Thursday 29th and Friday 30th May 2008: San Francisco

Steep hills everywhere:

The frustrating thing about rest days, is that although your last clump of cycling days have been spent wistfully wishing for a lie in, when it comes to it you can't. Tim, however, seemed to manage it just fine as I enjoyed an hour of my book.

Thursday was spent wandering around downtown San Francisco. In an attempt to be lazy we enjoyed an open top tour bus after sitting relaxing in the sun in Union Square. This was an interesting affair due to the number of homeless guys that you get approached by but equally there was an opera singer and a human beat box.

On our way home we walked (accidentally) through the tenderloin to be met by details of a ladies bottom that I had no desire to see. We took the next right hand turn and up into Japantown.

We had tasty Tapas in Solstice on California and enjoyed the delights of a world edition of the Guardian!

On Friday we went for a stroll up to Coit Tower and then the winding Lombard Street, before crossing over to Alcatraz! We had intended on visiting the cinema this evening but as we saw the queues of ladies dressed to the nines for the 'Sex and City' premiere I felt a little put off as I was dressed in the same outfit I have been wearing for the past two months - maybe we will do this tomorrow evening!

The Coit Tower:

Lombard Street:

Alcatraz:

Wednesday 28th May 2008: Yosemite - San Francisco

Impressed with ourselves for being up and everything packed into the car by 7am, we went for breakfast. The chaos awaiting us, and frustratingly long queues just to get in had never even crossed our minds (even after we had seen how many people had been leaving the day before). Yosemite National Park is obviously an amzing place for kids to visit but do all 500 of them really have to have breakfast at 7am on the dot!



Leaving the park was as spectacular as our entrance. Entering San Francisco was stressful but nonetheless cheieved mishap free. Fuel tank full and bikes reloaded we tried to formulate a hill free ride to our hotel. Inone direction was Taylor Street and it's 4 steap peaks. In front of me was bay Street with a small climb and no inidication of what was over it. Eventually we decided to follow a bike route which took us along the Marina and up through the Presidio. Luckily this was gentle enough.



The sun was shining; San Francisco was free of it's infamous city fog and we had a room in a cute hotel called the Monte Cristo on Presidio Avenue. Our clothes stepped off us and marched of their own accord to the launderette, to return a few hours later. In the interim we had to wear our most stylish of outfits which consisted of those items least warranting fumigation. Clad so, we headed finally for a lunchtime cake. At 7, having missed lunch we devoured bread, pasta, tiramisu and wine 300ft from our hotel in Osteria on Sacramento, where our waitor told us he was about to have brain surgery - I sincerely hope this was not a ploy to get a bigger tip.

Tuesday 27th May 2008: U.N. Deployment

I woke at 6:30 to find practically the whole campsite up and at it. Craziness. I got back into bed, rising at 8 to see lines of people walking away from breakfast - perfect!

Our plan for the day was to to complete an 8mile bike loop, stopping off at trails we could complete with bike shoes on. 30 seconds after we started we came to the Mist Trail where we hiked up to the top of Vernal Fall. I hadn't realised it was rated as strenuous, and was wandering why people all around looked ready to collapse. As we approached the fall, we started to get drenched - slippery granite and bike cleats are not a great mix.

Tim started to get impatient with people slowly scaling the climb, clinging on for dear life. To top it off I kept stopping to take a million photos. The way down was like a comedy sketch - I must have waited for 50 or 60 people to pass me on the 10m drop from the top. All were so knackered that they barely noticed I was hanging over a rail onto a shear drop to let them pass. I finally saw a two second gap which I took. As I ran past a couple they told me to be careful! On meeting Tim he asked if I was going to let the squirrels go past too! People were like charging bulls, not willing to stop as I leaped out of their way to teeter on the rocky edges.

An hour and a half later we reached the bottom - the lady at the start had told us it would be at least a 3 hour round trip so we were surprised and chuffed that we had been so athletic. As it began to cool down, however our smugness was repaid with sore muscles.

Back on the route we went up to Mirror lake where we were warned there was a steep climb, which did not come to fruition. We went for a tramp around the lake, taking a wrong turn just as I realised it was 6 hours since we last ate! We of course found the road again and had to walk back up the 'steep' climb to retrieve our bikes.

Our next stop was Yosemite village for lunch, the Ansel Adams gallery and Yosemite museum. As we pulled up to to Yosemite Fall we bumped into Peter, the German guy who we had met in Gualala. He scoffed at people for people paying crazy amounts to essentially camp in Curry Village - as it started to rain we kept quiet that we were glad to have such shelter with then weather closing in.

We completed the loop, through meadowland and across the Merced River just as the skies started to really open. As we climbed into our tent and then our warm beds, we were couldn't help but me relieved that we weren't in our two man nook of a tent.

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.

Day 28: Santa Rosa - Samuel P Taylor State Park, 90km

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!

Day 27: Healdsburg - Santa Rosa

This morning we had the breakfast from hell with too many screaming children. Tim scorched the toast to be met with a lot of glares. We were beginning to wander how fun memorial weekend would be!

Tim led me astray and took me for a tour and wine tasting in the Simi winery. A great couple from New York (the girl was called Kendra) and their friend were intrigued to find out what we were up to and they appeared to be on the same level of wine tasting experience as ourselves.

Cool cork tree:

The tour was fascinating, as much as the origins of the business were interesting and the wine tasting at the end of the session was of course well received. Feeling a little sozzled we wobbled back into Healdsburg and grabbed sandwiches in the downtown bakery.

We then managed the 30km of cycling to take us into Santa Rosa and out the other side to a campsite. California state parks are nothing like the Oregon equivalents - the North-South divide exists here too - there were no signs or indications on the map as to which side we could enter. Left or right - we chose left - 20 mins later we were a few hundred metres from the right hand turn we could have taken. Of course when we got there is was memorial weekend so all the pitches were full and apparently there was no hiker/biker section. Luckily a park warden took pity on us and they let us in to a site that was closed - I can only imagine why this was so.

Derek rang and we cycled back into Santa Rosa to meet him and his girlfriend, Jen for dinner and some art. They took us to a great Indian where Tim got to exercise his preferred form of bird watching due to the Saturday night belly dancer. One guy was so mesmerised he was almost on top of the poor girl. I'm sure his Dad had a great evening out with him - ogling and conversation not being a combination of tasks possible to most guys.

As we left, Jen and Derek navigated us through the dark back streets of Santa Rosa in search of beer. We met up with some of their friends in a cool bar playing live music. Back on the road I wandered if Jen and Derek were in fact axe murderers, preying on naive tourists as we passed under the freeway and what looked for a while like out of town. They laughed but did not dispel the suggestion. We popped out in the downtown area and up to a bar with numerous bikes outside. It was difficult not to get jealous of all the single speeds, although I am not sure I would have been able to make it over into the lost coast on one!

Derek's friend Chris had an art installation in the bar but it was so small they wouldn't let us in. We hung around outside, forming the new kitchen party on the pavement for a while then decided we should head back to camp.

Safely back at the campsite we realised quite how terrible our back ups were when there were no street lights to help them out!

Day 26: Flying Goats and Idle Cyclists.

Yesterday we realised this coming weekend was Memorial weekend. In our heads we had likened this to remembrance Sunday, but it transpires here it is a 3 day holiday celebrated with weekends away and shopping. As a result, cycling into Healdsburg in the wine country and expecting to find 2 nights accommodation was a little far fetched.

The route from Guerneville to Healdsburg was a welcomed change from the coastline. The roads were lined with vineyards and mountain backdrops, whilst the roads allowed for very easy cycling. In fear of not finding somewhere to stay we cycled along Westside Drive and into the visitor centre, with every intention of cycling around the area pannier free. The Best Western was our only choice after endless phone calls so we agreed to camp in Santa Rosa the following evening.

Decamped in our room, we were overwhelmed with laziness. Having ditched the bikes, we headed back into town which had a centre a little too trendy for the likes of us two. We ate lunch Costeaux French Bakery cafe then lazed around int he book and bike shops. On Derek's recommendation we went to the Flying Goat Cafe where we read for an hour or so until Tim disappeared, only to reappear having had his hair trimmed.

With wine tasting on the cards tomorrow we figured we should try the local ale in the Bear Republic Brewing Co. which we washed down with tasty tapas in Willi's seafood.

Cool horse that we saw along the freeway:

Day 25: Gualala - Guerneville, 80km

The raccoons in Gualala were obviously party animals and early in the morning we woke to hear a stampede running around our tents. Of course I was happiest with this notion, as opposed to any other that I could concoct. The site was next to a river in an area well sheltered by slender trees. When the wind picked up, it sounded like we were back on the highway with traffic droning past us, and every so often there was a crack, silence, then a thud as branches chose their targets. Regardless, I slept well and we woke to an unharmed tent.


Back on hwy 1 we passed Sea Ranch which I think is a holiday resort. It is one of the biggest conurbations we have passed and yet, uninvitingly every road was labelled 'private' and 'no trespassing'. As we cycled through Stewarts Point and Fort Ross it was clear the high winds of yesterday had quelled , and yet they still took me off guard a few times.


Between Fort Ross and Jenner the road hugged the coastline, a few 100ft up. Reaching the top of a tiny climb, Tim decided to relieve his saddle pressure, hence grinding almost to a stop. At the same time we passed a car with its handcuffed occupant being dragged out by a gun wielding police officer. We carried on pedalling.


Before Jenner we had a long drop but the gusts of wind were still bothering me. I am obviously far less hardy than I thought or would like to admit. In Jenner we stopped at a restaurant claiming to have fine dining 0 Tim looked at me and I smelt Tim - I'm not sure they would have let us in. A lovely lady gave us great directions to a cafe further along our route so off we went towards Duncans Mills, heading for the wine country.


Derek had given us great directions (and suggestions) and as we pulled onto Moscow off hwy 116 we saw our first cafe of the day. The pastries were so good and lunch so late incoming that we had more than one.


Basking in the sunshine we lounged for a while. Derek had mentioned a bar called the pink elephant in Monte Rio, but as we passed it a few minutes later we decided we didn't deserve yet more rests.


At Guerneville we stopped at the visitor centre. I had suggested 4 walls and a roof for the evening and Tim agreed, booking us into Fern Grove Cottages. We were met by a funny lady who was friendly as ever but full of the usual woeful tales that locals seem to feel the need to tell us - run over cyclists and runners! It is funny that people don't seem to think we understand the brevity of cycling on American highways... She did however recommend a great place for dinner - the Garden Grill, although she had to warn us it wasn't gourmet!


As we walked up to the restaurant, Tim stood across the road not too impressed: 'It looks like a fast food joint' he said. As we entered we were met by a trendy organic type. The burgers were handmade and the only thing fast about them was the speed at which they disappeared from our plates.


A couple on the next table started asking us what we were up to. As we ordered a second helping of the most amazing cheesecake everybody laughed. The couple (two ladies) were keen to tell us they had their pyjamas on and were impressed to find out that English students had carved out such a fashion to address their morning laziness in getting to lectures.

Day 24: Mendocino - Gualala Point Regional Park, 85km

For the last few days of cycling, I have felt something was stuck under my brake pads. On conclusion that I was simply less fit then hoped for, I ignored the nuisance and cycled on. Before leaving Mendocino, however, we popped into Catch a canoe and Bicycles too, to pick up some sexy fluorescent vests. On putting a pump to my rear wheel I found I only had 50psi in it - I may as well have been towing an RV behind me.

From Mendocino we cycled along Hwy 1 through Little River, Albion and Elk. The route was undulating and the coastline littered with inlets which dropped us down to sea level and raised us up again. Although there was a very strong wind behind us, there must be a weather phenomenon (funnelling maybe) when the wind hits an inlet. The result of which whips the wind around onto your side, ending in a strong head wind as you try to mount the small climb out of it. By Manchester, I had lost count of the number of times I had taken full possession of the road to account for any random swerving or at worst tumbles.

The views of course remained spectacular, as the route alternated between farmland and clifftop, but at Anchor bay I have to admit my nerves were shot. The topography was great for cycling but the wind was almost terrifying.

At Gualala we collapsed into a cafe, Trinks, and considered camping v motel. Tim dutifully scoped out the campsite - there were hot showers - and then the motels - none of which were less than 100 bucks. Decision made.

On the way to the campsite we stopped into Surf Supermarket for supplies. As Tim stocked up on essentials - wine and chocolate - another cyclist pulled up. Our fellow traveller turned out To be a student called Derek who was cycling home from Humboldt university to Santa Rosa. We spent the rest of the evening gleaning every drop of local knowledge we could. As we sat there munching away on our tinned tuna and strawberries from Mexico, I felt mildly guilty as we delved into Derek's sustainable outlook on life.

With the evening drawing in another guy called Peter Joined us. I am not too sure about his story - he was German and spoke a lot - but he had no tent or camping gear. He had a bike and a car in which he was sleeping, and it turned out he was living on bagels and MacDonald's!

As we sat around a camp fire we started to talk about all the bikes we owned. We were happy to find out both guys had more bikes than us although I am unsure if theirs had to fit into a 1 bed flat!

Tuesday 20th May: Trendy Mendo

Today I got up at 6am. With maximum strength coffee in me I spent an hour or so on the Internet, and then crawled back into bed. In an attempt to stay active we walked along the coastline of Mendocino. The fog of yesterday had cleared, although strong gusts of wind followed us around attempting to push us into the ocean at every available moment.

Halfway round, like a couple of lazy old dears, we decided to cower in a rocky cove, and watch the ferocity of the ocean, free from the buffeting of the wind. Obviously taken by the moment, free from the daily grind we started to bird watch. Like stealth fighters, four large birds flew towards us with a straggler at the rear. Now neither of us are twitchers - not in the conventional sense any way - but as they hovered stationary above us aloft on their thermal, their long beaks and scrunched up necks appeared familiar. Sadly my photography skills exist a rung or two below my bird knowledge. Although I had the strength to run up from the cove, as they glided effortlessly not even a metre from us, I flapped trying to look up and aim a camera simultaneously - the problem only compounded by Tim's infamous grasp on left and right.

Are these maybe pelicans?

Apart from this excitement, our day was spent wandering from one purveyor of coffee to the next, with breaks in between for lunch at the Moosse Cafe and dinner at Cafe Mendocino.

Day 23: Standish Hickey - Mendocino, 90km

In an attempt to miss the heat of the day we got up at 5:30 and left not long after 6:30. Finally the temperature was a good 20 degrees lower and in true British style I now found myself wishing it was little hotter.

Past Leggett we climbed for 5 miles as we turned onto hwy 1 for the first time. We had been told so many horror stories about the road, which generally ended terminally but before 7am we enjoyed traffic free bliss. The climb was almost fun and the descent the best yet. The road surface was perfect and the bend more like chicanes than hairpins allowing for little dissipation of speed.

Towards the bottom we came into our first sea fog, and the temperature plummeted. We were in thick woodland and it was so remote it felt more like a rainforest than the sunshine state. In comparison to peoples negative comments of the road, I felt mildly spooked by the lack of fellow human life. Cycling through Rockport with its population of zero just compounded my feeling of unease.

After about 25 miles and a solid 2 mile climb, we came along the shoreline. I am sure there was a view to be had, but we would have to have been 2ft from each sea stack to enjoy it. Into Westport the road started to undulate and a lack of sleep (10m from us last night was a lady who sounds like Janice from Friends - it was difficult to zone out once I had tuned into this thought) and 30 miles of cycling before 9am caught up with me. I needed chocolate, or a motor, or both, so we stopped in a motel advertising espresso.

The next 30 minutes were brilliant. We were taken in by a guy in his 80s who fed us coffee and homemade biscotti, whilst amusing us with a dancing George W Bush doll in his living room. At 82 the guys was 10 times more lucid than Tim or I after a mere 30 miles of cycling.

I wish we had stayed there all day. Instead I realised I needed more air on my tyres and rest in my legs. Yesterdays legs of jelly had turned to Blancmange and tumbling terrain with it's white backdrop was tougher than it should have been. Through Cleone we came to Fort Bragg where we stopped again for coffee. Fort Bragg seemed pretty cool in parts and in the cafe I was fed 'Rapid Transit' coffee which promised to get me everywhere fast! I thought it was fitting although a little hopeful.

Back on the road, hwy 1 became a bone shaker where they had ripped the macadam off. It was pretty effective at keeping me awake, especially as I tried to dodge cliff sized ruts trimming the road edge. Our route took us past Caspar and into Mendocino where we were told we could get great views from the hotel out over the ocean. Sadly the only views we could see reminded me of white outs in Whistler.

Waking this morning I got up early to come and edit the blog. To my delight the fog had lifted allowing for photos of the bay and a day off the bike with views ;-)

Day 22: Myers Flat - Standish Hickey State Park, 70km

Breakfast in the hotel was served at about 9 so we elected for a late start and a well deserved lie in. When there is a heat wave, however, such a notion is a little daft. Nonetheless we enjoyed our first fry ups whilst chatting to a couple from San Francisco.

Nearing 11am, and the hottest part of the day, we set off. The heat seemed to be relenting but it was still in the 90s. Cycling along the Avenue of the Giants (hwy 254) we passed Miranda and Phillipsville, when we passed back onto 101 and into the direct glare of the sun. I felt like a basted turkey it was so hot, and the sun-tan lotion in the eyes was a constant hindrance.


Just before Garberville we endured a 2 mile climb - it was nothing to write home about after our recent exploits, although I would a liken it to a spinning class in a Swedish sauna minus the nudity and 80s pop. At Garberville we did a shop, having found a store with fresh fruit for the first time in over 100 miles.

Past Benbow we again left 101, snaking over and under it along a minor road. On paper we were cycling up the smallest of gradients and yet if felt like someone had snapped my legs of and spliced them with leg shaped jelly. The shade was nowhere to be found as the heat brought us to our knees. If ever there was a meal to be made we were making it as each blip brought us to our knees.

The route rejoined 101, to leave again onto hwy 271 through Cooks Valley and Piercy. It was frustrating to keep leaving what felt like a direct route but as joined 101 for the final stint up to Standish Hickey we realised why. The road was winding, with no hard shoulder and rammed full of weekend traffic, hell bent on knocking us off. Within a minute I could hear an RV thundering up behind me. I felt comfortable that with a bend coming he (it had to be) would slow down. The very notion was ridiculous. Having moved out a mm, I could feel him brush my panniers as the passenger stuck out their arm and pulled in the wing mirror to avoid Tim.

At such moments the fight or flight hormone either stuns you into silence as you watch the unfolding events in slow motion, or it incenses you. I wouldn't say either of the two options dominates, but was happy to realise that as my eyes squeezed shut, my mouth opened wide...

On Confusion Hill we saw a cola sign and careered off the road to get an icy cold drink. As we crawled to a stop the owner haughtily told us to move our bikes to the other side of his benches. Hmm.

We concluded we had 3 miles until the campground. 6 miles later we were still pedalling. Our reward, however was a really cool shop across the road from our place of rest which served beers and stocked eclectic books about mushrooms and cannabis..

Day 21: Petrolia - Myers Flat (Lost Coast), 75km

After the heat of yesterday, we aimed to leave at 7am in an attempt to beat some of the heat. However, rising from the cool haven of our bed the thermometer already read 70F - I'm not sure how much heat we were actually beating...

To complete the Lost Coast loop, we headed to Honeydew, following a relatively flat road along the Mattole River. Sure, there was climb at the start but it was a mere pimple in comparison to the day before - and the undulations went unnoticed. Out of Honeydew the fun began. It wasn't even 9am and yet it was baking hot - perfect weather for 9 miles of climb. With every bend, I tricked myself into believing the climb was over, but like an oasis in the desert there was no such luck.

The first 5 miles were a test but moderate at most. The final 3.5 miles though were almost enjoyable. At one point I had to ask if we were still climbing as my speedo was easily reading over 20km/hr. As we reached the top of Catheys Peak the views of the surrounding peaks, shrouded in trees went on for miles. It was easy to forget any pain or heat in exchange for these views.



From Panther Gap, the road brought us down to the Humboldt Redwoods state park, where just as we began to drop I caught a glimpse of a dark cat with a long tail. Later we both wondered if this could have been a cougar.

Once down into the woodlands, the road surface was horrendous. The fun bit was dealing with potholes you couldn't see in the dappled sunlight, but at noon we turned onto the Avenue of the Giants and pulled into the state park visitor centre to top up our water and check the facilities in the next campsite (you have to have a shower at the end of these days..). Sadly we couldn't stop there as the route had been so remote that we had no food for camping.

At Myers Flat we stopped outside the grocery store. Across the road was Myers Inn. The temperature had to be reaching 100F and in a moment of weakness and as a feeble reward for the 8500ft of climbing we had just undergone, we checked into a air conditioned room where we hid, watching hours of the discovery channel ;-)

Day 20: Ferndale - Petrolia, 47km.

A man's work is never done...

Tim, in an attempt to prove men can multi-task, took his dish washing up a hill with him. At 1pm we pulled into Petrolia, to find a thermometer reading 98F. There was no way I was going to cycle any further.

From Ferndale we followed a 7 mile climb along Mattole Road which brought us out into open prairies. The sun was so ferocious that we both donned long sleeves whilst praying we would enjoy the solace of shade at some point soon.

Suddenly the road gave us a steep descent towards Capetown. It was barely enjoyable due to the extent of potholing and steep narrow bends. At Capetown, sprayed on the floor was 'Don't puke now'. 5 minutes later we struggled up the steepest climb i think I have ever seen in my life. Although it was only 1.5 miles long, at some points you had to cycle along the yellow line in the middle to avoid the debilitating camber at the edge of the road, willing you to fall off. The camber was so severe, that when trying to get out of it and around the corner, you could feel the front of the bike pulling away from the road in an attempt to up end you. For the first time I was using my granny ring and wishing i had some gears left! The route, it transpires, is called the Lost Coast as it is so mountainous they couldn't get a highway over it!

The road brought us down again, past Cape Mendocino and onto our first flat of the day along the lost coast. Here we found a big rock which had two inches of shade and there I cowered!

For the next 7 miles maybe we enjoyed flat undulations, until we peeled away from the coast and inland up towards Petrolia. The gradient at this point was a lot friendlier but after the climbs to date and heat of midday I may as well have been climbing Mt. Everest on 700 x 20s.

From the peak of our climb (500ft), we let go of the brakes, as our tyres married with the freshly laid road, and cycled into Petrolia not so much tired form the effort but from the heat.

On seeing our first shop of the day (yes - even in America food can be a trip away) we downed icy cold water and Pepsi. Apparently looking the least disheveled of the pair - Tim with a dishcloth on his head and me looking like a french onion seller - I was sent to find lodgings. 10 minutes later I had secured us the only room in the place, at the Lost Inn. I guess they don't have people staying that frequently, as Gail told me to come back in an hour so she could sort out the room!
Decamped outside the local store, we spent the next hour speaking to probably every individual that lived in the village. We even bumped into a guy who recognised us from the day before. Finally in our room we spent the afternoon lying in star shapes.

Day 19: Patricks Point State Park - Ferndale, 90km

Strangely, half way through the night I had to peal off both my pairs of socks, two jumpers and unzip my sleeping bag. When we got up I walked around in shorts and a vest. By 10am it was touching 95F. 60 miles later we had cycled through the first day of a heat wave.

The day started with another off road experience. Past Trinidad we continued onto Trinidad Scenic Road even though it clearly stated the road was closed. For 3 or 4 miles I tried desperately to take in the views whilst skidding on rubble. At one point the road looked like the edge of the world. As we cycled to the edge like intrepid explorers, we met a big concrete barrier and a gap just big enough to force the bike and load through! I haven't been so glad to rejoin 101.

Our route took us through the back streets of McKinleyville where we stopped for iced coffee. With great intelligence I left my bike in the sun - 20 minutes later you could have fried an egg on my saddle. As I doused saddle in water you could see steam raise off it...., OK maybe not but i could have imagined it.

Between McKinleyville and Arcata we followed a bike path through farmland. There is nothing like the smell of cow shit in 100 degree heat. Arcata (or what we saw of it) seemed quite cool, if only because we must have seen 50 cyclists and numerous bike lanes.

Snaking through yet more suburbia we skirted around Eureka, ending with a short climb around the golf course which woke us up in comparison to the relatively flat route so far. Back on hwy 101 the heat was stifling - so much so that it was more desirable to keep pedalling and enjoy the air flow over us.

Our journey took us from one side of 101 to the other - why cycle 2 miles when you can cycle 10 - until a steep climb up to Loleta and a nice descent to Fernbridge. Finally we turned onto 211 and dragged our sorry selves into Ferndale.

All at once we spotted beer, pizza and accommodation (Francis Creek Inn). Plonking ourselves down in the shade outside Ferndale Pizza Co, the table next to us (Cathy and Tim) started a conversation about mad cyclists. It turned out they lived in a ranch 5 miles from Ferndale, which they invited us to visit. 10 extra miles in this heat was not a plan however than we fancied completing. I had a funny moment when farming chat ensued - Tim mentioned cycling past a farmer who was piling this years silage on top of last years. They all laughed hysterically, as did I if only because I didn't have a clue of the relevance.

Day 18: Jedediah Smith redwood State Park - Patricks Point State Park, 108km

The word to describe today has to be 'climbing'. Out of the campsite this morning we dutifully followed the route given to us by the visitor centre guy. 10 miles later we arrived at hwy 101, just in time for a 4 mile climb. I can't tell you much about the scenery but I can tell you Tim was mightily bored of the sound of my voice. David Bowie - ground control to major TIM; Tina Turner - you're simply the best; Queen - we are the champions; Queen - I want to ride my bicycle. Apparently one of the first signs of dehydration is delirium.

Promptly after the first climb, came a quick succession of shorter ones, of equally punishing proportions. Although the climbs weren't really too tough, tiredness began to set in after a few hours of it! Coming into Del Norte Redwoods State Park we eventually got a steep descent, bringing us back to the coast and a sea fog, which luckily disappeared before we reached it. At Klamath we stopped for snacks as we had nothing with us.

Having successfully directed us to hwy 101 this morning we decided to follow the directions of our visitor centre guy again. 10 miles of climbing later, along hard packed gravel - which we soon meant a hard surface covered in loose gravel - we rejoined our original route. For the first time we had to get off and push our bikes. I swear the road was vertical - so much so that when I tried to push my bike (and the skinny tyres i had opted for), I had to side step whilst dragging it from the saddle. I couldn't stop laughing it was such a ridiculous detour.

On Newton B Drury Parkway the road just continued to climb. As I was yet again cussing the lonely planets for not mentioning this climb, it leveled out through a prairie until we reached Orick, where Tim dived into Palm Cafe - the first eatery we had passed all day - and scoffed a dirty burger!

Hours after we had started the day we cycled past Store Lagoon and Big Lagoon until Patricks Point State Park. Disheveled from the baking heat we hunted down the hiker/biker section where we set up camp, only to find we were next to a school of kids! Suddenly we had to queue for the showers behind 17 year olds doing their make-up. Of course I wasn't at all jealous their days could afford such a luxury.

As the sun was going down, I enjoyed the silence of no kids hanging around and Tim went off to hunt down the sunset:

Day 17: Gold Beach - Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park, 87km

I realised today, that for the past 16 days of cycling, I have been hoping that Tim would use his love of pointing to indicate the imminent potholes as opposed to the conspicuous ;-) Just as he was pointing out a 30ft stack in the middle of an empty field I went thud over a big crater - my poor baby (the bike that is;-))

Today we passed from the inner sanctum of the promised land (Curry county in Oregon where I had dreamt there would be lots of curry) into California after a couple of hours of relentless climbing. The views were continual, and as we worked our way up the terrain we kept stopping to grab our last looks out along the Oregon coastline.



Brookings led to Harbor where we turned off hwy 101 onto ocean View Drive, stopping for coffee and lunch in Salty Dog Cafe. As per the norm now, everyone was interested in the mad Irishman buying snacks in a bike helmet, and offered many suggestions for our route.

Rejoining 101 briefly we crossed the state line, shortly before turning off the highway again onto Ocean View Drive. For the first time since starting our tour, we felt stagnant heat. Watching the weather this morning we saw f0recasts of 90-95F in the next couple of days and already we could feel the difference.

As the sun beat down on us, we cycled through Smith River, taking a detour on hwy 197. The next city along 101 is Crescent City which has little more to offer than a prison and the families of it's inmates. Appealing as this seemed, we headed for Jedediah Smith State park to take in some redwoods.


The park was the setting for the Return of the Jedi, which Tim has just told me he hasn't seen! I think it is in the scenes with the Ewok village and where they have a chase through woods on some sort of flying machines.... The funniest thing about this is before we knew about the filming, Tim had kept getting tongue tied, calling it Jedi state park! Brilliant - we couldn't stop laughing.

Tim went to the visitor centre to find out how to get back onto hwy 101 and the guy ended up planning an amazing route (we hope) to get us all the way to Healdsburg and copious amounts of wine. I guess we will find out tomorrow how good his route is.