Day 70 - 12/1/16 - Pacific Beach, San Diego to Chula Vista, CA

It’s nice to take it slow in the morning, to get out of bed and do things on your own terms.  Chula Vista is only 25 miles from Stephanie’s place, a little more than a 2 hour ride.  I didn’t leave until 1:00ish when Steph had to go to work, and even then I didn’t rush to Rafaela’s place.  I guess it’s her family’s place since she lives in Vermont now.  I’ve never met her in person, we’ve just talked over the phone and via text, a good friend of a good friend, that pretty much means we’re good friends already.  Someone that offers up her family’s house as a place to stay for the weekend is a very good friend, I’m very grateful and very excited to give her a hug when I see her in tomorrow night, she’s flying back for her mom’s surprise birthday party that she already knows about.  

It’s funny to think I’ve met Rafaela’s whole family before meeting her in person.  They’re good people, I can tell where she gets it from.  Luis, her step dad let me in and gave me water and talked to me until David got home, Rafa’s younger brother.  We talked about my trip, what he’s studying in school and life in general.  He’s studying kinesiology, that might not be right but, he studies the way the body works and what a person needs to do to take care of themselves.  He wants to help people be happy in their skin through diet and exercise, something I believe in as well.  Nearly all personal problems, self esteem and self image issues can be alleviated through a little physical activity and eating some good food.  A donut here and there can’t hurt either.  When Connie, Rafa and David’s mother came home, the four of us went out for dinner, Mexican food.  I had a burrito for lunch but, I could eat a burrito every meal of the day and not complain.  Rafa and David have a younger sister but, she worked late and got home after I had already gone to sleep.  

Getting absorbed into someone else’s family is a beautiful thing.  Sharing what you have with someone who has nothing is a very human thing.  I never thought I’d be so dependent on the company of others, the warm feeling of being in the bosom of a family even when it’s not yours.  It’s truly the family that makes the holidays the holidays even if you have to borrow someone else’s.  I’d like to think my presence has a positive effect on the family, makes the weekend a bit more distinct than others knowing they’re doing something very kind for me.  Maybe years down the road the Rodriguez’s will remember having a smell biker for some added company around Connie’s birthday just a few weeks before Christmas.

Days 16, 15, 14, 13 - 10/8/16 - Honeydew, CA

I might be missing a day, or I might be adding a day, I'm not sure at this point.  It doesn't matter much.  It's an emotional day.  I parted ways with Flo, Lau, Will and Martin to head back up North to work on a farm with Vinny and Nelson.  I wouldn't have broken up the gang if I didn't think this would be the only time I get to hang with Vin.  I'm also excited to kill some time and make some money.  I'm not trying to spend more than a week in the hills but, who knows. 

The five of us took a day off at Burlington Campground yesterday.  Will wasn't sure if he was going to stop and work with his cousin for a couple weeks.  I was also waiting to hear from Vin.  And we were also just resting beneath the redwoods, not much of a rush to get away from these beauties.  We woke up slow yesterday, all of us.  It was cold, no excessive amounts of dew, it was dry, cold and dry and we loved it because it wasn't wet. 

Blue came over, a bowl packed, ready to hit the road.  He's an old-timer, 64 years old but lookin' like 70 and talkin' like he's 17, a real nice dood.  We convinced him to hang around another day although, he didn't come on our hike with us to Founder's Grove.  It was a short walking trail, just four miles from the campground. 

We took turns reading the information from the pamphlet like we were on some school field trip.  We learned about how the trees are all part of one big system, how they share nutrients and how even dead, fallen, decaying redwoods are as much a part of the system as any of the other trees; there's something to be said of that, living things are just trying to live, we ought to be helping each other do that but, I guess humans aren't always as smart as trees. 

The five of us didn't arrive at Burlington Campground all together the day we first got here.  Will, Martin, and I rolled in mid-afternoon after we had eaten some blackberry popsicles we got from a roadside fruit stand along the avenue which happened before we stopped for lunch under the giant trees in one of the many groves along the road.  I was worried that Lau and Flo got separated from us and that we wouldn't share the experience of riding through the avenue together. 

Just before the sun completely disappeared from the sky, the two French Canadian girls came rolling down the road, yelling to us at the campsite as we were prepping the fire; our group was still whole.  It's such a beautiful, unparalleled experience to find like-minded, crazy people on the road that are equally excited to ride with you as you are with them.  Friendships blossom fast, bursting open with sparks and colors like throwing a whole package of roman candles onto a campfire at once, all shooting and popping in unpredictable directions, striking this and that, illuminating familiar surroundings in beautiful and strange ways never before imagined.  And then it's gone, dark again, smoke covering everything, and you're alone.  That's how I felt when all my friends went South and I back North. 

But nothing is ever over until it's over and can anyone really ever say anything is truly over until they die?  That's almost claiming ability to see the future.  I know the road works in its own way that doesn't necessarily correspond with the nature of time; it's very possible I'll see all my friends again on this trip, just as much a possibility of never seeing them again. 

Everything comes down to the flip of a coin, seemingly random but, the forces that send that coin up and bring it back down are part of the same system, guiding objects up in the air down to the timeline of events one way or another with careful intent or distant apathy, who can tell?

Day 10 - 10/3/16 - Crescent City, CA - Day Off

I think a dozen people stayed here last night in this church, folks from all over, traveling solo and traveling in pairs, teaming up and joining forces on the road like a snowball gathering mass and momentum resulting in several pairs of wheels and hundreds of pounds of gear rolling down the Pacific Coast.  When I'm by myself and people ask me where I've been and where I'm going, I'm always happy to answer them and chat til their heart's content, I don't ever mind.  But when this many people with this many miles and towns and stories under their belts, the whole spiel of "where'd you come from" and "where are you going" isn't necessary. 

All that matters is the road has brought us all under one roof.  This roof just happens to be over a church under the care of Katie Berkowitz, a kind, hospitable soul who opens her doors to traveling cyclists in exchange for hugs.  Places like this are brilliant for taking a day off, doing some laundry, and making some real meals with the other friends of the road around you.  That's what Martin, Lau, Flo, Will and myself are doing today, relaxing.  Five others packed up and left this morning.  We all slept in different areas of the same open room, the walls lined with piles of panniers, chairs draped with wet clothing and maps unfolded and open on every table. 

We wished them all well, Herbie, Laura, Peter, Dave, and Jackie as they rolled out into the early morning drizzle.  Breakfast happened in stages; oatmeal and coffee, french toast, and juicy, tuscan cantaloupe.  Then the five of us set out to do laundry down the street.  Will rolled a joint on the folding table and we smoked it out front.  Then we all fantasized about another family dinner like we had last night: stir-fried veggies and rice with plenty of garlic bread.  And beer.  Today, we decided on onion soup, pizza, kale chips, and an apple crisp made with apples that grow behind the church.  The sun has yet to come out today but, it has yet to rain more since this morning.  We made it back to home base with fresh, clean clothes and all the ingredients to make too much food again.  Joanna was holding down the fort while we were out; another cyclist traveling with her friend from BC to San Fran.  Like some sort of commune, we took turns teaching each other the yoga moves that we use before and after rides. 

Or maybe it was more like a birthday party for little kids, taking turns choosing the games.  We did stop to play some card games and share snacks.  I'm very grateful to have such good people to share this day off with.  I certainly have not been as productive as I'd like to be on my trip down the coast in terms of writing, reading, drawing and even taking photos but, this portion of my journey seems to be more about the social aspect since it's a major bike route, much more so than my random trail that took me coast to coast.  I'm in good company, I couldn't feel any luckier.

Days 9, 8, 7 - 10/2/16 - En Route to Crescent City, CA

It's hard to believe we'll be crossing into California today.  It's hard to believe it's October.  Despite my feeling of being on an endless Summer, it is very much Fall.  Yesterday Julie, Will and I got blasted by some heavy rain and intense winds after we took a break in Gold Beach, got some groceries and then smoked a joint outside.  Julie and I met Will the night before at Humbug Mountain State Park. 

As we rode downhill through the jetstream, we passed the cold, blue Pacific and the massive rock forms that stretch along the beach like remnants of an asteroid that broke into pieces upon hitting the Earth.  And then the sun came out.  The winds stayed with us and we were dry within minutes.  The day before, Julie and I missed a little bit of rain when we stopped quickly for lunch and coffee.  15 miles after that, Julie realized she lost her other pair of riding shorts off the back of her bike. 

So she hitched back to town.  I wasn't sure if we'd meet back up but miraculously, very shortly after I landed in Humbug Mountain, Julie came rolling into the campsite, just before the sun went down.  She's been experiencing the kindness of strangers that comes with being on the road.  She was able to hitch back to town then out to the campground while finding her shorts. 

Although, I did try to convince her to not be so attached to the shorts but, she felt she needed to go back for them.  I'm sitting with Will, Lau and Flo in a cafe in Harbor, OR.  Will met Lau and Flo at some point and now the four of us are killing time and warming up before our short ride to Crescent City.  We're all staying at the same Warm Showers place in a church.  The sky was rumbling with thunder this morning without much water to follow.  As soon as we hopped on our bikes, the rain came.  It was a wet couple of miles here to this cafe but, the sun is now out and we'll be moving on shortly. 

I still can't believe I left Portland last Saturday and will be riding into California today, over 500 miles in 8 days.  How am I going to spend these next 5 months?  I know it's going to be one big blur just like the last 8 days; one long, beautiful goddamn blur.

Days 6, 5, 4 - 9/29/16 - Sunset Bay State Park, OR

A hot cup of tea after a warm meal is a new thing for me; I did not have any cookware the entire time it took me to get across the country.  My life on the bike has improved supremely since leaving Portland.  Yesterday I made noodles for lunch right on the shore, winds constantly blowing, I felt like the man who invented fire.  We didn't get on the road til 11:00 this morning.  Julie and I, that is.  She's from Boston, riding from Seattle to San Fran and somehow we found each other out here. 

We met yesterday briefly on the road; her and another couple came up behind me while I was shedding some layers on the side of the road.  The other couple, two young Brits that got hitched less than a month ago and are traveling on bike around a handful of countries for their honeymoon.  The four of us didn't ride together too long, we were in a hilly area along the shore, a situation where everyone goes at their own pace. 

And with as many scenic viewpoints to peer out into the bright white distance, it wasn't a quick ride for any of us.  But, we all met back up at the same campground, Honeyman State Park, where a bunch of older doods were already set up and handing around a flask of whiskey. 

I had met one of them, Erik, at Cape Lookout State Park a couple days ago.  He takes interested folks out on bike tours as part of his job.  Where do I apply?  So 7 of us cyclists were gathered in this hiker/biker site with the ultimate hippie, Stephen, that has been traveling since '67, so he says, and has been wandering back and forth to and from different state parks with hundreds of pages he's written about all his life experiences on all the different planes of reality he exists in. 

But only Julie and I left the campground the following morning, everyone else had plans to stay another night, even Stephen.  It's hard to pinpoint anything specific about my journey down the coast thus far.  The weather has been beautiful and the scenery takes my breath away constantly.  It's hard to believe it will get better but, that's what people keep telling me.  Well, bring it on.

Back on the Road - Days 3, 2, 1, and Before I Left Portland

9/26/16

Cape Lookout State Park, OR

The fog is rolling in, actual fog although, anytime I sit down to write and recap a significant amount of time, a mental fog creeps in over all the details that once seemed so clear.  What can I do?  The ocean can't be more than 50 yards from my tent, filling all the empty space with soothing, hushing sounds.  

I was never too far from the Pacific today, 101 stayed as close as it could, sometimes right above the shimmering blue hundreds of feet below.  If the road ever veered away inland it brought me through lush tunnels of green that seemed to be supported by physical beams of light that hung on the eary morning humidity.  Cannon Beach can't be much more than 20 miles South of Warrenton, the town I ended my coast to coast ride in before my slow saunter back to Portland.  Those 20 miles weren't the most scenic but, they were incredibly exciting as they were the first new sites I'd seen in a week.  

When I left Portland on my new bike, all I could think about was getting past Warrenton, I felt like that's when the next chapter would begin with new places and new characters never-before-seen.  Everyone I've met has gone back home or continued their own journey without a bike between their legs.  I kind of have the feeling that I'm staying after hours, like Summer closed and it's only fitting to return home but, I guess it's time to see what goes on after dark – and with a new bike.  

I wish everyone could understand how different it feels to have a bike fitted to my body in every way; it's like if you were to wear your shoes on the opposite feet and go for a 10 mile hike and then switch your shoes around and do it again.  It's night and day, it truly is and I could not be happier.  I thought waiting for her would be painful, like waiting for your birthday when it falls on Christmas and you're 10 years old, but no.  I took it slow going back to the city, turned a 2 day ride into 5, this time on the Washington side of the Columbia to switch things up.  

I felt like a hobo-drifter, no roof to return to, just watching time slip through my hands in the small towns that run along the river; towns where kids are going back to school, coming off that summer time-high while I'm counting the days til I get back on the toad to follow it to the land of endless summer.  Even when I got back to Portland I still had a week before my bike would be ready.  I spent that week between Ben's place and a woman's home I met through Warm Showers, just floating around the city, eating and drinking too much coffee, sinking into the couch, watching TV and smoking too much weed to try and accomplish anything.  

But I owed myself a vacation, a little time to truly do nothing, a little time to lose track of time. Oh, the meals I ate.  If Portland is good for one thing it's eating.  I'm glad I didn't keep track of what I spent, I'll be doing that on the road, attempting to live as cheaply as possible.  No more breakfasts that cover the entire table in pancakes, eggs, and potatoes.  

The fog is still all around me although it's too dark to see anything except for what falls under the beam of my headlamp.  The ocean is still hushing, a sound that will never end like the heartbeat of the Earth.  I don't know how many miles it is to San Diego and I really don't care.  The ride has already been breathtaking, even though it's just begun I don't want to know how few miles are left, I just want to ride South as clueless as possible on my beautiful new bike.