In an attempt to follow Derek's directions to get us from Santa Rosa to Point Reyes we picked up a route from the campsite which we thought would link in. 4 miles later we were a little lost, but managed to follow our noses and stumble upon the Joe Rodota bike trail that would take us into Sebastopol. The route was largely unbusy, and away from the flowing traffic of hwy 12. At Sebastopol we linked into Bodega Hwy. After a few climbs it felt like we were going the wrong away 0 I guess we weren't in the mood for hills! As we reached the peak of a tiny climb, obviously looking shattered a car full of guys started cheering us.
As we cycled past Freestone Tim saw a nice building which he concluded had to want to sell us coffee. Dubious of his logic (the signs all said wine tasting) we turned back to discover the Wild Flour Organic Bakery. Replete, having eaten both my words and a portion of two scones we lazed in the sun to the obnoxious tones of Harley's. Numerous people chatted to us - I think people drove miles to get to the bakery, and I was beginning to notice the San Francisco influence. Inside was bedlam - there was a customer space of a few square metres and four times that for the baking. Every affluent being from the area was there and it felt like the first time I realised no one in London queues for buses...
Just as we were leaving a couple cycling from Healdsburg to San Francisco told us to stop in Tomales Bakery for lunch. Not sure after the scones that we had earned our lunch but nonetheless we stopped. Our route took us along Valley Ford Freestone Road and onto hwy 1. The land was largely agricultural and rolling. As we staggered to the top of one hill, a couple in a convertible pulled up alongside us and said: 'the hills are fun eh'
After our stop in Tomales, and god chat with a guy who told Tim he was lucky to have a girlfriend that liked cycling, we followed hwy 1 along the undulating shoreline of Tomales Bay. At Marshall the smell of fish and oysters was overpowering. The odd hill took the wind momentarily out of our pedals, but largely our momentum kept us rolling.
Coming into Pt. Reyes Station we could see the Pt. Reyes national Park across the water. It was so green and lush that it felt like we were on the Amalfi Coast. At Pt. Reyes Station we cycled past our turn off to get supplies for camping. All day we had seen endless streams of cyclists - shortly before we had passed a couple of tourers - and as we came to the Bovine bakery the grass in front felt like Richmond park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Every inch of grass was occupied by cyclists and their correspondingly expensive appenditures.
As we consulted the map, the lonely planets guide had a different route. I was annoyed that Tim wouldn't follow my mantra of 'Never retracing your pedals' and stick with hwy 1 through Olema and across to Samuel P Taylor State Park. Instead he reasoned we should take the previously missed turn off and cut out a climb across Bolinas Ridge. On closer inspection I realised the harder route would only save us 0.5mi of cycling but would add 600ft of climbing. For the second time that day I swallowed my words and followed Tim.
Just onto Point Reyes Petaluma Road we again passed the couple we had seen earlier. At high speed we agreed we must be headed to the same place. We took the first right off the road, and I began to wonder if we really could have been so fluky as to have missed any more climbing for the day. Turning onto the bottom of Sir Francis Drake Blvd we took and immediate left onto the Cross Marin bike trail as we glimpsed the downhill we would have enjoyed from the other direction - of course what comes down must have gone up.
The trail took us straight into the campground. At one point Tim swerved shouting snake as I almost sliced it in half. Normally they are so quick you don't see them but this one was obviously enjoying the sunshine breaking through the Redwoods.
In the hiker/biker section we set up our tent and then Erin and Matt (the couple we had passed) came in. They had concluded that as we had dusted them we must have started from Vancouver. They were a lovely couple from San Francisco who had started the tour at the beginning of Hwy 1 in Leggett. For the first time in our trip cyclists just kept pulling up./
As the light was dropping some Mexicans were playing loud music as a compere on the microphone spoilt our idyll. Next to us a large Indian family were camping, and in the ladies toilets they had plugged in a rice cooker. The smell made me so jealous, and as I walked past their tents to see blown up beds, standing room and more kitchen utensils than Nigella Lawson I yet again had tent envy!
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