Misty and I pulled into the tiny resort town of Jenner around 3:30 pm today, after having finished a cycling leg that we will never forget. I am grateful that it was sunny and gorgeous, but I regret not having had enough energy to really relax and enjoy the ride. The ride was characterized by much more traffic than we expected, no shoulder on the highway, several steep uphills on sections without guardrails, and multiple hairpin turns that were located at the bottom of hills. As a guest in the guestbook wrote aptly, this was a "white-knuckled ride on a mountain goat trail" that we were happy to survive.
We rewarded ourselves at a local restaurant with raw oysters and a sumptuous meal, and that was the end of our day. If you asked me right now, I don't know if I'd be the first person to enthusiastically recommend cycling this part without lots of training and mental preparation. That being said, we are on day 24 of cycling (30-6 days) as opposed to being fresh, as one fellow cyclist pointed out to us, so I think this opinion might be biased right now.
I'm going to bed, since last night I slept rather fitfully after having a face-off with a raccoon who was about to plunder our panniers. I remember coming back from the bathroom and shining my headlight on our bikes and having two little round reflections among the other reflections from our bikes and equipment. I stared at the thing, stomped a few times on the ground to show that I meant business (even though I don't have claws), and then watched it try to hide. I didn't go back into the tent until I was happy that it got my message, but even then I lay there listening to every little noise until I noticed the early birds started to chirp. Sigh.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Cailfornia Highs
It's is now three days that Misty and I have been cycling Hwy 1 that hugs the coastline. Although cycling these hills demands a constant amount of focus, once I have a moment, I marvel at just how beautiful this land is.
It's hard to convey how a place can be beautiful. Beauty in people or in an object can be easier to define but for a place it's the sum total of the impressions that come from all five of the senses. Over the course of the last three days that I've been cycling the Shoreline Highway (as the 1 is known here), I see, smell, feel and hear things that are all pleasing. I'm not even sure where to start, except that I can see why people would pay large sums of money to build their dream house on a piece of this land. I feel pretty lucky to spend hours outdoors just noticing things about this area of California.
Since we usually hit the road by 8 or 9 am and settle into a campsite by 6 or 7 pm, I watch the land change over the day. I have the ocean on my right hand side, hills on my left hand side and the road always ahead of me. Unlike Washington and northern Oregon, the trees are smaller here and the grasslands dominate. When we set out in the morning, the water is a dark and lazy blue, the shadows from the trees are long and grey-green. It's quiet and the smells are most pronounced in the morning. As I cycle, whiffs of the ocean, of cows, of sweet grasses, eucalyptus, dead animals, or exhaust can greet me in any order. As the sun rises, the wildflowers and the grasses start to light up red, orange, white, pale lilac, deep purple and yellow and so do the trees and the water, which start to catch my eye with bright deep greens and turquoises. I can't help but stop on teeny patches of shoulder to catch these bright pure colours through my camera lens, even though there's the possibility that I might be holding up traffic. By late afternoon, the light changes and the long grasses literally glow golden next to an ocean that is similarly shimmering silver as if it was made of mercury not water. Sometimes the fog or the clouds start to roll in by early afternoon. If it's cloudy, the sunlight peeks through and casts shadows of clouds that move beside me on the highway. If it's fog, I see it rolling in like smoke from a fire, first little wisps that eventually thicken into a grey blanket that usually signals the end of a day for us.
To all this add the sensation of heat and cold and the force of the wind, changing constantly. Up hills I feel the sun so keenly, especially on those parts of my face where the sunscreen is being washed off by the sweat, then on the downhill, the air chills me except when I pass through one small patch of warm air then pass back into the cool air. In the morning the winds are quiet, but by two o'clock they start to whip up. Completely capricious, I can both hate it and love it within the same 15 minute period. I can feel the wind push against me as I'm struggling up a hill then as I round a bend it happens to push me up the last little bit of a hill. I can feel it cool me down as I overheat under the sun, then it can chill me as I stop to grab just a couple pictures.
Understandably in this place, the human presence appears to be humble. Towns and homesteads are small but crafted with care, and seem to have a history that I unfortunately don't have time to listen to. Little touches like random peace signs, or seashells plastered into walls, hint at a close relationship that the people who have chosen to live here have developed with this completely enchanting place.
It's hard to convey how a place can be beautiful. Beauty in people or in an object can be easier to define but for a place it's the sum total of the impressions that come from all five of the senses. Over the course of the last three days that I've been cycling the Shoreline Highway (as the 1 is known here), I see, smell, feel and hear things that are all pleasing. I'm not even sure where to start, except that I can see why people would pay large sums of money to build their dream house on a piece of this land. I feel pretty lucky to spend hours outdoors just noticing things about this area of California.
Since we usually hit the road by 8 or 9 am and settle into a campsite by 6 or 7 pm, I watch the land change over the day. I have the ocean on my right hand side, hills on my left hand side and the road always ahead of me. Unlike Washington and northern Oregon, the trees are smaller here and the grasslands dominate. When we set out in the morning, the water is a dark and lazy blue, the shadows from the trees are long and grey-green. It's quiet and the smells are most pronounced in the morning. As I cycle, whiffs of the ocean, of cows, of sweet grasses, eucalyptus, dead animals, or exhaust can greet me in any order. As the sun rises, the wildflowers and the grasses start to light up red, orange, white, pale lilac, deep purple and yellow and so do the trees and the water, which start to catch my eye with bright deep greens and turquoises. I can't help but stop on teeny patches of shoulder to catch these bright pure colours through my camera lens, even though there's the possibility that I might be holding up traffic. By late afternoon, the light changes and the long grasses literally glow golden next to an ocean that is similarly shimmering silver as if it was made of mercury not water. Sometimes the fog or the clouds start to roll in by early afternoon. If it's cloudy, the sunlight peeks through and casts shadows of clouds that move beside me on the highway. If it's fog, I see it rolling in like smoke from a fire, first little wisps that eventually thicken into a grey blanket that usually signals the end of a day for us.
To all this add the sensation of heat and cold and the force of the wind, changing constantly. Up hills I feel the sun so keenly, especially on those parts of my face where the sunscreen is being washed off by the sweat, then on the downhill, the air chills me except when I pass through one small patch of warm air then pass back into the cool air. In the morning the winds are quiet, but by two o'clock they start to whip up. Completely capricious, I can both hate it and love it within the same 15 minute period. I can feel the wind push against me as I'm struggling up a hill then as I round a bend it happens to push me up the last little bit of a hill. I can feel it cool me down as I overheat under the sun, then it can chill me as I stop to grab just a couple pictures.
Understandably in this place, the human presence appears to be humble. Towns and homesteads are small but crafted with care, and seem to have a history that I unfortunately don't have time to listen to. Little touches like random peace signs, or seashells plastered into walls, hint at a close relationship that the people who have chosen to live here have developed with this completely enchanting place.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
the great ascent part 2 take 2
I vaguely remember trying to blog while lying in bed last night. I saw this morning what I managed to type and laughed out loud.
I am very proud of myself. We rode a 95 km section that I felt took a great deal of mental discipline to get through, and I am happy that we did since the California coastline is absolutely stunning. Oregon was gorgeous, but with the sun shining every day on this section of the coastline and the warmer temperatures, the views we get definitely justify the pain of hill climbing.
Misty and I left Standish-Hickey Park early in the morning to conquer the much-maligned Leggett Hill which takes us to the highest point on the Pacific Coast Bike Trail at about 1930 ft. The ascent was much gentler than a few of the hills we had done previously, and was challenging only because the road had so many bends it was difficult to see more than 50 meters ahead. The climb I would have done faster had I not stopped for more than 30 minutes waiting uselessly for Misty. I thought she was behind me but in fact she was already up the hill waiting for me according to a passing motorist that I flagged down. Perfect. The morning is starting well. The descent was exhilarating since it's fun taking up the whole lane and riding my bike like what I imagine driving a race car would be like. It was hard to keep the bike below 40 kph and predicting where the road went was anyone's guess.
After Leggett came the Rockport hill, a shorter but steeper climb right after the Leggett hill. Already tired from the first climb, this one often beat cyclists off their bikes because it is a sustained steeper grade. To get over this one, I flipped my iPhone on and started playing some dance music, thought of the Disney cartoon from the 1920s about the Little Engine that Could and just kept repeating "I think I can I think I can I think I can" and then occasionally looking down at my legs and thinking "oh Look! They're still working!" to take my mind off the burn. I also avoided looking up at the road ahead since it can be demotivating to look up and still see the road going up so I would know if the hill ended only when the pedaling got easier.
The rest of the day we contended with more hills, but now these were short and steep and much more frequent. In essence after the big ones we had to deal with a whole lot of small ones, and these were the ones that made me curse. Thankfully, Misty noticed I was dying and asked me how I was cycling these and gave a few tips on how to handle the terrain with the least amount of energy. It made a difference. The multiple stops that both Misty and I made also helped because at every turn, every peak there was something beautiful to gawk at.
We pulled into Mendocino after 5.5 hours of cycling, happy to be done and looking forward to well-deserved rest day. An inn at the top of a hill (surprise) was advertising vacancies, so we inquired and completely lucked out. She had one room left, the suite with the king bed. Usually about $300 a night, she gave it to us for half that for two nights!!!! Complete with a deck and deck chairs, with space for us and our two bikes, and waffles included in breakfast, I landed in the lap of luxury and really can't imagine a more perfect ending to this epic day of cycling.
We have four to five days of cycling left before we pull into San Francisco. Our journey this year will end there, mostly due to time constraints and because it doesn't appeal to me to continue by myself on the San Francisco to San Diego leg. We will enjoy this coastline and spend time in the neighborhoods of San Francisco to finish this vacation.
I am very proud of myself. We rode a 95 km section that I felt took a great deal of mental discipline to get through, and I am happy that we did since the California coastline is absolutely stunning. Oregon was gorgeous, but with the sun shining every day on this section of the coastline and the warmer temperatures, the views we get definitely justify the pain of hill climbing.
Misty and I left Standish-Hickey Park early in the morning to conquer the much-maligned Leggett Hill which takes us to the highest point on the Pacific Coast Bike Trail at about 1930 ft. The ascent was much gentler than a few of the hills we had done previously, and was challenging only because the road had so many bends it was difficult to see more than 50 meters ahead. The climb I would have done faster had I not stopped for more than 30 minutes waiting uselessly for Misty. I thought she was behind me but in fact she was already up the hill waiting for me according to a passing motorist that I flagged down. Perfect. The morning is starting well. The descent was exhilarating since it's fun taking up the whole lane and riding my bike like what I imagine driving a race car would be like. It was hard to keep the bike below 40 kph and predicting where the road went was anyone's guess.
After Leggett came the Rockport hill, a shorter but steeper climb right after the Leggett hill. Already tired from the first climb, this one often beat cyclists off their bikes because it is a sustained steeper grade. To get over this one, I flipped my iPhone on and started playing some dance music, thought of the Disney cartoon from the 1920s about the Little Engine that Could and just kept repeating "I think I can I think I can I think I can" and then occasionally looking down at my legs and thinking "oh Look! They're still working!" to take my mind off the burn. I also avoided looking up at the road ahead since it can be demotivating to look up and still see the road going up so I would know if the hill ended only when the pedaling got easier.
The rest of the day we contended with more hills, but now these were short and steep and much more frequent. In essence after the big ones we had to deal with a whole lot of small ones, and these were the ones that made me curse. Thankfully, Misty noticed I was dying and asked me how I was cycling these and gave a few tips on how to handle the terrain with the least amount of energy. It made a difference. The multiple stops that both Misty and I made also helped because at every turn, every peak there was something beautiful to gawk at.
We pulled into Mendocino after 5.5 hours of cycling, happy to be done and looking forward to well-deserved rest day. An inn at the top of a hill (surprise) was advertising vacancies, so we inquired and completely lucked out. She had one room left, the suite with the king bed. Usually about $300 a night, she gave it to us for half that for two nights!!!! Complete with a deck and deck chairs, with space for us and our two bikes, and waffles included in breakfast, I landed in the lap of luxury and really can't imagine a more perfect ending to this epic day of cycling.
We have four to five days of cycling left before we pull into San Francisco. Our journey this year will end there, mostly due to time constraints and because it doesn't appeal to me to continue by myself on the San Francisco to San Diego leg. We will enjoy this coastline and spend time in the neighborhoods of San Francisco to finish this vacation.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
the great ascent part 1
June 23
Today we started climbing the section that makes most people sigh in apprehension. We're now 1100ft above sea level and going to rise above a few more peaks before hitting the coast. We thought we might be spared this leg of the journey by some miracle where a pickup truck was available for us at Garberville. Not so.
Resigned, we went on our way slowly but surely. At times this afternoon both Misty and I stopped to feel the tires and make sure they were not flat since we felt like we were pedaling hard and going nowhere. The landscape also deceives us into thinking that the road is flat when in fact it is gaining altitude. All I have to do now is work on convincing myself that this part is fun, and that it's a great experience which will lead to entertaining stories and great fitness. These hills will also be perfect for helping us cycle up and away from tsunamis. I am running out of positive justifications for this self-inflicted discomfort. :)
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Legs don't lie
June 22
In solidarity with the locked out postal workers, my legs and Misty's legs decided to protest for a day of rest after six straight days of cycling. We pulled into Miranda at 12:30 pm since even pedaling on an apparently flat road felt like going uphill. We checked into a cottage, unloaded and walked around, talked photography, ate, hand-washed laundry, visited Kolbys woodworks next door, ate again, read novels, ate again and drank beer while watching CSI Las Vegas.
Tomorrow, we hit the hills because we have to. Misty describes the feeling she had about the challenge ahead as that exam you've heard about and dread, except that this is worse because it's a self-inflicted tribulation and there's nothing much you can do to prepare. While she explains this, I am eating the hottest plate of wings I have ever had to endure. I bring to her attention that if I can finish these painfully hot wings, I can ride up those hills tomorrow, and for the next three days after that. I also mention that the fire poo I will have will also be pretty painful. Through the tears in my eyes, I see her almost choking on her mouthful of water from laughing.
BTW, during dinner I overheard from the adjacent table a young American guy describing in great detail and bravado his army recruit physical exam. He got really lively when he got to the part where he was playing around with something that looked like a cross between a duck bill and a pistol. I stopped chewing so I could hear this story about his first meeting with a speculum, then quickly resumed chewing when he went on to talk about his rectal exam.
Janius Tsang
So Long Mariana
We said goodbye to Mariana this morning, as she's off on a Greyhound bus that will take her to San Fran for the rest of her vacation. We leave Marty as well, since he's finished his tour of the entire Pacific coast in Eureka. We're now a group of two proceeding onwards, and we are spending the night among the redwood trees in a campsite 8 km west of the famous Avenue of the Giants.
Although two of our friends have left, we find new ones at our campsite. Three dear graze about 25 meters away and glance curiously at me when I step into the port-a-potty. Several cute seedlings of poison oak sit 40 cm away from my tent, and we crashed the party that a scorpion was having when we put our food away in the bear-proof food cupboard. The party was pretty noisy, with Misty yelling "Geez! Janius you have to see thus scorpion over here playing dead!" There were thankfully no neighbors that complained about the noise level since we were the only ones camping there that night and mountain lions don't appreciate noise, so they stay away.
Although two of our friends have left, we find new ones at our campsite. Three dear graze about 25 meters away and glance curiously at me when I step into the port-a-potty. Several cute seedlings of poison oak sit 40 cm away from my tent, and we crashed the party that a scorpion was having when we put our food away in the bear-proof food cupboard. The party was pretty noisy, with Misty yelling "Geez! Janius you have to see thus scorpion over here playing dead!" There were thankfully no neighbors that complained about the noise level since we were the only ones camping there that night and mountain lions don't appreciate noise, so they stay away.
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