Arcata to Sausalito: KB, the Century, and Warm Showers

...but then, Ken!

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.

- - -

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!

- - -

By the way, Ken has one of those fancy Droid things, so he's posting every day! His posts are much shorter than mine and focus more and mileage and such, but if you want daily updates of my tour (at least until he drops off in CO), you can check out his blog: kentouring.blogspot.com.

- - -

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!

Almost to Utah!

Jenna here, Kyle's almost to Utah!

Bosnians, Broken Computers, and Bob

Still here in Sausalito, taking a break day with my host, whom I can't thank enough (did I mention... thanks?). I took a walk along the ocean, which was most excellent (though my legs, I think, wanted the whole day off), and now I'm back in the house and mostly caught up with everything. Time to tell you all about... the Bosnians.

By my math I've inadvertently missed a day somewhere, but let's not worry about that. All I remember is that the day after I stayed at a campsite for $6, I passed some cycle tourists.

It looked about like this on that day. Okay, exactly like this.

Yes. I passed them. They waved. Nothing special. In fact, that happened multiple times a day.

Shortly afterwards... they passed me. And the trend continued throughout the day. They seemed to be going about the same pace as me, and they were awfully quiet. They never stopped to say hi -- they hardly did the head nod. In retrospect, this was probably mostly my fault, as after the day of almost-quitting and then the day of much-rain I probably didn't look too happy. In any case, it was pretty standard riding that day. I did pass the sea lion caves, which are a thing apparently, but didn't stop due to the crowd. After all, I had already seen sea lions.

(now typing on 9/9 from a host in Carson City, NV)

In any case, towards the end of the day I had pulled over to pick some blackberries when these guys pulled up behind me looking for some chain lube. We got to talking, and ended up riding together for a bit. After establishing that I was riding alone and quite lonely, I was invited over for dinner! Well, as much as you can invite someone over when you are an "opportunist." *ahem*

"The Bosnians:" Sandro on the left, and Seal ("say-all") on the right.

So Sandro and I talked for the rest of the day about everything from our trips to politics in Bosnia to what we ate on tour to -- well, you get it. Occasionally the two would banter in Bosnian. Seal spoke English, apparently, but did not speak it much. Mostly he would banter with Sandro and Sandro would translate for me. In any case, we talked and rode for the next three hours or so, and then Seal found us a place to sleep (he's "the master," apparently).

Sand beach, too!

Up till then I had had mostly pasta for dinner, and had felt my energy reserves slowly depleting. Sandro and Seal introducted me to the concept of salts, which (in short) we need to process energy. So since that night, I've been having soup almost every night. But that night, we had a four course meal: Soup, pasta, rice, then dessert ("Candies are essential," Sandro would later say, in a speech about blood sugar). It was... well, delicious. We bantered the night away talking about girls and jobs and everything in between.

The next morning, I was a bit slow to get going (apparently most cyclists don't eat breakfast). I was afraid I had lost my new friends, but with my new salts, I caught up to them within the hour! We passed through a city called Coos Bay, and met a few other cyclists -- a father and son (?) who were biking the world, for instance. They had just gotten started in Canada and were planning to spend four years on their bikes. Seal left his address in Bosnia, and these guys said, "Thanks! We'll call you in two years!" It was pretty great.

With my new education in bicycle fooding, I bought some bread and dried soup (canned soup has water weight).

The next days were great conversation and storytelling and much bantering in Bosnian. Every now and then they would take off and I would worry I had lost my new friends. I knew they wouldn't be with me for long, and part of the point of this trip was to be independent, but I didn't think I'd realized until then how much having company is comforting and, well... there really aren't words for what a friend can do when you've undertaken such a great task. *ahem* In any case. Lo and behold, before long I would find them on the side of the road picking blackberries.

"Did you hear something?"

Apparently they don't have those in Bosnia -- as I mentioned previously, they are practically a weed in Washington and Oregon. So sometimes I caught up to them as they stuffed themselves with berries, or sometimes I was with them when Seal would throw his bike to the ground and the two would run to the side of the road for a feast. Occasionally I would hear Sandro comment, "THIS! -- THIS is El Dorado!"

Later that night we met a cycle tourist who was actually on tour:

So yea, that's a guitar in that trailer. Oh, and my girlfriend is also my accompanist.

His name is Paul Doffing and if you're in the mood for some new music, Google him! Any artist who tours -- er, cycle tours -- er, tours with a bike... whatever, you get it.

That day we had ridden 80 or 90 miles, so we were absolutely exhausted. Just as we were about to surrender to the $6 fee of the state park, Seal jumped off his bike and started climbing a cliff face on the side of the road. After some bantering in Bosnian and asking my opinion and "was I sure," we spent the next 20 minutes hauling our bikes and panniers up a 15 foot cliff face. The view was worth it.

So worth it.

(In light of catching up, I'm skipping over a few details here, but the essential ones won't be missed)

The next morning, we hit biker central.

Oh... did you call in advance? We sure did.

(above is just a sampling of the cyclists we saw that day)

When we stopped, it was just us. We stayed about 40 minutes for lunch, and saw the guys going around the world, the cycle-touring musician, two guys from England, and a couple from Canada. It was pretty cool.

Then, just as my legs were getting warmed up again (by the way, if you stop for even two minutes, it is super hard to get going again. It hurts. Your body wants to heal itself. So... you don't stop unless you have a good reason), the Bosnians decided to go swimming. After all, they don't pay for lodging -- they rely on rivers and lakes and whatnot. Here is Sandro jumping off a cliff.

"Do you think I'll live?"

Apparently in Bosnia they have a diving competition every year off of this bridge that's more than 200 years old. It's 85 feet high, and they dive. Yes -- head first.

After some more riding, we hit our last city in Oregon -- Brookings, OR. We stopped for food and a recharge (there's a bit more here you can ask me about in person, but again, time). I was ready to reach my third state... I was so excited, I started singing. Oh yes. There was much singing. And then... there was California.

Completely metaphoric. Promise.

I did get the ritual "Hello from Tacoma" photo, but you'll have to find me on Facebook for that one. Variety is the spice of life!

We spent the night in an abandoned hay field about 50 meters from the ocean. Oh, and we had chicken. Seal bought a chicken in Brookings. An entire chicken.

- - -

The next day was foggy. And then we met Janna.

This is Janna, by the way. Not just some random photo I found on the internet.

Well, now it's a random photo on the internet.

Janna is from Wisconsin. She is FAST. We did 84 that day and it was her shortest day. So basically, Janna's a badass.

We went through the redwood forests... (more photos on facebook)... and then we met Bob! Well, Bob caught up to us. After much hassle, we managed to meet for dinner. Dinner with Bob, the Bosnians, and Janna. Oh, it was a good night.

The next day was a day of goodbyes. I had already said goodbye to Bob. Janna left early that morning, not to be held up by us slow folk. That day, Sandro, Seal and I made it to Arcata, where I was to meet my cycling partner for the rest of the trip, Ken. I stopped at a bike store to buy a waterproof jacket, as my current "waterproof jacket" only lasted about ten minutes. After much flailing and asking of directions, we finally found an internet cafe, where I pulled out my laptop to update my blog and found it... WET.

I didn't turn it on. I did say goodbye to it.

And then I said goodbye to the Bosnians.

Goodbye, Bosnians.

It was a sad day. But then...

-- tune in next time --

Okay, so I'm updated to day 12 now, and on day 21... catching up... phew.

Goodbye from Carson City!

Map Update!

Sister Jenna here with a very brief Kyle update!  We have not heard form him, but he posted on his FB yesterday that he was in Cook's Station, CA!  Should make it to Nevada today.

At this rate he might beat the snow home!

The Rest of Days 3-6

Hello! Posting this from Sausalito, CA, a city just north of San Francisco. Thanks to my warmshowers.org host Winny for the wonderful place to stay -- Ken and I are soooooo grateful!!! More on warmshowers and such when I get to that... there is still so much to cover. As Ken and I will be taking a break day today I'm going to try and get all caught up.

Disclaimer -- my maps are still in one of my panniers... and it's so far away... but you don't really need city names anyways, right? So, I think I last left off on day three.

At this point I had met many other cyclists. Most were in cities -- surprisingly enough, few were along the route I was taking. I believe Chris was the only person I met in WA using the ACA maps. This surprised me, as they came highly recommended. As I would later learn, however, it is just as common to make one's own route. Tourist centers, located at most every major entrance to any state, offer a plethora of maps, and with maps, one can plan quite the route. So most of the people I met, I found, were using these high-tech mappy things to come up with their own routes. I guess I still have a lot to learn about touring -- but for now, just learning about places to stay and what to eat was enough for me. On a future tour I will probably choose to use this mystery "map" thing. Not this time.

Okay, let's talk about something I can photograph -- like going to Oregon! Here is my bike on the boat to Oregon:

"I do not like to swim," said the bike to Kyle.

So on day four I made it to Oregon, despite some headwinds along the Columbia River and a grocery store with a sale on beef jerky. Okay, I don't know why that would slow me down, but I thought it was important to mention -- beef jerky is great for touring! So of course, I had to stop and get some. Had I not stopped I probably would have made the 2:00 ferry... I had to wait until 3:00. Alas, I was forced to call my mother while waiting!

Okay, I enjoyed talking to someone I love. Thanks mom!

Also, earlier that morning I had stopped at a general store (erm, the only store in Coal Creek, WA) for some food. The cashier (Gary I believe) was kind enough to offer me a chicken. Yes... a chicken. Apparently a friend had dropped off some baked chicken for him for lunch that day, and he wasn't sure of his ability to finish it all. So he offered me some. Free food? Yes please! Unbeknownst to me, this was to become a trend... an awesome trend.

Oh, and as I'm trying to make tradition... here's my "Hello from Tacoma" photo. The city the ferry stopped at had about 30 people, so the sign was small and hard to find, but I wanted my photo, darnit!

The first of many "hellos," I hope.

I then proceeded to climb up a hill for about 7 miles. It was a busy hill with little margin -- probably the most dangerous hill I'd biked on yet. But I made it, and stopped at a restaurant for some more "The heck is this guy doing?" looks (the food was good, too). At first I wanted to wait until making camp, but then I saw this:

Oh, so you're a Logger too?

I had to stop (for those of you who don't know, I graduated from the University of Puget Sound, whose mascot is Grizz the Logger. Yes, it's a bear with an axe... and our football team is just as much of an *ahem.* I mean, what?)

I still didn't get to see the Pacific Ocean, despite being taunted by the Columbia River, but I did get a great view of Washington. You can't quite see it through the reeds, but upon unzipping my tent in the morning I did have a pretty good view.

Let's play two lies and no truths. Ready? Okay:

(1) I can find this place on a map; (2) it was completely legal to camp here.

The next morning was a breeze. I made it to Astoria, OR, and stopped at a Safeway -- by the way, I'm beginning to know why they call them that. See, they are familiar, both in what they stock, and their prices. So when you see one you go, "Oh, I'm safe!" It doesn't necessarily cater to the "discover cool new local independent places" but during your fifth day on tour, sometimes you just want to know exactly what you're getting yourself into. A safe way to day six. Haha... see what I did there? *ahem* Sorry 'bout it.

Anyways, Astoria was beautiful. I managed to get lost in Warrenton, which is just across the bay from Astoria. After asking for directions and having a few people say, "Wow, you have a long ways to go!" I finally made it to Lewis and Clark Road (I did not tell them that yes, in fact, Minneapolis was a long way to go). I met a great family whose names were -- wait for it -- Sarah, Brian, Jeff, and Juliette. Yes! I think I remembered all of them.

You were awesome! No -- you were awesome!

For those of you who don't know, I'm typically pretty bad with names. I guess when you meet people who are part of a life-changing experience (at least I like to think that's what this is) you tend to remember their names.

Sarah generously offered me a place to stay that night. Apparently she and Brian had done some touring in their day, and remember the desperate desire to shower, have a warm bed, and no ambient nature noises (like squirrels dropping nuts from trees -- see my last post). They were right. Anyways, they headed back tottheir car, and I headed to the Pacific Ocean.

Ah... nice and FREEZING COLD.

I didn't want to get carried away with that whole "swimming" thing, but I at least took the time to walk out and stick my feet in. Without a huge "WELCOME TO OREGON" sign, it felt like my first real accomplishment. I stuck around for a bit and then continued on my way. I ended up in Cannon Beach about 2 PM -- much too early to stay at Sarah's for the night. I called and said "Thanks, but no thanks" and picked up and moved on.

But not before I stopped at... THE CHOCOLATE CAFE.

Caution -- people running towards door. Don't get knocked over!

Chocolate by country. Oh, and don't forget about the vault.

This place was AMAZING. They had the usual glass case of chocolate goodies, but on one wall, they had chocolate by country. Feeling like some chocolate from India today? Africa perhaps? Yes... they had it all. It was hard to stay under budget on this day, needless to say. Oh, and did I mention they had an atmosphere-controlled chocolate vault? That's right -- too good to stay out in the shop. Some of our chocolates are best enjoyed at 70.68 degrees Fahrenheit. Anyways, I paid $2.50 for the best chocolate chip cookie I have ever had in my entire life, spent about 20 minutes eating it, and then headed on my way. But I will definitely be returning someday. And possibly bringing friends. Or my mom. And $250.

The route then had me spending some time on the 101. The coast was beautiful and there was, of course, plenty of climbing. Right when I thought it wasn't going to be worth it, the trees parted and there were many miles of coast ahead.

Elevation: 700. View: Spectacular.

I wasn't really into climbing yet, so this was a nice little something to whet my appetite. As I would later learn, climbing can be quite fun and rewarding... but more on that later.

My bike can't take pictures of me, but... well, it's a one-way relationship.

After a lot more coastline I began worrying about finding a place to sleep. Up until this point I had always had a place before 6:30, and while a few decent-looking spots cropped up, this part of the coast was ultimately quite occupied. At about 7:30 I passed a cool looking place called "Kelly's Crab Resort" or something like that, and pulled in. It ended up being quite a good choice -- Kelly gave me $5 off for being on a bike. As I was looking for a place to set up my tent, I was accidentally shunned by a family saving a spot for some of their other family. I resorted to a small, lonely lot in the corner and got to work setting up my tent.

After just a few minutes the mother and father of this family came over and explained that there had been a misunderstanding, and that they were saving their spot for the rest of their family, and of course I was welcome. As a peace offering they presented some food, and invited me to sit at their fire with them. I ended up spending the rest of the night and the next morning with them. I guess it goes to show (as we are all well aware, but sometimes forget) that first impressions aren't everything. They were the Ford/Ramseys, and I'm grateful to have met them! I forgot to take their photo, but you guys really made that night special. Thanks!

Smores, guitar playing, and story-telling later, I headed to bed. In the morning I was asked out on the docks for an important duty: Crab fishing!

You have to pull fast; otherwise, the crabs will simply climb out.

I was allowed the privilege of pulling up one of the crab rings, but only after being instructed as to how they worked, and why we were fishing here (hint: it's because we had no idea what we were doing), and the rules about catching crab (they have to be male and of a certain size to allow reproduction to continue).

Either I didn't pull fast enough or I'm really bad at this.

I didn't catch anything... but I still felt pretty good about it. I was a crab fishermen! Already, this trip had taught me something new.

Do I really need a caption for this?

After saying goodbye to the Ford/Ramseys, I went on my way. Many small things happened, including, but not limited to:

- Biking through fog (which would become more of an issue the farther south I went)

- Seeing people clamming (eg, fishing for clams... not suddenly being very quiet)

- Climbing my steepest and longest hill yet -- 800 vertical feet. Nothing compared to the Rockies, but it was still a lot of work

- Having mystery car noises turn into dune buggies (I was in a city called Sandlake, after all)

Nothing terribly monumental, but I did have quite the full day. And then... many things built up and I had to take some time off. Nobody had mentioned to me that biking was as stressful on the mind as it was on the body. I thought hard about quitting and almost did. I wasn't sure how I'd get to the nearest airport or how my bike would get home, but I was thinking about it. I had been very alone for the past many days and didn't feel like I was making tons of progress. I know that I was, but it didn't really feel like it. I had maybe 300 miles or less on the odometer, and people kept saying, "Oh, so you're just getting started!" I didn't feel like I was just getting started -- or at least, I didn't want to. I knew that I had 4000+ miles to go. Anyways, I took a two hour walk on the beach and, not fully satisfied, continued on my way.

It's like a code of some kind. Er... I'm sure there's a snarky remark about this somewhere.

I did find a great place to spend the night. It was only about 200 yards from the highway, and had a great view of the ocean. I guess someone out there didn't want me to quit just yet.

Caution: You might decide not to leave.

The next day (#6) I had some steep climbing to do, but I was ready for it. I decided I at least had to make it to Arcata, where my cycling partner was, and that whatever it took, at least I could say that I biked to California. It was quite a long hill, but I did pass mile 101 on Highway 101, and that felt pretty monumental (er... it totally should have been... right?). I stopped for breakfast at a hole in the wall called the Nelscott Cafe, which I would highly recommend to anyone traveling through Lincoln City, OR. It's a house-turned-cafe so you sit under the stairs, or in the dining room, or in the living room, or wherever they could fit tables. The food is phenomenal. I was walking down the row of houses-turned-shops when someone in the line of people outside turned to me, saw that I had no idea what I was doing, and said,

"You look hungry. Wait for a seat at this restaurant. You won't regret it."

I didn't.

More like the "Nel-icious Cafe."

The waitresses all looked at me -- just one guy, a little sweaty, with red highlights -- as if wondering, "Is he single and ready to mingle, or just getting a head start on his hermit-creeper phase?" It was pretty funny. Anyways.

I also saw sea lions that day.

So many sea lions.

And then it started to rain. About the same time I realized not all of my stuff was waterproofed; namely, my sleeping bag, my clothes, and my tent. I stopped at a hostel and asked for a trash bag to line my stuff sack with, so at least I would be warm, even if my tent was wet and I had to be naked. It poured for a few hours ("poured" being relative to the PNW, anyways -- maybe it half-poured for all you midwesterners reading this), as if the weatherman was challenging me to continue. I had already decided to make it to CA. I did stop once for food and again to change clothes, but I kept on biking. I almost stopped at a motel for the night, but even with a "friendly cyclist discount" the room was still $50. I moved on. I also saw two touring bikes locked to the railing of that motel, but more on that later... (dundundun).

After looking for a place to stay until about 7, I finally came across a state park and decided it would be worth the price. What I didn't know was that Oregon really knows how to do the whole "state park" thing. Case and point:

Stay here practically for free? I think so.

So I paid $6 that night. The camp host, Doug, instructed me that I should take a shower because they were free. Did I mention "heck yes?"

I took a long, long, long shower.

Which seems like a good place to wrap things up. It's almost mignight here in Sausalito, and I'm in somebody else's house... I probably should have gone to bed a long time ago. Tomorrow I will try and post about the Bosnians... that's when things really start to get good (they aren't already, I promise).

So, goodnight from Sausalito!

Days 1-6: On Biking, Biking Alone, and Biking Through Oregon

A bit of background on this trip before I begin, for those of you new to the scene...

About a year ago I decided this trip would a great idea. I would bike from Tacoma, WA, where I went to school at the University of Puget Sound, to Minneapolis, MN, where I'm from. If I did it over the summer, I could just fly back to school. Needless to say, the trip didn't happen last summer... it's happening right now! There have been numerous changes for numerous reasons. For starters, the more I talked about the trip, the more people told me Montana and the Dakotas were boring, and that I should change my route. I schemed about going across the Rockies to Yellowstone, then down the Great Divide (a route just east of the Rockies), then across to MO and up to MN. Finally I settled on a route down to San Francisco, CA, across to St. Louis, MO, then up to Minneapolis, MN. I posted on Adventure Cycling Association's website and found Ken, who lives in Arcata, CA and had a month to prove to his coworkers he could bike across the country -- more on that later.

Anyways, last fall I slowly started collecting bike parts. I've already talked a lot about that in previous posts, but the jist is that between fall 2011 and August 2012 I slowly acquired enough parts to build a bike and equipment to camp across the country and money to do it (...sort of... I've budgeted $20 a day at most and would like to spend $10-15).

On August 20th, 2012 -- as planned -- I departed Tacoma for the great unknown. The few days before had been many things if not a great goodbye. I gave my accordion away to a wonderful new pupil named Jennifer, and she ended up staying for the get-together we were having. The get-together sort of became a party, the seven of us staying up until 2 eating, playing cards, smoking pipes, making music, and in general having a good time. I spent Sunday night with Matt. We had a pizza, watched Star Trek, mused about the goings-on of life, and reflected on the past four years of our friendship and what was yet to come. I fell asleep packing, finished at about 9:30 the next morning, and took off.

 I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

Thanks for a great four years, bud.

I managed 52 miles on the first day, which is what I want to average. So that's bad -- let me explain. After biking for a while, your body needs a bit of a break. We have a highly technical term for these: "Rest Days." So if you want to average 50 miles a day, but take a break 1 out of every 7 days, then you have to bike more than 50 miles for those 6 days you don't take a break. For instance, if you bike 60 miles for 6 days, that's 360 miles. If you then take a day off, you've biked 360 miles in 7 days, which gives you an average of 51 miles a day. Got it?

All in all the first day wasn't too exciting. This was probably a good thing, as I was already excited enough just to be leaving for something I'd wanted to do for so long. I was surprised at how nice I was treated when I stopped to ask for water (I'm sure it had nothing to do with my good looks) -- this trend would become a theme throughout the rest of the trip. I'd heard bicyclists were "perceived as nonthreatening," but I'm not sure I expected people to be super nice, either. Perhaps it's a PNW (Pacific Northwest) thing to be a bit detached. In any case, people were nice. I'd gone on 50-mile rides before and this one felt pretty standard, except that it was a bit harder to keep my balance, and people would look at me. They wouldn't look at me funny -- just as if they were saying, "huh. That guy is on a bike. And his stuff is on the bike, too. There goes a guy and his stuff."

I found a great place to sleep in a forest reserve. The sign specifically said, "Area available for non-motorized recreational use." Rice and beans for dinner (the last time I'd make rice, as I found it takes quite a bit of water), and off to bed. Oh also, I spent about 2 hours trying to scare away a bear, only to find it was two squirrels dropping nuts from the tops of trees and storing them for the winter. I guess when you're alone, small animals making loud noises really gets to you. Don't tell anyone.

You don't get something like this by paying for it.

The next few days are mostly a blur and I'm sure I'll forget to mention many things. I remember lots of hills, lots of nervousness about finding places to sleep, and -- despite meeting many cyclists and locals -- feeling quite alone. The first cyclist I met was named Chris. Chris was from Australia, and had biked from coast to coast before. He was back to bike across the Sierra Nevadas, but had to reroute due to some forest fires. Instead, he was going down the coast. He called himself "half of a credit card tourist --" he didn't carry a tent, so was sleeping at motels and hotels, but did carry his own food. I thought that was an interesting combination. On tour, the more expensive part can be the lodging. Even eating at restaurants all the time, one won't spend more than $50/day. In any case, he wasn't weighed down as much as I was (I was later to learn I was weighed down too much), so after about an hour of his company he took off. Here's a picture of his butt:

Bye, Chris!

I also met Alex and Trina from the San Juan Islands who were biking from Vancouver, BC to San Francisco, CA. I had arrived in a small-ish city around lunch time. While looking for a grocery store, I encountered a Subway. I'm not usually one for commercial establishments, but I saw two touring bikes outside, so decided this must be a good place to get food while on tour. They mostly kept to themselves, but it was nice to know I wasn't alone. As it ends up, this whole -meeting other people- thing was a trend that was to keep up.

I also stopped at a fire station in Nowhere, WA for water and a fruit stand on two unnamed highways for lunch. Quite the adventure. Both had people who were a bit curious and when I said I was from Tacoma they both went, "Oh, so you're just getting started!" Yea guys, I've already biked 75 miles and I'm "just getting started." In my head I knew they were right, but I still wanted to feel accomplished. This was also a trend to continue. I can say I went on a biking adventure, but there is still so much that is yet to happen (and I'm typing this on day 14, by the way).

After biking by many cows and worrying that everything in the farmville I was in was private property, I rolled onto an overpass with a view of an empty-looking field. The bridge was about half a mile long, and at the end I found a path onto the side opposite the field. It didn't look very well traveled -- the perfect place to spend the night, perhaps. Upon arriving at the end I found a wall (no, but really) of blackberry bushes. That night's activity, then: Picking blackberries. I picked about a gallon, had half for dinner, did some reading, and headed to bed.

 Those are all blackberry bushes.

Score!

So that night was my first real story. I woke up at 10:30 to the sound of a truck approaching. Traffic had died down on the highway above so I could sleep soundly, but this truck was coming. It was on the dirt path I had taken and I could see its headlights lighting up the area outside my tent. Of course, I was alone and tired, so my mind went places. Cop? Drug dealer? Axe murderer? I prepared myself: "Okay Kyle. This is how you go. You die under a bridge. You witness a drug deal and then you die under a bridge in the middle of farmville in the middle of Washington."

He passed me and stopped the truck about 50 feet further down the trail, where it ended. I heard him get out and shut off his engine. In retrospect, he was probably using the restroom, or perhaps I took his spot. After a minute or so (longest minute of my life) I heard the driver's door shut and then engine start. Then I saw two headlights. Then I got really scared. I mean, how easy would it be for him to run me over and say it was an accident?

Obviously, as I am typing this, that's not what happened. He drove on, pausing briefly outside my tent (probably decided if he wanted to cap me or not -- or, you know, wondering what I was doing there). I was alive!!!

- - -

Day 3 and 4 I don't remember much of. There was the usual fright about finding a place to sleep, but in the end I didn't have any trouble.

This we can call "Hilly Farmville, WA."

Alright -- actually, I have to get going. I will update this with the rest of days 3-6 and city names (more specific than "farmville") on my next break day, which will hopefully be within the week. I will either be in or past San Fran -- woOt!

Brief September Update

Hello all! I am alive and well and posting this from Fort Bragg, CA. This will be a brief post as today is not a break day; mostly, my partner (Ken) and I are hanging out in Starbucks waiting for our friends from Bosnia (hopefully they are behind us and not in front of us -- we're actually not sure...)

As Jenna correctly stated in her last post (thanks!), I was hoping to post an update on Friday. I arrived safe and sound in Arcata, CA where Ken was waiting for me. I had a few hours to kill before he got off work, so convinced my Bosnian friends to hang out at an internet cafe called "Couple Cups" with me (cool place -- coffee and massages. More later.). I pulled out my computer, and lo and behold, it was soaking wet. I had been keeping spare water in both my panniers, and one had a slight leak... that somehow got water all over the computer but not over anything else. I decided it would be best not to turn it on until it was dry, so instead I just hung out with Bosnia 1 and Bosnia 2, and left the computer to dry overnight in Ken's apartment.

So anyways, obviously the computer works (as I am posting from it now)... the backspace key gets angry from time to time... but I didn't lost my investment (I bought this netbook just for the trip). So, there's an update on why there haven't been any updates. I have time to write just a bit more, but we are planning on carrying on. I think I'm going to do the next few posts retrospectively, as there's a lot I haven't touched on -- for instance, who are these mysterious Bosnians? Why aren't they with us now? Did they apparate to Bosnia? Is Ken's girlfriend named Barbie? Am I still keeping extra water in my panniers (hint: no)?

So prepare for:
Days 1-6: On Biking, Biking Alone, and Biking through Oregon
Days 7-12: Breakdowns, Bosnians, and Broken Computers
Days 13-14: KB, The Century, and Hilly with Trees

Here's a photo to whet your appetite. I promise there will be more updates soon, but we've only done 40 miles today *gasp* and Ken thinks that's just not enough.

P.S.
In my absence I find...
"Police Probing Theft of Millions of Pounds of Maple Syrup from Strategic Reserve"
(this update from Ken, who is sitting next to me, catching up on the news on his Droid)