Sister Update!

Kyle's in Bryce Canyon!

Sausalito, CA to Nowhere, NV: More Warmshowers, More Warm Weather

*phew* I think I might get all caught up today! Imagine that -- you can read things on my blog that actually happened less than 24 hours ago! Better stop jinxing it and get back to typing.

And also enjoying the view.

Er, no, this is just a photo of San Francisco. Never mind.

We left Sausalito about 7 AM in order to be able to catch the ferry out of San Francisco. It is possible to bike around the south side of the bay, but it's about a 2- or 3- day detour, so we took the ferry from San Francisco to Vallejo. Not before getting to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge first, however! --

Boom goes the dynamite.

So yea, we rode the bridge, meeting some nice commuters on the way ("I want to complain about getting up this early, but then I remember that I get to ride across the bridge to work every day"), then rode through downtown San Fran, which was pretty cool and exactly like in the movies (the ones filmed in San Francisco, anyways). We arrived at the ferry building with 30 minutes to kill, so stopped at a croissant place to pick up... well, I got a croissant, Ken got a donut. Donuts are sort of becoming a thing on this trip. We could probably eat all donuts and still not have enough calories to make it through the day. *cough* Anyways... not sure if that was bragging or not.

So we sunscreened up after getting off the ferry, then rode through Vallejo, and then it was windy... which became a theme. A lot of people say the wind blows west to east... a lot of people say the opposite... I say it's, well, whichever way the wind blows. Seriously -- sometimes it was with us, sometimes it was against us. Either way, you keep pedaling.

After riding in the sweltering heat (yes, we had our last view of the ocean that same day -- interesting what going just a little bit inland does to the climate) for a few hours, we found a produce store. This place was hopping.

Did I mention they had strawberries?

We bought a lifetime supply of strawberries for $2 and made lunch out of it before continuing on. Oh also, I forgot to mention, we were in wine territory, so didn't really want to stealth camp... lest some snobby vineyard security guard should stumble upon us. It would have been pretty cool to camp in a vineyard, but not worth the risk (though, I did end up truing Ken's wheel in a vineyard... there's a photo of that somewhere).

Anyways, we continued on in the sweltering heat, stopping whenever we found shade. We probably would have taken a nap in the shape if we hadn't set up another warmshowers venture, but we weren't so sure about stealth camping given how populated the area was (okay, it wasn't that populated once we got out of wine country, but there were lots of fences).

Eventually we made it to Davis, where they had BICYCLE ROUNDABOUTS. For those of you who don't know me that well, I have a thing about roundabouts. For those of you not reading this blog -- I have a thing about bicycles. So as you can probably imagine, I was super excited about bicycle roundabouts. And there must have been twenty of them -- every block or so on the campus of UC Davis.

Oh and did I mention BICYCLE ROUNDABOUTS!?!

While still in wine country a guy named Elliot rode with us for a while before speeding off. He was just completing a three day tour carrying nothing but his toothbrush, as he had places to stay every night. In any case, he ended up going home, showering, changing, getting on a different bike, and meeting us just outside of town. It made me feel pretty slow... *cough* anyways. He was pretty cool, and volunteered to be our tour guide through town and to the bike path to Sacramento, where our warmshowers stay was for the night. Thanks, Elliot!

"I'm Elliot and I certify myself to be awesome."

Anyways, we made it to Sacramento about 7:30, where Yvette, our warmshowers host, had a room and a shower waiting for us. She made pizza while we washed off the day's work (I think that's the only time I've taken a shower two days in a row... don't tell anyone), then we ate and Scrabbled the night away before heading off to bed at an exhausting 10:30. Kids these days, I don't know how they do it.

Yvette also had great taste in art.

After tour guiding us around a bit the next morning (namely, she biked with us to the grocery store), Yvette left us at the start of a 30-mile long bike path from Sacramento to Folsom. In Folsom, we stopped at a bike shop hoping to buy a chain whip (a tool you need to replace broken spokes on a wheel -- spokes often break on tour, and sometimes make the bike unrideable, meaning if you can't fix it you have to walk to the nearest bike shop that can). The only one they had weighed about 2 lbs, so we passed. And found donuts.

You couldn't catch me near one of these if you tried.

...don't bother trying...

*ahem*

On a way to a place to camp for the night, we met Tim, who was from Germany. Tim apparently stayed at the same warmshowers host as Sandro and Seal in San Francisco, so it was quite a coincidence seeing us. He was biking from San Fran to New York, but was much faster than us, so he took off. We were left behind in search of shade and water. We spend that night in an empty, abandoned lot just outside of town (but don't tell anyone).

The next morning -- the day after we passed up a chain whip -- Ken got a broken spoke. Now, a bit of backstory here. I built my bike to be the leanest, meanest touring machine out there. Steel frame, custom built heavy-duty wheels... okay, I sort of went overboard, but I didn't know that until now. Also, not very lean. *cough* but anyways. Better too much than not enough, right? Anyways, Ken is using his racing bike to tour. So he's sort of on the opposite side of the scale. I made a personal bet with myself that he wouldn't make it a week without breaking a spoke. This spoke breakage comes at 6 days, 23 hours, and about 44 minutes after leaving.

So anyways.

Ken's fancy racing bike also has straight-pull spokes (look it up if you're curious). Long story short, he was actually able to replace the spoke without removing the cassette (which is what you need the chain whip for). I was seriously impressed.

Wish they'd taught me that trick at bike school.

Many things happened that day, but the long and short of it is that we biked through wine country again, met some tourists from Britain (from NY, going to San Fran, 9 weeks on the road and 2 days left!), and then at lunch,

Tim!

Tim!

(oh, that's Tim, by the way)

Tim is the German guy who had passed us the previous day. He apparently had gotten a motel about a half a mile before where we slept, so we had spent the entire day ahead of him. He caught up to us during our "lunch nap," which we decided was a new holiday in hot places -- the time when you stop biking, eat lunch, and nap, while waiting for the heat to turn down a bit.

Anyways, Tim ended up riding with us for the rest of the day. We stopped at a place called "Cook's Station," which has a bit of novelty value for me since my mother's maiden name is "Cook." They had good food, and some of the best prices I'd seen (though I guess we were now out of the tourist-ville of the coast and into hot-ville of the mountains).

We had started at 2,000 feet that day (2,000 feet of elevation, that is) and in the heat risen to about 5,000, so we were pretty pooped. Shortly after eating we found an awesome campsite somewhere around 5,700.

And the view was fantastic.

We also hung our food that night, being we were in bear country.

The next morning was a climb and many views (too many pictures to post here) to our second highest peak of the trip (I think -- or at least, our highest peak thus far) (our highest peak being yet to come, 10,800 somewhere in the rockies). We didn't reach it until about 2:00 that day, but it was well received.

In retrospect, it wasn't that hard to breathe at 1.5 miles high.

And it was all downhill from there -- but really -- we made about 20 miles in just under an hour, and quickly reached my fourth state, Nevada.

Their sign was sideways first.

And honestly, between now and then, I don't have much to say. There are some beautiful moments.

Sun goes down... eyesore goes down, too.

And our warmshowers hosts in Carson City were wonderful. Oh, so wonderful. I wish I had taken a photo of that breakfast. It was the best breakfast of the entire trip. But then... there was more Nevada. We took the 50, which is apparently known as "The Loneliest Highway in America."

If you ask your parents about the trip to school every day (or if they ask their parents), you will likely receive the answer...

"I had to walk ten miles, uphill both ways, into the wind, and oh... it was always snowing."

That's about what Nevada feels like. Okay, minus the snow. But it's so flat and long that you see roads you think are going to take ten minutes, and two hours later, you're only halfway there.

20 miles later, we looked up and saw the same thing.

Of course, the cool thing about Nevada is that once we got away from the Californian border (which apparently is where all of Nevada's 50 people are), it was easy to find a place to stealth camp.

So... maybe just a little to the left?

Okay, so it's getting quite late here (for those of us who sleep by the sun), and the internet is getting slower... I guess that's what you get for sharing it with the rest of a motel on a Friday night. In any case, I guess I'm not all caught up -- I'll finish Nevada next time. And as of tomorrow, I'll be in Utah!

With love from Ely,

Kyle.

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!