Day 29: Samuel P Taylor State Park - San Francisco - Yosemites, 50km

We were woken this morning at about 5am by what Tim tell me were woodpeckers. They were so loud that I could have sworn they were jack hammers. At 6:30, the kids in the site next to us were running around with way too much energy for the early hours. As I got up at 7am, they were making a pilgrimage to the adjoining site with burning tree branches - it was time to hit the road!

Back on Sir Francis Drake Blvd we cycled through Lagunitas, Forest Knolls and Woodacre. To both sides were arid hills and stables. As we approached San Francisco hoards of cyclists passed in the opposite direction, sending Tim into a directional worry. Again it felt like Richmond park, and as we enjoyed the descent into suburban Fairfax very few of the lycra clad climbers would afford us a wave!

Our route took us off Sir Francis Drake Blvd and along quiet roads through San Anselmo, Ross, Kentfield and Larkspur. In Corte Madera, we went onto Corte Madera Ave which took us up a winding climb where much to our delight fully loaded we dusted a couple of other cyclists. Camino Alto brought us back down to Mill Valley where we joined a bike path along Richardson Bay . through Marin City. Turning onto Bridgeway Blvd a guy came alongside to say hello. He had also done the trip and taken 18 days!

In Sausalito Tim decided we should stop for coffee. My outfit (containing no matching lycra) was gaining funny looks as we plonked ourselves outside a trendy cafe. The first guy we then spoke to was from, of all places, Liverpool. He laughed at us for ordering tea, toast and jam.

Our ride along the Bay took us up more hills, culminating in our first views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Tim cycled straight past the sign saying 'NO CYCLIST' and almost onto the bridge! Illegally (although not as illegal as crossing the bridge on a bike I should imagine) we cycled back along the hard shoulder and onto the bike path to dodge all the rental bikes!

Our target was Bay Street in Fishermans Wharf. With no real idea where this was we headed in the general direction and much to luck we made it. Picking up the car included all the usual hassles. We weren't allowed a small environmentally less damaging car and instead had to have an SUV for our bikes! The insurance Tim had paid for hadn't been paid for and general cultural confusion ensued - 'Two countries divided by a common language.'

As I stood with the bikes an ex-bike courier called Tommy came up for a chat. I have to admit that I was talking for so long I was pretty ignorant to the hassles Tim was having.

Car sorted, and a stressed Tim I fed him coffee and cake before we set off with the least appropriately scaled map possible. Most surprisingly I managed to get us out of the city with only a couple of last minute swerves. The immediate terrain was dry and flat. As we left the sprawling metropolis, the distant hills were crowned with row upon row of wind turbines, majestically decorating the baron landscape.

A few hours later, past Oakdale, the queues in the opposite direction became longer and longer. RVs were replaced by trucks pulling speed boats, all stationary as we promptly became the only vehicle travelling in the opposite direction.

As we came into Stanislaus National Forest the road started t twist and climb. I couldn't switch off my cycling mind - pound down the hill to propel yourself up the other side - so much so that I began to feel queasy. The views of forested drops were amazing but I was struggling to enjoy them as I began to feel a little nauseous.

Once we hit Yosemite National Park the landscape was overwhelming. Nothing I can write would ever do justice to the what we were seeing. Out of the gloomy fog came Granite cliffs and pounding waterfalls, framing lush meadowland and rivers. As we continued to rise into the park, the awe inspiring views were unceasing.

The end of our trip took us into Curry Village - 100s of tents causing a blip in the landscape (although largely un-noticeable), like a UN camp. This would be home for the next two nights. Camping here is more like my previous experiences which don't stretch much further than Glastonbury festivals -toilets (albeit it with roofs) and a pizza place where we happily tucked into dinner whilst a couple of raccoons tried to terrorise us.