one hundred sixty
A bed and breakfast just south of Legget California. I would love to see inside, but I don't think they would permit me to take my bike inside.
one hundred fifty six
one hundred fifty five
one hundred fifty three
UP AND DOWN THEN BACK UP THEN DOWN AGAIN
There was an endless cycle to the Pacific coast highway. It
would run down close to the beach then a climb up to a vista. Then
back down to the beach and back up to the next vista. Each cycle would
include a twisted climb and decent. The road would have become
frustrating if it wasn't so breathtakingly beautiful.
one hundred fifty two
CURIOUS COWS
Cows are not usually warm and cuddly pets. They are simply walking
fermentation tanks that produce milk. Cows spend their lives taking grass in
one end and dropping it out the other.
I have worked farms and really love cows. These cows were unusual cows because they stopped eating and watched me for twenty straight minutes.
I have been in areas so isolated that the cows walk a hundred yards to the
fence to watch me ride by.
Cows don't usually notice or care about people
unless they have a bucket of oats or it is milking time. Perhaps I have spent too much time alone myself.
The proof may be that I'm writing about cows.
one hundred fifty one
HILLS HILLS AND MORE HILLS
I was unable to capture by picture the steepness of the hills.
Every day there were as many as a dozen climbs of five to eight hundred feet of elevation.
My bike weighs at least eighty pounds, and I weigh one hundred and seventy pounds.
This simple machine, driven only by human power sounds almost impossible to
ride uphill.
The gearing is the secret, if you have the right ratios, you can
ride up trees. I spin along at ninety reps per minute, at four point five miles
per hour trying not to fall over. It takes a long time to climb to the tops of
these hills, but somehow you get there.
As the days pass, each hill becomes
less and less daunting. I think it is called conditioning. You don't enjoy them or look forward to them, they just
become less impossible.
one hundred fifty
A BREAK FROM THE WIND, INLAND WASHINGTON
A welcomed rest as I traveled a sunny inland road in
Washington State. These were very quiet rolling hills which was a nice change
from the busy and windy coast highway. The North West was not what I had expected.
This has been true of every place I have traveled by bicycle. Every place has
been much more then I had ever imagined, perhaps I'm learning how to see.
one hundred forty eight
STEEP BOTH UP AND DOWN
The streets of San Francisco are ridiculously steep. The
cars are parked sideways for a reason. This was a poorer neighborhood with sub
million dollar homes, well maybe just the low millions.
My eighty five pound
bike was geared to climb almost anything but these grades were not worth the energy. I walked up several of the really steep ones and actually walked down this one.
I started down and realized my brakes may not hold. I took care to put extra
strong brakes on my bike because of the heavy load, but these hills seemed to
be past to their limit. I don't know how they poured the cement on these streets.
This picture doesn't really show the angle, but you get some idea.
one hundred forty seven
one hundred forty six
HANGIN' WITH MY PEOPLE
I was the only bicycle in town, they were joking with me
about my Surly peddle bicycle. However, they asked a lot of questions and were
really interested in my trip.
The woman looking at the camera had commented about
my ass and actually patted it. They were serving a lot of alcohol that day.
one hundred forty five
WORKS OF ART
The bikes were works of art and very expensive. The bikers
today must have money because these bikes aren’t cheap. These are baby boomer
lawyers, psychologists, brokers, and realtors.
It's probably a lot of fun to
dress up like outlaw bikers and ride on the wild side palm pilots, cell phones
and all.
The amount of leather clothing is interesting. I do believe if anyone owning a pair of butt less chaps has have them on at least once naked.
Now
that's a disturbing mental picture.
one hundred forty four
THEY ONLY COME OUT AT NIGHT
In the light of day this tranquil campsite looks quiet. When
the sun goes down the raccoons, red fox, possums, and who knows what swarm the
camp for anything they can find. My trash vanished, but the little food I had
was safe in my tent. Some camps had food lockers, this camp needed a few.
one hundred forty three
SAFE AND WARM ANYWHERE
Some nights you can find a quiet corner to pitch your tent, eat,
sleep, and go. If I have food, water, a shelter, bedding, and warm clothes, all
I need is a safe private spot of ground. The basic idea of loaded touring to be
self-contained. If I am anywhere at any time I have enough to be fairly
comfortable for at least a full two days. Anything more than safe and I'm in
sweet tall grass.
one hundred forty two
one hundred forty one
\
FIRST CAMPS ALWAYS SUCK
On my first night on the road I free camped in a small park
along a swamp lake. It was cold and damp amongst the cat tails and mud. Not
every night is in a pristine location, safe is my primary focus. The first days
usually suck and are filled with second thoughts. I know this will pass as my body begins to
adjust to the daily grind of the road. I indulge in my favorite evening meal
chicken top ramen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)