco. Many offered directions and got us on the right path. We followed a complicated series of directions, following mainly a good network of cycle paths into San Francisco.
As we rode through Sausalito, a pretty town just outside of San Francisco I barely recognised the place. I'd ridden here back in January when it had looked like a sleepy little place. Today it was packed with tourists and countless clueless people on hire bikes from the city. It's a shock to be riding in such busy places when you've spent the last 6 weeks riding through 1 horse towns and remote countryside.
Things got a little stressful on the confusing approach to the Golden Gate Bridge. The road was busy and extremely steep. We eventually found the bridge approach thanks to a local guy who mimed instructions to me from the other side of the road. All of us had been excited about this moment so we took a deep breath and began riding along the bridge's dedicated cycle path. I'd ridden this way back in January and had the bike path pretty much to myself. Today it was filled with a million meandering fools who thought nothing of stopping without warning in the worst possible place to take a photo. Add to this a very strong, cold wind doing it's best to blow us into the water and you end up with 4 disappointed riders entering San Francisco. It wasn't the momentous entrance we'd all hoped for but we stopped for a photo opportunity and considered our next move.
We'd ended up entering the city on the worst possible day. There was a navy air-show in town. The roads were gridlocked and every cycle path was full of gawping plane fans doing their best to get themselves run over by 4 heavily-loaded bicycles.
We were to stay in an apartment belonging to a friend of Brian's who was out of town for the night. We ditched the cycle path and took our chances on the heavily-congested roads. I had my GPS so led the pack through town. In the last thousand or so miles we'd all encountered some pretty beastly hills but none as steep as those in San Francisco. At one point we had to admit defeat and push our heavy bikes up the near-vertical street.
It was a huge relief to arrive safely at the apartment and relax for a bit. It was our last night together so we went out for a meal. We ate enormous burgers and drunk Fat Tire, a beer from our fallen comrade Elon's home town.
Back in the small apartment we all crammed in to sleep inside for the first time in a couple of weeks. We all slept terribly. Having been conditioned to the silence of night time in the woods, central San Francisco at night was an unpleasant contrast.
The next morning we headed out for our last 2 breakfasts together. The first was at a small coffee stand operating out of a garage in an alleyway. It was 8am on a Sunday but the place had a huge queue. This place was obviously a well-known secret. Next we headed to an indoor cafe where I ate porridge cooked indoors for a change. None of us were cycling today but we were still eating as if we were.
We returned to the apartment and packed up our bikes. Kate and I said an unwilling goodbye to Beth and Brian before heading across town to a hostel where we would be staying the night. It was such a shame to leave Beth and Brian but hopefully I will see them again when I pass through San Diego.
So this is it for a while. A break from the bike and a chance to spend some time with my girlfriend who I haven't seen in 6 weeks. I certainly need the break. My body and mind need to rest and I need to build up a thirst for riding every day again. I also need to work out a plan for the next leg of my trip. I'm still not sure whether to go into Mexico or make an alternate route following all the advice I've had about the safety of riding down there. It will be strange starting up again having become used to riding with the pack everyday. I'm sure I'll meet others further south but I expect that the further south I go, the fewer riders I'll see. It seems hard to imagine I would ever meet such a great, like-minded bunch of people as Kate, Brian and Beth but I set out on this trip happy and alone so I'm sure I can continue that way.
It was a short ride today and I'd ridden in the San Francisco area before so I was expecting an easy day.
All 4 of us rode together today, stopping after 10 miles in the large town of Fairfax for second breakfast. Leaving the town we missed our turn off and nearly ended up on the freeway. There were hundreds of cyclists around today on training runs out of San Francisco. Many offered directions and got us on the right path. We followed a complicated series of directions, following mainly a good network of cycle paths into San Francisco.
As we rode through Sausalito, a pretty town just outside of San Francisco I barely recognised the place. I'd ridden here back in January when it had looked like a sleepy little place. Today it was packed with tourists and countless clueless people on hire bikes from the city. It's a shock to be riding in such busy places when you've spent the last 6 weeks riding through 1 horse towns and remote countryside.
Things got a little stressful on the confusing approach to the Golden Gate Bridge. The road was busy and extremely steep. We eventually found the bridge approach thanks to a local guy who mimed instructions to me from the other side of the road. All of us had been excited about this moment so we took a deep breath and began riding along the bridge's dedicated cycle path. I'd ridden this way back in January and had the bike path pretty much to myself. Today it was filled with a million meandering fools who thought nothing of stopping without warning in the worst possible place to take a photo. Add to this a very strong, cold wind doing it's best to blow us into the water and you end up with 4 disappointed riders entering San Francisco. It wasn't the momentous entrance we'd all hoped for but we stopped for a photo opportunity and considered our next move.
We'd ended up entering the city on the worst possible day. There was a navy air-show in town. The roads were gridlocked and every cycle path was full of gawping plane fans doing their best to get themselves run over by 4 heavily-loaded bicycles.
We were to stay in an apartment belonging to a friend of Brian's who was out of town for the night. We ditched the cycle path and took our chances on the heavily-congested roads. I had my GPS so led the pack through town. In the last thousand or so miles we'd all encountered some pretty beastly hills but none as steep as those in San Francisco. At one point we had to admit defeat and push our heavy bikes up the near-vertical street.
It was a huge relief to arrive safely at the apartment and relax for a bit. It was our last night together so we went out for a meal. We ate enormous burgers and drunk Fat Tire, a beer from our fallen comrade Elon's home town.
Back in the small apartment we all crammed in to sleep inside for the first time in a couple of weeks. We all slept terribly. Having been conditioned to the silence of night time in the woods, central San Francisco at night was an unpleasant contrast.
The next morning we headed out for our last 2 breakfasts together. The first was at a small coffee stand operating out of a garage in an alleyway. It was 8am on a Sunday but the place had a huge queue. This place was obviously a well-known secret. Next we headed to an indoor cafe where I ate porridge cooked indoors for a change. None of us were cycling today but we were still eating as if we were.
We returned to the apartment and packed up our bikes. Kate and I said an unwilling goodbye to Beth and Brian before heading across town to a hostel where we would be staying the night. It was such a shame to leave Beth and Brian but hopefully I will see them again when I pass through San Diego.
So this is it for a while. A break from the bike and a chance to spend some time with my girlfriend who I haven't seen in 6 weeks. I certainly need the break. My body and mind need to rest and I need to build up a thirst for riding every day again. I also need to work out a plan for the next leg of my trip. I'm still not sure whether to go into Mexico or make an alternate route following all the advice I've had about the safety of riding down there. It will be strange starting up again having become used to riding with the pack everyday. I'm sure I'll meet others further south but I expect that the further south I go, the fewer riders I'll see. It seems hard to imagine I would ever meet such a great, like-minded bunch of people as Kate, Brian and Beth but I set out on this trip happy and alone so I'm sure I can continue that way.
Day 37 – 42 miles
Having gone to bed late following the day to end all days yesterday I was in no hurry to get out of the tent. Beth was hyping everybody up by telling us we only had 40 miles to ride today. I had my doubts I'd even be able to stand but on testing my legs I found everything still seemed to work.
Over breakfast we got chatting to our neighbour, a old retired guy who now spent all his time touring on his bike. It's nice to think this is something you can do pretty much until the day you die if you so desire.
Once on the road it was just a mile before we reached Bodega Bay. I was quite excited to see this little town as it was the setting for Alfred Hitchcock's film The Birds. I was slightly disappointed not to recognise it at all despite having seen the film about 10 times. Perhaps they filmed it somewhere else, perhaps it's changed a lot in the last 50 years, I'm not sure. I was distracted from my disappointment for a while as I saw a vulture tucking into a skunk on the side of the road. It's good to see some predatory bird activity still going on in Bodega Bay. This was fun to watch for a while and it made me feel a little better about some of the things I've been eating in the evenings.
Kate and I pedalled on for another few miles before joining Beth and Brian for an amazing second breakfast. It was at a small cafe run by a Mexican couple. I'd never had Mexican food for breakfast so was keen to try. I had hash browns, eggs, tacos and salsa. It was delicious and made me excited again about going to Mexico.
The ride today was fantastic, a great contrast to yesterday's lengthy slog. The sky was blue, the roads were quiet and scenery spectacular and quite different. We'd travelled inland and were moving through wonderful rolling hills made up of dry, dusty farmland with ramshackle barns dotted about the place.
Later the ride returned to the water and we moved alongside Tomales Bay, a large inlet of water separated from the ocean by the San Andreas Fault. Large eagles and vultures soared above and in a few places large cacti grew at the side of the road. It's great to see these clear signs that I'm moving south.
It's worth returning to the subject of roadkill briefly. As I've moved south the roadkill has become bigger, more common and often quite grizzly. Every few miles I become aware of a strong smell of decomposing flesh, this is usually followed by a sighting of a large mangled mammal of some kind. On the occasions when I don't notice the carcass, I can usually rely on Kate to point at something at the side of the road. This forces me to look at something that will cause me to gag and Kate to laugh at me.
After what seemed like a very short ride of 40 miles we set up camp in a circle of redwoods in Samual P. Taylor State Park. Tonight would be Kate's last night camping before she reaches her final destination of San Francisco tomorrow. We were all looking forward to riding over the Golden Gate Bridge into the city.
As we made dinner we began the now nightly ritual of fighting off the raccoons. The further south I go, the more cheeky, greedy and fat they become.
Over breakfast we got chatting to our neighbour, a old retired guy who now spent all his time touring on his bike. It's nice to think this is something you can do pretty much until the day you die if you so desire.
Once on the road it was just a mile before we reached Bodega Bay. I was quite excited to see this little town as it was the setting for Alfred Hitchcock's film The Birds. I was slightly disappointed not to recognise it at all despite having seen the film about 10 times. Perhaps they filmed it somewhere else, perhaps it's changed a lot in the last 50 years, I'm not sure. I was distracted from my disappointment for a while as I saw a vulture tucking into a skunk on the side of the road. It's good to see some predatory bird activity still going on in Bodega Bay. This was fun to watch for a while and it made me feel a little better about some of the things I've been eating in the evenings.
Kate and I pedalled on for another few miles before joining Beth and Brian for an amazing second breakfast. It was at a small cafe run by a Mexican couple. I'd never had Mexican food for breakfast so was keen to try. I had hash browns, eggs, tacos and salsa. It was delicious and made me excited again about going to Mexico.
The ride today was fantastic, a great contrast to yesterday's lengthy slog. The sky was blue, the roads were quiet and scenery spectacular and quite different. We'd travelled inland and were moving through wonderful rolling hills made up of dry, dusty farmland with ramshackle barns dotted about the place.
Later the ride returned to the water and we moved alongside Tomales Bay, a large inlet of water separated from the ocean by the San Andreas Fault. Large eagles and vultures soared above and in a few places large cacti grew at the side of the road. It's great to see these clear signs that I'm moving south.
It's worth returning to the subject of roadkill briefly. As I've moved south the roadkill has become bigger, more common and often quite grizzly. Every few miles I become aware of a strong smell of decomposing flesh, this is usually followed by a sighting of a large mangled mammal of some kind. On the occasions when I don't notice the carcass, I can usually rely on Kate to point at something at the side of the road. This forces me to look at something that will cause me to gag and Kate to laugh at me.
After what seemed like a very short ride of 40 miles we set up camp in a circle of redwoods in Samual P. Taylor State Park. Tonight would be Kate's last night camping before she reaches her final destination of San Francisco tomorrow. We were all looking forward to riding over the Golden Gate Bridge into the city.
As we made dinner we began the now nightly ritual of fighting off the raccoons. The further south I go, the more cheeky, greedy and fat they become.
The Dangers of the Dilly Dally - Day 36 – 70 miles
For a change I awoke to fog rather than a blue sky. This made it slightly warmer than it had been over the last week. It was still cold but not necessary to dance while making breakfast to keep warm as has become my custom.
We travelled 10 miles and ate second breakfast in a cafe. I had an amazing muffin, banana bread and 2 coffees. We were aware of our slight foolishness in wasting time in a cafe given the 55 further miles we had yet to do.
There was a headwind making cycling hard work for the next 15 miles. It was around 1.30pm when we stopped for lunch at a supermarket. We ate with some of the noisy Americans that we've been camping with for the past few days. I haven't taken to these guys particularly. They're pleasant enough but I'm a little tired of talking about cycling all the time.
Another ill-advised leisurely stop passed and we were on the road again. Nobody was enjoying the ride today. The weather was grey and dreary, the headwind tiring and the psychological barrier of a 65 mile day hangs heavy. The riding was very hilly throughout the day. A seemingly infinite number of drops to sea level followed instantly by a climb to the top of a steep headland takes a physical and mental toll on any rider.
At around the 45 mile marker Kate and I stopped for a snack. I could see Kate's spirits were low so I tried to motivate her by reminding her the next hill would be her last big challenge before her final destination of San Francisco. It was true but I don't think either of us were really helped by my motivational speech. The next stretch of road began with a gate that is shut sometimes as the road frequently slips into the ocean. Unfortunately the gate was open today so we had no excuse. A long climb began. We passed cows which were allowed to wander freely over the road. Once at the top the road snaked along the edge of the cliff, mostly without barriers on the edge. The traffic was pretty constant things more stressful. I was not enjoying the ride much, Kate was really not enjoying it.
A man passed us in a truck and yelled, 'You better find a bush to hide in.' It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about but we came to the conclusion that he was advising us to set up camp before it got dark. It was nearly 6pm. It would be too dark to ride this section in an hour. Neither of us had working lights and the fog was setting in a little. The ups and downs were frequent and there was no sign of civilisation in sight. We didn't know it yet but the guidebook we'd been following was wrong. The ride was longer than we thought. We still had another 20 miles to go to reach the campground.
An incredible descent began. The road was steep and full of tight switchbacks. Without the traffic and fading light it would have been spectacular. Yet another climb began and at the top, backlit like angels by a small break in the clouds were Beth and Brian. They had been waiting for us for a while to suggest stopping at a nearer campsite, shortening the ride by 10 miles. Kate and I were of course happy to agree to this plan.
The 4 of us rode in the twilight to the supposed location of the nearer campsite. The campsite didn't exist. This wasn't good. It was nearly dark and we were left with no choice but to ride another 10 miles to our original destination. Kate donned her head-torch and took the lead. Brian had a rear light so rode at the back. Beth and I were sandwiched in the middle hoping our florescent jackets would protect us. It was now pitch dark. There were no street lights and it was quite foggy. To make things more dangerous we were riding along the edge of a cliff with no barrier to prevent us plunging hundreds of feet into the freezing black water below. We stopped for a bit and I took the lead after fetching my head-torch from my bag. It was the brightest out of everybody's but still only showed up the white lines marking the edge of the road. I made sure to keep the white line to my right hoping we wouldn't come across a hole in this landslip prone road. Frequently cars coming the other way with their fog lights on would blind us all, temporarily making even the white line at the edge of the road invisible. I would turn around occasionally to check the others were still behind. My head-torch showed only their reflective strips making them look like skeletons running towards me. Every time a car would come up behind one of us would shout, alerting everyone to its imminent passing. It was great to have everyone working as a team, looking out for each other, I was very glad not to be facing this ride alone.
After 10 miles of extremely tense riding we saw a sign up ahead. It was Bodega Dunes State Park. We'd made it. It was such a relief. It was difficult to find a decent campsite in the blackness. We had to pitch our tents on sand which made things even more difficult.
We prepared dinner and I noticed a raccoon staking us out from the bush behind. I tried to frighten it off. Each time I pretended to charge, the raccoon barely flinched. It actually came a little closer, it wasn't at all afraid. In the end Brian ran at it, pretending to be a Cougar. It worked, the raccoon didn't dare show it's beady little eyes again.
This was the longest, hardest ride of my life. I believe I said the same of a ride a few days ago. Just 2 more days riding until I reach San Francisco and rest up with my girlfriend for a while. I cannot wait.
We travelled 10 miles and ate second breakfast in a cafe. I had an amazing muffin, banana bread and 2 coffees. We were aware of our slight foolishness in wasting time in a cafe given the 55 further miles we had yet to do.
There was a headwind making cycling hard work for the next 15 miles. It was around 1.30pm when we stopped for lunch at a supermarket. We ate with some of the noisy Americans that we've been camping with for the past few days. I haven't taken to these guys particularly. They're pleasant enough but I'm a little tired of talking about cycling all the time.
Another ill-advised leisurely stop passed and we were on the road again. Nobody was enjoying the ride today. The weather was grey and dreary, the headwind tiring and the psychological barrier of a 65 mile day hangs heavy. The riding was very hilly throughout the day. A seemingly infinite number of drops to sea level followed instantly by a climb to the top of a steep headland takes a physical and mental toll on any rider.
At around the 45 mile marker Kate and I stopped for a snack. I could see Kate's spirits were low so I tried to motivate her by reminding her the next hill would be her last big challenge before her final destination of San Francisco. It was true but I don't think either of us were really helped by my motivational speech. The next stretch of road began with a gate that is shut sometimes as the road frequently slips into the ocean. Unfortunately the gate was open today so we had no excuse. A long climb began. We passed cows which were allowed to wander freely over the road. Once at the top the road snaked along the edge of the cliff, mostly without barriers on the edge. The traffic was pretty constant things more stressful. I was not enjoying the ride much, Kate was really not enjoying it.
A man passed us in a truck and yelled, 'You better find a bush to hide in.' It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about but we came to the conclusion that he was advising us to set up camp before it got dark. It was nearly 6pm. It would be too dark to ride this section in an hour. Neither of us had working lights and the fog was setting in a little. The ups and downs were frequent and there was no sign of civilisation in sight. We didn't know it yet but the guidebook we'd been following was wrong. The ride was longer than we thought. We still had another 20 miles to go to reach the campground.
An incredible descent began. The road was steep and full of tight switchbacks. Without the traffic and fading light it would have been spectacular. Yet another climb began and at the top, backlit like angels by a small break in the clouds were Beth and Brian. They had been waiting for us for a while to suggest stopping at a nearer campsite, shortening the ride by 10 miles. Kate and I were of course happy to agree to this plan.
The 4 of us rode in the twilight to the supposed location of the nearer campsite. The campsite didn't exist. This wasn't good. It was nearly dark and we were left with no choice but to ride another 10 miles to our original destination. Kate donned her head-torch and took the lead. Brian had a rear light so rode at the back. Beth and I were sandwiched in the middle hoping our florescent jackets would protect us. It was now pitch dark. There were no street lights and it was quite foggy. To make things more dangerous we were riding along the edge of a cliff with no barrier to prevent us plunging hundreds of feet into the freezing black water below. We stopped for a bit and I took the lead after fetching my head-torch from my bag. It was the brightest out of everybody's but still only showed up the white lines marking the edge of the road. I made sure to keep the white line to my right hoping we wouldn't come across a hole in this landslip prone road. Frequently cars coming the other way with their fog lights on would blind us all, temporarily making even the white line at the edge of the road invisible. I would turn around occasionally to check the others were still behind. My head-torch showed only their reflective strips making them look like skeletons running towards me. Every time a car would come up behind one of us would shout, alerting everyone to its imminent passing. It was great to have everyone working as a team, looking out for each other, I was very glad not to be facing this ride alone.
After 10 miles of extremely tense riding we saw a sign up ahead. It was Bodega Dunes State Park. We'd made it. It was such a relief. It was difficult to find a decent campsite in the blackness. We had to pitch our tents on sand which made things even more difficult.
We prepared dinner and I noticed a raccoon staking us out from the bush behind. I tried to frighten it off. Each time I pretended to charge, the raccoon barely flinched. It actually came a little closer, it wasn't at all afraid. In the end Brian ran at it, pretending to be a Cougar. It worked, the raccoon didn't dare show it's beady little eyes again.
This was the longest, hardest ride of my life. I believe I said the same of a ride a few days ago. Just 2 more days riding until I reach San Francisco and rest up with my girlfriend for a while. I cannot wait.
The PBJ Epihpany - Day 35 - 44 miles
I was woken by a frisbee hitting my tent. Unfortunately we'd been sharing the campground with a large group of kids on some kind of school excursion. They'd messed up the toilets and showers like animals the previous night and were now having a game of frisbee between our tents at 7.30am. The mind boggles at what kind of adult supervisor would allow the kids out with frisbees at that time in the morning. I heard Kate get out of her tent and give the kids a good telling off. Where's a hungry bear when you need one?
Having had to put up with the children I left the campsite feeling in no way guilty about not paying the $3 fee. We stopped for our second breakfast in the town of Fort Bragg. It was an unusually pleasant town with only a handful of weirdos. After breakfast we stocked up on supplies at the Safeway. It was quite exciting to shop in a supermarket after so many days of poorly-stocked remote grocery stores.
It was only another hour of riding before it was time to stop for lunch. Kate and I stopped at a small beach and sat on a driftwood tree to eat. Almost every day so far I've struggled to find something satisfying and vegetarian for lunch. Today, having seen everybody else making peanut butter and jam sandwiches (PBJs for short) all the time I decided to see what all the fuss was about. I'd bought a loaf of bread and the PB and J earlier at Safeway. I couldn't believe I was just discovering the goodness of PBJs. They were delicious and great cycling fuel. This will be my lunch of choice from now on. As we were leaving we got chatting to quite a few curious locals. A couple of mountain bikers thought our trips sounded 'rad'. Another guy, similarly impressed gave us each an apple to help us along the way.
The next 20 miles were winding and hilly as the road hugged the headlands. This was excellent riding, exactly what I'd signed up for. The edge of the road disappeared directly into the sea without any barrier much of the time. Take your eyes off the road for a minute here and you would fall several hundred feet into the sea.
In places the sea in the shallows was an incredible clear emerald colour. Quite inviting for a swim but almost certainly ice-cold.
We came to a winding hill, far steeper than anything I've so far encountered. As the hill switched back there were times I wasn't sure if it was even cycleable. I made it to the top and felt quite proud of myself.
The ride flattened out and turned to large swathes of dry farmland. On my right the land disappeared to the ocean and to the left the mountains. Vultures circled overhead, perhaps picking off cyclists who didn't make it to the top of the last hill.
The day ended at Manchester Beach State Park. A very basic campground with pit toilets and no showers. I usually insist on a shower at the end of the day but I've been gaining a bit of a reputation among my fellow cyclists as a bit of a princess so I was keen to demonstrate how tough I can be. Beth gave me some talcum powder to put down my shorts. Apparently this was supposed to be an acceptable substitute for a shower. I wasn't sure about the talcum powder but I figured if I was to prove to everyone that I'm a tough mountain man then I'd give it a try. It wasn't too bad in the end not having a shower or proper toilets. I guess in Mexico I may need to get a little more used to roughing it. I'm not even sure they have talcum powder down there.
Having had to put up with the children I left the campsite feeling in no way guilty about not paying the $3 fee. We stopped for our second breakfast in the town of Fort Bragg. It was an unusually pleasant town with only a handful of weirdos. After breakfast we stocked up on supplies at the Safeway. It was quite exciting to shop in a supermarket after so many days of poorly-stocked remote grocery stores.
It was only another hour of riding before it was time to stop for lunch. Kate and I stopped at a small beach and sat on a driftwood tree to eat. Almost every day so far I've struggled to find something satisfying and vegetarian for lunch. Today, having seen everybody else making peanut butter and jam sandwiches (PBJs for short) all the time I decided to see what all the fuss was about. I'd bought a loaf of bread and the PB and J earlier at Safeway. I couldn't believe I was just discovering the goodness of PBJs. They were delicious and great cycling fuel. This will be my lunch of choice from now on. As we were leaving we got chatting to quite a few curious locals. A couple of mountain bikers thought our trips sounded 'rad'. Another guy, similarly impressed gave us each an apple to help us along the way.
The next 20 miles were winding and hilly as the road hugged the headlands. This was excellent riding, exactly what I'd signed up for. The edge of the road disappeared directly into the sea without any barrier much of the time. Take your eyes off the road for a minute here and you would fall several hundred feet into the sea.
In places the sea in the shallows was an incredible clear emerald colour. Quite inviting for a swim but almost certainly ice-cold.
We came to a winding hill, far steeper than anything I've so far encountered. As the hill switched back there were times I wasn't sure if it was even cycleable. I made it to the top and felt quite proud of myself.
The ride flattened out and turned to large swathes of dry farmland. On my right the land disappeared to the ocean and to the left the mountains. Vultures circled overhead, perhaps picking off cyclists who didn't make it to the top of the last hill.
The day ended at Manchester Beach State Park. A very basic campground with pit toilets and no showers. I usually insist on a shower at the end of the day but I've been gaining a bit of a reputation among my fellow cyclists as a bit of a princess so I was keen to demonstrate how tough I can be. Beth gave me some talcum powder to put down my shorts. Apparently this was supposed to be an acceptable substitute for a shower. I wasn't sure about the talcum powder but I figured if I was to prove to everyone that I'm a tough mountain man then I'd give it a try. It wasn't too bad in the end not having a shower or proper toilets. I guess in Mexico I may need to get a little more used to roughing it. I'm not even sure they have talcum powder down there.
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
Returning to the Coast - Day 34 – 42 miles
Today I would need plenty of energy to climb to 2,000 feet so I started the day with 2 breakfasts. My second was at the store just outside the state park with Kate, Brian and Beth. I had a Mookie. It's a delicious blending of a muffin and a cookie. We sat and slowly enjoyed our second breakfasts in the morning sun. The hippies from the campground sat next to us and made us laugh with their strange ways. We signed their petition against widening the highway which would potentially kill some redwoods. I was sort of in 2 minds about where I stood on the issue. On the one hand I loved the redwoods but on the other the highway was dangerously narrow to cycle along. Given the choice between a dead cyclist and a dead tree I would have to chose the latter.
We began the 1,000 foot climb to the 2,000 foot summit, we were starting the day half way up the mountain. I appreciate it may be difficult to visualise a 1,000 foot climb so I will try to explain what it's like. First, imagine cycling up a hill. Now imagine cycling up that hill without stopping for an hour. Then imagine cycling the whole way with a 10 year old child strapped to your bike.
It was a beautiful day and the winding mountain road provided a very gentle climb to the top. From the summit the descent lasted for 10 miles. The road was narrow and very winding, it took a fair bit of concentration to make it to the bottom in one piece.
Once at the bottom Beth informed me that the worst was yet to come, a hill much steeper than the one I'd just conquered. I was in a fighting mood so I powered my way to the top. It was tough but enjoyable to be able to make it to the top without having to stop. As I descended I caught my first glimpse of the ocean for quite a few days. It was amazing to see the transformation in landscapes within the course of one day. Emerging from the shade of the forest to the rugged coast.
After 10 miles of stunning coastal scenery we stopped in Westport for lunch. We ate on the patio and played fetch with the grocery store dog. The town was so quiet the owner seemed perfectly happy for her dog to play fetch on the road. The grocery store sold very little food and I struggled to find anything suitable for lunch or dinner. The store had only 1 loaf of bread but had 200 plus rubber ducks for sale. I felt as the only grocery store in 40 miles it had a duty to focus a little more on the essentials.
The afternoon was tough. Coastal roads have a tendency to go up and down steeply. By the time I reached McKerrick Beach State Park I was ready to stop. It was nice to be camping by the beach again, it's a little too cold to be camping in the shade of the trees. On my way to the showers I bumped into the hippies. They starting telling me about the 'clothing-optional' bath house they'd been trying to persuade Kate to go to the night before. I found out they'd been telling Beth and Brian about it too. They're obviously trying to get a sauna full of naked cyclists for some reason. It's odd that the enthusiastic naturist is so keen to show off a body that nobody else wants to see.
After my dinner of spaghetti and canned chilli I went to wash up. At the sink I found a family of 6 raccoons raiding the bin. It's funny when you confront a raccoon in the act. They stare at you and in their eyes you can sense their shame at being driven to this way of life.
We began the 1,000 foot climb to the 2,000 foot summit, we were starting the day half way up the mountain. I appreciate it may be difficult to visualise a 1,000 foot climb so I will try to explain what it's like. First, imagine cycling up a hill. Now imagine cycling up that hill without stopping for an hour. Then imagine cycling the whole way with a 10 year old child strapped to your bike.
It was a beautiful day and the winding mountain road provided a very gentle climb to the top. From the summit the descent lasted for 10 miles. The road was narrow and very winding, it took a fair bit of concentration to make it to the bottom in one piece.
Once at the bottom Beth informed me that the worst was yet to come, a hill much steeper than the one I'd just conquered. I was in a fighting mood so I powered my way to the top. It was tough but enjoyable to be able to make it to the top without having to stop. As I descended I caught my first glimpse of the ocean for quite a few days. It was amazing to see the transformation in landscapes within the course of one day. Emerging from the shade of the forest to the rugged coast.
After 10 miles of stunning coastal scenery we stopped in Westport for lunch. We ate on the patio and played fetch with the grocery store dog. The town was so quiet the owner seemed perfectly happy for her dog to play fetch on the road. The grocery store sold very little food and I struggled to find anything suitable for lunch or dinner. The store had only 1 loaf of bread but had 200 plus rubber ducks for sale. I felt as the only grocery store in 40 miles it had a duty to focus a little more on the essentials.
The afternoon was tough. Coastal roads have a tendency to go up and down steeply. By the time I reached McKerrick Beach State Park I was ready to stop. It was nice to be camping by the beach again, it's a little too cold to be camping in the shade of the trees. On my way to the showers I bumped into the hippies. They starting telling me about the 'clothing-optional' bath house they'd been trying to persuade Kate to go to the night before. I found out they'd been telling Beth and Brian about it too. They're obviously trying to get a sauna full of naked cyclists for some reason. It's odd that the enthusiastic naturist is so keen to show off a body that nobody else wants to see.
After my dinner of spaghetti and canned chilli I went to wash up. At the sink I found a family of 6 raccoons raiding the bin. It's funny when you confront a raccoon in the act. They stare at you and in their eyes you can sense their shame at being driven to this way of life.
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