I thought it would be hard to replicate the first cycling trip to California that i took in 2003 but this tour proved me wrong. For the first time using a Brompton folder bike I was once more astonished by the beauty of the Pacific Coast on a ride that would take me from Portland Oregon, to San Francisco. I will never forget those days spent cycling with good friends met on the road or at the campsites, staring at the vast oceans and at the majesty of those redwood trees.
I woke up to a freezing morning, the campsite immersed in a thick freezing mist that had soaked into my tent flysheet. With no food for breakfast the plan was to have a first stop in Orick.
Jack was the first to leave with his trusted banjo, I followed with James who introduced me to the local speciality, worryingly named 'biscuits and gravy' . I survived the experience but couldn't share the excitement James had for it. He had been talking about it for days and the build up had been a bit too steep to meet my expectations!
After breakfast due to technical problems with his bike that I couldn't help him with, I set off on my own for what would be a transfer day to Eureka, before the long awaited day, following the 'Avenue of the giants'. The route up to Trinidad was nice and interesting and outside the campsite I could finally see some Elks too. I reached Arcata, with its super relaxed, hippy feel, a very nice town indeed. The hostel they once had was gone so I thought I would have a quick burger and move on when I looked down the street and saw James at the bike store after he had been rescued and given a ride by car by the same café owner who had served us breakfast!
There must be a kind of magnetic pull that keeps all cyclists who meet on this coastal ride not far from each other and you end up constantly bumping into familiar faces in the most unlikely places as I would later find out in San Francisco too.
In the end James decided he had enough tribulations for the day and would stay in Arcata while I had a bit of a tighter schedule to follow and had to say farewell and moved on to ugly Eureka for a comfortable motel night and laundry.
One thing I figured out on this trip is that the joy of riding with others and having a chat comes at the expense of slowing down a lot as you end up stopping when you would like to, as well as stopping when the others do! My sixteen days to get to San Francisco meant I had to stick to my plan, so often I had to keep pedalling faster or longer than I would have wanted to.
I escaped Eureka early morning with my flashing lights, through a dense fog. This was going to be a long day and a much anticipated ride along the Avenue of the Giants, a 31 miles scenic road winding its way through dense groves of redwoods. My early departure and the fact that I was cycling alone meant that I could cover ground faster and by 10 am I was already at Scotia where the diversion from Highway 101 starts.
I crossed a cyclist a few times and at one point we stopped to chat and were surprised to find out that we were both Italians! Valerio was a very active 63 years old who had traveled the world extensively on his bike and of course had lots of stories to share. He had been to some of the most remote part of the world, crossed Amazonia, Alaska, most South American countries, China all on his old trusted Koga Miyata bike. He talked about what he called his 'bicycle master', a spanish man called Pedro he had once met at the end of an around the world journey and who had inspired Valerio to start his journeys on a bike. Pedro had told him about some of his epic adventures like cycling in Iran during the revolution without being aware of what was going on around him and being caught up by armed gangs in Nicaragua who stopped him and started playing with him by shooting real bullets to his left and to his right before luckily letting him continue his wanderings!
The Avenue of the Giants was yet another unforgettable place of the many unforgettable places I have been fortunate to see in this trip. I once again witnessed the awe inducing power of the redwoods when Valerio, who was seeing them for the first time, said that he had never seen such beauty.
Halfway he stopped for a snack while I went on to the quaint information office of the park, sat down on a wooden bench, soaking the warmth of the midday sun. I met Valerio before exiting the road in Phillipsville where he informed me that after twenty-one years one of his spokes had finally snapped and was pondering what he should do next.
After the vibes of Arcata I witnessed one more time the thriving hippie culture of California when I entered Garberville. It seemed like traveling back in time to the sixties, a blend of vagrants, hippies, free thinkers and eccentrics, young and old wandering the Main Street, having fun and often high too! I could smell Marijuana in the air and wasn't surprised to remember that Jack's 'work' was actually down the hill in Redway! On a smaller wheeled bike wearing clean, laundered sports clothes and not looking to get a quick high, I seemed the most eccentric in town, so after stocking up food I went on the highway and reached camp at dusk quickly realizing that I would be the only guest of a deserted Richardson Grove State Park.
Today it really felt as if I went through four seasons and back in a day. I started early leaving camp eager to warm up from close to freezing temperatures. Ahead was probably the toughest day with lots of hills to climb including infamous Leggett, where a right turn onto Highway 1 brings you across the mountain range and back to the coast. The climb was really pleasant, very warm sun, hardly any traffic and great views. Once heading down the coast though, there was a dramatic change as I dived into a freezing fog that brought temperatures back to winter. I was hoping the mist would be temporary as it often is here but this time I was out of luck and it went on all the way to camp.
I met an Austrian cyclist called Max carrying a huge load on a trailer, including a canoe as you would do...
He had been cycling around the US for five months and had a big beard to show for it! He said he didn't get a chance to use the canoe as much and I just felt sorry for him having to drag along all that stuff! Tonight early to bed trying to keep warm and only three or four days to the Golden Gate of San Francisco.
I spent one hour this morning drying up and doing some laundry at Lucy's in Fort Bragg. By far the best launderette visited, with free coffee, a friendly attendant and a nice big sign up the wall saying 'keep calm,we have wifi'. The morning had started with a blue sky but as it was the case yesterday afternoon, by the time I started cycling, a dense fog descended on highway 1. The road in this section was really nice and I took my first food stop in Mendocino the county main town that seemed quite an exclusive place given the prices of sandwiches and coffee!
After the frustration of riding in the fog and missing all those vista points I gave up hoping for a clear up and decided to enjoy the experience and this unusual atmosphere.
I had a short stop in Elk trying to dry the tent. There I met either a desperate case of Tourette syndrome or an elderly man training for the national swearing championship.
As I told him I had come from Portland he belted out a Jesus Christ and from the on every other word in his conversation had a God d... interjection in it, all made even more surreal by the fact that we were standing just in front of the village church.
I made it to Manchester Bay first, followed by two American friends from Idaho and finally by Max still going strong with his canoe and fully furnished trailer.
It's been quite chilly the last few nights and even today, after my 'bomb burrito' I took cover in my tent wrapping up warm and hoping the sun will heat things up a bit tomorrow!
This morning I switched on the radio and heard it would be rain, fog and five degrees on the coast while beautiful, sunny and twenty-five degrees just a few miles across the mountains. Getting out of my tent it seemed even more serious than I thought. You could cut the fog with a knife and it was drizzling too which made me think I should have a plan b or be sentenced to a soggy day with no chance to see much if anything at all. I was weary to get off the coast into unknown territory and a bit sad to have to quit the coast but I stopped a local lady at Manchester and asked how the roads were if I tried to turn left on highway 253 and cross over the mountains heading to Booneville. As she wouldn't be the one pedalling after all, she seemed very enthusiastic, suggesting I should go up the mountain and enjoy the sun! When I asked if it was steep she just shrugged and said 'up and down, you'll have a great time!'
One thing she got right was the sun; after a few miles up the mountain indeed the fog suddenly disappeared and uncovered a blue sky and a warm morning sun. I never experienced going from winter to summer, so suddenly in my life in what seemed just a matter of minutes!
Now to what the lady got wrong...I 'rode' all day on an exhausting roller coaster of uphills with steep grades well beyond my strength and gear range and quite often I alternated cycling with long spells of trekking! In many ways I was happy to have made the effort and had I really known how tough a day it would have been I might have been cycling on a foggy and wet Highway 1 instead. The wonderful weather, change of views and a chance to visit the famous vineyards of California, kept me going and eventually I made it to charming Cloverdale where I will stay in a well earned motel for the night.
A day full of adventure today! I knew it would be a long ride so I left Cloverdale early and headed straight on highway 101. With wind pushing me and all the traffic speeding I cruised really fast on the emergency lane! The morning was fresh and sunny with just a few spots of fog around that made it possible to take some interesting pictures! Huge extensions of vineyards and neat wineries were scattered all around. At a certain point I saw the name Coppola, by the entrance gate of one of them and looking closer it was really Francis Ford Coppola; I remembered reading an article about his passion for wine and how he got into producing his own. Soon after, I had my first puncture on the rough and dusty lane I was riding on so had to pull off and fix that wondering if I would ever get a bike tyre flat on a motorway again! The excitement was not meant to stop there...I got back to speed for a few miles when a police car slowed down traffic and eventually pulled right in front of me. The officer got out of the car asking how long I had been on it, to which I said naively that I came all the way from Portland! He said it was illegal and dangerous and that he would have to escort me off to Old Redwood Highway, still heading the right way but in a much more biker friendly sort of way. So there I was, being paraded by a patrol car, around traffic junctions until the policeman was happy I was heading the right direction and not try to get on the highway again! Despite this breaks in less than three hours I had covered at least sixty km and would soon reach Santa Rosa and one hour later Petaluma. These, like Cloverdale before, seemed really nice towns to be living in, lots of neat green spaces, great weather, wine, everything clean and tidy and probably awfully expensive too! In Penngrove, right outside Petaluma, I got the best heart attack inducing burger I could ever wish for at Super Burger. In Petaluma I confirmed about D street, the road I wanted to take to get to Point Reyes. The two women in the tourist office, on a low season, boring office day, seemed very excited to get someone to chat with and I ended up being their information office regarding places in Italy. One of them, after telling her I had come down the Pacific Coast, even came off the desk eager as she said to check out my legs!
D Street turned out to be a surprisingly quiet and stunning road to cycle, I passed prairies, some reservoirs and stopped at the Cheese Factory whom had been recommended to me for a cheese sandwich. I then eventually reached Point Reyes, was told there was a campsite soon after but couldn't find any hiker biker site and as they were charging hotel rates for a tent I decided to continue until, near Stinson Beach, it got a bit too dark and I pitched my tent by the ocean in a grass patch where at night I was able to see some curious deer checking who was this guest for the night.
Being back on the coast, I woke up to a surprise reunion with my friend the fog yet all that was left was covering the few miles left to San Francisco, my goal for this trip. The road following the coast was pretty steep in places with lots of switchbacks and I was grateful it would be a short, few hours ride as with no days off in the last two weeks, my leg muscles were feeling slightly painful and tired.
I was really excited to see my final destination approaching and somehow also a bit sad to realize that this great adventure was about to get to an end. After getting a bit lost trying to find the coastal trail I had walked many years ago, I cycled past Sausalito and eventually got to the grand entrance and best of crossing lines that is the Golden Gate Bridge. All that remained was proudly cycling over, after many years to what is so far my favourite city in the world where I would be a tourist for a couple more days.
Words are hard to find to express how grateful I feel to have been able to experience this long ride, see the places I have seen and meet the people I have met over these sixteen days.
They will be never forgotten like my little Brompton bike that despite the disbelief of most people carried me most reliably and safely home with nothing more than one single puncture!
I feel this part of the world attracts me like no others and the only way to leave it, is to promise that I will come back again soon and wonder once more at the sight of those waves and those trees.
