I didn't feel like blogging while I was in Thailand but I took some pictures and I'll post them gradually. These are of the"Red Shirt Protests" in Bangkok. In the years since I've left, I read a lot about the rise of the new middle class in Thailand both as a consumer and political phenomenon. This is totally different. The protesters are far from the middle and closer to the bottom, although the deposed leader that they support is one of the richer men in the world.
When I was there, there was no violence and it was a pleasant and peaceful communal atmosphere with the military and police keeping a respectful distance. As of today, the situation has become violent, with at least 11 deaths so far. Thai culture places a high value on composure and restraint, especially in public, so the concept of demonstrating is fairly transgressive and brings much angst. Hopefully, these events are really motivated by a desire for social justice even if they were initially orchestrated by a deposed plutocrat.
[gallery link="file" columns="2"]
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Riding the Storm Out - Off Day in Santa Cruz )-:
I took advantage of the metropolis and hotel last night, stocking up at the very groovy new New Leaf Community Market (the co-op was way too far) in Santa Cruz. Tons of vegan goodness and all in my tummy now.
Checking the news and weather sites was less heartening. The major Pacific storm is supposed to bring up to 6 inches of rain and winds up and above 60 mph on the peaks. I am hoping that it will blow over and let me ride again. The rain isn't the biggest problem though. I am approaching the Big Sur portion of highway 1 and it is prone to slides and closures, especially after a bunch of rain at once. It doesn't look so good but I have had 11 nice days and there were only a few left. I am only a 2 hour drive from my sister, so we are holding.
I am trying to keep my road mentality and not get too civilized, but it's tough. The urge to eat every calorie available is tough to break, even after as short a tour as mine. As Phoenix over on sdbikecommuter.com said, you get "in it"-- a bike touring mentality where your head is in a place that makes the road and your routine the only thing there is. Getting it going again might be hard, I don't know.
I've been thinking a lot about being "in it" and hopefully it hasn't all leaked out while I dwell in comfort. The first thing that I wanted to put down were my morning feelings. That is the hardest time of day for me, and I suspect, for most bike tourers. First is the chore of getting your gear organized and re-packed and getting underway. I try to get as much of that done at night was possible, but you tend to be pretty blown and the time for bed just comes and you don't argue. By far the hardest part is the beginning miles, especially if their is any climbing. Unless your everyday life is pretty intense, I doubt most of us are used to pedalling a heavy loaded bike day-after-day with no rest days. The aches come, for me, mostly in the knees. I"m sure it is just use soreness, but it still makes mornings a toil.
So as you pedal with soreness in the morning, doubts hit. All thoughts of stopping that I've had have come during this period. I just think of that time, later in the day, when everything starts to feel better again, and the mileage countdown gets close to camp and a meal. That is what happens when you are "in it." At those times, and when I'm snug in my bag at night, I want to keep doing this as long as I can.
Another element is the fear of reaching the goal and not knowing what to do. Some people, like Scott over at Powercycle.net, have allayed this by going of on a life's journey. My sister asked if this would be a bummer for me if I had to pull the plug now and come home. I don't know, this is my first little tour. I do know, however, that I am not at all averse to planning the next one as a longer pull, especially with the minor knowledge that I've acquired so far.
I don't want to get too philosophical about a potential journey's end right now, though, because I don't want to think that way unless it is over for sure. Right now, it is awfully shitty up here-- the power has been off most of the morning, but I have the resources to wait things out if that is what I decide.
The other thing is not taking all this too seriously. I went to the laundromat this morning and Santa Cruz's permanent "camping" population was there in numbers. Those guys are living this type of life and they aren't riding the storm out in a hotel. This is just a game for me. When I stop, I can walk into a store and buy what I want. If I want to quit, I can call my sister a few minutes south, and she'll come get me. So while it has been quite an experience during my brief time out, it really is just a self-created game, no matter what reality my mind creates. With that in mind, whatever happens, I am happy with the fun I've had. If I find myself getting too serious about it, hopefully I will remember that and the guys in the laundromat.
All that said, I'm going to head out and find a really big burrito and hope for a big break in the weather.
Checking the news and weather sites was less heartening. The major Pacific storm is supposed to bring up to 6 inches of rain and winds up and above 60 mph on the peaks. I am hoping that it will blow over and let me ride again. The rain isn't the biggest problem though. I am approaching the Big Sur portion of highway 1 and it is prone to slides and closures, especially after a bunch of rain at once. It doesn't look so good but I have had 11 nice days and there were only a few left. I am only a 2 hour drive from my sister, so we are holding.
I am trying to keep my road mentality and not get too civilized, but it's tough. The urge to eat every calorie available is tough to break, even after as short a tour as mine. As Phoenix over on sdbikecommuter.com said, you get "in it"-- a bike touring mentality where your head is in a place that makes the road and your routine the only thing there is. Getting it going again might be hard, I don't know.
I've been thinking a lot about being "in it" and hopefully it hasn't all leaked out while I dwell in comfort. The first thing that I wanted to put down were my morning feelings. That is the hardest time of day for me, and I suspect, for most bike tourers. First is the chore of getting your gear organized and re-packed and getting underway. I try to get as much of that done at night was possible, but you tend to be pretty blown and the time for bed just comes and you don't argue. By far the hardest part is the beginning miles, especially if their is any climbing. Unless your everyday life is pretty intense, I doubt most of us are used to pedalling a heavy loaded bike day-after-day with no rest days. The aches come, for me, mostly in the knees. I"m sure it is just use soreness, but it still makes mornings a toil.
So as you pedal with soreness in the morning, doubts hit. All thoughts of stopping that I've had have come during this period. I just think of that time, later in the day, when everything starts to feel better again, and the mileage countdown gets close to camp and a meal. That is what happens when you are "in it." At those times, and when I'm snug in my bag at night, I want to keep doing this as long as I can.
Another element is the fear of reaching the goal and not knowing what to do. Some people, like Scott over at Powercycle.net, have allayed this by going of on a life's journey. My sister asked if this would be a bummer for me if I had to pull the plug now and come home. I don't know, this is my first little tour. I do know, however, that I am not at all averse to planning the next one as a longer pull, especially with the minor knowledge that I've acquired so far.
I don't want to get too philosophical about a potential journey's end right now, though, because I don't want to think that way unless it is over for sure. Right now, it is awfully shitty up here-- the power has been off most of the morning, but I have the resources to wait things out if that is what I decide.
The other thing is not taking all this too seriously. I went to the laundromat this morning and Santa Cruz's permanent "camping" population was there in numbers. Those guys are living this type of life and they aren't riding the storm out in a hotel. This is just a game for me. When I stop, I can walk into a store and buy what I want. If I want to quit, I can call my sister a few minutes south, and she'll come get me. So while it has been quite an experience during my brief time out, it really is just a self-created game, no matter what reality my mind creates. With that in mind, whatever happens, I am happy with the fun I've had. If I find myself getting too serious about it, hopefully I will remember that and the guys in the laundromat.
All that said, I'm going to head out and find a really big burrito and hope for a big break in the weather.
Gene and I rolled up and got out of camp fairly early. My morning is more complicated than his as I have to roll up a full tent, sleeping bag, tent footprint, and sleeping pad and pack them carefully in my panniers. He just rolls up his tube shelter and puts a couple things in trash bags. Because we knew that there were no services for the first 30 miles, against routine, we had breakfast before miles in HMB-- dry toast, the same crappy Smucker's tubs, and potatoes again. Gene was surprised that I could ride after such a "small" breakfast, but for me, this is huge compared to my usual bowl of grains in the a.m. I really would rather not feel full while I ride. I actually don't like the feeling at any time anymore which probably has a lot to do with why I don't drink beer anymore. Eating a big breakfast after 20 uphill miles is different, though. It seems to burn as you eat it and isn't a problem.
We've known all along that a major Pacific storm is on the way and is supposed to hit tonight (Monday) so the goal is to make it to Santa Cruz and stage in a hotel room. The elevation profile for this part of the coast is fairly mellow and the miles are in the 40s or 50s, so it shouldn't be too gnarly. What we didn't expect was the massive headwinds. And massive sidewinds. It felt like uphill riding even during minor descents. At 20 to 25 miles per hour, I felt like I was being pushed back up the hill and with some effort, I could have track standed right on the slope facing down. As we got somewhat close to Santa Cruz, the coastal riding became hillier, as headlands necessitated climbing. When they turned to sidewinds, however, the shit got scary. At some point, the winds rose above 20-25 and we were being pelted with sand and blown off the shoulder and into the road. At some points, we had to walk. On the beach, the swell was clearly rising as this storm was the remnants of a monsoon in Japan. About 15 miles north of Santa Cruz and the first available lodging, the winds rose some more and the sky darkened, creating a real Wizard of Oz situation. Gene and I discussed what we could do, but in no way, did it appear that we could make town before the real storm hit.
I half-heartedly tried to thumb down a few trucks without success. Gene was stuck on principle and didn't want a ride no matter what. It didn't look like anyone would stop. The closer you are to civilization, the less helpful the populalace (oh FSM how I hate them) are. We were pedalling for it. I stopped and waited while Gene secured all of his stuff inside his panniers and in plastic bags. We started riding again.
The little town of Davenport, the first services on the route was just ahead. We had been planning on a stop there for sustenance and I thought we might find shelter or a ride there. Just outside, I stopped to make sure that my panniers were secured against rain. My bike fell over (I don't use a kickstand) and when I got it upright, Gene was well ahead, pushing along. Shortly thereafter, I got to Davenport, a one corner town with a store and some kind of tour bus stop. I looked ahead and Gene was still pushing. I briefly stopped at the store to explore possibilities but it was less than a minute and I didn't buy anything. When I looked ahead, dude was gone. If you've read the road rage incident earlier in this account, you know that this is the second time. A bunch of people have asked me about him bailing when a guy threatened to attack me (partially based on Gene's actions as well) and I declined to comment, giving him the benefit of the doubt. So this is twice. I'm still not going to say anything about it because I don't really want to shift to the negative right now but seriously--twice.
Seeing that getting a ride was unlikely, I pushed it. It turned out that whatever disturbance that we had hit north of Santa Cruz was something before the main force hit and there was a relative calm before the storm. Still, the next 10 miles into town were extremely tough, probably among the hardest of the trip. It was still calm when I arrived in town and found a hotel, where I was very relieved and checked in to wait out the storm.
I only took two pictures, both of Pigeon Point Lighthouse.
Here is the somewhat incomplete (user error again) track:
day11
We've known all along that a major Pacific storm is on the way and is supposed to hit tonight (Monday) so the goal is to make it to Santa Cruz and stage in a hotel room. The elevation profile for this part of the coast is fairly mellow and the miles are in the 40s or 50s, so it shouldn't be too gnarly. What we didn't expect was the massive headwinds. And massive sidewinds. It felt like uphill riding even during minor descents. At 20 to 25 miles per hour, I felt like I was being pushed back up the hill and with some effort, I could have track standed right on the slope facing down. As we got somewhat close to Santa Cruz, the coastal riding became hillier, as headlands necessitated climbing. When they turned to sidewinds, however, the shit got scary. At some point, the winds rose above 20-25 and we were being pelted with sand and blown off the shoulder and into the road. At some points, we had to walk. On the beach, the swell was clearly rising as this storm was the remnants of a monsoon in Japan. About 15 miles north of Santa Cruz and the first available lodging, the winds rose some more and the sky darkened, creating a real Wizard of Oz situation. Gene and I discussed what we could do, but in no way, did it appear that we could make town before the real storm hit.
I half-heartedly tried to thumb down a few trucks without success. Gene was stuck on principle and didn't want a ride no matter what. It didn't look like anyone would stop. The closer you are to civilization, the less helpful the populalace (oh FSM how I hate them) are. We were pedalling for it. I stopped and waited while Gene secured all of his stuff inside his panniers and in plastic bags. We started riding again.
The little town of Davenport, the first services on the route was just ahead. We had been planning on a stop there for sustenance and I thought we might find shelter or a ride there. Just outside, I stopped to make sure that my panniers were secured against rain. My bike fell over (I don't use a kickstand) and when I got it upright, Gene was well ahead, pushing along. Shortly thereafter, I got to Davenport, a one corner town with a store and some kind of tour bus stop. I looked ahead and Gene was still pushing. I briefly stopped at the store to explore possibilities but it was less than a minute and I didn't buy anything. When I looked ahead, dude was gone. If you've read the road rage incident earlier in this account, you know that this is the second time. A bunch of people have asked me about him bailing when a guy threatened to attack me (partially based on Gene's actions as well) and I declined to comment, giving him the benefit of the doubt. So this is twice. I'm still not going to say anything about it because I don't really want to shift to the negative right now but seriously--twice.
Seeing that getting a ride was unlikely, I pushed it. It turned out that whatever disturbance that we had hit north of Santa Cruz was something before the main force hit and there was a relative calm before the storm. Still, the next 10 miles into town were extremely tough, probably among the hardest of the trip. It was still calm when I arrived in town and found a hotel, where I was very relieved and checked in to wait out the storm.
I only took two pictures, both of Pigeon Point Lighthouse.
Here is the somewhat incomplete (user error again) track:
day11
I'm writing this during a power outage in a hotel in Santa Cruz. Things have changed but I will try to keep this as in the moment that it refers to as possible.
From what I remember (as everyone else who has done this thing has already noted, things blur very rapidly,) this was a pretty routine morning. I put my scattered gear back together in my bombed out room and waited for Gene to meet me at the appointed 7:30. As I later realized, Gene really needs me for the route through the city. We take off through Marin, mostly along well appointed bike paths and routes. Bikes are everywhere. An interesting thing about this part of the Bay Area is that even the spandexed roadies are mostly on cool steel bikes. Not sure why, but part of it is probably that so many of the craftsmen who make them are here, the birthplace of the mountain bike. Also, even though the roads are very bike-friendly, they can be bumpy, so maybe they just train on more durable steel. Numerous organized rides pass us, one with three support vehicles in tow. Wow.
Going through civilization is still somewhat of a sensory overload. Even after my admittedly short time along the deserted coast, it is hard to resist the impulsive grab that the availability of calories and caffeine provides. However, both of us have picked up the common habit of not stopping for any refreshment or nourishment until at least a decent chunk of miles has passed. My morning miles have all been caffeine free but fueled by either a couple packets of oats or whatever junk carbs I had left over from the previous day or both. We pass all the cool cafes and coffee shops without stopping and end up in Sausalito and the run up to the Golden Gate Bridge.
There are some amazing views.
After a quick pee in the bike-filled parking lot, we set off across the bikeway. Here is Gene.
Note the circa twenty years ago Bell helmet, which probably has no protective value left. He is travelling light on an insufficient hybrid type bike and he knows it. He's carrying a little tube shelter, a sleeping pad, and a really skimpy sleeping bad. He had a lot of more appropriate stuff, but it somehow wasn't in the right place when he started his trip up to the Canadian border to come down. As such, isn't prepared to camp multiple nights in a row the way the rest of the south bound bikers are. It would have been fine in the summer, but not now, when camping nights are routinely below 40 fahrenheit.
Here is me. I'm ready for everything except the shock of seeing my orange and brown face in the mirror whenever I finally stop for breakfast every morning. Lindsay Lohan and the rest of you fake bakers, eat your hearts out. I went orange naturally.
The ride across the bridge was routine and filled with bikes, even on this chilly morning. I didn't get a major sensation of height or danger. It was just a roll across a generous bike path. No major starting hill-- if you've been across, you probably remember that it is pretty flat. Nothing like the illegal climb up the Coronado Bridge for the frontrunners on SD Critical Mass.
After the bridgeway, the guidebook route took us up 28th street through a really nice residential neighborhood, and then through some Chinese neighborhoods to the way south out of the city. Fairly hill free and pleasant, although cold and windy. We zipped past the President's Cup golf south of the city and finally stopped for breakfast across the county line in Daly City. It was a struggle to find breakfast, and honestly, I would have been better served getting some kind of killer vegan breakfast in SF but that would have required a lot of research or assistance from the useless Chris Mosher, and I availed myself of neither. The first stop for food was in a huge Asian-oriented center in Daly City which was anchored by a Ranch 99! On a longer tour, that would have been a major food stop for me, but Gene wasn't into it, and I had no real need to load up. We eventually found a local diner, where I had my usual disappointing vegan roadside breakfast of dry toast and jelly and coffee.
We took an off-highway route through the west coast Levittown-looking Daly City and got back on the highway for the somewhat cramped climb up the Devil's Slide which had no shoulder due to the ongoing tunnel construction. A group of about 12 fixed-gear riders blew past us going uphill and I never saw them again. More power to them and best wishes for their knees when they are my age. I missed a great opportunity to add to my collection of roadkill photos when I didn't stop to shoot a discarded porno DVD. It just wasn't safe to stop and start again without a shoulder. I won't print the title here to avoid unnecessary google hits.
I don't really remember much of the rest of the ride down to Half Moon Bay except that it was fairly pleasant. Riding with someone else is a completely different experience. Time passes differently and not being alone with your thoughts creates a different cadence and pace. The point of this segment is mostly getting through the Bay Area, which luckily for us was on a Sunday, and staging ourselves at Half Moon Bay for the next day, which is desolate and without services. Much more on that later.
The city of Half Moon Bay is a relative metropolis for a city next to a hiker biker stop. Every kind of food and service is available, which again, is overwhelming. We grabbed what we needed and checked in to the camp ground without intending to come back out, even though it was less than a mile back to civilization. At these stops, I usually grab a tub of salsa for cooking, some pretzelly carbs, some cookies, and some fruit. I usually leave some of it in the hiker/biker bear box as road kharma for anyone following and have been gifted by some of the same from others.
My man B asked for some shots of camp life, so here they are. The HB site at HMB was a bit ghetto, with only one firepit for all to share and no water spigot.
The location is nice, though, and for the just recently raised price of $7, it is tough to complain. Also, by their nature, the HB sites are communal, which, for me, adds a nice vibe, as people travelling this way are rarely dicks. More on that later, also. One thing that was different and disconcerting about HMB for me was the day use traffic. We set up camp around 4 or 5 and people from the day use areas and bike paths in the park were constantly winding through our camp and staring as if we were bears or some other attraction while they walked their Shitzus.
This is my tent at HMB. I usually only use one vestibule and between that and the interior of my two person tent, I can secure all my stuff that isn't on the bike. If it is raining, I can quickly take everything off the bike and shelter it.
Lynne and Five Star, a couple of cool women from SF were bike camping for the weekend, with their homemade (I think) plastic container panniers. While Gene made a bunch of phone calls back to the world, I talked to them for about a long time. They shared the picnic table (essential to bike campers) next to the firepit and said they'd be stoked if I made a fire. Gene seems less social with others in the HB zones, probably because of the age gap.
Inspired by Phoenix on sdbikecommuter.com, I strapped a load of wood on the LHT and brought it back to camp.
Here is my camp cooking setup. The little MSR backpacking stove, which I've had for a while, is awesome. Here, I am making rice with some dehydrated veggie chili mix and salsa. Making rice on a camping stove is pretty sketchy and hard to get soft enough but I keep doing it anyway. Most things taste great at the end of the day and with enough Sriracha sauce.
I got a fire going eventually and Gene and I hung out a while and then the women returned from town and hung out. I left them the fire and crashed. During the night, we were again raided by camp raccoons, and again, I lost some dried fruit which was in a pannier pocket and not in the bear (raccoon) box. Whatever, they were there first anyway.
Here's the track, which as usual, is missing miles because of user error:
day10
From what I remember (as everyone else who has done this thing has already noted, things blur very rapidly,) this was a pretty routine morning. I put my scattered gear back together in my bombed out room and waited for Gene to meet me at the appointed 7:30. As I later realized, Gene really needs me for the route through the city. We take off through Marin, mostly along well appointed bike paths and routes. Bikes are everywhere. An interesting thing about this part of the Bay Area is that even the spandexed roadies are mostly on cool steel bikes. Not sure why, but part of it is probably that so many of the craftsmen who make them are here, the birthplace of the mountain bike. Also, even though the roads are very bike-friendly, they can be bumpy, so maybe they just train on more durable steel. Numerous organized rides pass us, one with three support vehicles in tow. Wow.
Going through civilization is still somewhat of a sensory overload. Even after my admittedly short time along the deserted coast, it is hard to resist the impulsive grab that the availability of calories and caffeine provides. However, both of us have picked up the common habit of not stopping for any refreshment or nourishment until at least a decent chunk of miles has passed. My morning miles have all been caffeine free but fueled by either a couple packets of oats or whatever junk carbs I had left over from the previous day or both. We pass all the cool cafes and coffee shops without stopping and end up in Sausalito and the run up to the Golden Gate Bridge.
There are some amazing views.
After a quick pee in the bike-filled parking lot, we set off across the bikeway. Here is Gene.
Note the circa twenty years ago Bell helmet, which probably has no protective value left. He is travelling light on an insufficient hybrid type bike and he knows it. He's carrying a little tube shelter, a sleeping pad, and a really skimpy sleeping bad. He had a lot of more appropriate stuff, but it somehow wasn't in the right place when he started his trip up to the Canadian border to come down. As such, isn't prepared to camp multiple nights in a row the way the rest of the south bound bikers are. It would have been fine in the summer, but not now, when camping nights are routinely below 40 fahrenheit.
Here is me. I'm ready for everything except the shock of seeing my orange and brown face in the mirror whenever I finally stop for breakfast every morning. Lindsay Lohan and the rest of you fake bakers, eat your hearts out. I went orange naturally.
The ride across the bridge was routine and filled with bikes, even on this chilly morning. I didn't get a major sensation of height or danger. It was just a roll across a generous bike path. No major starting hill-- if you've been across, you probably remember that it is pretty flat. Nothing like the illegal climb up the Coronado Bridge for the frontrunners on SD Critical Mass.
After the bridgeway, the guidebook route took us up 28th street through a really nice residential neighborhood, and then through some Chinese neighborhoods to the way south out of the city. Fairly hill free and pleasant, although cold and windy. We zipped past the President's Cup golf south of the city and finally stopped for breakfast across the county line in Daly City. It was a struggle to find breakfast, and honestly, I would have been better served getting some kind of killer vegan breakfast in SF but that would have required a lot of research or assistance from the useless Chris Mosher, and I availed myself of neither. The first stop for food was in a huge Asian-oriented center in Daly City which was anchored by a Ranch 99! On a longer tour, that would have been a major food stop for me, but Gene wasn't into it, and I had no real need to load up. We eventually found a local diner, where I had my usual disappointing vegan roadside breakfast of dry toast and jelly and coffee.
We took an off-highway route through the west coast Levittown-looking Daly City and got back on the highway for the somewhat cramped climb up the Devil's Slide which had no shoulder due to the ongoing tunnel construction. A group of about 12 fixed-gear riders blew past us going uphill and I never saw them again. More power to them and best wishes for their knees when they are my age. I missed a great opportunity to add to my collection of roadkill photos when I didn't stop to shoot a discarded porno DVD. It just wasn't safe to stop and start again without a shoulder. I won't print the title here to avoid unnecessary google hits.
I don't really remember much of the rest of the ride down to Half Moon Bay except that it was fairly pleasant. Riding with someone else is a completely different experience. Time passes differently and not being alone with your thoughts creates a different cadence and pace. The point of this segment is mostly getting through the Bay Area, which luckily for us was on a Sunday, and staging ourselves at Half Moon Bay for the next day, which is desolate and without services. Much more on that later.
The city of Half Moon Bay is a relative metropolis for a city next to a hiker biker stop. Every kind of food and service is available, which again, is overwhelming. We grabbed what we needed and checked in to the camp ground without intending to come back out, even though it was less than a mile back to civilization. At these stops, I usually grab a tub of salsa for cooking, some pretzelly carbs, some cookies, and some fruit. I usually leave some of it in the hiker/biker bear box as road kharma for anyone following and have been gifted by some of the same from others.
My man B asked for some shots of camp life, so here they are. The HB site at HMB was a bit ghetto, with only one firepit for all to share and no water spigot.
The location is nice, though, and for the just recently raised price of $7, it is tough to complain. Also, by their nature, the HB sites are communal, which, for me, adds a nice vibe, as people travelling this way are rarely dicks. More on that later, also. One thing that was different and disconcerting about HMB for me was the day use traffic. We set up camp around 4 or 5 and people from the day use areas and bike paths in the park were constantly winding through our camp and staring as if we were bears or some other attraction while they walked their Shitzus.
This is my tent at HMB. I usually only use one vestibule and between that and the interior of my two person tent, I can secure all my stuff that isn't on the bike. If it is raining, I can quickly take everything off the bike and shelter it.
Lynne and Five Star, a couple of cool women from SF were bike camping for the weekend, with their homemade (I think) plastic container panniers. While Gene made a bunch of phone calls back to the world, I talked to them for about a long time. They shared the picnic table (essential to bike campers) next to the firepit and said they'd be stoked if I made a fire. Gene seems less social with others in the HB zones, probably because of the age gap.
Inspired by Phoenix on sdbikecommuter.com, I strapped a load of wood on the LHT and brought it back to camp.
Here is my camp cooking setup. The little MSR backpacking stove, which I've had for a while, is awesome. Here, I am making rice with some dehydrated veggie chili mix and salsa. Making rice on a camping stove is pretty sketchy and hard to get soft enough but I keep doing it anyway. Most things taste great at the end of the day and with enough Sriracha sauce.
I got a fire going eventually and Gene and I hung out a while and then the women returned from town and hung out. I left them the fire and crashed. During the night, we were again raided by camp raccoons, and again, I lost some dried fruit which was in a pannier pocket and not in the bear (raccoon) box. Whatever, they were there first anyway.
Here's the track, which as usual, is missing miles because of user error:
day10
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Brutally Day 8 - Manchester to Bodega Dunes Campground
I had a great dinner in camp last night, inspired by the arroz con gandules that my friend Lizz's mom and grandmother make. A previous resident of the hiker/biker site had left some cans of tiny baby peas. I threw those in with some rice and salsa and I cooked some salsa and Mexican squash in another pot. Combined with sriracha, the best road dinner so far.
I know that picture has already been posted. Lighten up, it has different text this time.
The morning started extra early courtesy of the notorious NoCal raccoons. Manchester doesn't have bear boxes (that's where you put your food so bears don't eat it) and I was a little careless with my stuff. I heard various weird noises during the night but didn't pay much attention. Finally, it was weird enough to check out and I shined my headlamp on the picnic table about 6 feet from my tent. Two busy raccoons stared right back into the light without moving. I had to put on my shoes and get out of my tent to run them off. All I could see that they got were a bag of peanuts and a bag of pretzels. No big deal. Not realizing how intrepid they were, I moved some stuff around and went back to bag. Eventually, I heard them again. I opened my tent and yelled and they just stared at me. When I got out to run them off, one of them grabbed my bike shoe, just like Penny had and started to run off with it. Luckily he dropped it without chewing. It turn out they had also crawled into one pannier pocket and got at some dried fruit. Apparently, the papaya was too spicy for them too, as they discarded it. Gene, the other biker in camp last night, said they knocked down his bike.
These guys were in the parking lot of a little store when I rolled up. They were still there after I had my drink and snack and rolled out. They were talking about their epic day trip and making me feel superior. I think the guy in the full Repsol Honda kit is a professional motorcyclist. His mouth and credit card got a great workout:
So this day was long and brutal on the rolling coast. At around 50 miles, there were some giant climbs up the 1 that my guidebook basically just glossed over. They were on long switch backs at a point where you are already thinking about the end of the day. Also, they were followed by really long descents over huge cliffs with no guard rails. Pretty sketchy. There was also a shit load of traffic coming in the other direction as people bailed out of San Francisco for the weekend. Just glad it wasn't the other way around. I don't remember too much else, so here is the scenery:
I finally made the campground at Bodega Dunes at the very second the sun went down. I really don't want to ride in any kind of dark on the 1 without shoulders. If I had known about the climbing, my decisions would have been different. When I got to the hiker/biker site, it was full of southbound tourers-- Gene, the guy I met at Manchester was there ahead of me, an old guy who was touring around during his retirement, and a bunch of young people who were hanging out during a break from their trecks. Also a bunch of yellowjackets who stung other people but not me.
Here's the track:
day8
I know that picture has already been posted. Lighten up, it has different text this time.
The morning started extra early courtesy of the notorious NoCal raccoons. Manchester doesn't have bear boxes (that's where you put your food so bears don't eat it) and I was a little careless with my stuff. I heard various weird noises during the night but didn't pay much attention. Finally, it was weird enough to check out and I shined my headlamp on the picnic table about 6 feet from my tent. Two busy raccoons stared right back into the light without moving. I had to put on my shoes and get out of my tent to run them off. All I could see that they got were a bag of peanuts and a bag of pretzels. No big deal. Not realizing how intrepid they were, I moved some stuff around and went back to bag. Eventually, I heard them again. I opened my tent and yelled and they just stared at me. When I got out to run them off, one of them grabbed my bike shoe, just like Penny had and started to run off with it. Luckily he dropped it without chewing. It turn out they had also crawled into one pannier pocket and got at some dried fruit. Apparently, the papaya was too spicy for them too, as they discarded it. Gene, the other biker in camp last night, said they knocked down his bike.
These guys were in the parking lot of a little store when I rolled up. They were still there after I had my drink and snack and rolled out. They were talking about their epic day trip and making me feel superior. I think the guy in the full Repsol Honda kit is a professional motorcyclist. His mouth and credit card got a great workout:
So this day was long and brutal on the rolling coast. At around 50 miles, there were some giant climbs up the 1 that my guidebook basically just glossed over. They were on long switch backs at a point where you are already thinking about the end of the day. Also, they were followed by really long descents over huge cliffs with no guard rails. Pretty sketchy. There was also a shit load of traffic coming in the other direction as people bailed out of San Francisco for the weekend. Just glad it wasn't the other way around. I don't remember too much else, so here is the scenery:
I finally made the campground at Bodega Dunes at the very second the sun went down. I really don't want to ride in any kind of dark on the 1 without shoulders. If I had known about the climbing, my decisions would have been different. When I got to the hiker/biker site, it was full of southbound tourers-- Gene, the guy I met at Manchester was there ahead of me, an old guy who was touring around during his retirement, and a bunch of young people who were hanging out during a break from their trecks. Also a bunch of yellowjackets who stung other people but not me.
Here's the track:
day8
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Long day in the saddle, more than 8 hours-- I'm pretty much out of it. Here's what I remember. I got started early. It was very cold. It turned out that I was only a half mile from my intended camp ground when I stopped yesterday, but I am still okay with the decision. After a few more miles on 199, I was on the 101, where I will stay for most of the duration. Riding on the freeway is no big deal at this point. The shoulder is very wide.
I'm not used to anything for breakfast except a bowl of some hot whole grains of my own making but after an hour in the cold, I really want to stop and get some food and hot coffee, which is also something I'm not used to. I do it again, and not knowing that there are cooler spots in the southern part of Crescent City, I stop in a pretty standard diner in a small town, where, I've learned already, my vegan options are some kind of fried potatoes and dry toast. Still, the hot coffee is good and my body will eliminate the other crap quickly enough. Hopefully, the reputation of Northern California for being a haven for old hippies will hold up and I'll be able to find better stuff the next few days.
I think this is Crescent City:
and these sea stacks may have been there too (when I set up geotagging, I'll know for sure)
I forget, I saw a lot of them today. Sometimes when you pass them, you can hear seals making noise on them, which isn't a big deal for a San Diegan, unless it is an Elephant Seal, I'd like to see one of them. You can't open a paper in San Diego without reading some mean old seal hater from La Jolla complaining about Harbor Seal poop, which I'm sure is tiny compared to Elephant Seal poop.
This is what they look like far away:
Here is another picture of a sign:
This is right before the Crescent City hills, which are a big deal to south bound touring cyclists. There are 3 of them but the first one is the worst because it is trying to break your spirit and you know that there are 2 more. They last 8 miles but the first one is more than half of that. Part of the reason they suck is the narrow shoulder. Cars are pretty close. I remember having a lot more to say about them, mostly something about comparing it to Faust F. Rossi's second semester Civ Pro exam (people were crying and the fact pattern was 24 pages or something) but I can't remember what it was. Anyway, that test was 4 hours long and the hills were over in way less time than that. Also, the second two aren't so bad. Also, there are a lot more fucking hills on this stretch that nobody names, which is why I can't remember. Maybe what I was going to say is that everyone else has to do it too and you know it's going to be over eventually. Maybe not.
This is the sign at the summit. I was kind of happy to see it. Also, I keep taking pictures of signs. It's an easy blogging device. Hate the signs, not the sign(picture take)er:
There were lots of great views and Redwoods on the way up but you can't look at them because the traffic and the climbing are kind of hectic. The hills are that big bump around 18 miles on the elevation chart below if you care.
Today was a mixture of totally dark Redwood forests and unbelievably beautiful sea scapes. This part of the northern coast has a bunch of lagoon things where some kind of barrier has formed and separated an inland body of water from the bays or ocean. There were signs explaining it but I forgot what they said. Also the Klamath River was really cool. Here are some more pictures:
That's obviously not a bay or a lagoon but some Redwoods and ferns. I think the ferns are just as impressive as the trees. Totally huge and prehistoric.
This is an elk:
I saw him at Elk Prairie camp ground.
Here is another sign:
It remind me of the time that Bill Maher, in response to a magazine exclusive about Clay Aiken, that said on the cover, "I'm Gay!," showed his own magazine cover with a picture of a bear and a caption that said, "I Shit in the Woods!" I probably didn't say or punctuate that correctly but I am really tired. This coast is beautiful but ridiculously rolling. I climbed 10,000 feet today but never got very high above sea level.
Also, if you're wondering how I am on wifi yet again (you probably aren't) it is because I didn't understand the directions to Patrick Point State Park so I'm at another commercial camp ground.
Here's- another picture of today and the track:
day3
I'm not used to anything for breakfast except a bowl of some hot whole grains of my own making but after an hour in the cold, I really want to stop and get some food and hot coffee, which is also something I'm not used to. I do it again, and not knowing that there are cooler spots in the southern part of Crescent City, I stop in a pretty standard diner in a small town, where, I've learned already, my vegan options are some kind of fried potatoes and dry toast. Still, the hot coffee is good and my body will eliminate the other crap quickly enough. Hopefully, the reputation of Northern California for being a haven for old hippies will hold up and I'll be able to find better stuff the next few days.
I think this is Crescent City:
and these sea stacks may have been there too (when I set up geotagging, I'll know for sure)
I forget, I saw a lot of them today. Sometimes when you pass them, you can hear seals making noise on them, which isn't a big deal for a San Diegan, unless it is an Elephant Seal, I'd like to see one of them. You can't open a paper in San Diego without reading some mean old seal hater from La Jolla complaining about Harbor Seal poop, which I'm sure is tiny compared to Elephant Seal poop.
This is what they look like far away:
Here is another picture of a sign:
This is right before the Crescent City hills, which are a big deal to south bound touring cyclists. There are 3 of them but the first one is the worst because it is trying to break your spirit and you know that there are 2 more. They last 8 miles but the first one is more than half of that. Part of the reason they suck is the narrow shoulder. Cars are pretty close. I remember having a lot more to say about them, mostly something about comparing it to Faust F. Rossi's second semester Civ Pro exam (people were crying and the fact pattern was 24 pages or something) but I can't remember what it was. Anyway, that test was 4 hours long and the hills were over in way less time than that. Also, the second two aren't so bad. Also, there are a lot more fucking hills on this stretch that nobody names, which is why I can't remember. Maybe what I was going to say is that everyone else has to do it too and you know it's going to be over eventually. Maybe not.
This is the sign at the summit. I was kind of happy to see it. Also, I keep taking pictures of signs. It's an easy blogging device. Hate the signs, not the sign(picture take)er:
There were lots of great views and Redwoods on the way up but you can't look at them because the traffic and the climbing are kind of hectic. The hills are that big bump around 18 miles on the elevation chart below if you care.
Today was a mixture of totally dark Redwood forests and unbelievably beautiful sea scapes. This part of the northern coast has a bunch of lagoon things where some kind of barrier has formed and separated an inland body of water from the bays or ocean. There were signs explaining it but I forgot what they said. Also the Klamath River was really cool. Here are some more pictures:
That's obviously not a bay or a lagoon but some Redwoods and ferns. I think the ferns are just as impressive as the trees. Totally huge and prehistoric.
This is an elk:
I saw him at Elk Prairie camp ground.
Here is another sign:
It remind me of the time that Bill Maher, in response to a magazine exclusive about Clay Aiken, that said on the cover, "I'm Gay!," showed his own magazine cover with a picture of a bear and a caption that said, "I Shit in the Woods!" I probably didn't say or punctuate that correctly but I am really tired. This coast is beautiful but ridiculously rolling. I climbed 10,000 feet today but never got very high above sea level.
Also, if you're wondering how I am on wifi yet again (you probably aren't) it is because I didn't understand the directions to Patrick Point State Park so I'm at another commercial camp ground.
Here's- another picture of today and the track:
day3
Friday, October 2, 2009
With all the preamble finally out of the way, I left Ashland this morning at 7 and wow was it fucking cold. I had an idea when my train got to Klamath Falls that I would have to amend the clothing I packed. At a really cool bikeshop in Ashland (in a house) and an outdoor store (a crunchier city you have never encountered) I grabbed some tights and ear warmers and was staring at some full-fingered gloves when I got sick of buying stuff and blew that off. Big fucking mistake. The first two hours were like frostbite-- a lot of pain. Almost immediately, I considered turning around and waiting for a shop to open, but I decided to just push on and wait for the sun. That is one of the joys of touring solo-- the decisions only impact you. I wouldn't be comfortable asking someone else to do that if they had forgotten equipment and I'd feel guilty as hell if I had to delay everything while I got my shit together.
Anyway, my first few days are not in the Touring the Pacific Coast book or on the standard Adventure Cycling Association (hereinafter "ACA") maps. It is a more inland route that I found on the website of a commercial cycle touring operation but it didn't have maps so I am kind of winging it. Being off the beaten path today was great. Once I left Ashland (where morning bike commuters were flying past me and the loaded beast) I never saw another bike-- just beautiful scenery.
My first stop was "historic Jacksonville," which is apparently how it is always referred to. Really cool old mini-town where I stopped for an awesome tofu scramble at an unexpected Jewish deli called MacLevins. The owner was really cool, unprompted (I just asked for no cheese) she made sure my meal was vegan, brought me the paper and kept bringing hot coffee for my frozen hands. After, I told her that I was sure that this would be the best breakfast of my trip, and I'm pretty sure it will be.
I've noticed that most of the tour journals I've read talk a lot about meals and it looks like mine won't be much different. When you are burning 6-8,000 cals a day, it becomes a focus.
With my hands thawed, I continued through more small towns. Once the sun came out, things weren't so bad, although I was never able to take off my tights or fleece. As the track shows, there wasn't much climbing, mostly descents and flats, although I was into a headwind all day. Good thing, the first few climbs on a fully loaded touring bike are a shock. Things don't react the way you are used to and for me at least, standing up made things a lot less stable. More on that tomorrow, which promises bigger climbs.
The scenery was gorgeous. Most of the day was along rivers and creeks in the bottom of a valley, which explains the flatness. It mostly looked like this:
I highly recommend this route for anyone looking to do a little touring off the beaten path. There wasn't always a shoulder, and when there was, it wasn't always that wide, but not too many scary truck encounters and people up here seem to respect bikes. Ashland was insanely bike friendly. I was about to write about how bikey San Luis Obispo was (very) but Ashland one-upped it. Oregon has a law that requires cars stop for pedestrians waiting for a cross walk and drivers extend that to bikes as well.
Ashland in general was surreal. I was there not only because it was a great place to start this tour, but because my sister and I wanted to pay respects to our parents there. They loved coming up here for the Shakespeare festival that the town is known for. Even if you don't see a play, the place is unbelievably beautiful and people are ridiculously pleasant. It reminded me a lot of Ithaca, where I was ostensibly educated in the law (it is home to Southern Oregon University,) except the students looked happy and weren't noticeably from Long Island.
Just below the Elizabethan stage for the festival, I found a storybook looking public park with a pond and ducks. I had it to myself. On a green next to it, a guy was playing cello for a couple friends. I felt like I was in the Truman Show or something, it couldn't be real.
I scattered my mom and dad's ashes there. It was pretty emotional but I don't write about stuff like this. I'd rather be distant and smart ass.
So back to the trip. Coming up on Amtrak was okay. It is a long time to be sitting on the train, but a lot of it was overnight, so I slept. I also read "Out Stealing Horses" by Per Petterson-- kind of a Scandinavian Cormac McCarthy-- they both write books about boys living on a border with horses in the title. I liked it.
Taking a shuttle from Klamath Falls to Medford was definitely a good decision-- the road was beautiful-- it went by Crater Lake and Lake of the Woods but there were many elevation changes and it didn't look bike safe. I couldn't use the front rack on the bus because I couldn't clamp the front wheel due to my front rack, but the bus wasn't crowded, so I brought it onboard. The bus even had wifi and I was able to get the ticket from Amtrak.
I'll keep posting updates when I can. I'm pretty tired and a fire and some weird sweet potato noodles await. This campground is pretty cool, wifi and the store had some fleecy gloves for $2.50 that I can use until I hit a bike store. It may get close to freezing tonight, but for now, I'm happy.
[caption id="attachment_717" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Home sweet home, Wonder KOA"]
[/caption]
day1
Anyway, my first few days are not in the Touring the Pacific Coast book or on the standard Adventure Cycling Association (hereinafter "ACA") maps. It is a more inland route that I found on the website of a commercial cycle touring operation but it didn't have maps so I am kind of winging it. Being off the beaten path today was great. Once I left Ashland (where morning bike commuters were flying past me and the loaded beast) I never saw another bike-- just beautiful scenery.
My first stop was "historic Jacksonville," which is apparently how it is always referred to. Really cool old mini-town where I stopped for an awesome tofu scramble at an unexpected Jewish deli called MacLevins. The owner was really cool, unprompted (I just asked for no cheese) she made sure my meal was vegan, brought me the paper and kept bringing hot coffee for my frozen hands. After, I told her that I was sure that this would be the best breakfast of my trip, and I'm pretty sure it will be.
I've noticed that most of the tour journals I've read talk a lot about meals and it looks like mine won't be much different. When you are burning 6-8,000 cals a day, it becomes a focus.
With my hands thawed, I continued through more small towns. Once the sun came out, things weren't so bad, although I was never able to take off my tights or fleece. As the track shows, there wasn't much climbing, mostly descents and flats, although I was into a headwind all day. Good thing, the first few climbs on a fully loaded touring bike are a shock. Things don't react the way you are used to and for me at least, standing up made things a lot less stable. More on that tomorrow, which promises bigger climbs.
The scenery was gorgeous. Most of the day was along rivers and creeks in the bottom of a valley, which explains the flatness. It mostly looked like this:
I highly recommend this route for anyone looking to do a little touring off the beaten path. There wasn't always a shoulder, and when there was, it wasn't always that wide, but not too many scary truck encounters and people up here seem to respect bikes. Ashland was insanely bike friendly. I was about to write about how bikey San Luis Obispo was (very) but Ashland one-upped it. Oregon has a law that requires cars stop for pedestrians waiting for a cross walk and drivers extend that to bikes as well.
Ashland in general was surreal. I was there not only because it was a great place to start this tour, but because my sister and I wanted to pay respects to our parents there. They loved coming up here for the Shakespeare festival that the town is known for. Even if you don't see a play, the place is unbelievably beautiful and people are ridiculously pleasant. It reminded me a lot of Ithaca, where I was ostensibly educated in the law (it is home to Southern Oregon University,) except the students looked happy and weren't noticeably from Long Island.
Just below the Elizabethan stage for the festival, I found a storybook looking public park with a pond and ducks. I had it to myself. On a green next to it, a guy was playing cello for a couple friends. I felt like I was in the Truman Show or something, it couldn't be real.
I scattered my mom and dad's ashes there. It was pretty emotional but I don't write about stuff like this. I'd rather be distant and smart ass.
So back to the trip. Coming up on Amtrak was okay. It is a long time to be sitting on the train, but a lot of it was overnight, so I slept. I also read "Out Stealing Horses" by Per Petterson-- kind of a Scandinavian Cormac McCarthy-- they both write books about boys living on a border with horses in the title. I liked it.
Taking a shuttle from Klamath Falls to Medford was definitely a good decision-- the road was beautiful-- it went by Crater Lake and Lake of the Woods but there were many elevation changes and it didn't look bike safe. I couldn't use the front rack on the bus because I couldn't clamp the front wheel due to my front rack, but the bus wasn't crowded, so I brought it onboard. The bus even had wifi and I was able to get the ticket from Amtrak.
I'll keep posting updates when I can. I'm pretty tired and a fire and some weird sweet potato noodles await. This campground is pretty cool, wifi and the store had some fleecy gloves for $2.50 that I can use until I hit a bike store. It may get close to freezing tonight, but for now, I'm happy.
[caption id="attachment_717" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Home sweet home, Wonder KOA"]
[/caption]day1
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