Day 68 - 11/29/16 - Newport Beach to Oceanside, CA

It was a real light breakfast today, coffee and seawater.  I usually like a little more sustenance but, Quintin was driving the ship and he likes an early start.  I guess I’m lucky I got coffee.  The ride to the beach wasn’t more than 10 minutes.  The sun was shining and the wind was blowing in a way that made Quintin incredibly excited.  “When the wind is blowing out to sea the waves maintain a nicer form before they break.”  I’m learning.  He gave me all sorts of other advice for I failed to remember in the hour or so of me getting my ass kicked while Quintin did what all surfers do and made it look easy.  A couple times I stood up but, certainly didn’t get very far.  I still had fun.  

On the way back, Quintin told me more about his European bike tour back in the 90’s, about the South Africans that taught him how to beat the visa system and find work to stay as long as possible under the radar.  The way he spoke about his life on the road, I could feel the sincere jealousy and happiness he had for me and my open-ended trip.  Though he’d rather be less tied down, he’s genuinely happy he made the choice to play first and work later.  As a person that is playing now with no real regard for the future, I like this way of living too.  Leaving Quintin’s on my bike, I could feel the hour of surfing on my arms and stomach.  

My arms aren’t used to doing much these days, certainly not paddling.  And my stomach just took some hard smacks from the waves against the board.  It sure was a beautiful day though.  I didn’t have a place in mind to stay so I made it easy on myself and got a motel in Oceanside, my first motel going down the Pacific Coast, not too bad for nearly 70 days on the road.  I felt like treating myself.  Just a block from the beach I made my way down to the pier to watch the sunset after I checked in around 4:00pm.  

There’s something about dusk and dawn, those transitional points between day and night, night and day.  It’s important to be present, it’s easy to get distracted and come back to the moment and to wonder where the day went, how did night fall so fast?

Day 59 - 11/20/16 - Kirk Creek SP to San Simeon SP, CA

I haven’t had any cell service to check the weather since Monterey but, at that point, it showed rain for Sunday.  Sometimes, forecasts will do a 180 but, this time it was correct.  It started raining last night in Kirk Creek, my tent was less than 100 feet from the Pacific.  I’ve had some leakage issues in the near past but, last night showed me my tent is on its last legs.  Water came in from the 2 corners that my head sits between.  A lot of the sealer around the seams is starting to peel off.  Underneath my sleeping pad, where all the past holes have been patched up, water somehow snuck in and soaked the underside.  

I’m not totally sure what I’ll do yet, the next week is projected to be sunny but, weather can always surprise you.  Despite waking up in the rain and thinking for a second I might not ride today, I sucked it up and started pedaling and actually had a groovy day.  Not far into the ride I stumbled on the small town of Gorda; one of those towns where the store, the restaurant, the post office, and town hall are all on the same patch of asphalt.  But, what a beautiful oasis Gorda is, looking out onto the ocean through a gap in the trees.  It’s always a good idea to stop for a cup of coffee to warm up when it’s raining out, always.  Inside the restaurant someone has put on some soft jazz, exactly what I would put on on such a gray day.  

I sat alone and had a couple cups with a piece of mango raspberry cheesecake; I’ve never heard of such a thing.  It was the perfect snack to help me up over the hill that leads you away from Gorda.  I’m guessing I cycled uphill for about 5 miles then rode down for about 2, then back up for another couple.  The rain and clouds and mist prevented me from seeing out into the open sea but, the elements made for an interesting ride, like thin what curtains were closing behind me, hiding the landscape, simultaneously opening up before me, showing the saturated colors on the hills close by and the muted tones of blue water below.  The endless hills seem to be behind me; the road leveled out as I got closer to San Simeon.  I passed beaches covered by the massive bodies of Elephant seals.  

Some lay sleeping while others wrestled and some even danced face to face in a mating ritual.  But I sped on by, cold and wet, thinking about food and the prospect of a warm shower at the campground –no such luck.  I haven’t showered in a week but, getting completely soaked today made me feel a little cleaner, I guess.  It’s too early to sleep, too early for dinner, too wet outside and here in my tent aint much better.  I’m trying to stay on the dry part of my sleeping pad, dampness is all over the walls and I’m surrounded by dripping panniers and a bag full of wet clothes.  It’s all part of the fun.  What a blessing it is to truly appreciate dry clothes and shelter.

Days 92, 93, 94 - 9/7/16 - 9/9/16 Portland, OR - Daze Off

It's still Friday morning.  I made it to the dispensary in time for 'Nug Brunch' which means I get 10% off my entire purchase because I made it in before noon.  This whole procedure will take some getting used to; it's nit awkward or sketchy at all, in fact, it's the complete opposite which is what makes it weird.  Smiling faces greet you along with the overwhelming aroma of dozens of strains of bud.  The sign for $25 1/8's drew me in and the girl behind the counter proceded to open all the glass jars and stick them under my nose and let me touch all the nugs I wanted.  

But I'm not picky, I got my 1/8 of Mob Boss and a bag of sour gummies and carried on with my morning as if I just bought groceries.  Getting high has not been my top priority during these few days in the streets of Portland, getting fed has been a much higher priority.  I wonder how long it would take to try every restaurant, every food cart and truck in this well-fed city.  The options are overwhelming but, I've found it's hard to have a bad meal here.  

I've been staying with my friend, Ben in the Southeast quadrant of the city.  I leave the house with him at 8:30 in the morning, he goes to work making books and I wander around on my bike for the next 10 hours.  Yesteday, I rode to Washington Park on the West side of the city, a beautiful expanse of green, tall, thick ancient trees and loosely manicured shrubs and flowers create a sort of sanctuary from the concrete to the East. 

 I found myself laying on a picnic table staring up through the leaves that created a frame around the blue sky, a perfect porthole to watch the clouds pass.  6 months ago, this sort of activity might've been boring after 10 minutes but now, I feel like I have all the time in the world to enjoy the little things like this.  I feel like a dog off the leash just smelling smells, eating scraps and looking for all the quiet places I can lay down and enjoy all the wonderful things that get mistaken for nothingness all too often.  

I met up with Hudson who I met in Idaho during the ride through Lolo Pass.  He's lived all over the place including Portland so he led me around on a beautiful September day to a shanty town of food trucks, to Mt. Tabor which held faraway views of the city in the long branches of the massive trees that dotted the hill.  And we talked and talked of the unique experience that is bike touring and the differences between the East and the West.  He boiled the difference down to the East being more sincere and the West being friendlier.  

They both have their pros and cons but we agreed the friendliness of the West really greases the gears of society.  I like talking about my day and my feelings with strangers that are only pouring my coffee or waiting at the same red light as me even if they don't remember what I said or what I look like 5 minutes later.  It's just nice to hear happy people and happy conversations.  There's certainly a difference between here and home and it's not just the 3,000 miles that separate the two.  

I feel comfortable here, like people are less judgemental.  They always say, "keep Portland weird," so maybe that has something to do with peoples' attitudes.  I don't think twice about who sees me doing yoga in the park or if I feel like lying down to rest my eyes on a picnic table or to just sit on the sidewalk and feel the warmth of the sun among the other homeless folks that set their tarps and tents up right there on the sidewalk.  They don't seem to bother people or get in their face over here, not like other cities I've seen.  Someone recently asked me if I could live in Portland; I honestly don't think I could live in any city, I like to escape to quieter places too often to put myself right in the middle of everything.  Cities just want you to spend money anyhow.  

I like good local food and a sense of community and all the wonderful resources available just a short bike ride from anywhere; and the bikes, I love the bikes, I love waiting at a red light with 10 other cyclists just moving their way through everything but, how long could I really live in a city?  I don't think very long.  My feet are getting itchy already and I can't wait to start the tide to the coast tomorrow and pass through the quiet little seaside towns.