Eric's Bike Adventure 1995

Trip Log Part 9: Gualala to Home!

• Gualala to Bodega Dunes State Park, Sunday, July 30, 1995

  When your body has become accustomed to being on its own time table, and not subject to the whims of the clock or any other schedule, it's quite easy to get up bright-and-early, while most other people are still dozing. We were up, packed and gone from the campground well before most of the other campers were alert. The weather had stayed beautiful and clear -- very important to remember the sunblock!

  

  The morning's breakfast stop was at the inn at Sea Ranch, sort of a weekend or summer home community for people in Marin and San Francisco. On the way out of breakfast, Wayne and I ended up becoming Sultans.

  Back at our bikes, Wayne talked for quite a while with a retired engineer from Santa Monica, who also biked and was fascinated by Wayne's recumbent. It turned out that his old high school (class of '47) had a reunion every year, and this was where they met. They called themselves Sultans (I guess it was a school mascot), and they were outside to get some group pictures taken. Since we were there, we manned their cameras for some of their pictures, but they made us get in some of the pictures too, as honorary Sultans. He explained how there have actually probably been more Sultans over time, as they got married, and the group grew by extension like that. I suppose if we ever tracked them down we would be welcome to join the crowd! Wayne ended up with an offer of a place to stay when he got down as far as Santa Monica. Amazing what connections and support you can find in the middle of nowhere in such a short time. The moral seemed to be that if you're on a recumbent, you'll attract a heck of a lot of attention.

  The next stop was lunch, at a deli a couple miles before Fort Ross, an old historic Russian Fort for part of their fur trading empire. At the deli, we got to experience some "equipment envy". There was a station wagon parked with a trio of Badairka kayaks on top. Wayne and I checked out the kayaks, as they checked out our bikes. The wagon brought one guy and two women with it, and the guy ended up talking for a bit with Wayne about his recumbent. This guy also has a recumbent (a TourEasy, as I recall), so they were busy rapping about all sorts of recumbent stuff. One of the women came up to me and said that when they were out touring, he always stole all of the attention because he'd be on the recumbent, while she was on a regular bike. Apparently, the day before was a "living history" day at Fort Ross, and if we had been out then, we could have seen the kayaks in action, since they are a classical skin-shell kayak like what would have been in use when Fort Ross was a real fort.

  I hadn't been to Fort Ross in probably ten years, when one of my mom's cousins was a ranger there. I hadn't seen the new visitor and historical center, which was pretty nice. Wayne and I wandered around some, and then took a quick nap.

  Almost anything was better than being out on the road again. Today was sunday, so all the traffic was heading back towards the bay area, the same direction we were going. If the traffic was busy and hectic yesterday, today it was worse. By far the busiest traffic day of the entire trip. The traffic was still good natured, but it seemed like an endless stream of it. Very little chance to just stop and pedal without worrying that you'll be driven off the road. The shoulder hadn't gotten any wider, so there really wasn't that much space to share with the cars.

  By Russian Gulch, there was a van looming up behind us. When rivers empty out into the ocean, there road typically curves inland and heads down to the river, and then twists back up. The mouth of Russian Gulch had a really excellent downhill twisty stretch on the way there. I wasn't ready to brake behind the van all the way down, so I just started powering down the hill. Powered vehicles are definitely faster on average than pedal powered ones, but, boy, is it a lot of fun to completely out perform a hulking van on these turns. Since the bike is much more maneuverable than the van, it's much easier to speed through the turns, and zip to the bottom without having to worry about traffic behind you at all. Vrooooom! The van passed at the bottom, but the thrill is still worth it!

  The last stop for the day was at Bodega Dunes State Park. The park really is in a bunch of sand dunes. Pushing my bike through the the last twenty feet of sand definitely felt like a cap on the end of the day. We piled together all of the dregs of our food supplies, and feasted, lightening our loads, and assuming we could reload with food the next day. On the way over to use the phone after dark, I got to see some deer wandering around the campground. They noticed I was there, but didn't run away, and I went on my way.

  Day total: 48.2 miles, Trip total: 804.2

• Bodega Bay to San Francisco, Monday, July 31, 1995

  On the road early again, first stopping in Bodega Bay for a muffin for breakfast. This day would turn out to be the longest and probably worst nourished day of the trip. The tide was out in the bay, so it looked mostly like mud flats. Not nearly as many birds as in the Alfred Hitchcock movie filmed nearby many years ago.

  After Bodgea Bay, the road curves inland for a ways, through terrain of rolling grassy hills. A much later start, and this would have been a pretty toasty stretch of the ride. Being next to the coast does a really good job of keeping the temperature down.

  As the road turned, and started heading back towards the coast, I passed a pond. I was a little ahead of Wayne, so I stopped and stared at a turtle up on the opposite bank, sunning itself. When Wayne stopped, I pointed out the turtle, and a bird that was almost right next to the turtle that I hadn't seen got disturbed and flew away. The turtle slid back down into the safety of the pond...

  Up over another hill or two, and we passed by a farm that was raising calves. I had heard news stories about calves with no space to get any exercise, and headed towards the veal counter. This farm had the calves out in the open, but each one was on a leash about 3 or 4 feet long, not very much room to move at all. I am not a vegetarian by any means, but treating these calves like this seems disrespectful. I would much prefer that the animals I eat at least have a chance to live before being sacrificed to the dinner plate. The image has stuck with me.

  

  Next stop, Tomales. We thought we had one more big hill before Tomales, but before we knew it we were there! Where'd the hill go? After a quick snack stop in Tomales, on to Marshall, for yet another stop. Ice Cream! Yum! Another cold drink, some more fruit, and onward to the day's warming temperatures. Quick jaunt down to Point Reyes Station, for lunch. I think the warm temperature does more to affect your body than anything else. It mad me hardly hungry at all, and probably started not eating enough for the day then.

  

  One more good hill, up Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, heading across the peninsula towards Fairfax. It was definitely hot by now, probably in the upper 80s, maybe hotter. After a little more time on the road, our path went onto a quite nice bike trail towards Samuel P. Taylor State Park. After the heat from the bright sun over that last hill, the light shade from the oaks lining the bike trail was a welcome relief.

  This trail places you smack in the middle of Samuel P. Taylor State Park campgrounds, even shadier than the bike trail. We made a pit stop there, and as we were getting ready to leave, we find one of the Canadians from earlier in the trip! I was sure we'd never see them again, since they were supposed to have hit San Francisco days ahead of us. It turned out that he had crashed, and had a smashed up watch and some impressive gouges on his hands, battle scars from the crash. It left him unable to bike any further, so they had been camping out here instead of playing tourists in the city. His partner had rented a car, and as we were pedaling out of the park, they honked as they passed, on their way to the airport to fly back home.

  After the respite of the trees along the trail and through the park, it was time for more rolling hills, which means more sun, and more heat. Up over the last big hill, right before Fairfax, where Wayne realized his wallet was missing. No money, no identification, no credit cards. He wasn't sure where it was left -- maybe as far back as the deli, or maybe only in the restroom at the park. We finally went our separate ways at this point. I gave him what cash I had, since I was nearly home, and headed towards civilization, and wished him luck for the rest of his trip. He went back, and I discovered later, when he got to the South Bay and we went out to eat, that his wallet had been turned in at the State Park, so it wasn't even that far out of the way, just 5 or 10 miles.

  

  I continued on towards the Golden Gate, but first had to go through some urban sprawl, starting in Fairfax, going through San Anselmo, a brief (unintended) detour through San Rafael, then Kentfield, Larkspur, Corte Madera, and finally to Sausalito. This was the highest density of cities I had seen so far on the trip. The markings for the Pacific Coast Bike Route were nearly absent, and I had a hard time figuring out where and when I was supposed to turn. Luckily, I had maps and the book as resources to try and figure out where I was, and where I was supposed to go. I found my way, and made it down to Sausalito. I hit the last stretch of bike-path around 5:30pm, so got to share the road with huge numbers of after-work joggers, cyclists, and skaters. The wind was starting to pick up, which at first felt like a nice relief from the heat of the hills earlier in the day.

  After a little refreshing wind, however, wind becomes much more of a burden, especially if you are pedaling into it. The deeper into Sausalito I got, the stronger the wind was becoming. I looked out at the San Francisco Bay, and saw a large tentacle of fog reaching from the Golden Gate, appearing to grab hold of the corner of Angel Island. By now, I was starting to feel fatigued; it was over 70 miles into the day, making it my longest single day bike ride, ever.

  

  Finally, I got to the end of the old National Guard station, and got to climb one last hill to get onto the Golden Gate Bridge. By now, it was really windy, and really foggy. Pedaling uphill, against the wind, into the fog at the end of a really long day combined to make this the least pleasant part of the entire trip. On the way up the hill, I was passed by a couple of people on unloaded road bikes. I offered to trade bikes, just for one hill, but had no takers. Finally, the top of the hill. I had to add some more layers to my clothes so I wouldn't freeze crossing the bridge. Luckily, I was crossing the bridge at a time when the side I ended up on was open. If not, I would have had to climb a flight or two of stairs to cross to the other side. Crossing the bridge was not nearly so remarkable a scene as I had hoped. I couldn't get a picture, since the entire bridge was engulfed in thick fog. Visibility was probably in the 50 yard range, and the wind was easily 20 miles an hour. I braced myself, and set off across the bridge. At least the wind was fairly constant. The fog was so thick it became more of a drizzle, and the wind kept it blowing up from the side of the bridge, at about a 40 degree angle from below. I made it across, soaking wet, tired, and a little grumpy. The ride across the bridge sapped most of what strength I had left.

  

  I got my token picture taken near something that said "Golden Gate Bridge", called my friend Larz to let him know roughly where I was, and talked with a guy sitting around with his bike for a bit. Just before his ride showed up, I realized he had a flat, and I could have helped out there, but too late... Next time! I also needed to take some layers back off, now that I was out of the direct spray from the ocean fog.

  

  One last bit of riding across San Francisco, then a final climb up the hill in the Sunset District, ending up at Larz's place. I had to stop twice climbing that last hill, in order to not knock myself out during the climb. We went out to eat, my first time in a car in two weeks, and got to sleep in a bed for the first time since Crescent City. Civilization was almost a letdown; reality started creeping back in, the trip finally felt like it was winding down.

  I was surprised, but at the end of the day I was generally feeling great. I was fatigued, but not exhausted, and just generally felt pumped up. I had ridden the longest ride I've ever done, and it felt so good! It was also my first solo riding since the beginning of the trip in Oregon, and I realized that I had really done it.

  Day total: 79.1 miles, Trip total: 883.3

• San Francisco to Home!, Tuesday, August 1, 1995

  I think I meant to get up early, but I didn't really get on the road until almost noon. This would be the last day of the trip, and it wasn't going to really be that far, only 50 miles. (To think that two weeks earlier, 50 miles would have been a really long ride!) In retrospect, I should have taken Skyline Boulevard along the mountaintops of the peninsula for the ride home, but I instead took El Camino, because it required less navigating, and no hill climbing. I made it across busy San Francisco, and just headed south.

  The day before seemed like urban sprawl, but nothing compared to today. The entire distance from San Francisco to Los Gatos was one continuous stretch of people. Houses, apartments, industrial parks, town centers, shopping centers, roads, and cars. Fifty miles of space, all taken up by people. A marked contrast to the previous days, where it was possible to go 20 miles without encountering more than a single house.

  The real problem with El Camino isn't the road, which wasn't great, or the terrain, which was mostly flat, but it is just a really busy road. Lots of stoplights, and an enormous number of cars. The main road excitement was in Burlingame, where I hit a bump going a wee too fast, and it knocked one of my panniers off. It wasn't really damaged, so I strapped it back on, and kept on going, keeping a closer eye out for big bumps.

  A little over halfway home, I did most of my day's stops, in Palo Alto. I stopped at Anne O'Neill's house in Palo Alto. She is one of the folks running the Major Taylor Cycling Club, who helped inspire me to do the ride. She wasn't home, but the housemate I had met when I stopped by about a week before my trip was there, which provided some continuity there.

  After that, I went over to Whole Foods, for some food, then over to Klutz Galactic Headquarters, since they're just awesome, and then over to Xerox, to say "Hi!" to my dad.

  

  After talking with my dad for a bit, I hit the road for the last leg of the trip. The last thrill was to pass a few folks on road bikes riding down the relatively flat stretch of Foothill Expressway. I know it's only a slight ego boost, and doesn't mean anything, but being able to zip along the road at a quick pace with a full load of touring gear, on a not terribly expensive bike is a good, cheap thrill. At this point, I thought I had earned it.

  

  A few more miles across Silicon Valley, and I had made it, home at last. My neighbor hadn't even realized I was gone.

  Day total: 55.2 miles, Trip total: 938.5

After it was all over, the last line from my journal says it best: "I was ready to keep going south."