Distance: 99km
As we'd prepared our dinner at Richardson campground near Garberville, Ned and Charlotte turned up, their orange vests irredescent in the twilight. We had plenty of food and they had none, so we happily shared some spaghetti bolognaise with them and they ate it with stale bread. We hadn't seen them for a couple of days so we caught up on who'd done what since we'd last been together. As it grew dark, Jodie arrived too... a pattern was emerging... We had a big day ahead of us - a mountain to cross and many smaller hills too - before we made it back to the coast. One stretch was 43km without anywhere to buy food... we needed to be prepared! The mountain was long (about 700m high) but the gradient was good and we felt refreshed after our rest day. I actually enjoyed the climb and flying down was one of the best experiences of the trip! So beautiful through the redwoods, winding down the mountain... Even though the mountains were tough, the downhill sections always made them worthwhile. And riding with friends made the pain more bearable. Back on the coast we met a group of American cyclists; touring the coast without their bags - they would take it in turns to drive the van with all the gear. Boy were we jealous! They rode fast and Sam jumped on the back of the group until the small town of Westport. Our group decided to push on from here to the state campground just north of Fort Bragg... We set up camp with the deer, as far away from the noisy group of school kids as possible.
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Distance: 11kms We had a day off today. Last night we watched a film at an old cinema. Before the film began we bought some buttered popcorn that you flavor yourself with a choice of almost twenty different flavors. We sat down in the massive hall and then the girl who served us the popcorn walked down onto the stage and gave a little speech. It was cool. The film was called 'The Kids are all Right.' Has anyone else seen it, I found the story quite interesting, and we had a discussion about the plot and themes with some of the other cyclists we've been riding with lately the following night. One of the girls found the concepts explored offensive on principle, and decided she wouldn't watch it for that reason. During the day while sitting in the main street we saw a woman throw two large garbage bags full of something over a fence. The fence turned out to be owned by a little Indian man, whose hotel grounds the woman now found herself to be in. She explained to the little Indian man that the bags were 'full of totally legal marijuana,' and then asked if he wanted any. Laughing, and a wry smile on his face the Indian man declined. As it turns out Garberville is to Californians, a little bit like Laos is to the Golden Triangle in Asia, except here they produce 'totally legal' marijuana. (Just to clarify, actually it isn't legal, but even the law seem to turn a blind eye). Shanna was approached by a woman (respectable looking) who asked her if she wanted a job. Someone else in the town showed us the special code, or the snip, snip scissor action, referring to the harvest of Garbervilles copious, sprawling marijuana crop, hidden (or not so hidden) amongst the Red Wood forests. And actually, there doesn't appear to be too many people in this little town that don't see smoking pot as anything but normal. In fact, it seems that many Americans have come to embrace this drug (addictive in my opinion) much more than I ever would have imagined. It appears to have become quite mainstream here. We've had several (more than two, three or four...) offers, and politely declined of course. I've never been able to figure out what differentiates the casual user from the habitual, but what comes to my mind when thinking of how many people we've met here that either need it or see some intrinsic value to its use, is that I feel a little sorry for them. If you need pot to enjoy life, or simply to get by, then I don't feel particularly envious. But hey, each to their own. And who knows, maybe I'm the one missing out... Distance: 86km
My ears were hurting, it was so cold! We started riding at 7am and I felt about as cold as I've felt on the whole trip. My feet were numb, and my hands were stinging inside my gloves. The headwind was strong and my legs were tired already - it was day six of riding and we'd had some tough conditions during this stretch. I wondered how I'd be able to get anywhere today... About 9am we arrived at the turn-off for the Avenue of Giants - home of the redwoods, the tallest trees in the world. We'd had a sneak peak of their majesty a couple of days ago and I was excited about riding through them for the next 45km or so... It was still cold, and the trees blocked any warmth from the sun, but as soon as we rode amongst them my legs felt stronger, the wind calmed down, and I forgot my weariness. It was like riding in another, magical land... a land where mystical creatures live in tree hollows and fairytales seem real... I felt like I could walk across one of the massive fallen trucks and end up in the Land of the Faraway Tree... It's no wonder the Bigfoot legend began in this area; I could imagine him peering at us from behind the trees. As the morning wore on the temperature soared... by midday it was quite hot. The warm sun felt so good! Much better than the biting cold of the morning. We stopped in a small town, population 110, and bought some fresh burritoes with salad from the general store. Delicious! Mid-afternoon we left the Giants behind and climbed a final hill into Garberville, where we devoured burgers and fries and washed our stinky, sweaty clothes... Distance: 111km
Saw lots of wild Elk today, amazing! Cycled through a beautiful morning fog, mist, straddling a freshwater lake on one side of the road and the ocean on the other. Magic! In the afternoon we left Eureka and headed south into the wind. Tough day, sore legs. But worth it. Of course... Three months to go. Distance: 66km
We met up with Ned and Charlotte again in Crescent City, and headed south on the 101 together. The wind was calmer and our spirits were high - we all had a good laugh at a sign that boldly proclaimed 'Don't be a crab, eat one!' as we left the city. We saw a bunch of hippies with guitars sitting by the beach and realised we really were in California! Just outside of town there was a mountain to climb - our biggest since arriving in the USA. Ned and Sam went ahead and Charlotte and I ground the pedals together. I was glad to ride with Charlotte - with Sam I tend to be a bit sooky and complain a bit... but with Charlotte I had to just smile and keep chatting through the pain. And there sure was pain! But we got to the top - and quicker than the boys expected! Partway up we even saw some gigantic trees - had we arrived in the Redwoods?? Going down the other side was so much fun. We all laughed and jeered and overtook each other - taking photos along the way. It was one of the most fun descents I've ever done! And the seaside scenery was beautiful. Ned and Charlotte made a quick stop in a small town to try and buy some food but we had enough with us, so we continued down the road... Or rather, UP the road. We had hit another mountain. Not quite as big as the first one, but still enough to make my legs turn to jelly. Partway up there were signs pointing that the bike route went right, off the 101. We debated what to do. Follow the main road? Or take the bike route? We'd talked about meeting up with Ned and Charlotte at the upcoming camp site but which road was it on? I tried to call them. No phone reception. We chose the bike route. Around the corner the gradient got even steeper. Had we made the right decision? We keep climbing higher and higher. At least the road surface was nice and there were few cars. Then we were in the redwoods. Around us was the densest forest I've ever been in. The temperature dropped. It got darker. Wow was it beautiful. The last five miles, flying downhill to the campsite, was some of the best, most beautifully scenic riding we've ever done, massive, ancient redwoods towering above us, lining the road like a procession, interspersed with deciduous orange and red leaves, hanging from trees coated lightly by silvery crystalized mosses. At the campsite we were setting up when Ned and Charlotte arrived. This campsite had bear lockers to keep our food safe and it had cold showers for just 50 cents... But in Oregon campsites provided hot showers for free- so it wasn't such a tempting offer. Another girl, Jodie from Cleveland, turned up after dark and the five of us stayed up far too late talking and laughing... Distance: 41km
We awoke to the pitter patter of rain softly falling against the tent, and looking outside through the mesh, realised that we were in a thick, rainy mist. After a couple of hours holed up in the tent we emerged to find the wind had died down a little, and the rain was only a light drizzle, but on standing we both realised that our legs were completely exhausted. Riding towards Crescent City we were about to cross the border from Oregon into California when we saw a man pushing his bike and trailer with a dog he'd picked up on the road about a week or so ago. The dog had subsequently had six puppies, all of whom were now getting a free ride in his bike trailer. We'd already passed him, walking with the dog and bike, a few days before, so it seems that he and the dog have been walking almost non-stop. By lunch time we stopped at Crescent City, where we decided we were done for the day. In the evening we ate at Denny's, an American restaurant chain. Much to our surprise the food was some of the best we've ever eaten, and the price tag was equalling appealing, two mains and two deserts for $23. Distance: 101km (+12)
Just as we were about to leave the town we saw a wily old man, greasy beard hiding a crafty smile, on a face that looked weathered by centuries of strong winds. Motioning at us to pull over we slammed on the brakes, wheels screeching in the rain. 'Where y'all headed?' 'Not sure, we hear the campsite ahead is closed' 'Who told ya that?' 'Everyone in the town' Well I got news for y'all, its open to bikers, so y'all head on down, it's only another seven miles or so.' Seven or so miles through the blustering wind and sure enough, old mate was right. If he hadn't of told us, we never would have known, the place had signs and barricades everywhere indicating it was completely shut up. The following day the wind started early, howling through the pass where we were camped between two mountains. But, as we would discover later, it was nothing compared to the mountains we'd have to ride up... All day... By the end of the day I was, for the first time in months, close to not being able to go any further, so when we found an RV car park in the bay just on the other side of town I wasn't thinking, and started to set up the tent... But soon the chatter and laughter from the group of retired, botoxed millionaires in their RVs the size of super-sized busses reminded us that we'd get no sleep in a place like this, and when the manager told us we'd have to move the tent to a place next to a car park filled with what looked like aspiring gangsters sitting on the front of their pick up trucks drinking beer, we decided to leave. Despite the elderly peoples friendly protests for us to stay and join their campfire and listen to their travel stories, we packed up in the late twilight and rode back into the cold wind to find somewhere to free camp. It was so dark now that we almost missed the state park amongst the beachside mansions. Down a gravel path, through some trees; and we found a perfect patch of grass behind some bushes. Relieved, and looking forward to a peaceful night I, (unlike Shanny) exhausted and still covered in layers of sweat and dirt, easily fell asleep to the sound of waves pounding against the cliffs beneath. Distance: Yet to be determined, about 30 or so miles so far... We woke in the morning to strong winds and rain. Out on the road and the rain was manageable, but our luck had changed and with it the wind, biting cold and blowing head on into us. The wind was so strong that moving forward at any pace felt almost impossible at times, and even going down hill was a pedal grinding affair. We wanted to turn around and head back to the safety and ease of our campsite, and to the sunny weather of the days we'd left behind, but we knew we couldn't, and that the only way ahead was forward. Sitting at a roadside cafe, where I'm writing this from at the moment, we saw Ned and Charlotte drag themselves in, huddled over and freezing, and looking almost as exhausted as us. 'Wow, crazy out there isn't it!,' we all seemed to mutter at the same time. Just now, I can hear the wind screaming, it seems even louder than before, and while I'm musing silently about my ability to ride any further someone yells out at us: 'He yall, campsite 8 miles down the road is closed, yall' better hurry n get on outta here before the rain comes, it's gonna pour down tanight. Next campsites 30 miles ya hear!' Distance: 10kms
Rest day today. We left our tent set up and rode into town. Shanny asked the lady at the hairdresser if she could get her scruffy, sun bleached curls cut, 'sorry, I have to go to the village to cut the senior citizens hair, but you can come back tomorrow.' So we rode on. Next stop was DQ, or Dairy Queen. We hoped to get some internet here, but all we got was a soggy burger with bacon and cheese. So we rode on. Next stop was a cafe in Bandon's historic 'old town.' Here we picked up some delicious sausage and egg wraps that we wolfed down whilst hijacking the wifi. We met up again with the English cyclists (Ned and Charlotte) we'd met yesterday on the road and camped with last night. But then it was closing time... So we rode on. That night we pulled down some dead trees and had a camp fire with Ned and Charlotte... On the fire we sauteed onions, fried italian sausages and sizzled sliced potatoes whilst we waited for our sweet potatoes and sweet damper (with jam and cream) to cook from deep inside the flaming embers. And then, with the sun slowly setting we enjoyed our delicious feast by the light of the crackling, fading fire, the flames warming our backs. Distance: 107km
We woke up freezing cold, but relieved that we'd survived another night in the Oregon wilderness (just past Florence) without being attacked by a ferocious wild bear. Back on the road riding through a beautiful forest the sun is up but its not penetrating through the tall pines, and even though I've got two shirts, a long sleeve shirt and a big jacket on it's freezing. A couple of hours later and we pass a couple of cyclists, the wind is in our back, the sun is shining and it feels great. For a while, the wind is perfectly behind us, and we're going around 35kms an hour on a flat road, barely even trying. Amazing! The wind still behind us, smiles on our faces we ride up a beautiful old bridge. Riding down the other side someone coming in the opposite direction yells out at us and then, hocking, a burst of spittle comes shooting towards me. Fortunately I manage to miss most of it. A moment later someone behind beeps their truck horn (who has a truck horn in a car!?!?), and then, thirty seconds after that we get a 'f*%# off' blasted into our ears. Not a moment too soon and a massive nail lurches into Shanna's tire, going all the way through to the other side. Sitting on the side of the road I figure things are looking up, they could only get better from here... right? Over the next 10 kilometers on a wide four lane road with plenty of room for everyone the story doesn't change much. But, when we leave the towns and head into the forest once again, to our great relief it all stops. Things really do start getting better when we meet a really nice English couple, who we ride with until we get to a campsite just off the coast in Bandon. Open fires burning, dogs barking, massive bus like campervans lurking in the shadows, and while the sun sets we put up our tent on a delicious piece of grass that looks like it was made just for us. |
AuthorSam and Shanna Evans are from Melbourne, Australia Archives
September 2012
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