Friday, August 14, 2015

Highway 1, you're the only one for meeeeee

Cyclists I've met talk about hard days. A broken chain, flats (mr q had two flats simultaneously), rain, heat, asshole motorists, asshole motorcyclists, running out of food. 

Back home hard days are different. They are actually hard.

No matter how far I pedal on a given day, over how many mountains, it's still one of the best days of my life.
After climbing the coastal range out of Legget, and climbing it's bastard cousin, Lil Legget, you suddenly leave the redwoods and hit the coast and this is what you see.
I took this pic a few minutes ago, a few steps from my tent. I rode into Westport and picked up food and beer and chatted with fellow cyclist Olivia, from Victoria, BC. She just went solo, as well, when her traveling companion of a month went back home. She was not far behind me when I hit the coast, and very generously shared some water with me.

Talked to six fellow cyclists today. The ones who commented on Eureka all said it was a weird place. It was. Although Crescent City felt like Cali in ways, with Eureka/Arcata, it was California all up in your grill. Shitty, broken, unfriendly California. It's like the East Coast, but so beautiful. Drama at the campground, and the family next to me cursed profusely at each other and their children. The only other time I have heard that much familial swearing was in 2000, waiting outside New York City Hall for the Yankees victory parade to begin. 

There were two men who were walking and towing trailers. They had big beards and smoked rollies and drank Cokes. I asked them where they were going. South is what they said. 
Here is Mr Q dealing with his first of two simultaneous flats.

No comments:

Post a Comment