You Probably Have No Idea, But If You Do, Say It With Me -"WOW!" -or- The Devil's Breath Blows Chilly And Fierce -or- On Bondage And Liberation: The Double-Sided Nature Of Hills

Tuesday, July 3, 2007 - Day 12

Distance Traveled - 43 miles

Today was such a big day, so much happened, so many changes, that just one title wouldn't do it justice. Just three was barely enough. I guess the only thing to do is just to start from the beginning.

I was awoken around 7:30, partly due to the sun shining on my face, but mostly to the four kids yelling and playing 5 feet away from me. What can you do, kids will be kids, and at least it was the sound of them having fun, not screaming and yelling and crying. The father was nice and talked to me a bit while I was striking my hammock. He told me a bit about Oregon and the wind and hills that await me there. For some reason it took me a while to pack up this morning. Maybe that was partly due to the special chocolate I ate the night before. I only had one this time, and I ate it hours before bedtime, right after I got into camp. Anyway, as I was packing my bags I happened to notice my rear wheel had a broken spoke. That's not good. Funny that I only noticed it from looking at it. There was no noticable wobble when riding last night. That's a good thing. That means that my wheel hasn't gone horribly out of true. Well, I had to go back to Cambria anyway to get on the internet, and they must have a bike shop there. I figured that the spoke must have broken late last night just before I got to the campsite. I heard a loud pop noise at one point and couldn't figure out what it was.

I rolled back into Cambria, got on the internet at a cafe and found out where the local bike shop was. Small town, so it was easy to find. There was only one guy working there, so I had to wait while he helped two other people. It wasn't long. When I told him what happened, he said he could fix it easily. I unmounted my panniers and we put the bike up on the rack. This guy was so nice. He put a new spoke on, let me do a few repairs on my own, using his stand, gave me 3 extra spokes and nipples, and even let me rummage through his spare screw box to find a few spare bolts and nuts in case I lose another rack mount screw. All this for no charge whatsoever. He said that I would tell people about him. I wish I could remember the guy's name.

Packed up and left the shop and headed for the library to find out where I was going to make it to today. Big Sur was about 60 to 70 miles, so I figured that was out of the question. It was already afternoon. There's a state park, Limekiln, about 50 miles. I decided to try to make that, and if light permitting, I would try to make it another 10 miles to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, which is right before Big Sur.

I rolled out of Cambria around 1 or 1:30. Everything started out smoothly, passing by San Simeon Park again. Not long after that, everything went to shit. Well, not everything, that's a horrible exaggeration, but that's when the wind started. I wish I could tell you how strong these gusts were. I want to think 20 mph, at least. It was fierce, I was so tired, and the fog made it gloomy, although I could see that just a mile to the east it was sunny and clear and beautiful. But this wind, oh how it hurt. I had to push and push and push as hard as I could, and I barely moved. Frequently I would stop and rest, but there was hardly any rest to be had from stopping. I had to use my strength to hold myself and my bike up. Just standing there, the wind would knock you about so much. If you stood with your feet planted together without bracing yourself, the wind would surely blow you right over. It was frustrating, to say the least. Everytime I stopped I would wait, thinking that surely the wind will get tired soon and let up. Wishful thinking.

This part was a true test of my determination. There were times when I wanted to quit, maybe go back to San Simeon, maybe try to hitchhike to Big Sur. I nearly reached a breaking point. There were times when I just had to yell, as loud as I could. Then I would grit my teeth and push harder. It's so tough to be pushing as hard as you can, giving more than you thought you could, and only be going about 3 miles an hour. My wits, my spirits were definitely in danger of being crushed. I'm not really sure what kept me going. I guess I just knew I had to. I knew I could make it. Deep down I knew that I could push through this, that I could find the strength.

I don't remember exactly when the winds started to let up, but I know that by the time I reached the first big hill, they were almost all but gone. This was sometime around 4 or 4:30. Then the hills began. Half way up the first huge hill, I knew it was time. I pulled over and began work on changing my front chainring, down from a 42-tooth to a 39-tooth. It's not a big change, but it's a big enough difference to notice when climbing these beastly hills. To describe them as hills isn't really a fair description. These are curvey mountain roads. They climb the cliffs that lead into Big Sur.

I'll tell you what, these climbs were hard. It took a lot of strength to get up them, and a lot of time, too. But you know what, to not have the awful wind in my face, beating the shit out of me, I was so content to be climbing hills. Then there was the top of the first hill. I was at a loss of thought. It is so pretty, so gorgeous. I had to sit there for a minute and think about what I had just gone through to get to this point. I thought about how it was all worth it, all the beastly wind, that long climb, all worth it for this view. The day now was clear, warm, and still. The cliffs were high, the water blue, and the trees lush. I couldn't help but smile. I knew there were still many more climbs ahead of me, but that didn't bother me much. With views like this, it's hard not to be in a good mood. It felt so good to be alive. After a few more miles and some more climbs, I stopped to fill my water bottles at a little resort and snack stand stop. I started talking to a guy that worked there. He was friendly. We talked about my adventure and about living in that area. He filled my bottles and we continued talking for a bit. It was nice to have good conversation. A man eating with his wife (who happened to be from Yorba Linda, just minutes from where I went to college) had overheard about what I was doing. He joined briefly in the conversation while the worker gave him a refill. He was nice. He went and sat back down for a few minutes but then came back walking toward me. He told me that his wife didn't finish her tri-tip sandwich and onion rings and french fries and that I was welcome to them. Oh god, how good that sandwich and onion rings were. I couldn't think of anything tastier at the moment. I scarfed them down. Shortly after, I was off again.

Let me tell you now about the declines, those sweet, sweet downhills. It is the most liberating feeling I have experienced in a long time. To coast down at over 20 mph, with the wind in your face, tucked down low for aerodynamic purposes, is such a rush. Going through these mountain roads had been tough, because there isn't much of a shoulder through most of it, if any at all. I am forced into the traffic lane, which is really scary. I try my best to make sure that I am seen, escpecially before going around a blind curve. I stay as far right as possible, which is still usually in the lane. On these descents, however, I rule the road. This is my time. I know that I have worked so hard to get to this point, to get up the steep, windy incline on the other side, and god help the impatient driver, who can't stand going anything less than 35mph in his gas-guzzling car, who tries to take that freedom away from me! You'll wait patiently while I soar by the trees and the beautiful blue ocean, while I soak in every single ray of sunshine that hits my body, as I fly at 25 miles an hour down this curvy slope, precisely cornering around every bend, feeling gravity pulling me faster and faster down to the bottom. This is my freedom. This is what I love. At the bottom I will kindly pull to the side and let any cars pass, but for now, this is my road, my mountain, my cliff with an ocean view, and you can't take that away from me. You can't take away the sweat that I put into getting here, and you sure as hell can't rob me of my reward.

There were no altercations, no honks, no thoughtless yelling, at least none that I was aware of. Honestly, I couldn't be bothered to care. As long as no one hit me, I was in bliss. All I could think about was how good it felt to be alive, to be in a place where I could feel this way. At the beginning of today's ride, when I was in the hellish wind, I was thinking about what I was going to be writing about today. I was thinking about saying something like: 'If you are reading this from the comfort of your home or office or a cafe, be happy. Be happy that you are safe and comfortable, that you know your next meal will easily be found and that your place to sleep is warmly waiting for you.' I wasn't bitter; I was just broken. When I was thinking about his same thing later, my view completely changed. I started thinking more like this: 'If you are reading this from the comfort of a familiar place - your home or office or local cafe - you must do what you can to break free, to get out, to see the world, at least somewhere new. You must experience something new today, something that reminds you what it's like to feel alive, to feel at one with the earth, something that makes you want to savor every single moment.' Amazing how much my outlook changed.

This has been the most incredible day of my journey so far. I didn't make it all the way to Limekiln tonight. That wind really set me back. I think this campground, Plaskett, is only about 5 miles or so from Limekiln, but with the sun just about to tuck behind the ocean, there wasn't time to try to push it. This place is only $5, but the hiker/biker sites are not that great. They are right in front, right by the entrance, with sparcely any trees. The few trees here are too big around to get my hammock straps around. So I have to get creative. I'm going to be sleeping on the ground, but I have tied the support ropes around a tree and the grill post so that at least the netting is not just resting on my face. It is a little effort to get into the thing when it's on the ground, but at least I know the spiders and mosquitos won't be getting to me.

Tomorrow I'm going to make it to Big Sur. There is nice camping there, showers, internet. I've camped there once before, with Jenny, probably about 4 years ago. I know there will be plenty of trees to string my hammock between, and I'm hoping the hiker/biker camping will be better, and maybe actually have other bikers.

Loving life,

Otis


time to start another day


you can only see things like this while on an up-Pacific bike journey


the day started out very beautifully, but that fog was forboding


back to Cambria


my shiny new spoke, thanks friendly man at Cambria Bike Outfitters in Cambria, California, just about 30 miles north of San Luis Obispo


not gonna stop here today. maybe someday.



overly friendly ground squirrels at the elephant seal viewing area. they wanted my nuggets, but i didn't give them any


this was how pretty it was to my right, so close, but so far away


this is what I was dealing with, gloom and high head winds. suck!


but it was worth it


yes, that's right, I made it here!




i couldn't help but grin



the only thing better than a free lunch is a really tasty greasy free lunch with a tri-tip sandwich and delicious onion rings and french fries


it's so beautiful. i'm so happy to be here.



 


soak it up!


i'd love to just sit all day and admire the beauty, but i must keep moving


not much here


a place to rest my head




not a bad sunset


good night sweet world

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Comments

You took my words!

Adrienne of Arcata

Otis,
Your words could have been sucked from my little pea-brain...I'm in the middle of your amazingly acute insights but I had to write to say, fuck! And I thought I was going to be able to describe the indescribable-ness of all that we see while on this kind of adventure, and you've nailed it. I'm almost in tears for the longing I feel to be back on the road. I know not where you are today, but hopefully the wind is at your back, your spirits are high (not artificially enhanced), your wheels are true, and your quads not unlike steel.
much kindness,
Adrienne