Month: October 2016

Day 26 – San Francisco – City Centre Hostel. 65km

On arriving in San Francisco I was belatedly struck by an interesting observation about our trip to now. We’ve been on the road in America for more than three weeks and I could count on two hands the number of African Americans we’ve seen. We’ve not been in any sizeable cities until now, but it still comes as a surprise.

The towns of Marin country we’ve ridden through – Fairfax, San Anselmo, Larkspur, Sausalito – are pretty appealing. Judging from what I see here from my bicycle, it would seem every day is sunny, life is pleasant and troubles are manageably small. Except for perhaps the water problem – which is not so small.

The hostel we’re in is on the edge of the notorious Tenderloin district (think East Hastings), in a funky old hotel  – The Atherton, built at the turn of the century. It’s full of charm and young people from around the world. We’re the only touring cyclists in the place. We plan to stay here for a couple of days to rest and explore. I’ve been to SF a few times before, but everything looks different when you’re travelling by bike. After just one afternoon riding across town to find our hostel I’ve got a very different feeling for the city. I’m charmed.

Riding over the Golden Gate Bridge was a bit of a challenge. But unlike the challenges of other bridges we’ve ridden, e.g competing for space with fast-moving traffic, being buffeted by heavy cross winds, etc.  The wide and separated sidewalk of the GG Bridge was great, but it was jammed with people for the whole length. Many of them were on rental bikes and unsteady in their ability. It wasn’t hazardous, but it wasn’t much fun either.

Day 27 – San Francisco. Rest Day.

Today is our first rest day since crossing the Columbia River into Astoria, Oregon. We really needed this day. I’m debating taking a second rest day here tomorrow. But that kind of thing is a slippery slope. Next you know we could be hitching rides. We were offered a ride by someone with a pick-up truck the other day. It was only a few miles, but my immediate response was “No, that would be cheating.” Seriously. We’ve never discussed this, but it’s absolutely implicit between us. We go the whole way under our own power. For most people in our coastal cycling fraternity I’m sure the same code applies. We did meet one young woman from Boston who admitted to taking a ride or two – she mentioned extenuating circumstances – and to make it up she planned to ride past her destination so she could clock 1,000 miles (Seattle to San Francisco). But she’s the only one we’ve heard admitting to this. So she’s not officially part of our fraternity. The rules committee would have to consider her case.

Last night was my first night in a hostel since I was 20 and traveling through Europe. Although exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. At midnight my two (as yet unmet) roommates arrived and climbed into their bunks. This caused me to become more awake than ever. Sleeping in a small room with strangers you’ve not even seen is unsettling. I couldn’t have got more than five hours sleep by the time I got up at 8. By comparison, when we’re camping Sophie and I are in the habit or going to bed by 8:30 – it’s dark by 7:45 – and getting 10 hours of sleep every night.

I met one of my roommates in the morning. Thomas, 26, from Belfast. He’s doing a trip across the US between a working stint in Toronto for seven months, and his next situation, probably in Calgary. Talking with him I realized I felt no age difference. I have no idea what he thought about me – probably humoured me as an old guy. But the shared experience of budget travelling has a way of erasing differences between people. This is what I like and is much of the reason for why I’m doing this trip.

Day 28  Half Moon Bay, CA.  65 km

After our rest day in SF, we took an easy day on the road to easy back into our routine. After the comfort and convenience of our stay at the hostel, it’s difficult getting back to the old routine. It’s cold than usual this evening and the forecast is for rain starting in the next day or two.  I’ve been telling Sophie we wouldn’t see any more rain on this trip. What happened to the great drought?

Day 29 – New Brighton State Park – Santa Cruz, CA. 115 km
A nice long day of riding. Light traffic, wide shoulders and rolling hills. All good until we reached Santa Cruz and had

to navigate through rush hour traffic and a confusion of roads to find the campground. There were none of the usual signs indicating a state campground and none of the many people we asked could provide helpful directions. We spent a full hour searching and arrived at dusk.

Santa Cruz is a pretty place. The road along the coastal area of town reminds me of Dallas Road in Victoria, except that it’s much longer and the housing is more interesting. The city’s little bay was absolutely filled with surfers although the waves came in gently and not often. The area around the pier was filled with amusement park attractions in the same way as English seaside towns, except on a much bigger and flashier scale. This is America, after all.

Day 30 – Monterey, CA. 70 km

It wasn’t supposed to be a diffcult day of cycling. Lots of time on dedicated cycling paths and few hills to climb. But the headwinds! It was blowing a steady 20 knots into our faces for at least half the day. That’s like climbing a continuous hill. But at least it wasn’t raining… yet. That didn’t start until we got to our campground – the getting to which involved climbing a ridiculous hill.

The further south we get, the less we see of touring cyclists like ourselves, i.e. cyclists with a plan and a destination.  Here at the Vets Memorial Campground we’ve met a very sociable Austrian (early 20s) who is hitchhiking around the western states. Dave (62) is an old hippy from LA, although he says he now spends most of his time in the Monterey area. But camping?  I didn’t ask. He says he’s taking care of some business before cycling down to LA. HIs business? “Ganja.”

Dave has a cargo bike specially built to carry lots of stuff. It’s about 30% longer than a regular bike, with a great long chain. Dave wears a Peruvian knitted toque and has a long, braided beard that hangs from his chin like a 12″ icicle. He’s thoughtful and caring and has a very gentle way about him. When we left the campground he was standing impressively in front of his tent in the morning sun, like the Big Dude, with sunglasses on and his head inclined heavenward in worship of el sol. He looked like an icon of counter-culture SoCal life from the hippy generation.  I wish I had had the presence of mind to take a photo.

Also at the campground are Tim and Chelsea (early 20s) from England. They’re doing the same trip as us – Vancouver to San Diego – but are taking their time about it. They started in early July, camping out in Stanley Park. They’re riding maybe 25 miles a day, so they’ll need another month or more to complete their journey. But they’re clearly not worried about that. Tim is a cheery, breezy type and seemingly not afraid to try anything. They started this trip by buying the cheapest commuter bikes they could find in Vancouver – $450 each. They’re now stuck in Monterey with repair issues for Tim’s bike that will take several days to resolve. But they’re not bothered. Tim has bought a skateboard so he can get around town.

Day 31 – Big Sur. 50 km

We idled away our morning in the sunshine in Carmel before hitting the highway. This turned out a mistake as the afternoon brought rain and strong gusting winds. The road to Big Sur skirts the coast and is famously scenic. As today is a Saturday, there was a lot of traffic. And like most coastal hill-hugging roads in California, the shoulder was skimpy in many areas. The combination of continuous traffic, rain, gusty winds and the shoulder deficit made for a very stressful ride.

Carmel was pleasant and is scenically very beautiful, but feels artificial and pretentious. Perhaps that’s the price of too much money living in one place – it’s clearly a very affluent town. There’s only room for the tasteful and well-heeled – although tourists looking for fine dining or art are always welcome. I went into a bank to withdraw some cash and had a young, very sober-looking bank teller ask, “How may I be of service to you?” sounding very officious about it. It was as if he thought I’d wandered in by mistake, Perhaps because I was wearing cycling clothes. I told him I just needed the ATM. He agreed that was probably best.

Day 32 – Big Sur (Lucia) – 55 km

What a day! Last night we camped at a private campground and felt lucky to get a site as it was getting late and starting to rain. This area has a lot of tourists all year round so accommodation can be difficult – especially since the Big Sur state campground is closed due to issues related to recent forest fires. No risk of fires now, as it pounded down with rain all night and much of today. The kind of rain that soaks you within 30 seconds if you don’t have protection. We have only basic protection – rain jackets – so we were sodden most of the day. So too were our tents which had to be taken down and packed in drenching rain. It was miserable. But at least it’s not cold.

Services of any kind are few and far between in this area, and everything is expensive. It’s something of a tourist trap. And for cyclists it’s a trap that’s not easy to escape. Especially in the weather we were facing. After packing up and thoroughly wet, we went for coffee and refuge from the weather in the local cafe – the only one for several miles. This was undoubtedly the low point of our journey. We made a call and found a room available at the closest motel, 35 miles up the road. $250 a night for a very basic room. We spent the next four hours riding the coastal highway and battling a heavily gusting southerly wind blowing at us from every direction depending on the twists of the road – from the side (towards traffic), from the front (often while climbing a hill) and from behind (not often enough). And with the wind, a pelting rain that stings your face and your arms through your jacket sleeves. But at least today, with the abysmal weather, the traffic was light.

In planning this trip I took some satisfaction from a claim made somewhere that the wind blows generally from the north on this coast. If there’s any truth to that it hasn’t been happening for us. And weeks ago in Washington and Oregon when we had rainy days I motivated Sophie with the promise that once we reached California all our days would be sunny and warm. I think we’ve now paid our dues for that misconception and have earned a reprieve. The forecast for tomorrow and for the week ahead is sunshine.

…C’EST LE ROI DU SOLEIL.

Day 33 – San Simeon State Beach – 58 km

From the ridiculous to the sublime. Today was glorious. Sunny, warm and with a steady wind blowing at our backs.

As we started out from our motel this morning we saw a group of road cyclists (no baggage on board) gathered at a food station set up across the road. They were part of a charity ride in support of athletes with disabilities and are cycling from San Francisco to San Diego. We spent the day mingling with various groups of these riders on the road, and prided ourselves on keeping pace with many of them – even with the significant difference in the weight we’re pushing. We also saw Adam, a cyclist from North Van whose riding from San Fransisco to Palm Springs. Adam is camping his way down, but is travelling super light (change of clothes, sleeping bag, tent) and riding a carbon fibre road bike. We first met him in Big Sur on the day of the big rain, however while we dried out in our motel Adam camped a second night in the downpour. He didn’t look any worse for it today. He was pretty cheerful during our brief exchange this morning on the road before turning on the afterburners and rocketing into the distance.

Earlier I called Big Sur a tourist trap, but it has nothing on the San Simeon strip. This crass “resort community” consists of roads parallelling the highway on both sides with nothing but hotels and their restaurants. The only store was a pathetic Mini Mart selling mostly junk food and beach toys. There were probably 20 hotels along this strip, but virtually nothing else. And in mid-October it was like a ghost town.

Day 34 – Pismo Beach, CA. 92 km

Pismo Beach is where monster RVs go when they’re not prowling the highways menacing cyclists. The presence of so many RVs in this town is the result of a natural evolution of the place. In 1910 the railroad created a tent city for vacationers from San Francisco. The RR offered customers a tent and site for purchase. Kind of a forerunner of today’s mobile home park.

A curious thing about RVs is the variety of names they proudly display, presumably designed to appeal to every conceivable fancy of prospective RV owners. There are outdoorsy/sporty names like Big Horn, Montana and Big Sky. There are insipid happy holiday names like Leisure Time, Sunny Brook and Bounder. And then there are the strangely sinister ones, like Intruder, Predator and Vengeance. What, I wonder, might you find that’s different in an Intruder versus a Sunny Brook? Bolt cutters? And what type of buyer chooses a Predator over a Bounder?

Unrelated note: The most popular car on California Highway #1 through Big Sur and south along the coast? Ford Mustang – especially red and convertible.

Day 36 – Solvang, CA. 115 km
This day was intended to be a big mileage gainer, but we ran out of steam and daylight 15 miles short of our intended campground and stayed over in Solvang, a picturesque Danish-themed town in the Santa Ynez Valley. We took a motel for the night and it was perfect – at half the price of our very basic room in Big Sur. Ahead of us tomorrow is a four-mile climb up through San Marcos Pass (2,225 feet elevation) and then a roller-coaster descent down to Santa Barbara. It’s hot here right now, so we’re not thrilled by the climb. However, after that it’s all just small hillocks and dips in the road for the rest of the way to Mexico.

Twenty miles from Pismo Beach, Guadalupe was the first town we came to. It’s our routine to stop for coffee at such places but this town is unlike any other we’ve seen. It’s in the middle of a vast agricultural area and seems to be a service centre for Mexican farm workers. We could not find any kind of coffee shop, or a regular store of any kind. I asked a woman on the street about where to get a cup of coffee and she told me I could buy coffee all over town. I hadn’t seen any obvious places, so I asked if there was anywhere we could sit and drink coffee and perhaps eat something. “Oh!” she says, “you want to sit and drink coffee.” Uhh, yes. She directed us to a candy store that may be the only place in Guadalupe that serves coffee and provides seating.