What what! 100 miles and the steepest hills of the trip. Two servings of lasagne, two servings of cheese cake, and a soak in the hot tub.

Lots of road swamping fog in the morning. Lots of stuttering cross winds. One climb which required I stay out of the saddle for almost the entire slope. I also passed a couple of unloaded carbon fibre road bikes in the process.

The final 3 or 4 hours were spent void of other cyclists. The winding narrow cliff side over looked sheer 200+ ft drops onto one rolling ocean. Countless hairpin turns ate our momentum prior to each rise.

Like most nights it became a race against the clock, the setting sun, the rising darkness. But this is the way it is meant to be. Cruising down the coast reaching for our destination but focused west on the sunset. The sun dropped below the horizon. A column of gold rose from sea forming a second sunset.

SF is 60-65 miles away. I will be there tomorrow.

Yes I chose today’s destination based on its name and yes the attached photo should be of me delivering a killer round house kick to someones head. You will have to settle for one of the first views I was greeted with as the 1 exited the forest of endless climbing.

Other than climbing there is not much else to tell. Climbing. Long winding climbing. 7 mile stretches of climbing. 34-27 chainring-cog climbing. And my legs feel fine. No real burn. No shortness of breath. I can’t wait to do some Austin hills on a nice unloaded road bike.

The longer the climb the colder your muscles end up after the descent. Which are warmed again during the next climb. Lather rinse repeat. In the shade in the valleys with the wind chill, it seems like going up a grade is the only way for you and your muscles to stay warm and loose.

It seems like the coast was 10 degrees higher than the interior section of the one. And it is all beach and teal water.

Zach and I posted up in the crowded hiker/biker section of the camp grounds. The local grocer had burned down so we ended up eating at golf resort just down the road rather than ride back the way we came for 3 miles and some hills to grab something. Which also means we don’t have food for breakfast (I have cheese crackers tuna and sardines but would prefer actual breakfast rather than emergency food).

As odd as it was (and a little pricey) it turn out fantastic. I had one of the best meals of the trip and we ended up being in the right place at the right time to catch the most beautiful sunset I have seen the entire trip. I only took pictures of it with my real camera since I couldn’t see how this camera phone could get anywhere close to doing it justice.

$0.50 for 5 min of hot water in the shower. The best fifty cents I spent all day.

The day of the big redwoods.

The night was one of restless sleep. Between my legs being too sore to remain in any single position for too long and intermittent loud noises, i ended up less than well rested.

We head to breakfast, pancakes sausage and eggs. Some coffee and route planning. It looks like Petersville will be the stopping point. Somewhere in the low 70 mile range and at the tail end of the ave of the giants.

Sunny warm and an actual head wind for once. My legs are feeling a little sluggish and unresponsive today. Maybe they are getting of this daily game. First rest stop, no stop. Neither of us feel like getting off of the bikes. Around 44 miles in we stop off in Rio Dell for enchiladas and vanilla ice cream milk shakes.

Shortly after lunch we reach the ave of the giants and turn off of the 101. 2 lanes of smooth asphalt curving between the massive trunks of sky scraping trees. Light floats through the layers of branches and the air is silent and still. We coast down the road experiencing the forest. Car pass. What do they make of this event? They are boxed in, windows shut and sealed. The forest is about 70 degrees and a layer cake of smells. It must be like watching the travel channel. A one dimensional picture show.

After a few hour of cruising trough the giants we pop through Petersville with out realizing it until we are half a mile past it. A town of 250 and no listing of camping even though the adventure cycling maps say there is. The decision is made to continue on.

It seems like every night we cut it to the wire. Garberville. A grocery store. We try to track down camping. The locals all say the closest two listed on the map are closed for the season. Everyone recommends Richardson state park. How far is it? 5-12 miles depending on who you ask. The sun is setting.

We pass the first closed park in Benbow. We continue. The light is starting to fade and we shouldn’t be on this road after dark. This might end up being a camp on the bushes night. We get to the second closed camp site. Zach wants to turn off until it turns out the actual site is another 2 miles off of the main road. Our lights are on as we push for Richardson. A cave is formed by the forest. Down a slope, one curve after another. A sign, park entrance 900 feet. The entrance. A sign, closed for the season. We will make an exception. Biking reduced your choices and this camp ground is the only one we have to choose from now that the sun has set. We walk around the barricade and have our choice of campsites.

The goal was McKinleyville which became Arcata.

As Zach and I stepped out of our break day motel he discovered that his front dérailleur had broken. We decided to rush to breakfast and figure out the situation. I ate my delicious tostada fritata and searched for bike shops on the area he finished his plate and headed to home depot to see if he could use a hose clamp as a temp fix. No luck.

We ran over to a welder but the brake was not in a location that could be spot welded. But he was able to grab a old rusty der meant for a long spindle double which ended up being what he was forced to rig up since the bike shop turned out to be closed on Mondays. At 10:30, we finally pull out of Crescent City.

It has been taking 8 to 10 miles for my legs to get fully warmed up and loose in the mornings. 4 miles out of town we hit our main challenger of the day; a 4 to 5 mile 1200 ft ascent. For the first 2 miles my quads feel like a tight bundle of cables straining against my skin. They just were not interested in participating. Finally they decided that they would be team players and that the only relief they were going to see was the coast down the opposite side of the hill.

I topped the final rise and ran into the hot bodyssey girls. Did some work on their cleat position since one of them was starting to have Achilles pain and then rocketed down the decent.

20-25 miles later we are in Orick. The best riding of the day turns out to be the long slight downward grade through the redwoods about 8 miles before the town. The pavement is smooth, traffic nearly non-existent, and we are surrounded by massive redwoods for miles and miles. At the diner we run into the women from Vancouver also riding to bike bike. One has two broken spokes and they are getting a ride to Arcata to both get the bike fixed and to catch a train to SF since they feel they are out of time if they want to make it by the weekend. We chat for a whole, Zach works on the spokes, they catch their ride, and we head out on our bikes.

We are making good time but hitting lots of hills and catching strong head and side winds. This trip is all wrong weather wise. We should have run into at least a little rain and had tail winds the whole coast. Instead we have been rainless and had head winds every day. 6 of 1, half dozen of another.

I start watching the clock and start pushing the pace. I want to make it to a bike shop tonight so we don’t have to wait around for them to open tomorrow. The average speed is pushing 16 to 18 mph. Low 20s on flats low teens on climbs. We are with in striking range.

I am able to get in touch with a bike shop in Arcata. 10 miles further than we had planned. It is 5:34 and they close at 6. We hammer. 25+ on the flats, upper teens on the climbs. I am listening to my legs. Is this push going to ruin them for tomorrow? The kick feels smooth and I spin. Where is the exit where is the exit. We are racing down the freeway off ramp after off ramp looking for the one for Sunset. My computer is no longer set to display distance, only the current time, which we are running out of. 5:45, 5:50, 5:53, we see the exit. We are blowing through stop signs. 5:56. Left on 13. Left on G. We pull into the shop as they are closing up. Minutes to spare. Zach gets the replacement part. Now where to camp. We ask the owner. Closest place is 8 miles away. Where can we stealth camp. He pauses, and then offers the back yard of the shop. SOLD!

Stuff unloaded, 2 blocks away for a huge pizza and then back to the shop to get the tents pitched. The back yard is a dirt track for monkey bike riding. I set up on the inside of turn 3.

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P.S. I (and my bike) broke the 1000 mile mark today.

The run to San Fran begins tomorrow. Today sun and waves.

Also laundry. I track down a laundromat and charm a nice old lady into giving me a scoop of detergent. We have tons of synthetics and wool so we can’t use a dryer. I cart all the damp washed laundry back to the motel and hang everything on the balcony rails. I am not sure how impressed the other occupants were with this, but the couple which ran the place didn’t bat an eye.

It turns out Cresent City is a big prison town. It is also a big crazy town. Not crazy as in fun, but crazy as in insane people. Insane people that make you wonder, as you run into them during the day, if you should venture out at night. Old man riding a tandem bike alone with a useless 4 stroke engine hanging from the handle bars and a trailer being towed full of car tires. An old toothless woman in a Rascal shouting obscenities at someone on their porch a block behind her. The porch dweller was responding in kind. The kid riding his youth mountain bike down the side walk as an obese man, trailing on his beach cruiser by 30 feet, repeatedly screamed “Get Back Here!!!”. The repetitious passing of scattered people mumbling meaninglessness to themselves. Did the asylum run out of budget??