Rolling Away

Still no camera, wordy post. It is what it is.

And there I was again: My boss escorted me to the property bounds of Camp Mendocino. As we walked over the bridge, she was solemn and silent. She didn't want to see me go and was trying to be stern about it. I hardly wanted to see myself go, but there comes a time when you have to realize it just isn't working. So I started this ride  the same way I start every other ride, I pulled my right leg over my Brooks saddle and pressed down the first pedal stroke and I was off into the Jackson State Forest.

Broke, homeless, alone, unemployed once more. The third time in a year now. All I could think about was the failures that have encroached on me in the "normal people" world. I turned onto Road 1000 (the East West road sometimes called Three Chop Road that connects Fort Bragg all the way to Wilits) when the rain started. It was a gentle drizzle at first that gently floated past the giant redwood trees. The thought of the job I just left was ringing in the back of my head as the rain picked up and I continued further down the logging roads, painting my Cross-Check muddy brown. I hopped over some barricades of closed roads, where active logging was taking place; being Sunday all that was left was barren stretches of downed trees. It was looking over these wet expanses of fallen timber that I stopped watching the road and BANG, my fully loaded rear wheel slammed into a divet. It was pretty obvious that it was a flat. This was not what I needed. I begrudgingly changed the muddy tire and got back on the bike.

My GPS miles clicked down as I approached Fort Bragg. The road was now on a continual roll downwards. I feared losing traction and faceplanting in the mud so I pulled the brakes gently around bends. The mud let out to hardpack then to concrete at a logging maintenance plant. I turned the corner, slammed into another pothole and looked down. Flat number two. This was it. This was the end. The rain was now steady. I was still 8 miles from civilization. Highway 20 was not even recognizable on my radar. I was lost and gone. I tried patching my first tube, to no avail. The rain wouldn't let me win. Everything I owned was soaked now. I laid in the mud and looked at the rain fall down through the skinny redwood pine leaves. What was left for me? How much more could I take? I stared at the sky for a long while. I didn't know what to do, where to go. Would I really be defeated by a busted tube and rain?

No. I got up and put in the extra effort and patched my tube. And I was off once more. It wasn't much longer and I was back on the Noyo River, bending around Camp One. Civilization was near. Once again the road switched to hardpack then back to concrete once more. This was the private logging road I took in to Camp One two weeks earlier and I was back in the other direction. Once in Fort Bragg, it was a phone call to my parents and a check of my email. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I was going, and I suppose that's all that counted at that point. Feeling inspired to go in the right direction I headed south down toward Mendocino with more daylight left.

(to be continued)

On the Up and Up

I left my empty apartment around 9AM to meet Brittany at Fremont BART to return back down to Santa Cruz. The beginning of the ride felt like every ride from a BART station, endless suburbs and it was expected to be the hottest day of the summer. We didn't exactly get out early that by the time we were entering towards out climb the heat was wearing on us, so we decided to take a dip in the reservoir to escape the heat. It was the kind of stop that makes bike touring worth it. After the swim we attacked the climb. It was great having a buddy to work the climb with, rides always feel shorter when there is someone along for the ride. After the summit, it was all downhill to Santa Cruz to Brittany's parents beach house. It seems silly how I spent the first day to Santa Cruz, then spent a rest day, but it was my first time really checking out Santa Cruz and it was well worth the added trip south, especially with the added company.

Loaded up at BART

Brittany leading the way up. 

Mid day swimming hole.

On Monday, I departed once again heading back towards the direction I came, but this time I was riding solo. I headed straight for the Santa Cruz mountains to head north towards San Francisco. The first climb of the day was a beautiful one up a shaded road in the fog; a picturesque scene straight out of a glossy cycling magazine advert. An arduous climb from sea to summit, gaining nearly 3,000 feet, but once on top, it was a thrilling descent zipping back and forth through the redwood trees. But what goes down, comes back up, once again. I took China Grade Road through Big Basin State Park, which was empty of cars, but another straight up. Only to find myself on CA-9 after, which you guessed it, went up. I was also running out of water at this point, and could only just put my head down and ride and so I did. The sun beat on me as I climbed the west side of the slopes. There were occasional viewpoints devoid of water. Great spots for photos, good thing my camera was broken (more to follow). I finally reached the top at Skyline Blvd, where a fire station was empty, but thankfully had a spicket. I filled up on food and water, then headed north towards the city. Skyline had some downs, but for every down was an up. It's a roller coaster road with occasional escapes into the peninsula. I wanted to push on to BART at San Bruno, but as the hills kept coming, I eventually popped down to Redwood City, where I took the Caltrain north to the city to meet up with Dave for another night indoors.

Empty bike paths on a Monday Morning.

Speeding away.

Living in the Bay Area, I didn't afford myself time to be a tourist (I'll have plenty of time for that in the future), but having a broken camera, I decided to try and get it fixed in the morning. I headed to North Beach where a friendly camera shop hooked me up with a new camera as opposed to fixing mine, well it's a fix at least. So on I went snapping some nice photos of the bridge and the city on my way out. My goal was Mt. Tam. Too bad my GPS decided that I had had enough climbing, or maybe not enough, as the GPS pointed me toward dead end roads and demanded I take a right up the stairs...uh, no. It was getting late, and I felt if I had gone nowhere, so I pointed north towards Samuel P. Taylor park and Petaluma, my hopeful goal for the day. I stopped for lunch in the park, which was beautiful again taking great photos. Then I found a nice hill to push my bike up for a great shot hopefully of the area. When I finally crested I reached for my camera and realized it was missing. Oh great. I backtracked and retracked to no avail. It was lost and so was my time. With the day closing and my stress levels high I decided to call it a night at the park's hiker biker site.

Sleeping on the stress helped. In the morning I took the short ride to Petaluma where I had a great lunch and relaxed some. I called the credit card company and Best Buy to find that my old camera was replaceable and my new camera was covered - brilliant. With new sails in me it was a rapid ride to Santa Rosa where I hit up a coffee shop I really enjoyed last time I was here. Now to stock up and hopefully find a quiet place to camp for the night. As doomed as everything seemed yesterday, today has been brilliant and it reminds me of why I like being on the road as I can feel like I've gotten away from the true stress of real life by just mashing those pedals towards a new destination.