13th Feb.

Back home.

Everything is transient, the good and the bad; comfort and discomfort, struggle and ease, day and night, muscle and lethargy, strength and weakness, journey and arrival, beginning and achievement, ambition and calm, elation and gloom, plain sailing and snow storms.   I think a cycling journey shows you that.

It was harder than I had thought it was going to be, not so much the cycling, but looking after myself and the bike, and being out of place, but I have some great memories.

I'm curious as to what it is that drives human beings to take on challenges, whether it be endurance, sports extremes or exploration.  Is it an expression of self-resilience, for curiosity, ego or self-worth, for the regard or respect, or for the hell of it?  Is it for the adrenaline rush, to test our limits because our culture of ease doesn't, to make us feel alive, because modern life doesn't, or to test the body's capabilities, because most modern occupations don't? Is it the desire to experience something that has made us admire others, sparked an ambition, and posed an unanswered question about our character?  Is it because it doesn't have to be fun, to be fun?

Whatever it is, it's a funny thing.  Seemingly unnecessary, but compelling nonetheless.
Sharing it seems an important part of it for most people, either in writing, photography, or story-telling.

There's always going to be someone with a bigger adventure, a tougher journey or a more impressive feat.  Everyone has a challenge that is their own.

I'm curious also about why it is that we travel.  Is it for a different perspective, new ideas and inspiration, to see yourself outside of your usual context, to figure out where home is and see it in a new light?  Is it to take advantage of a modern privilege, curiosity for culture, language and landscape, for the buzz, the exotic and the novelty, to take a break from home routine?  Is it just because that's what we do in the holidays, for social status, and because the grass might be greener on the other side?  I'm probably biased, but I haven't found anywhere, in all the travels I've been privileged enough to set out on, that for me rivals the rugged beauty, freedom and peace of the west coast of Scotland, despite, or maybe because of the challenges of weather and season.   I'm looking forward to staying on home turf now; soil to be cultivated, adventures to be had, plenty of exploring on two wheels and relaxing to be done here.  Home sweet home!

You could say that I have thoroughly scratched my itchy roving toes, for now anyway!

Many thanks to so many people for their generous donations to the Samaritans.
Over £1000 has been raised now, great stuff!
https://www.justgiving.com/lizziecycles

11th - 12th Feb.

Little trace of the snowy chaos now, Portland back in action.  City transit train to the airport with my bike.  Found a quiet corner of the airport to dismantle and pack it into the box.  Managed to clear the area, with the ear-offensive screech of sellotape, two large rolls.  Sorry!

Three connecting flights; to Seattle, to London overnight, and finally to Glasgow.  Airport time, procedures and flying were an ordeal, as always.  I don't think I want to do that again.

Treated to the Daily Mail's headlines on the flight leaving Heathrow.  I am one of those people who reads other people's newspapers over their shoulders.  I'm embarrassed to think that these negative headlines would be one of the first impressions someone would have of the UK - that people print and buy dissatisfaction and horror, daily.

Met at Glasgow by my friend Ben, bike builder and mechanic, moral support extraordinaire!

8th - 10th Feb.

Lots of places closed in Portland because of the snow - schools, shops, the library.  I asked some people outside a computer repair shop where I might find an internet cafe, a rarity now, and was invited in by Peter, the owner, to use the computer in his office.  Cheers!
Lots of brick buildings here, rather than building with wood on the coast, and the centre is on a walkable scale.  More powdery snow falling, the blizzard passed though.

Light snow still, lots of places still closed - paper signs on the inside of doors saying they're closed because of 'inclement weather'.  Found a great cafe though, on Peter's recommendation, 'Case Study Coffee', watching snowy proceedings out of the big windows.  Seeing as cafe time is one of my favourite occupations I can hardly complain!

Walked across to SE Portland, across one of the bridges, several cross-country skiers out and about in the streets.  Seeking out 'City Repair' community projects, street art and bike shops.  (Apart from liking bike shops, I need a large cardboard bike box, in which to fly home my trusty wheels.)  I wasn't disappointed, some colourful stuff out there, amongst the gritty industrial, and smart residential.  The SE Portland cafe scene is pretty hip, and the tattooed, pierced, androgynous baristas know it.  They are 'Keeping Portland Weird' I suppose, I felt like I was spoiling the ambiance with my drippy waterproofs.

Scored a bike box!  At the only bike shop I found open today - the brightly painted 'City Bikes', with cob sitting bench, mosaic and bike frame awning.  Carried the bike-sized cardboard box for what seemed like miles back to where I'm staying - so glad to have found one.  It is interesting observing people's differing reactions to me in a city environment, when I'm struggling with an unwieldy amount of cardboard, looking scruffy, as opposed to when I'm looking at my best, at ease.  People seem to associate struggle, and lack of attention to appearance, with being in a bad situation, and that creates a certain amount of fear, or mistrust.  If I've approached people along the way, on my trip, I've found that I get the best reaction, when I appear the most confident, orderly, and cheerful.  Especially in a city, looking seriously in need of help, doesn't go down too well.  It really makes me appreciate how difficult it is, for people who are in a bad situation, to get going on a positive track.  I very much doubt if I would have been invited into the computer shop office to use the internet, if I looked in need of a hot shower and some money...but in that case I would have been most in need of a kind favour.

'Freezing rain' is the new topic of weather hysteria in weather reporting, after the most snow in February in 20 years.

I've been reading about Portland's 'City Repair'.  A collective of people, beginning at a residential intersection by one man, who set up a tea station on his corner, and an open invitation for neighbours to stop and chat - re-claiming a public space as a social space, inspired by the European 'piazza', urban spaces for community.  I visited this intersection.  What started as a tea stand, pot lucks and parties, grew into a community, now visible with plant pots, a mosaic wall, wooden structures demarking the 'piazza', a community-built, solar-lit cob notice board box, and a colourful mandala painted over the whole road surface of the intersection.  I had to scrape snow away to see this though!  It also resulted in a new legal right for neighbours in Portland to claim their intersections as public spaces, after the 'unpermitted activities' caught the attention of City Hall, and discussions began. There was a guy at the intersection parking his car.  I asked if it was his intersection, was he local?  He said, 'Yeah, it was started by the guy who lives there', pointing to one of the corner houses, 'there's a lot of petty crime around here, cars being broken into and the like, and he was trying to change that, there's a theory behind it!'.  It certainly seemed that people were taking pride in their community space, and it had turned an impersonal  intersection into an extension of home that felt welcoming, even to me as a passerby.  'City Repair' is now a fairly large bunch of people, across Portland, with a website, not bad from one tea stand.  This is a great example of permaculture principles in an urban setting - building community through positive action.

Other places of note...

- A Buddhist temple, no-one around inside, except several larger than life, golden, fierce-looking figures, piles of fruit, and my main impression was that it smelt funny.

- Buffalo Exchange, a large 2nd hand clothes shop, buy/trade/sell, my favourite kind of shop

- Comic book store, everyone with a quirky doodle and a point to make has their work in here, whether it's in a postcard-sized booklet, on newspaper, or in a doorstop tome.  Good alternative to an art gallery.

- A huge block building downtown, the 'Church of Scientology', with free DVDs on offer.  The 'commandments' were listed, visible in the window display, as well as advertising their 'Drug-free' campaign work.  The 'commandments'...all good stuff, and included in the last one 'to prosper'.  I suppose that explains the huge smart building, and swish welcome desk, someone is definitely prospering!

- Union Gospel Mission, a building with many homeless folk around.  Portland has one of the largest homeless populations in the US, apparently because it has services that other places don't have.

- The public library downtown; with free internet computer time, the library attracts an eclectic mix of people, people who wouldn't be able to afford a phone or laptop, an older generation of information-hungry library users who presumably don't have a personal 'device', and transient folk like myself, also without a 'device'.  For that reason, computing at the library doesn't have the best reputation about the city.  You get an uncomfortable insight into poverty and mental health issues, that the engrossed WIFI laptop users in cafes would rather avoid.

Slushy thaw now.  Flying home tomorrow, at great cost to the environment.  Hopefully I've learnt some things along the way to show for it.

7th Feb.

Set off pedalling at a snail's pace of about 2 miles an hour, in a break in the falling snow.  Only the last 5 miles - took forever.  Everything concentrated on not skidding, cars few, and crawling, chains on tyres.  Pedalling past people waiting for buses, I couldn't take my eyes off the road surface and snow, but I heard, 'You rock!'.  I love that, big boost to moral!

Downtown Portland, made it, 1250 miles and 5 weeks from LA, the end of my cycling trip.

Ran myself a hot bath at the friendly motel I found - luxury!

6th Feb.

The toughest day yet, only 30 miles, and so close to Portland.  Tent packed up early, bike hauled over brambles back onto the road, -6°C, battling into a headwind, pedalling in low gears on the flat, snow in the wind now, face stinging, squinting ahead, sunglasses on, ice freezing my eyebrows to my sunglasses, metal bottle cracked open with ice.

A couple of guys in a truck handed me a Snickers bar out of their window.  'I'm so proud of you! Keep going!' - that was great!  Turned down a couple offers of lifts, I really appreciated it, but in the last 20 miles I'm not going to just jump in a truck, snow or no snow!  Really thought I was going to make it into downtown Portland, but the snow was getting heavier, visibility worse, and when it seemed like blizzard conditions I admitted defeat, and trudged along the side of the road, trying to see through my icy sunglasses, until a motel appeared.  Lovely Indian couple at the desk this time, been in the US for 2 years.

Apparently Portland has a snowstorm every 5 winters or so, and this is one of them, and with windchill, it feels like -15°C ...I can believe that.  I thought British people where meant to be weather-obsessed, but American TV takes weather reporting to a whole new level for me. 

5th Feb.

On the road by 8:30am, perishing cold, with clear blue sky.  Apparently temperatures are ranging from -3°C to 2°C, plus a headwind as I turn east inland.  Portland signs; 89 miles, 62 miles, 56 miles, 47 miles, still ice by the side of the road in the afternoon. So far I've had the comfort of cycle map pages, with elevation charts, but now I'm veering away from the coastal route, so I don't know how the road will be.  It was wise to have stayed on the coast until the last 2 days cycling, it's noticeably more wintery inland, also, pretty featureless cycling - long straight road sections, not much along the way.  As I'm heading east, at the end of the afternoon my pedalling shadow is now directly in front of me, the low sun behind to the west. 

Something I've noticed is that certain folk can be very forthcoming with their opinions.  Sometimes this is fun, sometimes it's not.  Unsolicited, doom and gloom opinions on other people's adventures, I don't have much patience with at the best of times, and when it is actually freezing, and my toes are numb, I have even less patience!  My tactic so far has been to laugh it off, and say goodbye.  Maybe if I was a guy, I'd have a big beard by now, and complete strangers would think twice about telling me what I need, and what I should and shouldn't be doing, whether that's heading north, cycling in winter or travelling alone.  Being female and 5 foot 2 sometimes works in my favour, and sometimes doesn't.  Thankfully these irritations have been few.  I'm getting cranky in the cold!

Found a corner of a field to camp on, behind some trees, out of sight of the road.  Amusing, in a fashion, to find that my damp tent had frozen stiff on the back of my bike, and needed icy crystals shaking out of it.  I could have found another motel and been warmer, but I'd have been dissatisfied on some level.  Funny mentality that...

4th Feb.

Packed up a soaking wet tent in the rain, patches of flaky ice, winter waterproof gloves, bike gears full of grit and mud, pedalling down the road all bundled up, a bit grim.  Decided that tonight would be another motel night.  Sky clearing mid morning, some welcome sunshine.  Coffee at the next 'Drive-thru' cabin.  I've come to love a good neon OPEN sign. 

Motel in Lincoln City as it was getting dark.  A most peculiar man at the desk.  He misunderstood most of what I said, spoke to me as if I was a child, and was incredibly particular.  Most irritating, but I wasn't sure how many other motel options there would be, so I stuck it out.  Then in the morning, he said 'We don't get many people like you coming through', wanted to see my bike, and waved me off.  He wore braces, and had come over originally from Germany, 'before I was born' - I didn't know what to make of him. 

Watching American TV news is interesting.  One of the suggested outcomes of the new Obama healthcare insurance is that people could work less, and Obama has recently criticised the media, whereas George Bush, 'to his credit' (!), did not.  I've met people who travel to Mexico from Oregon for dental work, and people who have been unable to get health insurance because they have previously been ill - a common cause of not having insurance.  The Obama health reform makes it possible now for people to get insurance, regardless of previous illness, and this is not without controversy.  It also means in the employer/employee relationship, the employer may have less power, as fewer people will be dependent on their work, as a means to get health insurance as an employee benefit, hence one of the suggested outcomes being that people might work less.  Some people already with insurance, are not too happy about premium increases, as they see it as a consequence of opening up insurance to more people.  I saw one question posed on a political/social show, 'Do rich people work harder, and how much of it is opportunity-based?'  These are big, sensitive issues being discussed.
I've so grateful for UK taxes and our NHS.  Taxes fund civilisation, one of the greatest human achievements; constructing societies where the less able are treated well, to the benefit, in my opinion, of everyone.  This way of thinking doesn't seem to feature in the US media coverage snippets I've seen. 

3rd Feb.

Chilly morning on the fingertips.  Found a great café and library in the town of Florence.  In the afternoon, intestinal cramps and some uphills, not a comfortable combination. Possibly because I ate my delicious, organic, grass-fed beef burger bun too fast, or possibly because of a dodgy coffee/citrus combination.  Eventually this subsided, to be replaced by darkness and stinging hailstones.  Cycling past motels was quite tempting, but I wanted to save my pennies for Portland, and I don't like the idea that I'm getting soft!  Just rain now, easier on the nose.  Eventually the campground appeared, with a 'Closed' barrier across it.  Squeezed my bike underneath the barrier, and now I'm camped behind a hedge, and the rain has stopped - bonus!

2nd Feb.

Set off from the cheap motel I'd found last night, perfect for a bit of head space.  Just pedaling absent-mindedly, 40 miles north to another state park campground.  Put my tent up, and went to explore the Oregon dunes before sunset.  I've never seen a landscape like it.  Huge hills of sand, looking like snowy ski slopes, up to 700ft apparently, with dune grasses and pines in patches, and the sea quite a long way away.

1st Feb.

Early morning walk through the forest with Linda and Ianto.  They go for a walk together before breakfast every morning.  Ianto pointed out huge myrtle, or bay laurel trees, covered in moss, their aromatic leaves, a Douglas Fir 'nurse' stump, from a tree felled in 1910, vivid red coral cup fungi, growing on myrtle fallen dead wood and prolific foliose lichens.  He knows the dry spots where you can stash bits of wood to sit on as a little bench, across from a waterfall, 'the best church'.  He greeted a particular maple, with a branch span of ~100ft.  He pointed out the changes he has seen in the forest over the 20 years he was been walking in this valley, and explained a huge silt-filled basin, now grown over, a consequence of a logging technique of the early 1900s.  The creek was dammed, then released, with hundreds of floating logs, to flow and crash their way down to the town.  Cheap transport, hugely destructive, and since made illegal. 

Back to the cob cottage for breakfast, then helping Linda move various things in the new cob build that'll become the new kitchen.  She broke her arm a couple of months ago, so I was trying to be as helpful as possible, carrying and lifting things. 

I love this place.  If I was American, I'd be moving here in an instant.  It functions as a demonstration site for teaching natural building and sustainable living, a place for sharing knowledge, housing apprentices and various folk, and also home for Ianto and Linda. 

Goodbyes...  After feeling indebted to people's kindness, there's a certain freedom in being just me and the bike, on the road again that I was ready for, and I have plenty to think about. 

I've been on my cycling adventure for a month now.  This time last month I was lying at the side of the road, wondering if it'd be okay to go straight back home.  Several hundreds of miles north, and it feels like I've come a long way. 

31st Jan.

Delicious whole cooked oats and local honey for breakfast.  Out on a fire wood task - Ianto swinging a big axe to cut Douglas Fir trunk sections, and my job was to wheelbarrow them up to the woodshed, and stack them to dry.  Ianto is now in his 70s - architect, permaculture teacher, gardener, cob builder, author, rocket stove designer.  I feel so privileged to be able to spend time with him.  We chatted about finding land, renting or buying, finding community, the importance of having people around, why it might be that people go off on long cycles, and wheelbarrowing tactics.  I'll treasure that conversation. 

Lunch with the neighbour Chloe, and her 3 home-schooled kids.  Anita and Wren, who are already mini cob teachers and tour guides, and 2 year old Moose, who has taught himself to chop kindling from watching people.  Pretty impressive eh?  They all live in a cob house up the hill, and I spent some of the afternoon wheelbarrowing more fire wood up to theirs.  Spending time here is enough to start to believe that we can be really wonderful animals after all, rather than a disgrace. 

The forest here is temperate rainforest, it's thick with moss hanging off branches, mosses and ferns growing well on the roofs too.  The cob houses are beautiful - curved, hand-sculpted walls, living green roofs, small and cosy, wooden ceiling rafters visible, and the rocket stove radiators with cob sitting benches along the length of the pipe work really well.  Ianto gave me a miniature copy of  the book 'Tiny Homes' - something easy to cycle with!  Linda's house here is in it, built by Ianto. 

The evening frogs here are so loud!  There are several ponds here and there, where subsoil has been dug out to build a house, so the frogs are in their element!

30th Jan.

Next stop, Cob Cottage Company, at Coquille, about 16 miles inland.  The side road turned into a small road, which turned into a steep gravel track through the forest I had to push my bike along, which turned into a tiny path through the trees, and eventually, little cob houses! 

Home of Ianto and Linda, co-authors of 'The Hand-Sculpted House', a comprehensive guide to the practicalities and philosophy of cob building, based on their own buildings.  I came across their book two winters ago on a farm, which made such an impression on me, I took myself off to Ireland for a cob course the next summer, and here I am, staying in a cob cottage, just having had dinner with them. 

I left Tammy's with a letter for Ianto, and a bag of frozen salmon carcasses.  Fulfilling my ambition to be a bike messenger, I just didn't foresee it beginning in rural America, with fish carcasses.

It's so magical here, a village pretty much, of little cob dwellings, roofed cob garden walls, an outside kitchen area. vegetable-growing spaces, trees, and a large, deafening frog population.  A lot has been achieved in the 13 years they've lived here - many workshops, courses, apprenticeships and volunteers, many vegetable seeds saved, ideas tested and roofs raised.  Ianto says that he manages to achieve a lot because he gets up early and doesn't have a TV or computer, he does things.  There are not many people who fully live out their beliefs, myself definitely included, but Ianto is one of them.  Originally from Wales, trained as an architect, for some of the time in Edinburgh, he has made Oregon his home, and moved to America originally to get close to the corporate-driven consumerism that he wanted to oppose so strongly. 

Sleeping on a raised wooden bed platform in a cosy cob cottage! 

29th - 30th Jan.

Contouring around Humbug Mountain.  Roadside conifers are a regular height now, can see their tops.  Bike lights on in the day, on account of the mist.  Coastline similarities with Scotland.  Seems like I've cycled from one climatic region to another - no more cacti!  Pedaled into Bandon, via a library where the librarian had been to Tobermory, and some helpful garage car mechanics who sprayed a lot of grit off my chainset and cassette - cheers! 

Welcomed into Tammy and Bob's home - another hub of cob building activity.  Delicious salmon, caught themselves, hot shower, water massage table (!) and a bed.  The kindness of strangers is humbling.  The natural building community is such that an email saying I'm passing and would love to call in, results in being invited to stay as a new friend. 

Tammy and Bob used to manage and maintain high-rise office blocks in Seattle, earn lots, spent lots, not see each other much.  They swopped that for a home alongside a row of dilapidated motel cottages in Bandon, rebuilt by them and rented out to people who would otherwise have difficulty renting somewhere, for various reasons.  Neighbours come and go at their house, and the next building project is a large kitchen space for community food prep. - canning, pickling, butchering and so on. 

Tammy made great French toast for breakfast, with freshly laid eggs - yum.  She then walked and talked me through all the mistakes made, and lessons learnt, in each of the cob buildings on site. We also looked at their large solar water pipe coil outside - cool stuff.  The Cob Cottage Company uses Tammy and Bob's place for cob workshops, and there are umpteen little living spaces, at varying stages of completion.  So generous in spirit, time, knowledge, advice and welcome, such an inspiring pair of people.

It was interesting talking about the stability of cob with Tammy.  Seismic testing of cob has been done in BC, Canada, in advance of building in a public park, and it has been found to withstand up to around 8 on the Richter scale, and fail at around 9.  Cob's strength comes from its monolithic structure, not to be confused with adobe brick building, or rammed earth/earth bag building.  I wish I'd been clearer on this when I mentioned 'earth houses' to a structural engineer from San Diego a while back.  He wasn't impressed, and we had to talk about something else!   

28th Jan.

Mist, rain, sea stacks and foamy waves, logging trucks, and a warm bookshop café at Gold Beach where I could have fallen asleep.  Friendly people - even a wave, a smile, and a 'Have a safe trip!' from the roadworks traffic control folk.  Snug in my tent in the rain. 

26th-27th Jan.

One significant climb of over 1000ft, not too bad.  Freewheeled down to Crescent City, the last big coastal town of Californian before Oregon.  Daylight fading and no sign of an RV park that had tent sites.  Dark now, kept going, until I found a quiet bit of grass behind some houses and trees, and a big pile of grass cuttings and branches to camp behind.  Early start, on account of 'stealth camping'(!), a concerned homeowner appeared as I was wheeling my bike past, his dog making a racket.  I explained I'd been caught out by the dark, was cycling LA to Portland, and had just found a patch of grass to put my tent up on.  He seemed bemused, (my accent always helps with that), said that was fine.  Ten minutes down the road, 'Gordi Bros' restaurant, neon OPEN, was poured coffee, on the house, from the staff coffee pot, by super friendly Jorge and his Mum Rosa.  What a great start to the day!  A flat, easy, foggy 20 miles, over the border into Oregon. 

Trying to make arrangements to visit more cob house building folk further north.  In my search for a working phone, ended up chatting to some gas station attendants, who generously lent me theirs - success!

25th Jan.

Woke up to the sound of a woodpecker, blue jay around at breakfast.  Long distance call to Glasgow.  The trees... so much deadwood too, with fungi, lichen, moss, ferns and young trees growing on it.   Moss-covered maples too, looking like shrubs amongst the giants.  Beautiful, and yeah, 'religious', of sorts.

24th Jan.

Predictably over-tired.  26 miles down the road to Elk Prairie Redwood state park.  Rest day tomorrow, to potter in the forest trails.  Some RV folk near LA, a while back, said I must check out the redwood forest trails, that being amongst those trees was 'religious'.  Interesting combination, the RV lifestyle, and spirituality in the forest - the comment stuck with me.
Met two cycle tourers today - Patrick, heading to San Francisco, on a bike he'd built up himself from abandoned at a community bike workshop in Boulder, Colorado - and Shaun, heading for the Mexican border, just finished school, worked for a few months to save up, now off on his first big trip.
Dry tent...bliss!  Elk by the side of the road, and around the campsite, munching on grass and clattering their antlers. Also met two very large, and super friendly ladies, one in the shop, and one in the Post Office.  Big hearts and big bottoms!
Passed the first sign for Portland, 381 miles. 

23rd Jan.

I can see why dew collection seems worth a shot in dry places.  It's so tantalizing - desperately in need of rain, then in the mornings everything is soaked in dew, only to evaporate away again.  Or in the case of my tent, just get rolled up again soaking wet, lovely. 

Located the North Coast Coop in Arcata, just beyond Eureka.  Great produce shop, lots of local and organic everything.  Sitting on the ground outside, picnicing, next to a lady, standing, holding a small sign, elegantly dressed and quietly spoken.  She had a not-for-profit organisation, raising awareness about human-trafficking of Americans, by Americans, in California.  She said she was looking for her daughter, who had married, and disappeared, but she wasn't saying that to passers by, she said people were funny, and if something seemed too personal, that people didn't want to know.  Sitting on the ground, having a bike, being foreign and being quiet...you find out about all kinds of things.  Marla, she gave me her number in case I needed someone to call.

Highway 101, then quiet cycle route roads, and the first puncture.  Back wheel.  I was sceptical about the green puncture-repair slime in the tyres, but by the time I had the wheel off and found the gash in the tyre, the fibres must have meshed over the hole to stop anymore air out.  Wheel back on straight second attempt, seemed good.  Of all the places around Eureka to get a puncture, this was a good one.  Lasted me 10 miles or so, then blew again, within sight of a campground.  I am so lucky!  Found 3 holes...new inner tube, seems good again!

22nd Jan.

Mild this morning on account of low-lying fog, fingertips grateful.  Invited into a campervan by kind couple Ginny and Scott, for coffee, and to warm my toes before setting off.  Met a guy of a distinguished age at the next cafe stop who was telling me how him and his girlfriend had turned up there years ago, broke, out of gas, with enough money for one cup of coffee between them.  They had ended up being offered waitress/carpentry work, and a trailer to live in.  He now returned from Washington as often as he could, for bits and pieces of carpentry work, for the same guy, who owned most of the town.  Chuck, he had a kind twinkle about him.  The guy working in the cafe however, was not in a good way.  Being surrounded by one of the world's natural wonders, beautiful redwood forest in this case, doesn't stop us humans from having all sorts of problems. 

Continued along 'Avenue of the Giants' in Humboldt State park - incredible trees.  As impressive as the standing living trees, are the fallen ones.  Some large ones that must have blocked the road, and been chainsawn and moved.  The feeling is the same as seeing a whale skeleton - awe, disbelief at it's size...  Stopping every few minutes to check out yet another great tree! 

Back onto Highway 101, fast, noisy, into Eureka city.  A friendly cop a couple of weeks ago had singled out Eureka as a place to have my wits about me, and stay at the campground out of town.  Apparently what started as some small-scale marijuana growing, has grown over the years into a distribution hub for all sorts of things, including crystal meth.  There were a few folk looking worse for wear on the edge of town, not up to smiling, and I was glad to be passing through and out of town before dark.  50 miles today. 

Having a condensation-soaked tent is getting a bit tedious.  California is in drought, but it's cold and still at night, meanwhile I'm breathing in my little tent, in my winter sleeping bag = lots of condensation.  By this point, I'm the only one actually camping in a tent at campgrounds...can't think why.

21st Jan.

The thermometer on the shop veranda was reading -3 degrees in the shade at around 10am.  Chilly!  I really wasn't in the mood for sharing the road with 18-wheel wagons, but there they were, and there I was.  Glad of my high-vis gear at this point.  Stopped on the hard shoulder of a bridge to look down at the green algae in the river below, and saw an otter!  Swimming around, diving, on the rocks, scratching, dozing...stayed for ages watching it, you see all sorts on a bike that you'd miss otherwise.  Redwoods covering the hills around, and then, sporadic, unusually large ones singled out along the road, surrounded by gift shops, signs, posters about Bigfoot and the like. 

Arrived into Garberville, midway small town.  Apart from the exclusive oasis of the wholefood shop, Garberville had an uncomfortable vibe.  Numerous people looking worse for wear, of no fixed abode and not having a good time.  I cycled through it looking for a cafe, but there wasn't anywhere I was happy to leave my bike.  Just found a quiet step to picnic on.  I can get by on convenient Snickers bars for so long, then I need fresh real food...a voluptuous beauty of a heritage tomato, kale and black bean garlic hummus from the shop, yum.  As I was leaving, stopped to buy a cake from some sort of 'Save the animals' sidewalk table.  The lady said 'Portland! I love Portland, it's a lot nicer than here, it isn't a very welcoming place here.  People who grew up here aren't happy about the drugs coming in, and people are talking of moving away.'  Interesting.  She advised me not to stick around.  I wasn't planning on it! 

Set off along 'Avenue of the Giants', winding road with stretches where the most enormous straight redwood trunks are on both sides, disappearing up into the sky.  It's quite dark and still at the bottom, you feel small.  The dark and the height don't make for a good photo, and a photo doesn't capture the feeling of being so small, all the way down at the bottom.  They really are giants. 

20th Jan.

Flaky ice on the tent this morning, and frost on the ground.  A whopper of a hill.  Ascent of ~2200ft, with a 10 miles stretch of continuous climbing, within a 40 mile day.  Known for a while this was coming, so glad to be on the other side of it.  The end of the day downhill was fun, miles of it.  Redwoods all the way, a creek down to one side, winding road. 

Found myself half a mile from the 'Drive-thru tree', the enormous, 'world famous' redwood, with a block cut out at the bottom.  Remember hearing about this as a kid and not quite believing it, thought I had to check it out.  It's true! ...and lives up to the tacky bizarre, with neon-edged gift shop and ghost road-side town, only the gas station open.  Put my tent up, and treated myself to a hot grill steak sandwich (apparently grass-fed), in the neon OPEN deli/crammed shop across the road, in the middle of nowhere.  Aching legs and shoulders.

Kirk had said this time of year was a good quiet time to be passing through this area - the hills, heading inland.  It's one of the many marijuana growing areas, forested ridge areas cleared, not that you can see anything from the road, although you can smell it occasionally.  Autumn harvest time can be a bit edgy apparently, there's a lot of money involved, and it's semi-legal, in a way that's not yet clear or regulated.  Progress it seems, for the people who want to buy it to treat pain, but not so good for the unregulated forest clearing and plantation run-off. 

19th Jan.

Taking it easy today, not many miles. 

State park campground - met a family on holiday from Sacramento, friendly, intrigued by my bike trip, and they insisted that I take some quarters for the showers.  I wasn't even looking that grubby!  I think I was a bit of novelty with my paper maps and tiny tent.  They had beef cattle, usually about a dozen, but only two at the moment.  They said when the water got too low to keep them, they'd be butchered, to sell, and for their freezer.  Fattened on grass and proud of it, producing yellow fat, rather than the beef industry technique of fattening on corn, which produces a different type of white fat, and digestive problems for the cow.  Interesting to hear this from someone in the US, who rears their own cows for meat.  Michael Pollan has written a lot about this in 'The Omnivore's Dilemma' - great book. 

It's getting down to just a few degrees above freezing at night.  Cold on the fingers packing away the tent in the shade every morning - lots of condensation too. 

17th-18th Jan.

Passed two girls on a tandem, cycling from Seattle to San Francisco, stopped for a chat across the road.  Ru and Erin - they were fun, great bike, full of the joys of the open road.  Go women on bikes!

Leisurely 14 miles to Point Arena.  Library for internet, hoping to check out Sun Dog Builders, a hub of cob house building activity.  Cob homes = earth (subsoil, clay/sand), straw, water, mixed, built up bit by bit to creat solid, curved walls on stone foundations, and then a timber frame roof on top.  Turned out, on checking emails since San Francisco that it was closer to where I'd been camped the last night than Point Arena.  Ahh...  Decided I'd come so far, hoping to see cob in California, I'd just cycle back.  Pedalled fast, muddled day, and the sun not so high any more.  Asked to use the phone in a little Thai restaurant, as you have to in these situations, and managed to speak to Kirk, one of the cob builders.  Fifteen minutes later, collected from the side of the road by Kirk in the truck.  Great!

Welcomed to Kirk's home, shown around, and to the little cob house where I could sleep, in the last of the daylight, with Floyd the dog.  Welcomed to dinner as a new friend.  Delicious meal with Kirk, wife Heidi, and daughter Jade, in their cob/straw bale/timber frame, open plan family home.  Heidi is a midwife specialising in rural home births, with two expected to arrive by the end of the month, but she didn't think they'd be tonight.  They have workshops, apprenticeships, and apparently a couple times a year someone passing on a bike who calls in to visit - this time it was me!  Chatted about their composting toilets, sewage and worms, as you do over dinner.  Kirk talked about how few adult humans are willing to, and capable of dealing with their own shit.  Emptying a bucket daily, stirring, worms, maintaining and adjusting a healthy composting system.  The flushing toilet and sewage systems eradicated so much disease, but are also an ecological disaster in terms of water usage.  A letter to the local newspaper proposed dealing with current Californian water shortages by switching to composting toilets.  Great, good thinking, but take care, the consequences of getting your toilet system wrong are pretty dire.  If everyone in San Francisco suddenly stopped using their flushing toilets...I can't see that going well.

Morning coffee, met Bird the pet parrot, Kirk's shoulder companion, and had the tour of the various cob works.  Cob shower house -  with wattle and daub outdoor screens, linseed oil over the exterior cob surfaces, an inside bath with sea view and rocket stove heated water.  Cob metal workshop - homemade charcoal, lit and glowing, fanned by a solar panel-run hairdryer, glowing steel rebar bashed into shape to make latches, hooks and tools.  Exciting!  It's these kind of old skills that allowed humans to really get creative.  Rocket stoves all over the place - metal barrel instant radiators, cob block slow radiators, a little chute for firewood.  In this kind of home landscape lots of things are work in progress, and all the more interesting for it.

It occurs to me that the modern human is the only animal, alongside those which we have domesticated, that has lost the knowledge and expertise to look after itself, and survives without knowing much of the planet we live on. The environments we interact with are man-made...pavement, cars, mortgage paperwork instead of shelter building skills, taps, packaged food on supermarket shelves, flushing toilets, fabric already woven and sewn into clothes, heating switches... And then we have the audacity to have an opinion about, and a huge impact on the habitats around us.  We rarely even realise what kind of extraordinary animal we have become, and the impact we have as a collective.  It's mind-boggling.  We have delegated responsibility and knowledge to such an extent, to maintain our complicated modern systems for billions of humans, that very few people now have the ability to meet our basic needs - water, shelter, warmth, food.  Our cultural idea of success includes career, salary, home and family, but forgets actually providing for ourselves.  It's all taken care of, but at what cost, to the planet, and our physical and mental health...  This isn't a new take on human development, but lots of miles on the bike allows the time to reflect, and find the words for myself.

The permaculture movement, which includes natural building, materials and skills, textiles, metal work, growing produce, building community, composting and water systems, is a practical positive response to our current predicament, first proposed as a collection on skills and ideas, by people who were tired of opposing, fighting and despairing, to no great effect.

I left in the morning feeling so enthused, inspired and grateful for the hospitality, that I forget which side of the road I was meant to be on...oops!

16th Jan.

The coastal road along to Jenner, quirky shaped houses, cabin homes perched on the coast, great cafes!  Met Gilbert, fellow cycle tourer at Bodega Bay camp.  A guy from the Philippines, no taller than me, cycling with a one-wheel trailer, tiny tent and improvised back rack with tent poles.  I thought he was very quiet and serious, turned out he was just a bit deaf.  He'd been cycling around since July, been north, until he found it too cold, now heading south.  He'd been a carer for people with Alzheimer's, and now mostly retired since the last elderly person he cared from had passed away.  He said sometimes he got a call about work, but otherwise he was just cycling around, staying places for 2 or 3 days, going hiking, breathing in deeply through marijuana-rich student towns!  He was staying another night, so he hung his washing out over a tree in the sun to dry.  (I wash my clothes and bunge-cord them to the back of my bike to dry through the day.)  He had a good sense of humour, and wished me well.  I love hooting my hooter and waving as I pedal off again.

The cycling wouldn't take so long if it wasn't for my camera and the cafes.  Sitting on decking in the sun by the sea, good music... the next place seems a long way away!

Some big hills.  How arduous or otherwise it is depends a lot on mindset.  Striving for and anticipating the top with every pedal stroke doesn't work.  That's exhausting just in itself.  Easier is to think, this is what I do now, and for the foreseeable future, I pedal slowly, gain height, and relax, forget the top.  There in no time! Same goes for the miles, a watched kettle never boils and all that.  Another scorcher of a day.  So nice to freewheel down into the dark of the trees every now and then, bit like a sauna plunge pool, into the settled cold air that the sun hasn't reached. 

Impromptu afternoon cyclists meeting in the road.  Vince, cycling south from Seattle, Mike from Alaska, just set off on his winter travels, and myself, all converged at the same point to chat about camp spots, hills, weight distribution, weather and so on.  Campground just after sunset, ~46 miles today, glad of my warm bulky gear at night.  My Dad's old fleece, getting on for 40 years old, been up Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn, still warm, no holes!

15th Jan.

Dry grazing land, turkey vultures circling upwards with the rising warm air columns, Point Reyes station, cafes, many ups and downs, conifers and eucalyptus to be smelt in the warm air.
Conspicuous lack of rain, lots of people talking about it, the incredible winter warm weather, and anticipated flooding, fire risk, water restrictions to come.
Sneaky evening raccoons.  Mother with two young in tow, coming within a metre of me to try and steal food, another took off with a lone spoon on the table that had a bit of peanut butter still on it.  I took to growling and snarling at them, a language they'd understand.  They did back off, and I locked up my supplies in the camp locker overnight. 

12th-14th Jan.

40 miles to reach the city.  Hectic roads roaring into San Francisco.  Climbs going on and on.  Hectic, fast and loud.  Just had to hunker down and keep pedalling.  19th Street, Golden Gate park joggers, Haight St. with its hipsters, trendy, grungy, air thick and tangy with marijuana, scarves and comic books...  Market Street, bright green cycle path, jazz and drumming in the street, incredibly steep hills, street murals everywhere, ornate houses painted pink, blue, yellow.  Met University friend Hazen at the Ferry Building.  We started University together in Edinburgh10 years ago, that sounds like a long time ago, doesn't feel like it.  Took the BART train to Berkeley, to Hazen's beautiful studio apartment.  Found a bike shop to get my back wheel trued, no problem, come back in half an hour, $10, sweet!  Himalayan curry, and Vietnamese noodle soup with tendon (delicious), tripe (would have guessed octopus, not bad), and trendy coconut water.  Berkeley Bowl marketplace - the best, most extensive produce and wholefoods shop I've ever seen.  Stocked up with tasty supplies...Afghan spinach bread, peanut butter with coconut oil, caraway crackers, organic kale, broccoli pie, yellow mangoes, and cheese from an array that wouldn't have looked out of place in France.
Hazen works for 'Veritable Vegetable', a female-strong organic produce wholesale company, buying from farms all around California and beyond, including small growers, and selling to restaurants, shops, markets and catering companies. A logistical feat with perishables, getting produce sold, out by truck everyday, and returning to the San Francisco warehouse, via the growers, large and small, trucks loaded with bought fresh produce.
Palm-tree lined Hispanic Mission district, and Dolores park, lying on the grass.  Evening cycle up one of San Francisco's steep steep hills, views out across the bay, rolled back down into the city lights after dark with the brakes on hard, onwards to beautiful lantern-strung China town, downtown financial district towering giants all lit up...so much fun cycling around, following Hazen through the streets.  Rocky Alcatraz clear across the bay, sea lion antics.  What a great city!
Cycled across the Golden Gate bridge with Hazen, a great couple of days catching up and exploring.  Set off north again with tears behind my sunglasses.  Distracted by coffee, little leafy towns and quirky places, made it to the next campground as it was getting dark, by this time 20 miles out of San Francisco, and worlds apart.  Winding quiet roads, flanked by redwoods, river down one side, and something close to silence. 

11th Jan.

Alerted to another loose rear spoke by a regular twanging sound, gently tightened it, noise went away.  Headed into Santa Cruz. 
Met Gregg at a junction as I'm looking at my map.  I asked which way to the coastal road, and he said he'd cycle there with me.  Turns out he has cycled across the world - across US, through western Europe to Africa, across Africa, India, Sri Lanka, China and Australia, oh and Chile and Argentina.  He's in the book 'Miles to Nowhere' - will have to look that up!  Stopped to watch a surfing competition from a pedestrian vantage point, dozens of surfers paddling around in the water, music, commentary, surfers actually riding waves and doing flips, incredible.  Gregg cycled with me along the coast, telling me about what it was like cycling in various different countries, describing the humbling hospitality of nomadic people in African, and dropped me off at the coastal trail heading towards Highway 1.  Cheers!

It seems west coast Americans like to be weird.  I'm heading to Portland , where the slogan is 'Keep Portland Weird'.  Gregg told me that here, the saying goes, 'If you live in Santa Cruz, you don't know what weird is anymore'.  He said when he was growing up around here, everyone was trying to out-weird each other.  So he dressed in a suit and tie for work.  That really weirded people out.  He felt he was the most weird, but some aspiring weirdos didn't get it.  Weird.  I'm English, I'm just trying to look cool.

Passed several organic farm stalls along the road today.  First rain of the trip!  The surroundings have gradually been changing, from the Mexican towns of the south, to places now where it all seems more familiar, and there is an abundance of coffee!  The temperature has become cooler too. 

Around 50 miles again today, didn't make it to the next state campgrounds, 11 miles still to go,  but running out of daylight and energy.  Pitched the tent behind a tree, at another state beach site.  Heading to San Francisco tomorrow!

10th Jan.

Amused to find muddy raccoon paw prints on a t-shirt I'd hung out over my bike - my stuff had been investigated!  Set off, bike running well.  So many people are keen to ask me where I'm heading, where I'm from, where I started... at the side of the road, at cafes, at junctions, at campgrounds.  People who cycle, people who don't.  I love talking to these random people.  Long distance cycling seems to have the right mix of vulnerability and self-reliance that people warm to. 
About 50 miles today, although it shouldn't have been quite so many - got muddled, off route, wrong direction, finally arrived at state beach campgrounds at sunset.  Smoked goats cheese rolled up with lettuce for snacking today - treated myself!
Cycling past fields and fields of artichokes today.  Passed vast bare soil fields too, ploughed, crumbly and cracked.  Passed vast sterile-looking agro-plastic clad irrigated fields.  One with dozens of workers, all with different tasks, some with liquid backpacks on, squirting each tiny plant.  Music on, could hear it drifting across the field.  Passed a brussel sprout combine harvester, manned by at least a dozen guys, some inside the slow-moving contraption, some on the ground, pulling and throwing the stalks in.  Huge trailers piled high with sprouts, sprouts flying through the air out of the chute, the air was thick with raw cabbage flesh!  They gave me a wave as I stopped to take a photo.  They were grafting, looking like hard work. 

I've seen big intensive fields before, seen swaths of agro-plastic, read about large scale growing, and eaten the produce, so it wasn't a surprise, but I don't like it.  Soil that hasn't been treated and chopped up again and again, is teaming with life and nutrients, and is the basis of growing anything.  But this process is so destructive, input-reliant, the soil is no longer a rich resource, and the produce reflects that.  The only way I can see to move away from this is to put more time into providing for ourselves on a small-scale, and less time into doing jobs to earn money, to then pay for what we need to sustain ourselves, at the cost of being completely detached from the methods and implications of the style of agriculture or land management we are supporting with our money.  This isn't a new thought, and isn't US-specific, but seeing such vast expanses of soil with not a weed in sight brings it to mind afresh. 

9th Jan.

Early start, first of the headwinds everyone seems so concerned about when I say I'm heading north - has nothing on Scotland so far!  Saw the most beautiful birds at the campground, blackbird-size, black head with a large triangular crest, and iridescent blue body.  Several of them.  Passes a small snake on the road, almost ran him over!
Called in at Pacific Grove public library for the internet, so happy to read messages from friends again.  Heading out of sprawling Monterey city, getting late in the day.  Passed a guy with a beard, and a cardboard sign asking for work, standing at a big junction.  He knew I'd need to find the cycle route, and pointed me in the right direction.  I set off, but mistook the turning, and headed south rather than north.  He comes tearing after me across the junction on his bike, 'No, it's the other way!'.  Timothy, nice guy, had cycled across the US to New York, and said he doesn't like seeing people go the wrong way.  Much appreciated!

Getting late now, and no sign of the campground.  Spotted a couple ahead, cycling with panniers.  Decided they'd know where they were going, so set off to catch them.  After about a mile of racing after them, and just not quite making it, finally caught up with them at a junction.   They weren't touring, but just returning home from work, as it turned out, a bike map business of their own.  They pointed me in the right direction, and gave me their card in case it didn't work out, and I needed rescuing!  Cheers!

Made it, high-class campgrounds.  Made a welcome change from coin-operated showers of varying temperature and illumination.  First glimpse of a raccoon in my torch light, bold as brass in the tree above my tent, scouting out food.  Spent the rest of the evening cleaning my bike chain, and removing the rear mudguard.  Developed a terrible squeak over the afternoon, I think related to the rear wheel not being quite true anymore.  Gently tightened another loose spoke.  Decided that rather than take up the fine art of wheel truing experimentally (which would not have been wise!), I'd just remove the mudguard, so it could spin untrue, unhindered.  Already hacksawn off the front of the front mudguard to stop it rubbing.  Tricky things these mudguards.  The wheels were the only component I bought pre-built, maybe that was a mistake...  Missing my bike mechanic!

8th Jan.

Tent covered in dew.  Set off pedalling uphill again in the sunshine.  Watched a hummingbird visiting fuschia flowers, passed a couple tiny lizards, and heard what sounded like more elephant seals whooping and roaring somewhere way down to the left.  Met Seth and his dog Butters, a carpenter and glass-blower, on a walking trip, with a backpack, heading for work rebuilding houses lost in a recent fire.  The scruffy-looking people are quite often the friendliest.  My northen English accent seems to baffle people!  Passed 3 other female cycle tourers, all heading south - exchanged a friendly wave of comradery! Would recommend cycling the Big Sur coastline - 2 days of spectacular views, fun hills (when you have an inner chain set ring of 22...thanks Ben!), and swooping descents.  First close up view of the famous redwoods, Sequoia, at the campground, incredibly tall. 

7th Jan.

Legs seemed to have turned to lead first thing after a rest day.  Passed a few zebras amongst the cattle grazing - the ranch estate of a late eccentric.  Had to stop and stare at the honking, barking, roaring elephant seals slumbering on the shore.  Flicking sand over themselves, lolloping about, waving their floppy noses around, lunging at each other with teeth on display, but mainly sleeping.  Huge colony, incredible.

Met Tsyens, a French Canadian guy walking from Slotown up to Carmel - a long way!  A nature teacher of kids in Montreal, on his winter explorations between seasonal work.   Just a 5 minute chat with someone whom I had something in common with was enough to set off pedalling again with renewed enthusiasm. 

Winding climbs of around 1500ft today, cliff on one side, the sea way down on the other.  Legs and mind in the zone!  The downhills incredible, could smell the pine in the air.   Passed a sign 'San Francisco 174 miles', and another on the other side at some point, 'Los Angeles 281 miles'.
 
Heading towards the Big Sur coastline...
Spotted another cycle tourer drinking coffee at Ragged Point, with a bamboo bike!  Designed and made himself, with hemp fibre and soy resin joins, and a new business in Vancouver, 'Grass Frames'.  Josh - Canadian carpenter/film set builder/bamboo bike frame builder/cycle adventurer.  Great chat, best of luck with the mobile trailer workshop, and all things bamboo!

Met Lindsey, from Pennsylvania, out jogging along the road, 'Just so you know, you're my hero!'  No-one has ever said that to me before!

Met wee Martin (who informed me he was from Peru), with Dad and family living in Portland - saw them twice along the way.  He was fascinated by the whole cycling/camping malarky!

Seen CNN news in a couple of places.  The Democrats are trying to keep the unemployment support; the Republicans want to stop it.  Seems like Obama has his work cut out persuading people.

5th Jan.


53 miles today- arrived into San Simeon State campground just after suinset with a takeaway pizza box bunge corded onto the back of my bike - successful day. 

Met fellow cycle tourer Brian at the top of a hill in the afternoon- also heading to San Francisco from LA- but this was this 3rd day- and my 6th!  (He was wearing lycra...this explains it!) 

Passed a sign 'San Francisco 235 miles'. 

Met Michael in Morro Bay park- selling chocolate bars to raise money for an alcohol rehab home.  Friendly guy- he said he'd keep me in prayer.  I really appreciated the kind thought. 

Widening the range of things to eat with peanut butter...salad- radishes- crackers- bananas- cucumber- also avocado with most of those too. 

4th Jan.

Surprised to see a hummingbird visiting a pine tree in the campgrounds.  Maybe for dew between the needles?  Seemed out of place - such a tiny marvel of  nature- amongst the monsterous RVs parked up on site.  Noticed one- a wagon front- with jeep and motorbike stored on it- and the back- a detachable mobile home with expandable sides- in total easily as big as a UK motorway lorry.

Over 45 miles today- including another 1000ft ascent over several ups and downs.  On the way to the top of a particularly steep section- up popped another cyclist- a local- who cycled with me up the last section.  He told me that this was indeed the hardest part- and it'd be comparatively easy after this.  What a relief- and good timing on the news!  Through a Mexican agricultural town- vast fields- and then down to Pismo Beach and many more RVs!

3rd Jan.

On the road at 8:30am- heating up fast- another sunny day.  Hard climb of 1000ft over 2.5 miles- then downhill into Lompc.  Vegetation changed already - pine trees with hanging lichens and dry-looking shrubs.  All the creeks and rivers seemed to be dry- some even with dusty tyre tracks along them. 

Mexican bakery- liquor emporiums- nail salons- tattoo studios...and the public library with internet- just in time before it closed.  So happy to read messages from friends!

Campsite again.  Maybe getting the hang of it!

2nd Jan.


Was poured a cup of coffee by friendly cyclists David and Val at the campgrounds.  Set off into the sunshine- feeling good.  Found some organic salad to roll up with peanut butter.  Passed water pumping columns for high-rise restaurant salad growing.  Got lost through University campus at Santa Barbara.  The helpful Pacific Route cycling signs and ample cycle lanes seemed to have disappeared. 

Called in at a bike shop- where Mr Friendly Bike Guy loosened the rear wheel spoke I'd over-tightened...wheel spinning better- cheers!

Got lost again and again- through a ranch estate- university beach park and mobile home complex- hauled bike cross-country to get between dusty paths and roads.  Thanks to the countless friendly folk who gave me directions.  

Finally just cut across onto the freeway and headed down the hardshoulder as fast as I could getting anxious that the sun was setting and I hadn't found the next campground.  So relieved to make it- dark now- lights on.  By the time I'd found a camp spot through the maze of state park loop roads in the darkness- I just needed to sit in my tent and cry.  Ben had said that I was leaving a mouse- and would return a tiger.  I was beginning to see what he meant.  The cycling is relatively straightforward- but being out of place- far from home- constantly on the move and finding my way- is pretty tough. 

1st Jan. 2014


Woke up to sunrise- the first of 2014!

Roadside vegetation quite different to Scotland- succulents- eucalyptus and palm trees.  Serious miscalculation of distances and shop frequency... Set off pedalling 7:30am in the sunshine- with no breakfast- and only 3 hours later found a somewhere to buy food.  A Spanish-speaking avocado-selling shack with mangoes- pears- oranges- peanuts and Snickers bars.  By this time I was running out of water too.  I think my blood was mainly in my legs- then I started eating- so some was redirected to my stomach- and there wasn't enough left for my head.  Spent about an hour lying by the side of the road- faint- nauseus and homesick.  Not my finest moment.  Anyway- picked myself up- recovered- and with full water bottles set off again. 

Passed dozens of cyclists- exchanged a wave- or a Happy New Year's.  Found out from a guy 'stealth camping' his way down to New Orleans on his bike- that 'wild camping' is known as 'stealth camping' - good to know.  So many kindly fellow cyclists checked if I needed help when I was taking a break- or gave me directions - cheers!

Passed a sign 'San Francisco 325 miles'.  Smelt something I could have sworn was wild goat- maybe skunk?  Since passed a few roadkill skunk. 

Arrived Carpinteria State Beach campgrounds before dusk - feeling good to be camping legitimately!

31st Dec

I've never been so happy to see cellaphane wrapping.  The bike was all boxed up the night before waiting by the door- soaking up water from a newly sprung plumbing leak in the workshop- only to be discovered at 5am on leaving for the airport. Wet cardboard doesn't travel well!

The plane journey was 11 or so hours on which to reflect on why I would leave behind so much that was good and comfortable- for a solo trip into the unknown.

I was really aware that I was heading out of my comfort zone.  I made the resolution that after this I'd have a quiet comfortable life- a bit like Bilbo Baggins.  Thing is- I seem to remember deciding that before.

The Armenian-born taxi driver who took me to my hotel room- that would be my bike workshop for the night- said drivers normally wouldn't have agreed to fit the bike box in- but he'd seen that I was a bit different- so he'd given it a go.  Maybe he was making sure he got a tip- or maybe I should try the sleep-deprived- little girl in a big world look more often!

The shabby chaotic hotel was perfect- no-one even seemed to notice the enormous box I hauled into my room.  Eight good hours sleep later I emerged to clear blue sky- palm trees and non-dairy creamer. 

First glimpse of the Pacific.  I'd found my way down the LA highways to the cycle paths along the beach.  Just as one stretch of easy path was ending- up popped Frank.  Frank has cycled the Pacific US route 3 times and has cycled from Washington to Maine over 3 months on his own.  He was out for a spin and escorted me this way and that- through the maze of streets- while talking nineteen to the dozen bout everything I needed to know- and 3 miles later dropped me off at the next beach cycle path section.  Couldn't have asked for a better welcome.  Cheers Frank!  May the winds be at your back.

One loose rear wheel spoke. Twiddled about with my spoke key.  Glad to have noticed it.

Heading down the highway at dusk and into the dark- looking for a place to sleep.  Found a little nook at the top of a sandy sea cliff  'State beach'  park.  Wrapped myself up in my tent- lying between some tough coastal bushes.  Some city lights in the distance round the coast.  Looked up at shooting stars and listened to the waves crashing.  Patchy sleep.