but I ignored it, as I knew I’d have plenty of time later, to dry out all my stuff. There was a pretty heavy stream of clouds coming out of the Golden Gate, beyond the town of Stinson to the south. I hoped they wouldn’t be sitting on any of the hills I planned to ascend. I didn’t see it last night, but at the further end of the lot, there was a small sign that said ‘no camping.’ Well, I don’t consider what I do really camping per se; I call it ‘overnighting,’ as I don’t light a fire, or cook food, or lounge around enjoying the scenery (much). I just set up my tent, hop inside, and after a while, go to sleep. Then in the morning, I get up before sunrise, break down, and am out of there without
bothering anyone, and usually, without anyone even knowing I was there. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I’m sure by now, you’re quite familiar with my modus operandi, but I might not have ever explained how I justify my actions, which are admittedly not necessarily aligned to the letter of the law, but are so harmless, it’s hard to imagine anyone being even more than mildly irritated. Except, of course, for Mr. Pecs (Day Eighty-seven).
seen before (I’m very familiar with this town, as I fly my hang glider from nearby Mt. Tamalpais, and land on the beach, here.) I stopped in at the mini mart, but they wouldn’t open until 8am, so I just pushed on.
and could see the Farallon Islands away off in the ocean to the west. I continued to slowly work my way up this mountain, and quickly enough took off my jacket because as cold as it was, I was starting to sweat. I topped the mountain at 8:50am, and had a nice coasting ride all the way down into Marin City, where I stopped for breakfast at the Shorline Coffee Shop. I ordered eggs, toast, hot cocoa and hash browns ($13), and ate from about 9:15am to 10am. From there, I went into Sausalito to look for the route into the Ft. Baker Military Reservation that Street Atlas said was there, but for the last time, it tried to take me straight up a super-steep hill. On
consulting with a local, I found out the route I wanted to find was a road that literally turned into a set of stairs. Hokay. I gave up on that route, and just took the road/bicycle route out of Sausalito towards the Golden Gate Bridge. It was getting pretty late in the morning – almost noon, by now. I had posted in my blog that I expected to finish some time between 1pm and 3pm, and I thought I’d better not try to get into the military reservation, or I’d be late. Along the way, though, I re-discovered the tunnel road that led into the military reservation (I’d been on it before, but coming from the other direction), and decided I could still make it without being too late. So, I rode the easy path that included a cycle lane, through the tunnel and into the military reservation. From there, I was able to find the road that would take me up and over the small mountain to the south Marin headlands, which has these amazing views of the GG Bridge and San Francisco. The grade was moderately steep, and shorter than I remembered, so I reached the top a lot quicker than I thought. I stopped to take some pictures and set up my helmet cam, and then continued down the steep road to the cyclist entry of the Golden Gate Bridge. I thought I might have to navigate some stairs getting onto the sidewalk that I would ride across, but either they changed it to make it easier, or I just forgot how easy it was, but all I had to do was ride through a large parking lot filled with cars and other cyclists (getting a lot of smiles as I whizzed past), and then zipped up and onto the bridge’s pedestrian and cycle path. I crossed the mid-span of the GG Bridge at 12:50pm, took some pictures, and headed down into Ft. Point to greet my family and friends.
in the hills go into an extended chorus, cows mooing in the field (also across the road), and a couple of hoot owls this morning. Sure is a noisy neighborhood, around here. Early on along the way, I saw a vulture soar cross the crescent Moon, forming a kind of mystic ‘x’ in the sky. When I got to the town of Jenner, I stopped from 8:50am to 9:04am for a mini mart breakfast of hot cocoa, muffin and Danish + food items ($10). I continued down the coast, stopping now and then to take pictures. Passing through Bodega Bay, I made certain the birds weren’t acting strangely (see Alfred Hitchcock’s movie, The Birds). I stopped at an internet café in Tomales for lunch at 12:40am, where I got a hot pastrami sandwich and soda ($11), and posted the ETA to the blogsite, as promised. I continued on at 2:04pm; the sky was still mostly clear, but now had a thin, high layer of cirrus clouds that filtered the Sun a bit. I had now entered the first, somewhat familiar terrain I’d seen since leaving Seattle, having been this far north along the coast once before, long ago, and stopped in Pt. Reyes from 3:45pm – 4:05pm to get ice cream
($3) at the grocery store. (Actually, I *did* visit the coast near Mendocino once, on an outing from my former boss’ Joe A’s home in Comptche – he would invite his staff there every now and then just for the fun of it. I didn’t recognize the area, though.) Back in Pt. Reyes, I also visited the used book store to trade in my old book (Mutation), and got another thin book: Six Arguments for Atheism ($6) – ought to be interesting.
pretty good – by the time I did get to just before Stinson, the sun had already set, but it was twilight, and still light enough for me to see the road and surrounding land fairly well. I found a semi-large lot off the side of the road at about 5:20pm, with a couple of piles of debris, one of which I could hide behind enough to go unnoticed by the drivers passing by (N37 55.856’ W122 41.340’). I parked behind the bigger pile, and waited for it to get darker. Once it did, I set up my tent, cloaked my trike, and was inside by 5:55pm with food, soda, and new book. I recorded the daily stats before munching, drinking, and reading, and went to sleep by 8:15pm. Tomorrow, I knew I’d be doing some mountain climbing, but I’ve done these hills before, and as I recalled, they weren’t too terribly bad. Of course, there were a lot of differences between the last time I did this route, and now: I was at least 15 years younger the last time I did them, but my legs weren’t nearly as developed as they are, now; but I wasn’t hauling an 80 lb. load back then, either; but my old bike didn’t have the low gears this trike has. Overall, I thought it
should be pretty easy, and should go fairly quick. We’ll see. You know, for a Friday the thirteenth, this one wasn’t bad.
6:49am. A slight breeze blew, but the big surprise was that clear sky; I wasn’t expecting that. From the weather predictions I got while up at the 3Ps, I thought it would be at least partly cloudy or even a bit of rain. I guess heading south got me out of the cold front’s path, except I thought I took that into account by checking weather forecasts for points down along the coast. Anyways, I wasn’t complaining. I stopped in the town of Elk from 8:15am to 8:41am for a breakfast of eggs, toast, and hot cocoa ($10) at Queenie’s Roadside Café. I talked a while with a local, Brett, who owns a house that is almost right on the edge of an escarpment facing the ocean – lucky guy. We
chatted about my trip, and I gave him a tip on how to view more green flashes (use binoculars just before the last bit of Sun disappears). Continuing on, the Sun was now shining brightly, but it was still very cool, out. I would have to start using my face mask, again, to keep the UV off me. I stopped for 10 minutes at 10am to do my civic duty, and picked up dozens of nails and U-tacks that some knucklehead dropped on the road – each one a potential flat for cars and cyclists. I threw them into the bushes, out of harms way, and noticed they were a bit rusty, so they must have been there at least a week. I was a bit disappointed that no one else bothered to take a few minutes to pick up those nails and prevent innocent people from getting flat tires. Not always, but every now and then, I pick up or shove off debris from the shoulders. Of course, being so close to the ground makes this possible.
countdown, making the situation much more urgent than it was, just by the power of a thought. It’s even worse if the anticipated bathroom is for some reason unavailable. There you are, ready to blast off, and the launch pad is gone. I thought up an (I think) original expression for situations like that: “When the chocolate dogs come scratching at the back door, the hounds must be released!” It’s a bit crude, I know, but it’s just so true. If you’re truly strong, you can pucker up with Herculean effort and delay the launch, but it’s tough. Do those Kegel exercises!
The whole day had been beautifully clear with mild temps, and even a light breeze out of the north (a tailwind - yes!) The terrain was still relatively tough – always some degree of up or down, and as described yesterday, there were lots of those fingers of water that poked inland, creating short but steep descents and ascents. As evening approached, I found a reasonably good stealth campsite at 4:45pm (N38 30.870’ W123 14.408’). This site seemed to be an historic cemetery, perhaps associated with the historic fort complex (Ft. Ross, as I found out later) several hundred yards to the north, across a ravine. It had odd-looking crosses to mark the graves. There weren’t any signs saying ‘keep out,’ or ‘private property,’ or anything else, and there was an opening in the low picket fence that I could *just* barely squeeze my trike through, which I did. I then waited about 15 minutes to watch the sunset on the ocean. I could hear children playing at the fort, but it was several hundred yards away, and I didn’t see any lights from buildings, or any people, so I figured I was pretty safe, there. There were clouds on the horizon, so even with binoculars, I only saw some hints of the green flash as the Sun went below the somewhat sharply defined clouds. I continued to wait about another 20-30 minutes for it to get darker before setting up my tent as far from the road as possible, without making myself too visible to the caretaker occupants of the fort. I finished setting up at 5:50pm and hopped in by 6pm to munch, drink soda, and finish my book (this one was a pretty quick read). I now had less than 90 miles to San Francisco, which meant doing two 45 mile days, if I took it slow and easy. If I went my usual pace, I could probably make it back to my Start Point by late morning or early afternoon of Saturday, November 14th. I would wait until most of tomorrow to verify my progress, before getting online to post my ETA for the hoards of my adoring fans (all ten of ‘em) who wanted to be there when I arrived.
(things are pretty expensive on the coast). Now that I could see the sky, again, I noticed a medium-thick, high overcast; the Sun shone faintly through it sometimes, but not a patch of blue. The terrain along the coast was a lot flatter – there were still *some* meager hills to contend with, but nothing major. However, every time there was a spot along the coast where a finger of water poked into the land, the road would always follow the outline of that ‘finger,’ and turn inland, go steeply downhill, turn sharply around the tip of the finger, and go steeply uphill, before following along the coast, again. There must have been dozens of these, and they were a pain, as in, “ouch!” me poor legs. The real insult was not being able to use the momentum gained from doing the downhill speed-up, due to the sharp turn back out towards the ocean. I had to brake to make the corner, I’d flip the trike. A tour-loaded bicycle would perhaps do a little better in these instances, but not by much, I don’t think.
meal deal ($8) while I charged up my notebook and answered email (there was a working wi-fi signal there – I love it when that happens). I left at 3pm, and continued down the coast, stopping once to get a bit more food and drink for the evening ($3)
drinks, and also picked up an interesting, scallop-shaped Andean ocarina flute (I like flutes), just for the heck of it ($10), and continued on. I stopped at Garberville at 10am to get a mini mart breakfast of hot cocoa, and a couple of pre-packaged pastries ($3), and to recharge my notebook. The next time I stopped, it was at a mini mart in Leggett where I got a late lunch (burger and food/drink items - $12) at 2:20pm, and left at 3:02pm. From here, my route split off to the southwest from Hwy 101 onto Hwy 1; it was a bit of a climb – up almost a thousand feet in elevation through dense forest on narrow, winding road, before it began to go downhill,
again. Traffic was very light, though, so I didn’t have any problems.
keep the water from seeping into and soaking my shirt. Of course, since the design was a zipperless, waterproof pull-over with sealed neck and cuffs, I got a little steamy underneath it from my exertions, but nothing like the soaking wet of seeping rainwater. Whenever it wasn’t raining, I’d open up the collar seal and get a bit of flow-through ventilation, which helped keep me from getting drenched by my own sweat. (I would have liked to have tested this garment further, but wouldn’t you know it: that was the last rain I would get for the rest of the trip.) The only thing I purchased this day was a soda ($2) which I saved for the evening.
highway – an amazing forest of gigantic trees, some more than three hundred feet high. I had plenty of time to look at them, as the route was mostly rolling hills – this being a major highway, they weren’t steep, but could be long. On the uphills, my goggles would fog up, so I just took them off – the Sun wasn’t shining, and there wasn’t any wind, to speak of. No reason to be half blind in the middle of all this natural beauty.
stealth camp. I took an exit just past Miranda, and went up a short, steep, dead-end road. There were some semi-trashy looking houses nearby, and the road ended at a couple of gates. Nothing really great, here; the possible places to set up were exposed, and not even very level. You definitely want mostly level when sleeping on the ground – otherwise, you have this nasty tendency to slide to the downhill side of the tent. I rode back down, crossed under the highway, and headed south a few hundred yards on a side road, which then crossed a short bridge over the Eel River. I saw that most of the riverbed was dry gravel, and thought I might be able to find
someplace by the river to set up. It was a good 40’ feet below me, though, and so any nearby access to it would probably be pretty steep. Right after the bridge, there was a steep (told ya) dirt and gravel road that led down to the river. Just past the entrance to the road on the side, though, was a small, level patch of grass. Hmmm! The spot was still somewhat visible from the road, and car headlights would sort of glance off me, but I don’t think anyone would notice my presence, especially once I cloaked my trike. So, at 5:10pm, in the gathering gloom of early evening, I set up on that spot (N40 13.090’ W123 48.921’), hopped inside at 5:48pm, recorded the end-of-day stats, munched trail mix, drank soda, and read my new Robin Cook book, Mutation, until 8:30pm before getting too drowsy to continue. I was pretty tired from all the late nights of blogging the past few days, so I slept quite well. There wasn’t any rain, at the moment, but the trees overhanging my tent dripped a bit – not too bad. It rained a bit more during the night, but it was light, and by the wee hours, it stopped completely, and only the drips from the trees pattered down. I was awakened by a bit of rain during the night, but it was brief, and didn’t keep me up.
