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.