This is Ken.
Or at least, my view of Ken.
Ken is quite fast, so most of the time I just see a small dot on the horizon. He made me quite fast for a little bit, too -- we left Arcata at 7:30 AM on Saturday and chugged out 16 mph for the first two hours. Normally I wouldn't have any problem with that, but on a loaded touring bike (which I suppose I ought to weigh once I get home... not while I'm on tour though) 16 can be a challenging speed to maintain. Ken has a 20 mile commute each day, so he's in much better shape than I am. He whips out a stretching/vitamin regimen every time we pull over... I usually snack on dried fruit or bread or something. We make quite the pair.
We took the highway out from Arcata for about 30 miles before the map said to take a detour called "Avenue of the Giants." Ken had done this ride before so he wasn't very amused, but I wanted to know what these giants were and why they got their own avenue. As it ends up -- trees!
Rather large trees.
Redwood forests were kind of becoming a theme throughout the California portion of the trip, so I suppose it's only fitting. If you've ever driven (/ridden, perhaps?) through one of these forests, you know how amazing they can be. I think the most vivid memory I have is passing by a downed tree that, on its side, was still about 10 feet high (EG it was 10 feet in diameter). A very cool place to bike.
We continued on this Avenue of Giant thing until having to stop for water at a school on the road. In California, most schools are many small, separate buildings, which is okay because it never rains. I'm from Minnesota, so I'm still getting over this -- the school would get sued if any of the kids had to walk outside between classes during the freezing winter. But alas, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Anyways, the point is, the water fountains are outside too, so we had no trouble finding water. After filling up, I turned around to see this sign:
Eureka! ...wait.
For the record, it was about 2 PM, and we started in Aracata... 7 miles north (on the far side) of Eureka. So basically, we had already biked more than 60 miles, and it was only 2 PM. I didn't know if I should have been scared or excited or proud... but in any case... we kept biking until we saw a place to pull over for some snacks. Lo and behold, just about to take off from the same store:
I missed you too, old friend.
Sandro and Seal!
I guess I should take this time to mention the biking-bond you get with people. I meant to mention it earlier, and feel like it may have come out a bit, but I think now would be a great time to elaborate. Basically, I now understand what people call the "war-buddy bond --" you know, when you're walking around town and you see two guys who are both war veterans run into each other. They've never met before, but they are instantly friends. They share when and where they served, and how the weather was, and that sort of thing. I'm obviously not fighting a war (...), but I am doing something rather challenging, and I think that when you meet people doing the same thing, you can say, "Yea, I'm doing that too! I'm living life away from the people and the things I love, and pushing my body and my mind as hard as I can every day. I'm not really sure why I'm doing this... but maybe I'll find out along the way. You dig?" It's hard to explain -- it's really something that has to be experienced, I think -- but somehow, going on tour with someone is like gluing yourself to them -- like saying, "We're going to make it through this together, okay?"
Perhaps that's a bit romantic of me, but so be it.
In any case, the Bosnians took off, hoping to meet us up the road. As I would later find out, they stopped to go swimming and we rode right by them! I can imagine Seal running naked out of the river, shouting my name as I zoom by... oh, what a sight it must have been.
We spent the rest of the day climbing (for you non-cyclists, that just means "pedaling uphill"): My biggest climb yet, from sea level to about 1800 feet in 45 miles or so. We started looking for a place to camp about 6:00, but didn't find anything until finally realizing the odometer said almost 90 miles for the day. At that point, we decided we had to make it to 100. Right at 100 miles for the day, there was a state park -- we took it as a sign and made camp. As we would later learn, Sandro and Seal made camp about a mile behind us.
Pay money, get a picnic table.
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The next day we climbed some more. We thought we were done climbing as on the map, Leggett (a town; or more, a gathering of buildings at the intersection of the 101 and the 1) was at the top of the hill.
But no.
We kept climbing.
We climbed for about 2 hours after waking up, even doing a few switchbacks, before finally descending... and then climbing some more... and then at about 12:30 we finally got to the coast again.
Hey, fog. We missed you too.
Ken likes to buy water, so he bought a whole gallon at the next place we stopped. It was a bit too much for both of us, so we left the remaining half gallon for "the people with weird accents." As it ends up, those people weren't the Bosnians! -- but Sandro and Seal did catch up to them and get some water. I guess it was a meeting of people with weird accents.
In any case, we made it to Fort Bragg about 2:30. Wanting to reunite with the Bosnians, we found the local Starbucks... and waited.
(Sandro and Seal think very highly of Starbucks. They can get coffee, charge their phones... it's like my version of Safeway. A reliable place to go)
Sure enough, they rolled in about 5 or so. We shared stories, went grocery shopping, and then went on our way. I was happy to get to camp with them one more time before San Francisco, and Seal found us a nice spot, too:
The fog rolled in about 3 AM. Don't worry.
We spent the morning together until the next town. Sandro and Seal wanted to have a proper breakfast, so Ken and I took off, content with minor snacking. We waiting in the grocery store/co-op of the next city, only to see them zoom by on their bikes, without enough time to yell at them to stop. Oh, the Bosnians.
And then began the day of climbing. We coined the term "death loop," which is where the road, otherwise straight, curves inward (towards the land, away from the ocean), goes downhill, then tightly turns back out and goes uphill again. The turn is too tight to coast through, so you have to brake and pedal up the hill. Death loops. We did about four of those before my map turned from death loops to "death wiggles." I'm not sure how to describe what this looked like on the map, but rest assured, it was frightening. In any case, what it really meant was that there were too may death loops to accurately represent on a map. So we climbed. And climbed. And it was worth it.
Just to be clear... those are clouds... at the bottom of the photo.
It was on this day that I really learned to like climbing. You really feel like you're accomplishing something. Especially those climbs where you can look back and see the winding road and go, "Yea, I biked that."
Anyways, we then got to go down this wicked downhill. We went only about 500 feet south, but probably 1500 vertical feet down... that's how windy it was. We were passing cars and such. No big deal. We reach a town called Jenner just in time for the view:
Ah... the sun... the ocean... the beach... I could go on.
We also met Tom.
We love you, Tom.
Tom worked at the gas station in Jenner. He had an excellent sense of humor. We love you, Tom.
Shortly after leaving the gas station it got super foggy. We passed a few places to stealth camp, but didn't want to have the fog lift and have there be a house 200 feet away (visibility was about 100 feet). Needless to say, we stopped at the first campsite we passed. It said "Campsite Full." Luckily, however, most states (California included) have an "Own Power" law. This means that if you arrive at the campsite by your own power, the site has to make space for you. So we moved in.
Actually, there wasn't a ranger there, so we just put $10 in an envelope and went to the first open site. Apparently someone forgot they were camping there that night... *ahem.* Our neighbors invited us to their fire, which was swell. They also gave us a card and said if we needed anything, to call -- they had relatives eat of San Fran (note from the future: So far, nothing has lined up. A generous offer nonetheless!). Ah, the people, the people... I've said this before and I'm sure I'll say it again: It's the people you meet that make your tour great. And had it not been foggy, we wouldn't have met.
In any case, the next morning we awoke and headed inland for a bit before doubling back. After turning around, it became readily apparent where the ocean was:
Captain! Iceberg ahead! Er, no... just really thick fog.
Yea, the fog coming off the ocean was pretty wild. In any case, we didn't make it back to the ocean until later that day, doing more death loops up the 1.
Okay, this is just a photo of death itself.
We were friends with climbing at that point, so had some fun putting on an extra 2200 vertical feet or so (the map we had wanted us to go another route, but I wanted to see the ocean one last time, so that's just a guess). We went up and down three times before finally just going down.
Finally, about 6:30, we made it to Sausalito. Sausalito is the city across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, where we had a place to stay for the nice. There's a website called warmshowers.org where cycling tourists can find places to stay for free. We had originally planned to stay with a friend in San Francisco, but that fell through for whatever reason, so we spent the morning frantically e-mailing everyone in a ten mile radius apologizing for the short notice. As it ends up, someone had it in their hearts to house us that night.
After climbing lots of stairs.
Did I mention that Sausalito is basically a big hill? It's worse than Seattle. We walked uphill for about 20 minutes (okay, I biked, just to prove I could bike up a hill Ken had to walk up... but I biked the same speed as he walked), then walked up 40 stairs to the house. Winnie and Bruce weren't home yet, so we walked back down the hill and found a pizza place... and ate a large pizza and a "bowl" of fries. That wasn't quite enough, so we also stopped for ice cream (there was a bit of a debacle with closing time and ATM machines... ask me in person).
The next day was a break day for us (thanks, Winnie and Bruce!). Ken went to San Francisco to buy a new Thermarest, and I bummed around, giving my legs a break, updated my blog, catching up with friends, and I even made it to the grocery store (which means, yes, I had to walk up that hill yet again). I didn't want to eat all our host's food, so I bought some half-and-half (certain people are worried I will start losing bone, as if you've seen me, you know I don't have much weight to lose), cereal, and a pint of Ben & Jerry's, among other things. All was gone by the next morning.
Coming soon... we head east!
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By the way of the way, I'd like to plug warmshowers. As I've mentioned a few times now, it's the people you meet who make the trip. Anyone can be a host, and the only obligation is that you offer a place to stay (even a yard for tent-pitching is fine) for free, and keep your contact information current. As an added bonus, anyone you host is bound to be really cool and have some awesome stories! In your bio, you can just put how cycle-tourist Kyle inspired you to be an awesome host.
Really, please consider it. There could be people biking by your house right now who just need a place to sleep! I plan to be a host myself as soon as I settle down. In the mean time, thanks to my hosts, who have made this trip awesome!
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