Riding too close to the sun

10/14/11
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of construction vehicles with my hammock skirting closer to the ground. I had faintly heard the construction going on before falling asleep, but now that the forest and the campground were quiet, that's all I could hear. I couldn't believe that they were still working. I wasn't quite sure of the time, as I drifted in and out of sleep, but the noise finally stopped sometime between midnight and 2am. From then on I slept well, despite the fact that my hammock straps had slid down the tree a little, and my bum was now grazing the ground.

I slept in a little, woke up around 8 and left camp around 9. I decide to go down by the beach before heading off, and found Bullards to be a quiet and soothing beach. I watched the gulls and listened to waves crash against the rocks and the sand. There weren't too many people out that morning, so it was nice to just experience the ocean without too much interference.

I arrived in Brookings at about 10:15. It was a quick 2 mcampfire from camp. At the Fred Meyer i stocked up on bulk food goodies, and wondered where in California I would find a good place to get my trail mix. The woman at the register recommended a place to eat called the Hunger Stop, so I stopped by to get a sandwich and a blended coffee drink. The sandwich satisfied but the coffee drink was way too sweet. After lunch I went by the local bike shop to pick up some more chain lube. Before leaving town I stopped at a Conoco on the far south side, which had free air and water and decided to service my bike and double check my air pressure there. It was probably a little premature to clean a lube my bike, but I found that the all-weather wet lubricant was collecting too much dirt so I used the dry stuff that I had just picked up. I finally got out of town around 1:30pm. I had to make up some time since my morning was filled with errands.

Not long after, I crossed into California. It was a super nice ride from the border to Crescent City. The more scenic bike route separates from 101 and goes about 25 miles through farm country. There weren't too many hills along the way, and hardly any traffic, so the ride went quick. The sun was shining super bright, and I was starting to notice a tan line forming from my gloves and my cycling jersey. At one point I took both of them off and just enjoyed the 75 degree weather.

I arrived in Crescent City around 3:30, and figured I refuel and work on my blog. I got some good old-fashioned simple food at Red's Diner and then headed to the Starbucks to charge my phone and rest with a cup o'jo.

Instead of working on the blog, I ended up sparking up a conversation with and 83 year old man named Sam. He was born in Costa Rica, grew up between Italy and Portugal, moved to the US in his late teens but quickly returned to Europe, worked as a bus driver for number of years in Portugal which earned him his pension, married a woman from the Philippines and was now living in Crescent City not of his choice, but because his wife chooses to "be a slave." Sam was an unabashed socialist and a history buff, and actually seemed to despise the town in which he lived. To make matters worse, his wife was working for Walmart which, as a company, seems to be the opposite of all that he stands for. Although he was receiving a more than adequate pension from Portugal, he was living in the US spending most of it on medications and hospital bills. Apparently in Europe most of his healthcare would be paid for, and he would end up only paying about 1/10 of what he does on medications. We talked about a wide range of topics from travel to history to politics and economics, but somehow they all seemed to fit together. His advice to me was to not pay attention to the domestic media, get my news from an outside source like Europe, and to move to a country where I won't be a slave. Before parting ways I thanked him for the conversation, and he thanked me for being intelligent. I feel for poor Sam, living in a place where he is alone in his ideals, and dreaming bigger than the boundaries of the Crescent Bay would allow.

I didn't get back on the road until around 5:30pm. I knew of a place to camp for free right outside of town but thought that I could make it to a state park where I could have fresh water and a shower. As I entered into a dense redwood forest, the shoulder became non-existent the hills steep and the trees blocked out any bit of sunlight that remained. I passed one state park which was closed, but had one in mind just a little further ahead. As the sun continue on it's descent, the road I was on grew darker and darker. Eventually my little bicycle headlight wasn't doing anything to help except to let other cars know I was on the road. I couldn't avoid potholes any longer because I couldn't see the road, and the ride was getting way too scary and way to rough. I think I passed the campground I was looking for, but eventually made it out of the forest to a small beach which had posted signs that camping was not allowed. The only thing left of the sun was just an orange line along the horizon. I was without cell service, didn't know how far until the next town or state park, my map of California wasn't much help, and I had to decide if I was going to take my chances with the road ahead or try to find a spot for my yet.

I wasn't super happy about it, but decided to stealth camp. I crossed the highway, headed down a small road and quickly found another little gated off service trail that I headed down. I didn't get far before it ended, and I could still hear the ocean from where I was. I set up camp, with my hammock in tent position, ate a snack, and decided to sleep in my riding clothes for a quick get away. I hoped that no people or animals bothered me in the night, and fell asleep to the sound of the ocean, a nearby creek, and the light traffic from the highway.

Progress: 45 miles?

Random roadside debris: a mailbox in the middle of nowhere.

-D
http://www.trackmytour.com/b5k7d