Arcata to Mendocino!

In case you're wondering, here's the different ways we have been packing our bikes.  This video was from Elk Prairie, so everything's changed a little, since:

Arcata to Burlington State Park: 65 miles

I was a little nervous about the ride after the group talk in Arcata.  I didn't want to be the source of the ride not being any fun for any one.  But also felt a lot of love and support from the people I have been riding with.  Even though I'm a little slow, they were really proud of me. 

It would have been our rest day, and in Arcata, they were having a bicycle rodeo and an Eclipse Festival.  We rode 65 miles instead. 

It was the first day with the weight redistributed.  Once I got over myself and my ego wanting to carry all my own weight… it was actually pretty nice being about to ride easier and I was able to kind of keep up with everyone else.  

We rode through the Avenue of the Giants.  The biggest and most famous of the majestic redwoods.  It was incredibly inspiring to ride off the freeway and down this shady, winding, lush, and beautiful road.  There were lots of groves dedicated to people.  It makes me wonder, what kind of person gets a whole redwood grove dedicated to them?  The idea of it, a person, who probably passes away any time from when they're 40-90, which is just a small fraction of the age of some of these trees, who will continue to grow, with their name attached to them. 

Burlington is a pretty campground.  We slept under the redwoods and met a couple, Adam and Jane, who were riding a tandem bike from Crescent City to Los Angeles.  They were super friendly and we invited them to hang out once we got the fire started.

After we got camp set up, I remembered about the Eclipse.  It was 6:20, and the Eclipse was supposed to peak at 6:24.  But we were in a grove of giant redwood trees, and the sky was pretty covered up.  There was a river a short walk away, so I grabbed Tyler and Chad and we ran through the forest to the water.  Chad said, "Geeze, we should tell Aly there's an Eclipse at the top of every hill!"  As soon as we got to the river, there was a couple walking away who had just caught the last glimpse of the moon passing in front of the sun.  We missed it. 

Adam and Jane joined us around the fire and I sang them some songs, and they decided to join us the next day for camping at Standish-Hickey State Park and were going to try to catch my show in Mendocino.

Burlington State Park to Standish-Hickey State Park: 50 miles

The ride from Burlington State Park to Standish-Hickey State Park wove near and around the Eel River, which was really beautiful.  We were approaching Leggitt Hill, the highest climb on the whole Pacific Cycling Route, and I started to psyche myself out again, of course.  At it's peak, Leggitt Hill reaches 1950 feet, and the Standish-Hickey State Park rests at about 1,000, so we got half the climbing done in one day.  In the book, it looked like it would be a steady uphill climb for the whole day.  

When I woke up, I mentally prepared myself for a grueling uphill climb, that would leave me exhausted only to climb the next 950 feet the next day.  In reality, it wasn't so bad.  Since we had spread out the weight, I didn't fall so far behind, and the climb wasn't as dramatic as I had imagined.  Right at the beginning of the day, I was a little behind everyone else, slowly riding up a big hill, and I heard a voice behind me, 

"You're doing great! Keep it up!"

It was Adam and Jane, the couple with the tandem bicycle.  They were super stoked on my sparkly helmet cover, and rode with me up the hill and told me about the voice acting they do in Brooklyn.  Jane also does vocal coaching, teaching dialects.  Super neat.  Tandem bicycles are very efficient especially for touring, because you have twice the power to move two wheels.  So, once I caught up with my friends they breezed by, and said they would meet up with us at the campground.  It was the perfect way to start the ride.  

At around noon, we stopped for lunch, and swam in the Eel River.  It was the first time we had jumped into a body of water the whole trip.  Sarah was happier and smiled bigger than I had seen her the whole trip.  Such a water girl. 

We rode past Confusion Hill, which is a spot where gravity runs silly, and started the steepest part of the climb of the day.  That day the rode started to twist and wind and the shoulder shrank to almost nothing when the traffic was at it's worst.  Sarah got really nervous after a big truck missed her by only about 8 inches, and as we approached the steepest part of the climb, her chain jumped, which is a problem she has been having consistently throughout the trip.  It's one of those things that is an easy fix, but can be very frustrating.  She told me to go ahead of her and meet her at the campground.  

I climbed up the last section and went around the bend to the campground.  

"Standish-Hickey State Campground Closed"

Of course.  State budget cuts.  The same reason none of the California State Campgrounds have paper towels or soap in the bathrooms. 

As I got closer, the boys were all waiting at the entrance and waved.  There was another sign. 

"Hiker-Biker Okay"

That was us!  Standish-Hickey Campground was one of the state parks that the legislation that they had tried to pass in the last election or two did not save.  However, since it was one of the last  campgrounds for cyclists before the Leggitt Hill climb, they kept it open for us, since the next wasn't for another 20 or 40 miles.  

They had been closed for two weeks, and had one of the coolest general stores across the street that we had seen the whole trip.  They had pretty much everything.  It was a bar, coffee shop, they made sandwiches and breakfast burritos (which we totally planned on hitting up the next morning after miles of oatmeal).  Even salty seaweed snacks.  And wooden bow-ties.  There was a sign on the entrance that said, "State Park Closures Are Bad for Business."  

Sarah wrote this letter about our state parks to our friend, Bernadette:

You know it's interesting that you bring it up I don't know a lot of the current stuff on it. But I've been thinking about it a lot as we've come across many closed parks on this trip and independent stores and communities that rely on them almost entirely. First I feel that given the "budget crisis" in California that threatens education, unemployment, and welfare- it seems that some park closures seem reasonable especially the ones they've selected. There are A LOT of sate parks in the north. Almost To excess. And I can see parks like dalton sea and Anso borego in the south as they are desolate. However I've heard that the plan is to "destroy " the park meaning taking down all structures. Which sounds costly and shortsighted. An alternative would be to allow the parks to exist and become dilapidated but open to the public. In the hopes that a few years down the line the economy will turn around and they can be restored and reopened. Are they talking about selling the land? What have you heard on the topic as of late? Of course my final note is that the government is corrupt and inefficient and cuts could be made in other areas and creative initiatives could be put in place for the parks to become self sufficient. But. That's all a little optimistic;) lets ride when I get home. Have a great day. 

Sarah

When we entered the campground, even though it had only been closed for two weeks, it was already a mess.  Plants were overgrowing, the roads were dirty, leaves and debris were everywhere.  Maybe they had been closed for the Winter Season before that.  They had a few spots marked for the hiker bikers, and Adam and Jane had also just arrived.

Everybody wondered if anyone would even check to see if we had paid.  If a ranger came, Adam had planned to say he only had a 20 and was going to get change at the general store in the morning.  We tested our luck, and sure enough, at about 12:30am, the ranger came by.  Dustin came out of the tent to talk to him.  I listened to the conversation from my tent, and Dustin is one of the most polite people I know, and handled the situation very well.  He gave the ranger twenty, and said we'd pay the remaining five in the morning.  I heard the ranger talk to Adam and Jane, too.  

The next morning, they both told us that the ranger had been very timid.  I could imagine we were probably some of the nicer people that maybe he had approached.  

I made sure we paid the remaining five in the morning.  And to me, it was kind of a lesson.  I mean, here we were, lucky to have the facilities still open for us (including a bathroom and a shower that were left open for us), and we were seeing if we could skate by for free, when the campground had been closed due to budget cuts.  

But coming from a state that didn't even pass a legislature that would have made all state parks free if everyone paid an extra $12 when they registered their cars, it sadly wasn't surprising.  

As we got closer to the campground

Standish-Hickey State Park to Mendocino: 55 miles

When I talk about this next day, I'd have to say it's probably one of the most dramatic scenarios of the whole trip.  It was our seventh consecutive day riding without a break, we were climbing the highest hill on the Pacific Coast Cycling Route, Tyler was having problems with his bicycle, and I had a show in Mendocino that night at 6pm.  

We started the day with breakfast burritos from the general store, and they were pretty amazing.  It was also a nice treat to have eggs to start the day.  

Tyler was having a problem with his tires.  There was a hole in it, and he was going to have to take the almost 2,000 foot decent pretty slow.  It was scary, but on the bright side, since he was riding behind me, I kept checking on him and it gave me something to think about instead of getting into the lonely headspace where I might get another panic attack. 

I started singing my way down the mountain.  I've been using it as a gauge for my fear.  If I start to sing a little shaky, then I stop and take a breather.  I was singing the Train Song again, and when I stopped as my voice started to get a little shaky, I felt okay.  Then Tyler passed me, and I took a second to breathe, and the feeling of fear and dread settled in and I started to cry.  Those feelings were inevitable, but it felt a lot safer to know when they were coming and to be able to get off my bike and feel it out.  I had half of a baby ruth for a morale boost, and when I started to feel better, I got back on the bike.  I rode right through the rest of the redwoods and we met back up with the coast.  

Tyler's bike made it okay!  Tin Can was hanging in there. 

At first I was a little sad to leave the redwoods, but the scenery remained breathtaking in a whole new way.  The road to Mendocino was the best smelling section of the ride we had had the whole route.  We smelled the ocean, some sort of twisting evergreen tree, eucalyptus trees, and millions of wildflowers.  

We arrived at Ricci Dedola's house about two hours before the show.  She's a friend of mine I know from the theater scene in Long Beach.  She's wild, threw amazing cast parties, and is a total hoot to hang around.  She and her husband, Stephen had stopped in Mendocino for lunch last summer, and fell in love with the town.  She looked around at prices in the area, and found a very tempting deal on a home built from a kit for his wife in the 1970's.  Her daughter loved the area, and didn't want to go back to school in Southern California, so they all took the jump and moved.  

Here's a tour of the house:

We couldn't have stumbled on a more perfect and restful place to spend our rest day after such a long stint of riding.  She has a 3 acre lot and a stunning view off of her back porch that captures you, no matter what you're trying to do.  She had a back house that we all stayed in, and even opened up her home to our new friends, Adam and Jane.  

I washed my hair before the show, which had been so dirty it was standing straight up, and we all headed over to a little pizza/ice cream place called Frankie's.  They couldn't pay (which I hadn't expected anyways), since we had planned the show short notice, but they did offer a free pizza to share with my friends (which was a  nice motivator the whole ride from Standish-Hickey after 7 days of camp food).  

Adam and Jane joined us at the show, as well as Ricci's daughter, Serendipity.  It was intimate and really nice.  After the show, I talked the wife of the owner into trading one of my cd's for the most amazing ice cream sandwich, I've ever had.  Since I know you're wondering, it was with peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and rocky road ice cream.  It was divine. 

We ended the night sitting in front of Ricci's fireplace telling stories.  

The next day, the long awaited rest day was so nice.  Ricci took the boys on a hike and put them to work putting cup a hammock, and Sarah and I each took a bath and sat out in the sun looking at the wonderful view and took naps.  Then, Chad made bread from scratch and Ricci cooked up an amazing pasta, and we had a wonderful meal together.  I stayed up until 1am, way too late, working on this blog. 

Sunset Bay State Park to Arcata!

Sunset Bay State Park to Humbug Mountain State Park: 57 miles

After our much needed rest day, we felt great!  We had a great pace the next day.  All of our breaks were really well timed.  I had a hard time with Seven Devil's Road.  I had trouble with my shifters, which wouldn't go into the easy gear at all when the hills got steep.  It got frustrating really fast.  

I overdramatized how terrible the day was going to be in my head before we started, so, it turned out not to be too bad. About 20 miles in, we took a break, and ran into a bike shop on the side of the road, where we hadn't expected to find one. Tyler's pedal had been clicking and making grinding noises for a few days, and we were all getting a little worried about it. It had been getting louder by the day.  Chad suspected that the bottom bracket might need to be replaced.

The bike shop we found had just opened up. I just lost the business card AND even forget which town it was in, since it's been over a week, and it was so new it wasn't on the map.  We were all really thankful to find it, though.  They had just opened about a month before, and were this little mom and pop shop.  The man that owned it gave Tyler a temporary fix, since he didn't have the part, that would get us to the shop in Arcata.  I also had him take a look at my shifters, and he fixed them right up, and didn't even charge me after I gave him a cd. :)  

After that, I my bike worked perfect, and I did much better on the rest of the ride, which went through all kinds of quaint little unsuspecting seaside towns. 

We have since started trying to find nicknames for our bikes.  Tyler's is Tin Can, and his road name is Major Tom. 

We got to Humbug Mountain State Park.  It was pretty windy getting into the pass where they had the campground.  We started riding in, and saw a little dust tornado rise from the ground on the side of the road.  The swing weight of the guitar made me pretty nervous, but it wasn't so bad.  

We got to the campsite and it was pretty clean, and nice.  There was a little creek going right by our site.  It was really green and picturesque, so Tyler and Sarah suggested that we make a little music video.  The whole trip, while I've been riding, I've had "Train Song" by Vashti Bunyan stuck in my head, and wrote down the lyrics and chords in Newport, and have been practicing it, so here it is:

That night it was so pretty and there were so many stars, we decided to sleep outside.  Everybody snored. When we woke up, the marine layer had come in and it was really cold.  My sleeping pad deflated in the middle of the night.  I fell asleep kind of worried about everybody.  I woke up with a cough.  Everybody had a cough.  

Humbug Mountain State Park to the California/Oregon Border: 69 miles

The ride from Humbug Mountain to the campground after the California/Oregon Border was probably one of the toughest rides of the trip for me and for everybody.  We climbed to the summit of Cape Sebastian, just after Gold Beach, which was the highest climb on our trip so far.  It peak is at 712 feet.  I had been looking at it for days on Chad's Adventure Cycling Maps and it looked like a big snaggletooth towering above everything else we were going to go through.  We also decided to ride an extra 15 miles to start in early for the next day, when we would have two climbs, the highest of which would be 1200 feet.  

Chad and Sarah kept telling me not to psyche myself out.  But I kept having flashbacks of going down that first hill before Florence, and being so scared.  

We started out the day with everybody riding at their own pace.  I was totally okay riding in the back, I had been pretty tired and getting really nervous about the climb ahead, so I was just trying to conserve my energy, and sing myself songs, and get moving.  

Tyler got a flat tire, just a few miles in.  An older cyclists, that the rest of the gang had met when I was dragging behind, David, passed us and asked if we needed any tools, we just smiled and waved and he kept going.  David has been a mystery to everyone.  He's about 55 or 60, and is traveling alone.  He's on a long tour, and all of his gear is worn in.  He's really short with all of his responses when the rest of the gang run into him.  

"Hi David! You staying here tonight?"

"Yep."

Then he keeps moving.  Very mysterious.  We keep building up who he might be in our campfire conversations.  

We fixed Tyler's tire and kept going.  We got closer to the Cape Sebastian Summit, and Tyler got another flat tire.  We fixed it, and made another stop for coffee afterwards, just before the climb began.  Everyone was in pretty good spirits.  

Once we started climbing, I was just cruising, pretty content to be pedaling in the granny gear in the back.  I sang to myself.  It keeps me moving.  All the way up the whole mountain, I sang the "Train Song".   As the climb got higher, I started noticing construction hazard signs, and parts of the road that had caved in.  and potholes.  and signs for slides.  and rocks.  There was a narrow shoulder, and the rest of my friends were far ahead.  I finally got to the top, and they were waiting for me.  Probably antsy to bomb the hill.  The boys live for it.  Tyler told me that when he bombs through the winding mountain roads through the trees, he feels like a storm trooper speeding after an ewok.  

I just feel scared.  I got to the top, and I was a little nervous, but still in a pretty good mood.  I picked another song that makes me happy, "So Long, Marianne" by Leonard Cohen, and started to sing it as I started rolling down the hill.  It was steep.  That deep feeling of fear started to sing in again, and my voice started to crack.  I tried to keep singing just to keep through it.  Toren had told me stand up straighter and make myself big to act as a windbreaker.  Still terrifying.  More construction.  More warning signs.  More trucks.  I sang that song and cried down the whole mountain.  I didn't want to stop, because I was already the slowest one in the group.  

We got to the bottom, and the ocean was awaiting us.  It was calm, and cold, and the road was flat and welcomed us to keep coasting.  I was really embarrassed about my panic attack and didn't make eye contact with anyone  and tried to smile and keep riding.  I felt embarrassed for being so scared on something that the rest of the group found so invigorating.  And over something that was so inevitable. There were going to be more mountains along the coast, and two more big ones the next day.  

The ride was stunning.  May has been an absolutely lovely time to take this trip for several different reasons, but one of which is all the wildflowers.  So many that I've never seen before or dreamed of.  The ocean is something else too.  I'm just in awe of it.  And up here, it's deep and the color is so pure.  It's cold and rocky, and just as inviting as it is dangerous.  

I fell behind quite a bit. I could see the little dots that were my friends winding up the hills.  I was slowing down a little, getting a little disappointed with myself, and the mysterious David rolled up right behind me. 

"You're doing great!"

He rolled up right next to me, and was super friendly. 

"You must be David!"

"Yep."

He rolled up right next to me, and we had a great little conversation for quite a while.  I told him about how I was the slow poke of the group, and he told me it was okay.  He told me about how he had been traveling around the world for the past 11 months by bicycle.  He had gone to New York to Europe to Australia to Asia to the Northwest, and now he was heading home.  He rose and slept with the sun.  Together, we caught up to my friends, and he wished me luck, and waved to everybody and kept riding. 

Over the rest of the ride, I fell behind more and more.  And after a while, it had been over an hour since I had even seen anyone else in the group.  I hadn't stopped for more than a minute or two to catch my breath after the panic attack, because I was embarrassed about falling behind, too.  How far are they?  Are they at the top of some  big hill waiting for me?  Why haven't we taken lunch yet? I'm tired.  I'm scared.  I wish we would have stopped at any of these gorgeous vistas or state parks.  The road weaved over bridges and rivers that gave to oceans, and through forests and ferns.  If I stopped for lunch, would it make them mad for having to wait for me somewhere?  I just kept going. 

I finally caught up to them.  I was exhausted, and frustrated and ashamed for being scared and needing them to stop.  There was tension.  I wanted to cry.  I'm sure they were just waiting for me to stop, but I couldn't go any further, so we ate lunch right there. on top of that hill, with the stench of fresh asphalt underfoot.  

We pushed ourselves, and kept going.  We passed the Oregon/California Border.  It was another moment that I had overdramatized in my head and ended up being anti-climactic.  I was sore, and frustrated, and we came upon the  Border.  On one side was the Oregon Border, that was spotless.  Then we rode up to the California Border, and it was covered in stickers.  That bummed me out a little. 

Welcome to California, where we don't respect our land.  Where the campsites are more expensive, and they don't have soap or paper towels in the bathroom, and showers are $2.00 for ten minutes, instead of the pristine flowing unlimited hot showers of Oregon.  The benches are chained to the ground.

Sarah took a picture of us.

We were totally zonked by the time we got a little further to Smith River, where we were trying to find a camp ground.  We went into the grocery store in a total haze, stumbling to figure out what to eat for dinner.  We got some vegetables and veggie burgers and chili to make some sloppy joe's.  

The checkout clerk at the grocery store told us that there was a KOA, which is the McDonald's of the campgrounds, 8 miles outside of town, and another campground only a mile.  

The campground was a trailer park.  We pushed on, but the further we went, Sarah's face got a little more pained.  We came upon another trailer park,  but it was closed.  

It had been a few miles, and a few more miles was sounding pretty daunting.  And there, just a little bit further was another campground.  It was actually a pretty amazing campground, too.  We started entering the redwoods, and the campground was called "Redwood RV Park."  It was really clean, and had a great vibe, had a laundry facility AND was cheaper than the state parks and the KOA.  

I did laundry, called my dad and Toren, and Toren gave me tips about my panic attacks, and my dad gave me tips about the rides, and told me about his own experiences riding through mouton roads and over bridges.  It helped so much. 

The California/Oregon Border to Elk Prairie State Park: 44 miles

Right into the 1200 ft climb.  Sarah knew I was super scared and psyched out, so she rode with me.  It really helped, but after a few stressful days of riding, and the tension that was starting to arise from the difference in pace and experience within everyone in the group.  I was worn out.  As I'm typing this, I feel like the biggest thing that I've been writing about was how tired I was and scared and intimidated.  

But the cool thing, is that even though this was one of the biggest, most intimidating parts of the ride, it was through the great redwood trees.  In between these two great mountains, was a little spot called "The Trees of Mystery."  The enigma of a place with a name like that was encouragement enough for me.  

It was a lot easier to ride with Sarah behind me.  I know she didn't really like riding that slow, and was getting a little tired of my slow pace as the day went on, but it made a world of difference having her there to encourage me and even just to talk to for the ride to take my mind off my fear.  As we climbed higher and higher,  we even talked about our fears.  She said to me, "We've all got our own fears." 

"What are yours?"

"When I'm riding?  All the same things that scare you.  The trucks, going fast.  The construction.  I don't have health insurance.  Mentally, before this trip, I prepared myself for the reality of the dangers of this trip, and that I could really die somewhere along the way.  That's a reality.  That could happen."

And that's when I realized, that in all the time I spent putting together itineraries, and fundraising, and promoting, and the blog and bikes, and clothes and gear... I had such confidence that I dismissed that reality altogether.  The streets are flat in Long Beach.  I just hadn't actually mentally prepared myself for the up and downhill battle that this great endeavor would be.  

But then, Sarah said that she had been just as scared and helpless feeling as I am when she was watching me do all the planning.  But all that stuff, the Vaudeville show, finishing the album, fundraising, networking, promoting is what I do.  For her, this is what she does.  She knows how to push herself further than I feel like I can. 

"Sarah, you're a really strong woman, and I admire you a lot."

"Alyssandra, so are you, and I admire you, too."

And we made it up the mountain.  We met the boys, and Sarah started to notice just how invisible they were in the shadows of the trees with their dark shirts, like I had been trying to point out. 

The decent wasn't so bad.  It wasn't very twisty-windy, and it wasn't as steep as I had feared. 

We made it to the Trees of Mystery, and had lunch at the hokey diner across the street.  All of the food was sub-par, but what we were really paying for was a nice place to sit out of the elements, witha  soft cushion and a neat vibe.  There were flowers all over the walls, like a plastic forest, and on the other side, they made the ceiling to look like the bottom side of a pond, with little duck feet sticking out of the ceiling.  We're really proud that about 2 weeks in, it's one of the first meals we've bought out.  We've been really good about making food at the campsite, and stopping to make our lunches on the side of the road.  

Across the Street,  just as mysterious as the Trees of Mystery (which was a $15 per person Gondola ride up through the redwoods, that none of us really wanted to pay for) was a giant Paul Bunyan statue with Babe the Blue Ox.   

We had to take a closer look.  Their Paul Bunyan is 49 foot 2 inch tall, complete with eyelashes and a thick rug of chest hair.  We asked a lady coming out of the shop to take a picture of us, and she took five pictures, every one a little awkward, because she spilled her coffee and giggled and fumbled all at the same time.  That photo's on Sarah's camera, but as soon as she wakes, up, I'll update this with it.  It's pretty priceless.  We checked out the gift shop and museum, at least, and Sarah really enjoyed their exhibit on the indigenous populations in the area, and I got a little smokey the bear pin with wings (I thought it might help my bike fly on some of the scarier rides), which came with a smokey the bear song at checkout! 

That afternoon, we rode through a really beautiful section of the redwoods.  The forest floor is dense and green with ferns, blackberries, huckleberries and california bay leaves.  Plants and small trees grow all over the giant trees, and the smell is so fresh and earthy.  

We rode into our campground, Elk Prairie, which is named after a little open prairie, which is surrounded  by all these redwood forests, where Elk like to come out and hang out at.  Dustin really wanted to see an Elk.  We joked and daydreamed about it the whole ride in.  

We set up camp, and ran into the Colorado boys again.  Tyler and I went on a walk to explore some nature trails, and sure enough, there were some Elk grazing on the far side of the hill.  We ran back to tell everybody, who had just relaxed into all their comfy clothes around the campfire for the night.  They all put on their shoes, and ran out.  We just stared.  It was a pretty amazing way to end such a hard few days. 

Then, when we went back to the campground, we were going over the itinerary, and found a mistake.  I counted 7 days of riding to San Francisco, and Sarah had counted 8 in the tour book.  My stomach dropped. I looked over the two of them, and I had missed a 60 mile riding day from Arcata to the Burlington State Campground (in the middle of the Avenue of the Giants).  We had all been very tired and sore and looking forward to a rest day in Arcata, which we were arriving in the next day. 

Bonus points:  my friend, Ricci, in Mendocino, was working on booking me a show in Mendocino on Tuesday night.  So we ended up deciding to use our flex day as a 60 mile riding day, and were going to take a rest day in Mendocino a few days later.  It was pretty disappointing, and I felt like I let everyone down by not double checking the book and my itinerary.  But it was a mistake that anybody could have made.  

But now, instead of having a rest day in Arcata after 4 days of riding, we were getting a rest day in Mendocino after 7 days of riding.  Big hit to the morale. 

Elk Prairie State Park to Arcata: 45 miles

First thing in the morning, I had everybody line up their bikes and talk about their gear and how they have it set up:

On the way out we had a much more up close confrontation with the Elk.  They were right in the middle of the road!  Here's the video:

After having so many large climbs and 60+ mile days, we were pretty sure that the 45 mile ride to Arcata with a few little hills drawn out on the graph in the book was going to be a cinch.  

Wrong.  

Everyone was tired, and the frustration and tension within the group was rising, because everyone was afraid of talking to each other.  I was slow.  Tyler's bottom bracket was still a problem.  All Sarah wanted was pizza. 

The little hills were lots of rolling hills, and each one took a lot of energy out of us.  We stopped to get a few snacks, and at a fruit stand to get a $1 basket of cherries.  I got a voicemail from Crystal, my friend in Arcata.  She had booked us a hot tub.  And there was a soul dj dance night we could go to.  And she lived right behind a pizza place.

All of our muscles were very tired, and the Colorado boys passed us by, all in neon pink and orange cycling gear.  We could see them shining from at least a mile away.  Sarah and I were really impressed. We decided to buy the boys construction reflector vests whenever we got to a hardwear store (which wouldn't actually happen for a few days, but the intention was born). 

The ride took a lot longer than we had thought, and we began to get nervous over whether Tyler would get to Arcata in time to fix his bike, especially since we didn't have a rest day to take care of it tomorrow.  

So for the first time, we intentionally separated.  Tyler and Chad rode ahead and booked it to Arcata, using Chad's adventure cycling maps.  

Sarah, Dustin and I hung back.  We hardly said anything to each other on the ride.  We missed the turn off of the 101 for the Pacific Bicycle Route, and ended up on a busier part of the freeway.  It was a little confusing, and the traffic noise was wearing on the nerves.  Sarah was really nice, but I could tell riding slower with me, and the fact that we had to separate to get Tyler to the shop on time was annoying.  

When we got to town, we met the boys at the pizza shop in front of Crystal's apartment.  We passed the Colorado boys in front of a bike shop, and we all hung out for a while, and Crystal and her parter, Gr met us.  The pizza was so satisfying! 

Crystal is super neat.  She's an artist who works with metal and she's studying to be a dulah.  Her big dream is to study being a dulah abroad in a place like South America or Asia.  I think it would be a really amazing experience to learn all about the difference cultures' approach to childbirth.  

We went to the finnish spa/coffeehouse where there was a duo playing celtic music.  We got our number, changed into our swimsuits and took a stroll around the pond, listening to ribbit-ing frogs as we made our way to door number 12.  We were going to take some time to have an open discussion about our challenges on the ride over the past few days, but as soon as our sore bodies dipped into the warm water, we pretty much melted.  We didn't talk about cycling.  We just enjoyed the relaxation of the hot tub, the cozy vibe, and each other's wonderful company.  It was hands down just what we all needed. 

We walked back to Crystal's apartment, and Sarah and I separated from the boys and we started to talk about things.  She and the boys were getting really frustrated with not being able to ride as fast as they would like, and they had a hard time waiting for a really long time, and letting their muscles get cold.  The ride wasn't any fun.  

I wasn't having any fun either.  I was trying to work as hard as I could to keep up, and it still wasn't enough.  And I was terrified of everything, and embarrassed about it.  I didn't know when anyone was stopping, and it stressed me out.  I recognized that most of my stressors were in my head, but there had to be some compromises we could make to make everything work.  

I had a fear of getting to San Francisco, and everyone giving up, and trying to ride on by myself.  If we even made it that far. 

Sarah suggested that since we missed the day tomorrow that was going to be our rest day, that it might be a good idea if I rented a car, and met everyone in Mendocino to get some rest.  Or mail my guitar or heavier stuff ahead to other gigs.  She was really pushing me to consider it.  

I told her I would think about it, but I couldn't.  Even if she rode with me, it wouldn't solve anything once we all got back on our bikes together.  

Then the boys caught up with us, and we all started having a group discussion.  Another compromise came up, of splitting up my weight.  I'm the slowest rider, the least experienced, and with my guitar, I have the heaviest, and most awkward load.  

I was never very good at math. of COURSE it made sense to divide some of my stuff up.  That way it would make my bike easier for me to handle, and it might even slow the others down a little bit.  It was really hard for me to do, though.  I planned this trip, ready to be autonomous, and independent and strong, and carry all my own weight.  But when I was struggling with both the weight of my load and the emotional weight of my own mind games, I was going to become that dead weight I was so afraid of.  And Dustin brought up that we were a group, and my weight was part of the groups weight, and if they were stronger, it was okay for them to help.  and it was like a lightbulb going off. 

I also suggested that we make designated meeting spots, even if I do fall behind.  That way I won't go into panic mode, because I'll know where I'm going to meet them.  And I asked if I could carry the tour book, so I could keep track of the route as we went, so I wouldn't feel like I was blindly following.  

Then Dustin stood up, and said "This just isn't right.  We can't just point to this spot on the map and say we'll wait for you here, and that spot there and say we'll wait for you there.  That just isn't right.  You guys go ride ahead, and I'll hang back ride with you the whole way.  We started this as a group, and we've got to end this as a group."

It made me want to cry.  I felt like Dustin was my big brother.  "How do you feel about everything, Aly?"

And I didn't even know.  I could see how everybody else felt, and wanted them to enjoy the ride.  Why else would you ride down the coast for five and a half weeks, if you couldn't ride at the pace that worked for you?  And I had initiated the tour, but everyone had invested their sweat and miles and money and heart into getting as far as we had.  

"Well, we've talked about a lot of compromises and ideas.  Some of them might work better than others, but it's worth a try.  Let's start with evening the load, and setting out solid meeting spots, and see how we do tomorrow.  If that doesn't work, maybe we can take turns being buddies, so everybody can get a chance to ride most of the way at their pace, but I don't have to ride alone."

Everyone was nervous about the 60 mile day ahead of us, since the 40 mile day we had just done had kicked our butts.  Nobody wanted to be on their bikes for over 8 hours, if the terrain was bad or if we were slow.  

But it had opened up the line of communication.  I didn't feel isolated anymore.  Even though we didn't get a full rest day, we got to relax our muscles and sleep indoors and out of the elements. I went to bed with ease, knowing that we had done what we could, and were working together to make the tour something that we could all believe in again.  I was starting to feel my confidence grow.  

Lincoln City to Sunset Beach State Park!

Lincoln City to Newport: 24 miles

We took a half day to get from Lincoln City to Newport, where Tyler had some friends of his family that we could stay with.  The Oregon Coast is very beautiful, but also very hilly.  I got another flat about 10 or 15 miles from town, and we McGyver'd the tire to try to make it the last leg to the bike shop in Newport, or at least to our host's house.  I really wish I had gotten Gatorskins, or another tire of comparable durability made of the kevlar material.  We went over some rough road, and we made it to Linda and Papa's house pretty early.  

We got to their house in Newport, it was a short walk away from a great view of a lighthouse, and a really cute little place.  Tyler knocked on the door, and we greeted Linda, she was super warm and friendly.  When Tyler introduced me, she looked at me, and smiled real big, and said, "I love you already, you look just like my granddaughter."  This made me feel so at home and gave me all kinds of warm fuzzies.  She reminded me a little of my mom, too.  They took us to the Newport Bike Shop, which was pretty amazing.  They were catered more to touring cyclists, and even had a lounge upstairs where cyclists can shower, take a nap on a couch or even do laundry!  I bought some better tires, and feel really secure about them. 

Linda and Papa are a really fun and inspiring duo.  They used to be motorcycle bikers, and now Papa is a minister, and the two of them have started an outreach program to help the homeless.  They're very down to earth and loving, and accepting, and made me and my friends feel so welcome.  They and some of their friends used to have a lot of money, but in the recession have lost a lot of it, and have sold a lot of their property, and are living more frugally, and with a purpose to benefit their community.  

They set us up a whole house to stay in for the night, called "The house of refuge",  Carol, a friend of theirs had converted the bottom story of her house to help house the homeless in transition.  It was on a cliff overlooking the ocean, with a short walk down to a lighthouse.  We walked to the lighthouse a few hours before the sunset, and the ground had little strawberry plants growing everywhere. The lighthouse had been built in the early 1800's, and there was a plaque that said "To those lost at sea with special affection to the fishermen of the Pacific Northwest."  Reading it on this journey made me decide to read the Illiad when I get home. 

Linda gave us a tour, and told us all about the history of Newport.  There's an aquarium that is self-funded and works a lot with local schools, and NOAA and National Geographic do a lot of work and research there.  It's a neat city, with lots of small businesses and artists, and the people that live there value their time over their money.  You'll see a million dollar home next to a run down house with knee high grass in the lawn.  People don't care so much about looks, and small businesses will close random days or hours if hunting or fishing season is in or the surf is good.  I think there's a lot to be learned about living life for the quality of each day, and letting tomorrow worry about itself. 

Newport to Jesse M. Honeyman State Park: 57 miles

Our next day was headed to a campground near Florence.  On the way out of Newport, we crossed this giant bridge.  It was curved, long, tall, beautiful old bridge.  There was a button to push that set off blinking lights to signal to traffic that we were riding over.  Unfortunately, they were doing construction on the right side of the bridge, so Cyclists were instructed to cross on the sidewalk on the left side of the bridge.  It was a tough ride up, and we were riding facing traffic.  The walls came up to my waist on the bike, and were weathered and rough.  The others rode right down.  I was slower, so I was a little far behind.  Most of the way up, I was looking at the beautiful view of the harbor, and the expedition boats, and thinking of my friend, Emily, who's studying Zoology.  I started to roll down the hill, and the reality of how high and dangerous the sidewalk was on the bridge hit me.  Trucks, cars and big rigs rode right past me.  I rode my brakes hard, but the decent was steep, and I got scared of stopping too fast, or hitting the wall, or falling into traffic, and started crying on the way down.  I should have walked, but everybody made it okay.

The rest of the ride, we had a tail wind and made really great time.  The Oregon Coast is mysterious, lush, green and gorgeous, and we were thankful to have another sunny day.  We stopped at a farmer's market about halfway through the ride for some fruit, but there weren't any vendors with any produce at all.  Just knitted wear, wind chimes, jewelry, and some sweet tie-dye shirts (one of which Tyler invested in).  We talked to a little old lady at one of the booths about our journey.  She wasn't necessarily impressed, but she did have a bit of insight about the road ahead.  She was busy crafting and hardly even looked up, but said, dryly,

"So, this is your first time going down that road to Florence…?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it'll probably be your last time."

It was a little cryptic, and worried me quite a bit, but I am a bit of a scaredy-cat.  We had a great little lunch, and headed on our way.  

The next few miles had lots of sharp turns, and steep climbs, and a steep winding decent through the shady forest along rocky cliffs, with jagged rocks and went past another little lighthouse.  The boys and Sarah bombed it.  I was still nervous after going over that bridge, and now I was terrified.  My heart started beating really fast, and I lost control of my breathing, and got this uncontrollable fear, and started crying throughout the ride.  After talking to Toren about it, I'm pretty sure it was some sort of panic attack (unfortunately, the first of quite a few).  I prepared myself for a lot of things on this trip, but Long Beach is so flat, and I had never ridden a hill like that.  After falling off my bike a few times on flat, relatively safe roads, I felt about zero self confidence riding down that twisty road, especially after that old woman's warning.  

Thankfully, Chad's Adventure Cycling Maps have lots of little side route detours options that we can get to take off the busy highways.  This one had a really pretty one called "Otter Creek", I think.   It was a big relief to temporarily ride away from the big cards and steep winding roads. 

Another thing that started to worry me was that aside from Tyler's orange tie-dye shirt, and Sarah's yellow tank top, everyone had brought dark clothing.  I would see them just 100 feet away, and their shirts would blend in with the shadows of the trees.  The only thing I would see would be Dustin's little  yellow flag on his trailer.  

We got to the Jesse M. Honeyman State Park for our second day of camping on the trip, and it was a really pretty campground.  Tyler and Dustin took a walk out to the Dunes, with the Oregon Coast is famous for.  I wish I had gone out to check them out that night, because we didn't get many other chances to stop and see them for the rest of the trip.  

We had a little meeting back at the camp about wake-up times.  It was already becoming a little bit of a stressor that I was a night owl and not an early bird.  Sarah is used to waking up to open Viento, and the rest of the guys are pretty good a rising early.  It's one of those things I hadn't thought to prepare for for the trip-- waking up early.  Looking back, it would have been a great idea to adjust my sleep schedule for a few weeks before the trip so I could get used to going to bed by about 10 so I could wake up more easily before 7 or 8.  We had tried to set leaving times at 8am, and I was a really slow mover in the morning, and the earlier risers would rather use that extra time to enjoy their morning, if I was going to be slow.  The first week and a half, I tried to go to bed early,  but could not fall asleep before midnight, and found it really hard to wake up at 6.  We tried a compromise of leaving at 9, but pretty soon, we'd get more ambitious days, where it would just make sense to wake up earlier.  So I'd have to just adjust.   But if that's the worst of it, then we were doing okay.  I went to bed exhausted, and feeling a little sub-par. 

Jesse M. Honeyman State Park to Sunset Bay State Park: 57 miles

The next day was the fifth consecutive day of riding.  We did pretty well, and our pacing was really good, but we were pretty tired.  We had some head wind to deal with.  Even though it was kind of an energy drain, I kind of liked it.  The tail wind we had had the day before had made me feel helpless and ungrounded, so having something to push against, was actually kind of comforting, even if a little grueling.  

We stopped at Sunset Bay State Park, and had decided to have a rest day the next day.  We stopped at a grocery store in Charleston along the way to grab stuff for dinner.  The area was full of fishing boats, so we stopped at a little spot for fresh fish to cook over the fire for dinner.  We got salmon and tuna, which ended up a pretty awesome dinner cooked over the fire with some herbs and lemon.  We stopped at another store for some other odds and ends, and I ended up talking to the clerk, and she gave me another cryptic warning about the next road out of town, "Seven Devils Road."  It went on for about 11 miles and had a lot of twists and turns, and steep climbs, and hardly any shoulder.  She told me horror stories about a cycling marathon that gone through the pass, and cars that were more annoyed by cyclists than anything. 

When we got to Sunset Bay we walked to it's neat little cove to watch the sunset.  We met two guys, Eric and Turner, from Colorado who were riding down to San Francisco.  They had a friend from Candada, Glenn, who had graduated college, decided to go for an overnight bicycle trip to Vancouver, met Eric and Turner at a youth hostel, and had continued South with them, indefinitely. 

We did some laundry, built a fire, and had a really nice night at the campsite.  We always cook in a community fashion.  We decide on a meal, and everybody buys an ingredient, and it ends up pretty healthy.  That night we did fish with some leftover vegetables, and the next night, we did indian food from Trader Joe's we had been carrying for a while with pasta.  

Our rest day was really nice. We hadn't realized how important they were, but it was really something to be able to slow down, and take in the beauty of our majestic surroundings.  We took a walk to a botanical garden featuring Rhododendrons, and then to Simpson's Reef, where we could see Seals, Elephant Seals, and Sea Lions.  We saw some strange birds flying everywhere.  We couldn't figure out what they were, so it might as well have been an eagle.  Now, every bird could be an eagle. 

Here's a hello from our rest day: