tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36746126336657980852023-11-16T02:36:17.894-08:00Pedaling and pedalingand pedalingBryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-7297886299967292212011-03-27T12:51:00.000-07:002011-03-27T13:55:37.416-07:00Done.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saturday, March 26th, 2011</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFD17zgTkuXa-Kv9Oyxdj5R2-WufUceq3PI5avPyJVqhBf9v66ElI6s9MNacfkFFE9_dba2Xv7y-fKb8i7oJ_jJpCTYF_tbVrZWDmUCh_9h8SzwNDqWHqynXIEg3961XGvUXx4D4wkb8/s1600/03_26-KEY-WEST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFD17zgTkuXa-Kv9Oyxdj5R2-WufUceq3PI5avPyJVqhBf9v66ElI6s9MNacfkFFE9_dba2Xv7y-fKb8i7oJ_jJpCTYF_tbVrZWDmUCh_9h8SzwNDqWHqynXIEg3961XGvUXx4D4wkb8/s640/03_26-KEY-WEST.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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For those of you who thought my mangled carcass was slowly decomposing in a swampy roadside bog in Louisiana, I've got news for you: 5,500+ miles, 4.75 months, 5 flat tires, 10 states and 31 host homes later I'm very alive and exceedingly well in KEY WEST, FLORIDA!!<br />
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To be honest, I am probably more amazed than anyone that I actually followed through with it...and survived! At the outset I'd speculated that my chance of arriving in Key West was <i>maybe</i> 30%, given the myriad problems, challenges and obstacles I could encounter: crippling knee pain, chronic hemorrhoids, paralyzing trepidation, foul-weather burn-out, mechanical catastrophes, disastrous encounters with cars, trucks and RV's, monetary shortcomings and failures, gratuitous overuse of adjectives, etc. But through a combination of good fortune and halting perseverance, I made it to the end of the yellow brick road! What an adventure it's been!<br />
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Far and away the best aspect of the journey has been the incredible people I have met. More than anything––and, yes, I know this will sound cliche, but it's true––doing a trip like this restores/reinforces/confirms one's faith in the goodness and generosity of the general populous. Over and over and over I was blown away by the <s>willingness</s> eagerness of perfect strangers to extend a hand; even go the extra mile to help, assist, and offer hospitality. Nor was it just my good fortune––I heard accounts from nearly every fellow cyclist I talked to of similar experiences, some even more dramatic than mine. One cyclist told of meeting a motorist on the road who recommended a restaurant ahead, finding when he arrived at the restaurant his meal had been put on the motorist's tab!<br />
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Something disappointing I've discovered along the way is that there are a lot of people out there living with an abiding fear of the world. Other cyclists I've spoken with confirm this. A ubiquitous comment shared amongst cyclists is, "I've had a number of people ask me if I'm carrying or have considered carrying a gun." (!?) Another question cyclists often report being asked is, "Aren't you afraid of getting attacked/mugged?" (Naturally, this always comes from people who have never done anything like a cross-country bike trip.)<br />
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I suspect that this common dread stems from a culture of isolationism; we've built an infrastructure of virtual (and actual) walls and shields that keep us from interacting and socializing with those around us. Day after day, over and over, I've observed people sitting in their cars/trucks, queued up at the fast-food drive-thru (when there's no wait inside), living in their little fortresses (ie., houses), "safe" from the perceived threat outside/next door, observing the world through the television and computer screen, growing more and more convinced that the world is a scary and dangerous place.<br />
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Fortunately, the cure for the dread is to simply get out and discover that you're not attacked, mugged, murdered, harassed or even threatened and that the many people who are not kind and friendly are not malicious and dangerous but are likely just the aforementioned fearful.<br />
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Hey, do your part to reform this culture of fear! Get outside and interact with your neighbors. Talk to strangers in line at the grocery store. Initiate conversation with your co-workers and family members about this fear. Invite the neighbors you don't know over for dinner. Undertake a cross-country bike trip or a 500 mile walk.<br />
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And for God's sake, get out of your car!!<br />
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Whoo, sorry about the rant! Had to get that off my chest. Feel much better now. Kind of like after you vomit.<br />
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Now if you're wondering about the missing two and a half months of blog entries, they're coming. I have hundreds of photos and dozens of videos to sift through and edit and I will get them uploaded along with blog entries as soon as I can after I get home (April 2nd). I'll send another email when the blog is finished.<br />
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Tomorrow (Monday, the 28th) I'm renting a car here in Key West and driving up to Miami where Tuesday morning I am boarding a train for a five day trip back to Seattle.<br />
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It will be very nice to be back in the wonderful Pacific Northwest!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-63664855771760174852011-02-24T20:28:00.000-08:002011-02-24T20:52:40.849-08:00Port Hueneme to San Diego<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wednesday, Dec. 29, 2010 –– Wednesday, Jan. 05, 2011</span><br />
Wednesday evening––with yet another rain storm forecast for the overnight/early morning––stayed at the America's Best Value Inn in Port Hueneme (just south of Oxnard).<br />
<br />
All along I had been expecting on this bike trip a fair amount of rain in the Pacific Northwest and even all of Northern California, but had hoped that by the time I got south of San Francisco the rainy weather would diminish and I would quickly get sunburned. Nope; Central and Southern California were experiencing one of their rainiest winters ever with terrible flooding and mudslides ravaging the region and, worse, causing touring cyclists from Seattle great distress and uncomfortableness.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxu__aCl8gnoD3g_nu-kp-BTFBSgrH02tyznpQpquNQfVSZ4XDgiW5Fzoa1Z5bXP0q6y_uXBWc34pLk2YxeaZEVd23CVhZVIGCKegvENR1iESPqShNjsWqKFGtO9isMb3yoztBOQCLiE/s1600/hueneme+rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxu__aCl8gnoD3g_nu-kp-BTFBSgrH02tyznpQpquNQfVSZ4XDgiW5Fzoa1Z5bXP0q6y_uXBWc34pLk2YxeaZEVd23CVhZVIGCKegvENR1iESPqShNjsWqKFGtO9isMb3yoztBOQCLiE/s320/hueneme+rainbow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
By late morning the rain storm had passed, the sun reappeared, the pavement began drying and I set out for Malibu and the beginning of the massive Los Angeles megalopolis.<br />
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Coming from Seattle, with its difficult-to-forecast weather patterns, one thing that has amazed me is the accuracy of the weather forecasts in all the areas I've visited. One can look at the weather forecasts three, four, even five days in advance and make plans accordingly, knowing that probably 9 times (or more) out of 10 the prediction will be correct––often even down to the hour! In Seattle, thanks to the notorious <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puget_Sound_Convergence_Zone">Puget Sound convergence zone</a>, three days in advance, the forecast is probably correct <i>2 times</i> out of 10!<br />
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This shouldn't have been a surprise to me because as a tour guide in Seattle one thing I regularly come across is visitors saying, on a Tuesday, "The forecast for Seattle this coming weekend is for sunshine!" While I reply "Oh that's great!," I'm thinking to myself, "Well, there's always a <i>possibility</i> it'll be sunny."<br />
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Obviously, with so many people from so many different places putting such faith in the meteorologists' calculations, I should have inferred that the weather forecasts everywhere else are accurate.<br />
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With all the heavy rain this winter, one thing Southern California was having a problem with was mudslides, especially in areas where vegetation had been killed by wildfires. (How's that for an ol' one-two punch?)<br />
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Foolishly, I hadn't been actively checking for road closures along Hwy 1 (although I had been sort of watching the media outlets) even though I knew the highway department had been closing and reopening portions of Hwy 1 due to mud/landslides or threats thereof.<br />
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Just a few miles south of Port Hueneme, it bit me in the <strike>butt</strike> bike shorts; Hwy 1 was blocked at Point Mugu!<br />
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This map shows how far inland I had to go to detour around:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrcYVY_RUwOJp69WfX0f175Q8LloqwJTiILDLadaEBefnNYh_7trSaTfEuK0DDraXYqGFaTNNng7AJ5o98bnoN3p2yzm7tQcv43dZr8tbvdlBuDLmsgJRAWFRYNXjEvrKNx2-CsbgRMs/s1600/malibu-detour-map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrcYVY_RUwOJp69WfX0f175Q8LloqwJTiILDLadaEBefnNYh_7trSaTfEuK0DDraXYqGFaTNNng7AJ5o98bnoN3p2yzm7tQcv43dZr8tbvdlBuDLmsgJRAWFRYNXjEvrKNx2-CsbgRMs/s320/malibu-detour-map.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The map also indicates where this photo (#1) of a fruit stand was taken:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qQtt31o0qvxVs3Kq5hTxzUd5YTpbwNWc6qlz5suqCHgVAENW_k-qCcA06Pi2BSB3rLOHu3EJUFDs4y590HcW4EMjLC02OJymrcn8l59zUgzaWahT9E_Zij5ddYkHmKukl22vZNvOpms/s1600/port-hueneme-fruit-stand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qQtt31o0qvxVs3Kq5hTxzUd5YTpbwNWc6qlz5suqCHgVAENW_k-qCcA06Pi2BSB3rLOHu3EJUFDs4y590HcW4EMjLC02OJymrcn8l59zUgzaWahT9E_Zij5ddYkHmKukl22vZNvOpms/s320/port-hueneme-fruit-stand.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>(I purchased a couple of pieces of fuel.)<br />
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And this photo (#2) of a memorial for a killed cyclist:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArjl5tsCVmwaYkwOYegHS7tCf0WvWprt-zpkJ7ZWFg6TpwTkdah84GXWk28tuVqAw4kRrusSKNlFOseWff4zqV9huVDpqrCfRKEokz4hV9bnrBOE2XLhp60bGiJlP9RLvKurZc6GsoJc/s1600/thousand-oaks-memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArjl5tsCVmwaYkwOYegHS7tCf0WvWprt-zpkJ7ZWFg6TpwTkdah84GXWk28tuVqAw4kRrusSKNlFOseWff4zqV9huVDpqrCfRKEokz4hV9bnrBOE2XLhp60bGiJlP9RLvKurZc6GsoJc/s320/thousand-oaks-memorial.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Once I was diverted at Point Mugu from my intended southward trajectory, the farm road I was on started bending to the left––not only northward, but also into the wind. Argh! Fortunately, since I'd no idea where I was going (the maps I had only showed the intended route), there was a guy walking along the road who just so happened to be a fellow cyclist (!) and was able to give me quite good directions.<br />
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After spending the whole day riding up and through Camarillo, Thousand Oaks and Agoura Hills and with daylight quickly fading, I pulled into Malibu Creek State Park. Many of the California State Parks want exorbitant fees for camping (Some as much as $35!! Inexplicably, they don't differentiate between RV "campers" and hiker/biker campers.) and Malibu Creek was no exception, so I rode on a dirt road way back into the bowels of the park, hoping I would be hidden from any fee-extorting park rangers who might happen along. It worked. I found what turned out to be a near-perfect campsite, save for the eerie cackling sound some unidentified creature was making up on the hillside nearby.<br />
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Here's a photo of the site the next morning:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi1XO63P1DSapQH1QWTJBkMPnRjGEPPLFFQZlAVYz8a-p9E6QQYaech5ywbjyYtfd6oqZs8pTwW5Fvo_9_xLMtZbxWWZEobs1S496GoSC31OMLcckHmbd964mSMPDCYo7OYc3qOjZKeI/s1600/malibu-tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi1XO63P1DSapQH1QWTJBkMPnRjGEPPLFFQZlAVYz8a-p9E6QQYaech5ywbjyYtfd6oqZs8pTwW5Fvo_9_xLMtZbxWWZEobs1S496GoSC31OMLcckHmbd964mSMPDCYo7OYc3qOjZKeI/s320/malibu-tent.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Escorted by expensive Porsches, Mercedes, Land Rovers, Bentleys and the like, I screamed down through Malibu Canyon, past Pepperdine University:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pfzjHYyT4YWbxi5RQ_Smxi2qfawxuTEet3xYwMhhG1GBhimNlFsBHnDGvvL9cyZDUIs5LpyxwWNjVOJGkNm9yHmJ1dXHm854Rcb2iejkJZR2nuJiCUbn5CMBQv2JOcyipmeL50mNpFM/s1600/malibu-pepperdine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pfzjHYyT4YWbxi5RQ_Smxi2qfawxuTEet3xYwMhhG1GBhimNlFsBHnDGvvL9cyZDUIs5LpyxwWNjVOJGkNm9yHmJ1dXHm854Rcb2iejkJZR2nuJiCUbn5CMBQv2JOcyipmeL50mNpFM/s320/malibu-pepperdine.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Back (finally!) on The King's Highway, in Malibu I couldn't believe how many houses (hundreds and hundreds) up on the hillsides looked like houses I'd seen in movies and TV shows (some of them I––and you––probably <i>have</i> seen on the screen); the kind of houses where, during their incessant parties, the likes of Charlie Sheen, Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan and Robert Downey Jr. dutifully (bless their hearts) engage in behavior that supplies our celebrity-obsessed culture with the juice we need and crave.<br />
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Some of the houses were a bit more unique:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW5r0QC_wotdoZ4Dscb7iXDtx7Ciyd93du6sME2O58dD0LC0aVqEx8S6O7l3g8FIw4lD0RTO1H3SBfpaawF_STqGqOjIS2RAx0c_rZ2cyPJxwcFc5X1L_EdSGKles1OfJQaHRNnftEss/s1600/malibu-houses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW5r0QC_wotdoZ4Dscb7iXDtx7Ciyd93du6sME2O58dD0LC0aVqEx8S6O7l3g8FIw4lD0RTO1H3SBfpaawF_STqGqOjIS2RAx0c_rZ2cyPJxwcFc5X1L_EdSGKles1OfJQaHRNnftEss/s320/malibu-houses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Passed a famous boulevard:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvhma7YowOoxvFJjZDsqgEnw5JwkAPSAhlzUg7ztWF0S6AZ_5KmBrhZLJ9zoeDtUSGLlXQP0VxdGUysmd8gTuvbnpEvroiDe-cD6bzDi_sMGPlKb3Rj41x3UNGQdg-ejs9kwaK0AS3kU/s1600/malibu-sunset-blvd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvhma7YowOoxvFJjZDsqgEnw5JwkAPSAhlzUg7ztWF0S6AZ_5KmBrhZLJ9zoeDtUSGLlXQP0VxdGUysmd8gTuvbnpEvroiDe-cD6bzDi_sMGPlKb3Rj41x3UNGQdg-ejs9kwaK0AS3kU/s320/malibu-sunset-blvd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Rode along famous Venice Beach:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8nnJXIL4LFQ" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
You can close the pop-up ad in the video by clicking the 'x' in the upper-right of the ad. (The ad is the result of having copyrighted music attached to the video.) <br />
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At around Redondo Beach, one has to cut inland through Torrance and some of the grittier neighborhoods of L.A. in order to skirt around the gigantic shipping port at Long Beach (largest, busiest port on the West Coast).<br />
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Took this photo of one of the archetypal L.A. streets:<br />
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Riding through the second-largest city in the U.S. and who do I see up ahead of me? My old pal Andrew! Amazing. And turns out we were both headed for Newport Beach that evening; Andrew to a warmshowers host, and I to Linda's––whom I'd met at the hostel in Santa Barbara. (See foreshadowing in previous blog post.)<br />
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So Andrew and I rode together over the Los Angeles river:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YR0xRc0lRXnCmazwUe8Br1vFaDzXBjWCpj0_TsFi7zNdpqS4yccGE5SONddbME61cLjG4PZ0ZVKDhRbkOch4u6mQrn7FszpCra2ibfr7863eFg7JzagLenFfQYIcaPf8xFR3GOxCdVs/s1600/la-river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YR0xRc0lRXnCmazwUe8Br1vFaDzXBjWCpj0_TsFi7zNdpqS4yccGE5SONddbME61cLjG4PZ0ZVKDhRbkOch4u6mQrn7FszpCra2ibfr7863eFg7JzagLenFfQYIcaPf8xFR3GOxCdVs/s320/la-river.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Seeing the snow-flecked Sierra Nevadas to the east:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGn1g6MD6CnNJ29aAMzah0-sJhckgV80T4-dHQnkxkEFvHKfo42SA_Etews4YSOrcgwtp9BYlzX6x_HdTbgvSKr6-jbleKBZbm7tcpb6hVdHwsXJ4n_5FIXdaFaMr7JzavbZmYNaSCRs/s1600/la-snowy-sierras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGn1g6MD6CnNJ29aAMzah0-sJhckgV80T4-dHQnkxkEFvHKfo42SA_Etews4YSOrcgwtp9BYlzX6x_HdTbgvSKr6-jbleKBZbm7tcpb6hVdHwsXJ4n_5FIXdaFaMr7JzavbZmYNaSCRs/s320/la-snowy-sierras.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Past the huge shipping port at Long Beach, near where the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Queen_Mary">Queen Mary</a> (now a hotel) is docked:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvUhgqIhe8z8a6o-tF9mY_EtyocCrW2mGWFqFzdSW6nyxX3zLJ_x45KTqF4imfORl7JCV-iCAeowSyKsvKpI3zwz-VaWPdT10qgys5YD1P_mg8FnJjsCiujQZ1Uywn4O6sWI77IWnEMys/s1600/la-queen-mary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvUhgqIhe8z8a6o-tF9mY_EtyocCrW2mGWFqFzdSW6nyxX3zLJ_x45KTqF4imfORl7JCV-iCAeowSyKsvKpI3zwz-VaWPdT10qgys5YD1P_mg8FnJjsCiujQZ1Uywn4O6sWI77IWnEMys/s320/la-queen-mary.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The dome barely visible behind the Queen is where Howard Hughes' <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hughes_H-4_Hercules">Spruce Goose</a> was housed until it was moved in 1993 to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evergreen_Aviation_Museum">Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum</a> in McMinneville, OR. If you get a chance, and are at all interested in aviation, this museum is well worth a visit. The Spruce Goose alone is astounding.<br />
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Andrew and I arrived in Newport Beach well after dark (it was getting dark at about 5:30-ish) and parted ways to go to our respective hosts' homes, but we made plans to meet up again in the morning to continue our ride to San Diego.<br />
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Linda lived in a trailer in a decent little mobile home park. I was hoping she would offer me floor space in her tiny living room, but, alas, she did not so I set up my tent in the parking space next to her trailer. She suggested we go to a local Italian restaurant as she had a gift certificate which would cover us both. So we arrived at this very large, hip, insanely crowded, loud and dark restaurant to be told by the hostess that the wait would be an HOUR AND A HALF! On a Thursday night!? Although, it <i>was</i> the week between Xmas and New Years and this was the day before New Year's Eve. So we left to go find something else. We ended up at another Italian restaurant that was part of a huge outdoor shopping mall. Neither of these were my kind of place, but I just wanted to eat.<br />
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The whole evening was slightly bizarre. Linda was a very strange companion; her behavior (it seemed to me she had "dolled" herself up and the whole evening she almost seemed nervous) and a couple of comments (At one point she said something about "my husband..." then, "No, I'm kidding.") gave the distinct impression that she considered this a "date!?" Now I started becoming afraid she <i>would</i> invite me to sleep on the living room floor! Glad I was sleeping outside.<br />
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Back at her trailer, she wanted to show me a DVD that she thought was terrific. It was footage of California Coast scenery set to horrifically cheesy music and it went on and on and on and on. I think she thought I'd like it because I'd ridden down the coast. I didn't tell her I was totally sick of big waves crashing into big rocks but I did tell her I was tired (which wasn't a lie––I'd pedaled further this day than any so far: 86 miles) and needed to retire to my tent. Whew! <br />
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In the morning, after a miniscule breakfast (Although it <i>was</i> very nice of her.) and her giving me a care package (Some cookies, a couple of little seashells and a book that lists Bible verses addressing any given emotion or scenario...This was the icing on the cake that was my odd time with Linda.), I hastened off toward San Diego.<br />
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How did I end up with no photos of Linda or her trailer!?<br />
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This area south of L.A., like Malibu, is very swanky (This is where Oprah lives.) and after passing Ferrari and Aston Martin dealerships, I met back up with Andrew.<br />
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While I'm old enough to be Andrew's father (I'm 17 years his senior), we share a similar dry, tongue-in-cheek sense of humor and it was refreshing to be around someone I could laugh with. That, and we ride at the same pace. So off we rode toward San Diego.<br />
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It was Friday, New Year's Eve, and we didn't know where we would end up that evening. Turns out, after getting a late start and a lazy day of riding, we ended up in San Clemente where we decided to get a motel room. It was New Year's Eve after all!<br />
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Since I didn't get a photo of the front of the motel, here's a Google Maps Street View of it:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqojKT2FV5N0Gd6I_-jIatTZbfHhyphenhyphen_TCV8FieFRNBDNK0ttdyAR7kpJVBp-kScWXfU0-jHL8hZW8I_g641TlKDY31VRQFh1bZ08KDGjy9zzmuUOpa-IvOzuvGQQb_E3tdLueJ8FMp9wQE/s1600/la-travelodge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqojKT2FV5N0Gd6I_-jIatTZbfHhyphenhyphen_TCV8FieFRNBDNK0ttdyAR7kpJVBp-kScWXfU0-jHL8hZW8I_g641TlKDY31VRQFh1bZ08KDGjy9zzmuUOpa-IvOzuvGQQb_E3tdLueJ8FMp9wQE/s320/la-travelodge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The hand of God points to our room.<br />
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Here's the view of the ocean (and the highway) from our balcony:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1hC0ny4s7296rHrCCtjyX9rb8PPXm-muL8cOp0D1C2BEh1oGjKyfnsCif7z4CxQ2SU9EOSnqqB69v5frpyU-74IEDa11jkWGXg36qXKF7ixlRGYEalf-LN55UwECpZR478TtozLEu3c/s1600/01_01-motel-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1hC0ny4s7296rHrCCtjyX9rb8PPXm-muL8cOp0D1C2BEh1oGjKyfnsCif7z4CxQ2SU9EOSnqqB69v5frpyU-74IEDa11jkWGXg36qXKF7ixlRGYEalf-LN55UwECpZR478TtozLEu3c/s320/01_01-motel-view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That evening, after a huge, very delicious meal at El Mariachi, a local Mexican restaurant, we walked down to the nearby grocery store. Neither of us are imbibers, so we decided we would party down by eating junk food; chips, root beer, candy, and ice cream cake! Well, actually it was just Andrew eating ice cream cake as I avoid dairy. Here's Andrew with his beloved ice cream cake:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2GyW62jRauRFpY0nAvKNaZApnzYnHJQsSyOLuxKBGq0p4fotgJVlEWRUml2j7VfT7nqbgL1wco8XIbyILoH9dTXjEPkTyPfeTxZgONpGAkWTChC2CN6yBsjuQaHqajVE4VnxqNg_H0k/s1600/la-andrew-cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2GyW62jRauRFpY0nAvKNaZApnzYnHJQsSyOLuxKBGq0p4fotgJVlEWRUml2j7VfT7nqbgL1wco8XIbyILoH9dTXjEPkTyPfeTxZgONpGAkWTChC2CN6yBsjuQaHqajVE4VnxqNg_H0k/s320/la-andrew-cake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And a close up:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvQ1VOWiQbTeKSaQJ0uudgO33LvSYC3AIVzbU8viU4kYOZhIp67r6Uacn6I7QkjK4zrjuEqEhZBMNpB5OOzO6dZ0CTXpq2SRNPK62vgbdJwJ3UrBZX4MXPslstx27Ncf-dL_eE0NgyWY/s1600/la-cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvQ1VOWiQbTeKSaQJ0uudgO33LvSYC3AIVzbU8viU4kYOZhIp67r6Uacn6I7QkjK4zrjuEqEhZBMNpB5OOzO6dZ0CTXpq2SRNPK62vgbdJwJ3UrBZX4MXPslstx27Ncf-dL_eE0NgyWY/s320/la-cake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Believe it or not, he ate the whole thing! He felt a bit ill the next morning.<br />
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I took a photo of our room the next morning:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVqjeWQJYuLwQcxfR4B3p4CkgMf9J2U0lWBygy1hGCHFBx912rXHwivdZvkIZFHhTIv1DRwyZtBozcY-VJ3ZorHQmPKRQi_KRdDpVH9v6NN-vFky8fPA1EaICobx45x2gVNVA3suVYRQ/s1600/01_01-motel-room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVqjeWQJYuLwQcxfR4B3p4CkgMf9J2U0lWBygy1hGCHFBx912rXHwivdZvkIZFHhTIv1DRwyZtBozcY-VJ3ZorHQmPKRQi_KRdDpVH9v6NN-vFky8fPA1EaICobx45x2gVNVA3suVYRQ/s320/01_01-motel-room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After spending 20 minutes rousing Andrew from a sugar-induced coma, we set off for San Diego, 65 miles away.<br />
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South of San Clemente our route took us through Camp Pendleton. I tried to get a photo of the MP's at the security gate but they wouldn't allow it. Inside the base, I did get a picture of one of the tank-crossing signs:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37V27Lh1Fl3O_-poWpcLri0j1chE57mxMEO-rcjD64BL46GBmAb41ddFyFXRbbqoQ5gMDRC4Mg8BPAz51FtZoEFMYdxEBmajC19eZhw_qRo2buI82GBi7GvhFCSbii4pucxZHy9M4U5w/s1600/01_01-tank-xing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37V27Lh1Fl3O_-poWpcLri0j1chE57mxMEO-rcjD64BL46GBmAb41ddFyFXRbbqoQ5gMDRC4Mg8BPAz51FtZoEFMYdxEBmajC19eZhw_qRo2buI82GBi7GvhFCSbii4pucxZHy9M4U5w/s320/01_01-tank-xing.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Unfortunately, there were no tanks to be seen. No soldiers either, for that matter. We did see a number of the wood and rope structures that Marines train on. Camp Pendleton is huge and stretches quite a ways in from the coast. We were barely inside the western boundary.<br />
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Andrew took this shot of me in a tunnel: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWdWZ6gWEDHldt64yFs2rtPPCCFhsPZxVCcnmkuwuPWNfbYX9Fq-Bg8rkzkd5kowVDkUzhZgWlKmkkelFJHQY0t7js6vpOtsKq_7zjrpbk_W95rjfA69Ra75Bo48wHCpnTt1W6ODWDQI/s1600/01_01-me-tunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWdWZ6gWEDHldt64yFs2rtPPCCFhsPZxVCcnmkuwuPWNfbYX9Fq-Bg8rkzkd5kowVDkUzhZgWlKmkkelFJHQY0t7js6vpOtsKq_7zjrpbk_W95rjfA69Ra75Bo48wHCpnTt1W6ODWDQI/s320/01_01-me-tunnel.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
In spite of having gotten a late start, by late afternoon and with about 20 miles to go, we decided we could make San Diego by dusk. Then Andrew got a flat. Here he is happily fixing it:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjncOg2tUtuB0D9zD6qXM1d4qfpYebYNGaEPIqGBYFeCz6E3Els8q5hzOVnmE1py7G_5KB0Yrsmc11QBxHsNdSzzM7OOyfShWH225LNTp-qmQVmjeMl1AqIkhYpCH2dmrd-2BXBhvr_8/s1600/01_01-andrew-flat-fix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjncOg2tUtuB0D9zD6qXM1d4qfpYebYNGaEPIqGBYFeCz6E3Els8q5hzOVnmE1py7G_5KB0Yrsmc11QBxHsNdSzzM7OOyfShWH225LNTp-qmQVmjeMl1AqIkhYpCH2dmrd-2BXBhvr_8/s320/01_01-andrew-flat-fix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
10 minutes later we were on the move again. By dusk we were passing the Scripps Research Institute buildings in the La Jolla neighborhood north of San Diego and then the UC San Diego campus. We'd made it! Although, we didn't have any idea where to go now that we were actually in San Diego.<br />
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Just then we came upon a riot of flashing red strobe lights...it was bicycles! Bicycles with panniers and trailers! Touring cyclists! There were only four of them but my first impression was of a crowd. We pulled up alongside them and made their acquaintance. They were three guys and a girl from Northern California and, like us, were arriving in San Diego with no idea where to go or where to spend the night. We pulled up at the entrance of a Von's grocery store and became a spectacle; six fully loaded touring bikes really draws a lot of attention. We<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> were </span>now</i> a crowd.<br />
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They were Ace, from Humboldt State University, his sister Julie and their friend Davin, both from Tahoe, and Jordan, a cyclist from Portland who'd joined up with them in California. The four of them were headed down into Mexico, then on into Central and, possibly, South America.<br />
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Ace had majored in film at HSU and was, with the assistance of the other three, making a feature-length film documenting their adventure. They have a few edited teasers up here: <a href="http://revolutions-southward.com/">http://revolutions-southward.com/</a><br />
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After about an hour at Von's, chatting, buying provisions, etc., our little miniature Critical Mass was on the move again, heading toward the Mission Bay section of San Diego.<br />
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After winding through a bunch of upscale neighborhoods and passing the nightclubs and bars alongside Mission Beach, we arrived in Mission Bay Park, not far from Sea World, where we located a spot we thought isolated enough that we wouldn't get hassled during the night. We slept under palm trees and stars.<br />
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At dawn I took this photo of our campsite:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqcxIeNcVH2Mjo6BHF7Yr5PnVTLzWhT1esEe4NmQ9KkjlTIyhUg0fzd1GUJ_r0PbtjA5wMH10G3PCq7uYL42VHfJW6-PojgQ-U-Kg9JlcOcQ4lO2XL0Dl8_hzR6r9_aihwykX9M0KAxw/s1600/01_02-san-diego-stealth-camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqcxIeNcVH2Mjo6BHF7Yr5PnVTLzWhT1esEe4NmQ9KkjlTIyhUg0fzd1GUJ_r0PbtjA5wMH10G3PCq7uYL42VHfJW6-PojgQ-U-Kg9JlcOcQ4lO2XL0Dl8_hzR6r9_aihwykX9M0KAxw/s320/01_02-san-diego-stealth-camp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Soon after sun-up we were packed and rolling again, this time into downtown San Diego. Here's a shot of the group:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWfBDYq5Xuf6YlWCxLOSTtIRWEhYqXz-BuFlNoYzqm2fj0-24klGFcCQQsRcUmMKiKMgGbN9sI4QP4PAuwqk84SU0muCjfciA4UclMjFL89zCY0OU16J-_-KePaYDVJ5cray7sqWTe1g/s1600/01_02-mini-critical-mass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWfBDYq5Xuf6YlWCxLOSTtIRWEhYqXz-BuFlNoYzqm2fj0-24klGFcCQQsRcUmMKiKMgGbN9sI4QP4PAuwqk84SU0muCjfciA4UclMjFL89zCY0OU16J-_-KePaYDVJ5cray7sqWTe1g/s320/01_02-mini-critical-mass.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
San Diego has an even stronger maritime presence than Seattle and there are ships all around the harbor and along the downtown waterfront. Once downtown, we stopped to look at a couple of beautiful old tall ships:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tayc54n-gcHPTgV4k96nWOG1tonbGivuYIiH7RFU-Uj8kbuQAOUyyDE5ZVR3PaeODHoYT7437bW_ydMlvjm4RQyDkoTDcbQL1uHI4DjRfr-EngxOJVJ8vRC_7VLNt_P-q0hGJ0T8T1Q/s1600/01_02-san-diego-tall-ship-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tayc54n-gcHPTgV4k96nWOG1tonbGivuYIiH7RFU-Uj8kbuQAOUyyDE5ZVR3PaeODHoYT7437bW_ydMlvjm4RQyDkoTDcbQL1uHI4DjRfr-EngxOJVJ8vRC_7VLNt_P-q0hGJ0T8T1Q/s320/01_02-san-diego-tall-ship-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWrFoRtu_S1wbjm2UZN3zkn_Jq96IjfvP3x-GMziOw61yuJ6vbwtazyiBB_BniCclQ9CiJlrfjB12CEJNpWUoNSSW2slhmtHSvlypfWxzxQ3rnMXvdGIF7-sRL7KqIwiQTuqojRMq9do/s1600/01_02-san-diego-tall-ship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWrFoRtu_S1wbjm2UZN3zkn_Jq96IjfvP3x-GMziOw61yuJ6vbwtazyiBB_BniCclQ9CiJlrfjB12CEJNpWUoNSSW2slhmtHSvlypfWxzxQ3rnMXvdGIF7-sRL7KqIwiQTuqojRMq9do/s320/01_02-san-diego-tall-ship.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Those of you from Seattle might remember a Russian sub that was docked at Pier 49 for a while? It's the same sub you see behind the ship in the above photo.<br />
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From the waterfront we set off in search of a Coffee Bean (Starbucks-like chain) as Ace had a gift certificate to use up before entering Mexico. Free coffee and pastries for all!<br />
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Here's a shot of us and the bikes at the downtown San Diego Coffee Bean:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXwL6yfvI9bwrT6D5YwrIUeptuZqhh2x2V3d_xslT1TzHI177_k0vuVTU1FUphzXcChOda3L2UgejYtG-T5fE6EZKFk4PGMxPi_Crfvl4fe1VzLYqSpRQNo7y5YMGHjYCP_i_QR5vEIQ/s1600/01_02-san-diego-coffee-bean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXwL6yfvI9bwrT6D5YwrIUeptuZqhh2x2V3d_xslT1TzHI177_k0vuVTU1FUphzXcChOda3L2UgejYtG-T5fE6EZKFk4PGMxPi_Crfvl4fe1VzLYqSpRQNo7y5YMGHjYCP_i_QR5vEIQ/s320/01_02-san-diego-coffee-bean.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
While hanging out here, a local cyclist came by inquiring about our story. Turns out his name was Seamus (SHAY-muss) and he had a little bike shop nearby with an apartment in the back. He kindly offered the use of his bike shop and tools, his apartment, and the back patio area for camping. So, off we went to Seamus' place:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqoBopCTzNeY8on2KmgsR3dl2f5Q1jENIPQFUfou1Ob7GpXjfDfq6t1WqwCf4QEEGkfl864xnMRHxVjtQH7atGp6-BmuNFTXPLN-iQBcR7F-RNAn5zzleDV_OksP_7arSu-xB-JR7_uA/s1600/01_02-riding-w_seamus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqoBopCTzNeY8on2KmgsR3dl2f5Q1jENIPQFUfou1Ob7GpXjfDfq6t1WqwCf4QEEGkfl864xnMRHxVjtQH7atGp6-BmuNFTXPLN-iQBcR7F-RNAn5zzleDV_OksP_7arSu-xB-JR7_uA/s320/01_02-riding-w_seamus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Seamus is the one in the front turning around.<br />
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Here's a video I shot of us going to Seamus' place in back of the bike shop:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WeoEvcntPfM" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
This was the patio area where we were to camp that night...until it decided to rain. Fortunately, Seamus was leaving town for a few days and offered the floor space of his approximately 150 sq. ft. studio apartment, if we could all fit. The weather was abysmal that afternoon and evening (though you wouldn't have known it by the pics and video seen above), so after a bit of shifting stuff around we all crammed our ground pads and sleeping bags in and had a nice, dry evening.<br />
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Here's the (entire) apartment:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UiSj_SvmEQ_NvZMwXCGUFnizPx78RhKUMm3jGrCE7X3xiK-2bNHPCHW28b3l1uZ29xAKGXpCTlzqR7Ja6W9NTQRkU_sjNw9PvzHx69Wx21ervdsCLD-mivvz0mftuI1frwMP164VYUQ/s1600/01_02-san-diego-seamus-apt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UiSj_SvmEQ_NvZMwXCGUFnizPx78RhKUMm3jGrCE7X3xiK-2bNHPCHW28b3l1uZ29xAKGXpCTlzqR7Ja6W9NTQRkU_sjNw9PvzHx69Wx21ervdsCLD-mivvz0mftuI1frwMP164VYUQ/s320/01_02-san-diego-seamus-apt.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
The next morning the group of four were to cross the border into Mexico and Andrew and I decided to go along and see them off. We took this shot before leaving Seamus' place:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX4AHF3oPG4vlY73hfNbQ3VQfsDA-mhZ5xlo7qm1GJmxK2SXZvQ4iD8wZBTIV0wxEs9ebBxrsS_fWT5T3HRou4z4vEtg6E2BM0F7lNEFHOSd7n6xBWMxIq7ojeXq1j3V_Y6Fhg_r5Xkw/s1600/01_03-group-shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX4AHF3oPG4vlY73hfNbQ3VQfsDA-mhZ5xlo7qm1GJmxK2SXZvQ4iD8wZBTIV0wxEs9ebBxrsS_fWT5T3HRou4z4vEtg6E2BM0F7lNEFHOSd7n6xBWMxIq7ojeXq1j3V_Y6Fhg_r5Xkw/s320/01_03-group-shot.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After the border-crossers were "safely" in Mexico, Andrew took this shot of me at the <i>paso de frontera</i> (border crossing):<br />
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From San Ysidro (city where the border crossing is), we rode up through Coronado where we caught the ferry across the harbor back to downtown San Diego. The ferry goes past the USS Midway:<br />
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The previous day I had contacted a warmshowers host, Jason (and his partner Keith), and they invited Andrew and me over to stay at their house. Great guys, Jason and Keith; exceedingly accommodating and generous and great to talk to––Jason has done a lot of bike touring. Here they are (with Lilo): <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyy3r6E2rvC6Qfs3fNUo4HolORIHywxOHiX8kEG3Tw8lENW7vv1KAMU3R0zPwPAc39phTSNtxmqZF_I-oOXlFcVL9OmeOsABnNlIqPFz5p_5xfYdA-Tb_p639uwnkqQargbSqbCAg0fvA/s1600/01_04-jason-keith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyy3r6E2rvC6Qfs3fNUo4HolORIHywxOHiX8kEG3Tw8lENW7vv1KAMU3R0zPwPAc39phTSNtxmqZF_I-oOXlFcVL9OmeOsABnNlIqPFz5p_5xfYdA-Tb_p639uwnkqQargbSqbCAg0fvA/s320/01_04-jason-keith.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Jason's on the left.<br />
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From San Diego, Andrew headed north to visit his folks in Seattle and I headed eastward. Leaving San Diego, I noticed a stadium a few blocks away. It was Petco Field where the Padres play:<br />
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I also passed a mural painted by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shepard_Fairey">Shepard Fairey</a>:<br />
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And an appropriately-named mortuary:<br />
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That evening I stayed at a Motel 6 in El Cajon. I had made the great "left turn" and was heading east!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-8626265377375489742011-02-06T00:27:00.000-08:002011-02-06T00:27:06.861-08:00San Francisco to Port Hueneme<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wednesday, Dec. 15 –– Tuesday, Dec 28, 2010</span><br />
Alright, I have got to get this blasted blog updated! I have an overwhelming pile of photos and videos to upload so I'm going to try to summarize a bunch and get caught up. Then I'll just have to not fall behind again!<br />
<br />
So after my stay with Angelo in Vallejo, I moved to Heidi and Martin's place in San Francisco where I spent a couple of days tooling about, being a tourist.<br />
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I took the Bay Link ferry from Vallejo to the City. Here's my bike on the ferry:<br />
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The ferry goes right past Alcatraz:<br />
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And here's the ferry with the Bay Bridge in the background:<br />
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My cousin, Adrienne, lives in SF and we'd plans to have lunch. Killing time before meeting her at Union Square Park, I went past City Hall and the "Heart of the City Farmers Market":<br />
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San Francisco City Hall has a new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhang_Huan">Zhang Huan</a> sculpture called <i>Three Heads Six Arms</i> in front:<br />
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Here's Adrienne:<br />
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Adrienne and I had probably spent less cumulative time together our whole lives than we did having lunch today, which is sad because I found her to be totally charming. It was very nice. We talked about getting all the cousins together since we don't really know each other. Good idea!<br />
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After lunch I did some more tooling about, taking a few photos:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMw9q8aD8d1sYQONn9sl4f0kKhadgPMLTsyyR5fUzgdW0U9aoSiy5evT-2MWyynuP7WOVt95VbfIlCPYmVk89ooC_t_ez5NGTBHOmnjcsbtpDyyMfyruSih7Sa5pROlNkVMUqOuJn_Jko/s1600/chinatown+gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMw9q8aD8d1sYQONn9sl4f0kKhadgPMLTsyyR5fUzgdW0U9aoSiy5evT-2MWyynuP7WOVt95VbfIlCPYmVk89ooC_t_ez5NGTBHOmnjcsbtpDyyMfyruSih7Sa5pROlNkVMUqOuJn_Jko/s320/chinatown+gate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxm8atIfDXW2u1Vp95z7nA_PCfEv_clCeqTDVcNKWkK_vsav4dkZtPQV5OUWYnx8fr1gq3S-op9o4_6mwwREFvunTf3sjFKD03Jw9TYYefDpe1FbKRx-cflKO7AOD-9lSwvoOlPG5tK8/s1600/coit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxm8atIfDXW2u1Vp95z7nA_PCfEv_clCeqTDVcNKWkK_vsav4dkZtPQV5OUWYnx8fr1gq3S-op9o4_6mwwREFvunTf3sjFKD03Jw9TYYefDpe1FbKRx-cflKO7AOD-9lSwvoOlPG5tK8/s320/coit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeh-fmwvvodghkAA5xg8EuZu6U-rzLrB5qiN89zX5hnCcV6qS66a1K0guTiF5UodCoIAh2c5cTbI0-GH5QaT1IkL0V1ArcJSJTi0fSFiHo05inB5RA0c-CdtwL9lfj8cNz6ohNQd7qTUA/s1600/victorians.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeh-fmwvvodghkAA5xg8EuZu6U-rzLrB5qiN89zX5hnCcV6qS66a1K0guTiF5UodCoIAh2c5cTbI0-GH5QaT1IkL0V1ArcJSJTi0fSFiHo05inB5RA0c-CdtwL9lfj8cNz6ohNQd7qTUA/s320/victorians.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Heidi and Martin, like all my <a href="http://www.warmshowers.org/">warmshowers</a> hosts, were incredibly accommodating and let me stay another night so I could see more of the city. The next morning I got a photo of their backyard (with a chicken coop!):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1VI75VbkiZuU_O1aiz3APgofMVyJfdRLC5biYpNvGardTXHiylbRjMS9DVeHUVKHoC-WarP-RyU5c33fgv86dxHfDPeVLl3ggn8oVhEpe_P5SD-WKgE4fCowQhDlTYg39WV7Ag_C1L0/s1600/heidi-backyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1VI75VbkiZuU_O1aiz3APgofMVyJfdRLC5biYpNvGardTXHiylbRjMS9DVeHUVKHoC-WarP-RyU5c33fgv86dxHfDPeVLl3ggn8oVhEpe_P5SD-WKgE4fCowQhDlTYg39WV7Ag_C1L0/s320/heidi-backyard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLp5MMUJZgx0ifU9gtioIjRbk6gO2AqA562563RCd4miYey6aj8mVRXR9jDTc7953VUeJjuleuUH9MHVyn7vkBeCzuyBy-0XMfgVNbCPpNdWsT5lRLOnW3gjMVvWcqmjGIb6BhIFVKe7w/s1600/dinosaur+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLp5MMUJZgx0ifU9gtioIjRbk6gO2AqA562563RCd4miYey6aj8mVRXR9jDTc7953VUeJjuleuUH9MHVyn7vkBeCzuyBy-0XMfgVNbCPpNdWsT5lRLOnW3gjMVvWcqmjGIb6BhIFVKe7w/s320/dinosaur+bird.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I visited a bit of Golden Gate Park:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B1up0H82jzo1BZAbGRZKJSuojDceI5BJlCVQ4pSRHUonKqpxie1r4ItSNTvpMxzEGEamA5qOa23bQIGdr8vraeqwmQvLA071VC0gd-vKzE7PKergEAj0URov2bp4DdHCa_tN7-mmDR0/s1600/ggpark+conservatory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B1up0H82jzo1BZAbGRZKJSuojDceI5BJlCVQ4pSRHUonKqpxie1r4ItSNTvpMxzEGEamA5qOa23bQIGdr8vraeqwmQvLA071VC0gd-vKzE7PKergEAj0URov2bp4DdHCa_tN7-mmDR0/s320/ggpark+conservatory.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6eybCWaPCqgnESA1wJPKmS0nA5vCV-SIVtcn4-vt2ZJFuXCeenEHofup5lVDmFOoQlXDIxUmMRCNCpGximAjud70gXHNZ-buMp-tJAp_x4u-1A8FrrxuXFe4U8-mUjSNbsiGgGrcTCM/s1600/golden-gate-park-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6eybCWaPCqgnESA1wJPKmS0nA5vCV-SIVtcn4-vt2ZJFuXCeenEHofup5lVDmFOoQlXDIxUmMRCNCpGximAjud70gXHNZ-buMp-tJAp_x4u-1A8FrrxuXFe4U8-mUjSNbsiGgGrcTCM/s320/golden-gate-park-1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
And, of course, the corner of Haight and Ashbury:<br />
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With a mural of Jimi:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNO_IyiDBiZyOCNi-zMnD2v8GPbXgw0CtuLQj0fFmkmXozU7juV4Mw7ifI7WSn5s4l8K6vRde5RDo7G34QCuI3VZslWyTA9fN6KQ0SDpELqOmX56ggpJGxX-mN4p_Q-8TcVsn41zF6Yrg/s1600/jimi-mural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNO_IyiDBiZyOCNi-zMnD2v8GPbXgw0CtuLQj0fFmkmXozU7juV4Mw7ifI7WSn5s4l8K6vRde5RDo7G34QCuI3VZslWyTA9fN6KQ0SDpELqOmX56ggpJGxX-mN4p_Q-8TcVsn41zF6Yrg/s320/jimi-mural.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Maybe he lived in this building?<br />
<br />
The oldest building in San Francisco is, amazingly, also one of the first; a mission built in 1782 and still standing largely unchanged:<br />
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The big cathedral it's attached to was built much later. Inside was a model of how it looked 300 years ago:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDY5UwkFMcjIBIGTFGPFkfsfOJJ9BMgDmNnR-zeoun-rtFISFTUNcxgYGu-qw0mrRv2ijMoPKc7gFVGiCNLGnYTHRrlOmJIglMVqar55k6Zyw7WCic4_ONcGCxOaJPjfByAAIWdGvbraU/s1600/mission-miniature.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDY5UwkFMcjIBIGTFGPFkfsfOJJ9BMgDmNnR-zeoun-rtFISFTUNcxgYGu-qw0mrRv2ijMoPKc7gFVGiCNLGnYTHRrlOmJIglMVqar55k6Zyw7WCic4_ONcGCxOaJPjfByAAIWdGvbraU/s320/mission-miniature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Nearby were more Victorian houses:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd4wOj7MpHPBLBs3wA1WtMmQtzPMcVhTdPb7ZaeIXRNmPdqcBD8NbiA5kG-40JBG15P_4IutkzCpdRWvyKmSeOUqcKXYPCahQQt82Uj-Hl6g1A0TRdLir6sZJWFICUmctszeQTrjuWJM/s1600/sf-victorians.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd4wOj7MpHPBLBs3wA1WtMmQtzPMcVhTdPb7ZaeIXRNmPdqcBD8NbiA5kG-40JBG15P_4IutkzCpdRWvyKmSeOUqcKXYPCahQQt82Uj-Hl6g1A0TRdLir6sZJWFICUmctszeQTrjuWJM/s320/sf-victorians.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here I am with Heidi and Martin after eating the phenomenally delicious dinner (hearty potato/chicken/vegetable soup) I fixed:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxG42YIe-JQCCD1wTNfrmDTHHFuXh7Yf1o1XHtZGGTZ3lCSwSUyPyL5uH-JimAbXzD5ztHmHqOgTPTUk5x24FCgBY_K_rcMg0U0TW-tUfDILu_P2f27bkJ0kfnx9YtBt0OcheLv1TgtEM/s1600/martin-heidi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxG42YIe-JQCCD1wTNfrmDTHHFuXh7Yf1o1XHtZGGTZ3lCSwSUyPyL5uH-JimAbXzD5ztHmHqOgTPTUk5x24FCgBY_K_rcMg0U0TW-tUfDILu_P2f27bkJ0kfnx9YtBt0OcheLv1TgtEM/s320/martin-heidi.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Don't we look healthy and content? It really was one of the best things I've ever cooked.<br />
<br />
Leaving SF on Friday, the 17th, I passed a windmill and some surfers:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhlXs1oaT1SGk2EZzxmRpiaoXRtGRb2eDJwZ_a91AAOYdcqcEwyZ3HHMwhci3dhYvgLG4gc7H2oInrK6J0_9daOQjuoZOiVyHk_WipQKcfs7qr2KcMU65To8yWs6cpjP5Ko44lD81dT-k/s1600/sf-windmill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhlXs1oaT1SGk2EZzxmRpiaoXRtGRb2eDJwZ_a91AAOYdcqcEwyZ3HHMwhci3dhYvgLG4gc7H2oInrK6J0_9daOQjuoZOiVyHk_WipQKcfs7qr2KcMU65To8yWs6cpjP5Ko44lD81dT-k/s320/sf-windmill.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXk5hv2wO5RUfKmM8f0YKJ6KfqfWhu8nmD5Xj9_kkdwbpAhCDbB0Cb_fel97UpBp26KSU6UBII5OfRVRubtDvaRZBKdFTVZui9f1ucA5IhHbZng9Ug3FtLduKP_cVOreuKJbVf-SSanA/s1600/sf-surfers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXk5hv2wO5RUfKmM8f0YKJ6KfqfWhu8nmD5Xj9_kkdwbpAhCDbB0Cb_fel97UpBp26KSU6UBII5OfRVRubtDvaRZBKdFTVZui9f1ucA5IhHbZng9Ug3FtLduKP_cVOreuKJbVf-SSanA/s320/sf-surfers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Arrived in Montara, drenched to the skin, where I found a motel:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOKW2etYZJ0ZnKR852-RRWjqVQg767lnpstXi5__2kpWg9gxtaJYFqphmdN8y54yqIfdzF9iTngsj4CTbFdr3h5_rIPxxHnLmZ47-f4c57bG9z2gP4Tp8pTIN3iUGp_h7eo5Oimi1spM/s1600/montara-motel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOKW2etYZJ0ZnKR852-RRWjqVQg767lnpstXi5__2kpWg9gxtaJYFqphmdN8y54yqIfdzF9iTngsj4CTbFdr3h5_rIPxxHnLmZ47-f4c57bG9z2gP4Tp8pTIN3iUGp_h7eo5Oimi1spM/s320/montara-motel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Farallone Inn is run by an Indian couple who also have the only restaurant in town. An Indian restaurant! Indian is my favorite, incidentally. Quite a nice surprise after a cold, miserable ride.<br />
<br />
The next morning took this photo of the cafe/coffee shop next door with probably the most pathetic Christmas decorating ever:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5z1UrmHDqdyK0du_w9P4GWhNKf0MELCwQpQyfL3YKwnXm71t_BlOz1g5pb2lT8NSwzTa7TMkQJVK81wje1NEBGzkmYYrEiy9B7MBpD2nJDsW45NvLuop4Hy7z67Sw-T77g1FGwSfhvI/s1600/montara-coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5z1UrmHDqdyK0du_w9P4GWhNKf0MELCwQpQyfL3YKwnXm71t_BlOz1g5pb2lT8NSwzTa7TMkQJVK81wje1NEBGzkmYYrEiy9B7MBpD2nJDsW45NvLuop4Hy7z67Sw-T77g1FGwSfhvI/s320/montara-coffee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Left Montara headed for another warmshowers contact in Santa Cruz: Bart Coddington:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSPLdZMzpiDYXXjaW1nuBExawLKyAT65UUZjk8iylcTodTwXJNogPCbVwalpvQiuzRHQLG9oz9nX0Pm-k_srCk8U2UKO2i6K73LoKJ_ohQSgBWobt0LuegJU_0FRm8a3_2Bb_pSqJKWw/s1600/sc-bart-garage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSPLdZMzpiDYXXjaW1nuBExawLKyAT65UUZjk8iylcTodTwXJNogPCbVwalpvQiuzRHQLG9oz9nX0Pm-k_srCk8U2UKO2i6K73LoKJ_ohQSgBWobt0LuegJU_0FRm8a3_2Bb_pSqJKWw/s320/sc-bart-garage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bart, being a warmshowers host, was, of course, extremely accommodating and generous...but even more so. It's a tough call because I've stayed with so many incredible people whom I've thoroughly enjoyed, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would possibly be Bart. I can't even exactly say why; it may have something to do with his easygoing, kind character combined with good stories about bicycling experiences. Not only did Bart go out of his way to accommodate my high-maintenance gluten-and-dairy-free diet, he even jumped in and gave my bike a desperately needed cleaning. Here he's blow-drying the drivetrain after he gave it a wash and style:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B66iquO_c0iSIrYMIs6YEyhIl1QaV-bMjgqK9eHazs57zlXZQUnseH4aYrEXkM8m_s0k1JZf3gG5VkYAsv7qFFKGzu_DLO2GFcpoCGIJb1exVWZNK16DJhtYO5nErRzHSWQi0yuUPgM/s1600/sc-bart-drying-bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B66iquO_c0iSIrYMIs6YEyhIl1QaV-bMjgqK9eHazs57zlXZQUnseH4aYrEXkM8m_s0k1JZf3gG5VkYAsv7qFFKGzu_DLO2GFcpoCGIJb1exVWZNK16DJhtYO5nErRzHSWQi0yuUPgM/s320/sc-bart-drying-bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Pretty nice job, eh?:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJfmnb_2erq_LUKGPCR9NMLth0gKfK0GS4LpnX3b3KJcDUSHJY3GTD2dAn8e7_9lz8jjPKwsJ8EpevR9jNIkZtighJDBOkxHNEGn1mLOruE2VWYIpnkCMCdbje7M6HGVoiEwffjZfLJY/s1600/sc-clean-sprocket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJfmnb_2erq_LUKGPCR9NMLth0gKfK0GS4LpnX3b3KJcDUSHJY3GTD2dAn8e7_9lz8jjPKwsJ8EpevR9jNIkZtighJDBOkxHNEGn1mLOruE2VWYIpnkCMCdbje7M6HGVoiEwffjZfLJY/s320/sc-clean-sprocket.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
It was difficult to leave, but after two days and three nights, I left Santa Cruz, heading for Monterey. Not far down the road, came upon the third touring cyclist I've encountered––Andrew from San Francisco:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1T7jOFzzNLNH7Uulro_WuH39ojewRLEMW5h4xF_kuh5J1GPnFvuvQ4oS8iz9SFJXN4lZISq7SKHFKTO9RIYzWFF8-_w0770wG2Vbo0TuJQUfengmJMXMudwA4fktQtD9_15HC6v_84sY/s1600/sc-andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1T7jOFzzNLNH7Uulro_WuH39ojewRLEMW5h4xF_kuh5J1GPnFvuvQ4oS8iz9SFJXN4lZISq7SKHFKTO9RIYzWFF8-_w0770wG2Vbo0TuJQUfengmJMXMudwA4fktQtD9_15HC6v_84sY/s320/sc-andrew.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Andrew was riding from SF to San Diego on a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fixed-gear_bicycle">fixie</a>!! (Fixie is short for "fixed-gear." Not only is it a single-speed bike, but it also has no freewheel hub, meaning no coasting; the pedals are "fixed," thus always turning. Because there's only one speed, going uphill is challenging/difficult and because there's no coasting, going downhill is challenging/difficult because one's feet have to keep up with the rapidly spinning pedals.) Wow!<br />
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Andrew and I discovered we'd gone to the same high school in Kirkland––Lake Washington High School, although I was decades ahead of him. (He's only 25.) Small world, innit?<br />
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Here's Andrew going downhill with his feet up and off the pedals:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqnX0haKfq_XyR8jccFKVhKGsd1aDQMoUOTaivwzeMoabCvcfcrWrK1W7ewdH0SOLNchA3t41dU1DHSXvhKeoR-n_zG8mnPEXcXzHb0wtJSPuprwdt6k5jIjNUASVf2g64xXfBherY8g/s1600/sc-andrew-coasting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqnX0haKfq_XyR8jccFKVhKGsd1aDQMoUOTaivwzeMoabCvcfcrWrK1W7ewdH0SOLNchA3t41dU1DHSXvhKeoR-n_zG8mnPEXcXzHb0wtJSPuprwdt6k5jIjNUASVf2g64xXfBherY8g/s320/sc-andrew-coasting.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Problem is getting one's feet back onto the crazily-spinning pedals. Fortunately––unlike some nutty fixie riders––Andrew had brakes.<br />
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We passed sea lions:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fWTv84T_fkg" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="360"></iframe><br />
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And strawberry fields...forever:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3v7GaeGhSIZ2_gmJIYdN7VFag5q2c4VPviffEwIT9sPOS0ZOdqC8zrePg-rlTgKZ82aaZnXhnhZ8-NZLmWTeUVxc7mk4-MPXb0zwC4VCrgSZSHyUMJSij-Jz8591bTwobof6PBCRF0VU/s1600/sc-strawberry-fields.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="49" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3v7GaeGhSIZ2_gmJIYdN7VFag5q2c4VPviffEwIT9sPOS0ZOdqC8zrePg-rlTgKZ82aaZnXhnhZ8-NZLmWTeUVxc7mk4-MPXb0zwC4VCrgSZSHyUMJSij-Jz8591bTwobof6PBCRF0VU/s320/sc-strawberry-fields.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>(If you enlarge the strawberry fields photo, you can see Andrew poaching fruit.)<br />
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Eventually, Andrew was going this way and I was going that way so we parted and I took a photo of artichokes:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU_Ugdvw49PnpnhJol3KtdOitHyzRcY4QEosgqLcXmG76Ai17fgwGgGfLXYIdsfnT4J3b-gRsfLlN74N_yLBL7jzLmWEqOv3u6Phcp233GHuYPp9LQ7SE_DHzD4R2lraXen3hYP60nQw/s1600/artichokes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU_Ugdvw49PnpnhJol3KtdOitHyzRcY4QEosgqLcXmG76Ai17fgwGgGfLXYIdsfnT4J3b-gRsfLlN74N_yLBL7jzLmWEqOv3u6Phcp233GHuYPp9LQ7SE_DHzD4R2lraXen3hYP60nQw/s320/artichokes.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
That evening (Tues, the 21st), I stayed with warmshowers host Jeff in Monterey. Nice guy. He salvages bikes and rebuilds them. The next morning I took a photo of him with his bikes:<br />
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I then departed for Big Sur––what many consider to be the most beautiful area on the West Coast. I was largely unimpressed, maybe because I'd for so many days and weeks been seeing essentially the same thing: rugged coastline with big waves crashing into big rocks. It's certainly beautiful and impressive (See my breathless blog entries from back in November in Oregon.) but by the time I arrived at Big Sur I think I'd become a bit desensitized and it didn't do anything for me. It didn't help that the weather was somewhat crummy. I did photograph a bridge and a typical beach in the Big Sur area:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNmGismvthHU2RcpwL34MhfJYPne_dMowhsfw3mw6_Ivvb5JR82JTxUcH6yWTvv7hYqkVFYQ7lWZwaDK8jT2hge6ABBtej5aAnr-MV6SQZeSHKmBa_exzBiXVRWIM48Xn1PGVRJKb0IU/s1600/big-sur-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNmGismvthHU2RcpwL34MhfJYPne_dMowhsfw3mw6_Ivvb5JR82JTxUcH6yWTvv7hYqkVFYQ7lWZwaDK8jT2hge6ABBtej5aAnr-MV6SQZeSHKmBa_exzBiXVRWIM48Xn1PGVRJKb0IU/s320/big-sur-bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOVG4_MqqqhuUqJnx0T8RrITbJeh5t7ePydmaM_C-kTfVqttPRTjxq3I5H2Zbfc3cHY2y_o4gd20bP7wvga0ZV5Jv0YUhBEqGtADzm74GVBHKxncg_KGUEBzPY-j5TyNnoj1h6aU-qdg/s1600/big-sur-beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOVG4_MqqqhuUqJnx0T8RrITbJeh5t7ePydmaM_C-kTfVqttPRTjxq3I5H2Zbfc3cHY2y_o4gd20bP7wvga0ZV5Jv0YUhBEqGtADzm74GVBHKxncg_KGUEBzPY-j5TyNnoj1h6aU-qdg/s320/big-sur-beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And a common sight in the area (erosion) alongside the road:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxVXIIUzjWCqonruUYvlkUPBliDMLVDrTBtXOxdKF5wDo4alt85PYuLTHR2oPNAvRRpysXZ5WTCRgoC9_xHPkDM9CP9DiyVGRPUtdX9fmC2eaYiFZiPqYrB1TKz7tnW0TCNtLzl4JLl8/s1600/monterey-erosion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxVXIIUzjWCqonruUYvlkUPBliDMLVDrTBtXOxdKF5wDo4alt85PYuLTHR2oPNAvRRpysXZ5WTCRgoC9_xHPkDM9CP9DiyVGRPUtdX9fmC2eaYiFZiPqYrB1TKz7tnW0TCNtLzl4JLl8/s320/monterey-erosion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That evening I found a pullout alongside the highway where road crews had set up a temporary cement-mixing operation and that I decided would make a nice campsite. So amidst the big cement mixers, trucks and who-knows-what, I set up camp. While it wasn't what one thinks of when envisioning an idilic campsite, it definitely had its advantages: One, the industrial equipment formed a sort of wall, making my tent and campsite invisible from the road, and two, it was quite a ways above the ocean and the view was stunning. I set my camera on a little tripod and by the light of the moon I took a 15 second exposure of my tent:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrpGAGxYKm1uvxPf_dFEhKCjam3E6kODi7_urtdIU2aWbIywo_3kx9YKAqIFEZ4Bf-8t92aTbz8ntfmU-mtyz9OcMoC8VgQOPUSQIaTYg-G4BG5KFhgI8Fo4OM-CBWvKMkQvzzULpU4c/s1600/construction-site-camp-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrpGAGxYKm1uvxPf_dFEhKCjam3E6kODi7_urtdIU2aWbIywo_3kx9YKAqIFEZ4Bf-8t92aTbz8ntfmU-mtyz9OcMoC8VgQOPUSQIaTYg-G4BG5KFhgI8Fo4OM-CBWvKMkQvzzULpU4c/s320/construction-site-camp-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here's the same photo after some magical Photoshop trickery:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkCVxA63ymD2Qt3alRBJWDQYHL1EHO2QUUG9JTlFxpSsF4h5rDEGu1E4eyT9S6UtQwusrhw6qeyw3-UbF4sEMdnturBGTnG3S4h_dNCMB_DfNPnzEwL-pgKOnE_jzUUA7x6vg_xrISlM/s1600/construction-site-camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkCVxA63ymD2Qt3alRBJWDQYHL1EHO2QUUG9JTlFxpSsF4h5rDEGu1E4eyT9S6UtQwusrhw6qeyw3-UbF4sEMdnturBGTnG3S4h_dNCMB_DfNPnzEwL-pgKOnE_jzUUA7x6vg_xrISlM/s320/construction-site-camp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Once I'd set up camp and settled in, the disconcerting thought occurred to me that construction workers usually begin work at the crack of dawn and I started imagining that, more than likely, I'd be awoken to the horrifying sound of, "Hey, Tony, check it out, there's a bike and tent back here. Looks like some faggot's in the tent!" So, I set my alarm for 5:30AM, planning to be packed and on the road by first light.<br />
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Fortunately, the spot I'd picked wasn't being used by the early crews and so I rolled out unmolested (so to speak). A couple of miles down the road I did encounter another similar construction site that was in full production. Glad I'd chosen the right construction site!<br />
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On my way to San Simeon, saw a number of hillside dwellings like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHpfCBCr7Fh0Rwfw_jJokR7XATBTDOGAzGFYNK-4x-cSZvp2peMqmO7EQNlG9ODyRWZu_CfqtS8XAtD9ZWuttS7gM7P1Jyo2AisbG7TkZM32vlRRtsd_fbSrnSd1WJDnHVz1zCjkDMVk/s1600/big-sur-house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHpfCBCr7Fh0Rwfw_jJokR7XATBTDOGAzGFYNK-4x-cSZvp2peMqmO7EQNlG9ODyRWZu_CfqtS8XAtD9ZWuttS7gM7P1Jyo2AisbG7TkZM32vlRRtsd_fbSrnSd1WJDnHVz1zCjkDMVk/s320/big-sur-house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Shot this video along the way:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Kt8axhDNgC0" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
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San Simeon is where William Randolph Hearst had built his huge, opulent estate he called "The Ranch." We call it Hearst Castle. From the highway through San Simeon you can see it on the hill:<br />
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I didn't have time to take a tour of the "Castle," but I did have time to stop for lunch. There's a little cafe in San Simeon where I had a life-changing salad. It was unbelievable. I took a photo of it:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFhA0ZQti6WLgf21colk4KeD-OBtCJrIcCXN9kWxMYHMQ6xOQRcgiRYR19qsWeoRB7yWhjwRtXFk9Ka6_DvXFuH2PNhDnnCK1z4NVlrDbSkUHJJOfeUlq8rKTr_LbRCNUGeeqtRDKMes/s1600/san-simeon-salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFhA0ZQti6WLgf21colk4KeD-OBtCJrIcCXN9kWxMYHMQ6xOQRcgiRYR19qsWeoRB7yWhjwRtXFk9Ka6_DvXFuH2PNhDnnCK1z4NVlrDbSkUHJJOfeUlq8rKTr_LbRCNUGeeqtRDKMes/s320/san-simeon-salad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I dearly loved this salad and still miss it terribly.<br />
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Some of the scenery in this area is almost surreal:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlFOpjpU58gux2BenDNoho5JNx4dJPGMlmLioB8faWBdMgxfdlGL0pzXenMx6Igh9Q0AGN8fsVo6Qadn8kJKIev2U3oa92kmSu9xXjhfZWxz_t_mImm-senUycZBf98x1MQvblABEtaE/s1600/san-simeon-landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlFOpjpU58gux2BenDNoho5JNx4dJPGMlmLioB8faWBdMgxfdlGL0pzXenMx6Igh9Q0AGN8fsVo6Qadn8kJKIev2U3oa92kmSu9xXjhfZWxz_t_mImm-senUycZBf98x1MQvblABEtaE/s320/san-simeon-landscape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There are a lot of elephant seals on the beaches in this area:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhcEyNxUFRBAeHIKYaRe08f1eaWwOML2Fb8090Dg1w6yEbP6u4Nfwf1Qn-xhJI35vNZasEqyUrL0BNurRQH3s5m1YeM1218PS0r_0NBxUxeEj8ev3fEWo1vITEj-1TBzJSvfnTLnPbt0/s1600/san-simeon-elephants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhcEyNxUFRBAeHIKYaRe08f1eaWwOML2Fb8090Dg1w6yEbP6u4Nfwf1Qn-xhJI35vNZasEqyUrL0BNurRQH3s5m1YeM1218PS0r_0NBxUxeEj8ev3fEWo1vITEj-1TBzJSvfnTLnPbt0/s320/san-simeon-elephants.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhts4ePDekTyZCP0GN_pogSEbIKdhpgcGex0roxLZpvwilLgdlEqXFNDmu1Ta339oB46M5pEq6gzHNg76eQPnjckS4G09tw2AgmA6nWh2CQTBRzIRxZ1dk74Oikvjbu8uKQ1F8BGLu6gs4/s1600/san-simeon-elephants-beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhts4ePDekTyZCP0GN_pogSEbIKdhpgcGex0roxLZpvwilLgdlEqXFNDmu1Ta339oB46M5pEq6gzHNg76eQPnjckS4G09tw2AgmA6nWh2CQTBRzIRxZ1dk74Oikvjbu8uKQ1F8BGLu6gs4/s320/san-simeon-elephants-beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Late that afternoon I arrived in Cambria, a quaint (read: shi-shi), tourist-y little California town. Here's my motel room the next morning (Christmas Eve day):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpzRtU-4HH4Q6is3oGOYzagCp4778dZqS5aK0BaunXayXXy-uqJ0Nj1as9m69sLnAuKzwrWSeDd67kclHdCK_4ws8KmJmTetWmijnYh6Qa0eJyUSrW8Q90C8O6RZDMhVvuSgSfPGkzxA/s1600/cambria-room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpzRtU-4HH4Q6is3oGOYzagCp4778dZqS5aK0BaunXayXXy-uqJ0Nj1as9m69sLnAuKzwrWSeDd67kclHdCK_4ws8KmJmTetWmijnYh6Qa0eJyUSrW8Q90C8O6RZDMhVvuSgSfPGkzxA/s320/cambria-room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And the lobby, where I could get a Wi-fi connection:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-qGV21if1Ls62ALLDIXId6gf88OPS3-0pmVtGxIFZSy9qZc2W8U991TVSdQvbALWXvogM59hxhxW3c7CHIjGVa_pD72ppVD0aQ5M60F3bEVN2bxQqYtH9nluCZXzaTpijXWy3ZK9gg4/s1600/cambria-bluebird-lobby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-qGV21if1Ls62ALLDIXId6gf88OPS3-0pmVtGxIFZSy9qZc2W8U991TVSdQvbALWXvogM59hxhxW3c7CHIjGVa_pD72ppVD0aQ5M60F3bEVN2bxQqYtH9nluCZXzaTpijXWy3ZK9gg4/s320/cambria-bluebird-lobby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>That's my laptop on the table.<br />
<br />
On this bike tour I've noticed something that I suspect is a nefarious tactic on the part of fast-food corporations, and that is the posting of billboards advertising a restaurant that is miles and miles down the road. At first I couldn't figure out why they would do this, but I've come up with the idea that they're likely whetting people's appetite for a particular product so that those people don't stop for food at the next few Ma and Pa stops (diners, cafes, etc.) but will hold out for the advertised crap. Here's one of those signs:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nR_552NA8ojh5IbEInuuntbEd_E_uvTqRPLybeOFagZhqX5M6gsAtXfsCYmTgPJe1fC_CcwHxWUXIqbcth4EKY7fjhzmwh7QWgtIORAiOvRf3NlnhjRn4DCmXPXBI3fnOmm6ArJNVJg/s1600/mcdonalds-15-miles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nR_552NA8ojh5IbEInuuntbEd_E_uvTqRPLybeOFagZhqX5M6gsAtXfsCYmTgPJe1fC_CcwHxWUXIqbcth4EKY7fjhzmwh7QWgtIORAiOvRf3NlnhjRn4DCmXPXBI3fnOmm6ArJNVJg/s320/mcdonalds-15-miles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And hey, you fat, lazy slob––"Drive Thru"––you don't even have to take the trouble to get out of your vehicle!<br />
<br />
I hadn't been too concerned about where I'd be on Christmas Day, but the thought of cycling or having dinner alone in a restaurant seemed a bit pathetic. Fortunately, Bill and Angela in San Luis Obispo––warmshowers hosts––welcomed me into their home. In 2007 Bill had done a ride across the U.S. with another cyclist, speaking on climate change to media outlets, schools, churches, etc. He and Angela, a social worker, were very enjoyable to stay with and talk to. Here's a picture of them on Christmas morning:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUWNmjIoU-SFc7DnWM0KXzTSLF2Xi9OprKYKpSUFJeb3IHO4ryoo9Prpgp3xod7rDuFnJFIChM4JWWjNMcg_-8aqsgcFIblXJJIfZV5u2Tjbnxh11DJrehSs3j2e_9QhHzZzIfDQ388I/s1600/san-luis-obispo-bill-angela.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUWNmjIoU-SFc7DnWM0KXzTSLF2Xi9OprKYKpSUFJeb3IHO4ryoo9Prpgp3xod7rDuFnJFIChM4JWWjNMcg_-8aqsgcFIblXJJIfZV5u2Tjbnxh11DJrehSs3j2e_9QhHzZzIfDQ388I/s320/san-luis-obispo-bill-angela.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Under partly sunny skies, left SLO, headed for Lompoc. Shot this video:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XqpQ77JhrIs" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
<br />
Not long after shooting that video, the skies grew darker and the rain started...as well as the wind...headwind...strong headwind. The weather quickly became miserable...and then more miserable. In the drenching rain in a small farming town I came across two bicycles leaning against a wall. One of them I recognized; It was Andrew's. He had mentioned that his sister would be joining him for a portion of the trip and I figured the other bike was hers. Just then, the two of them walked out of the store across the street. It was like a reunion! Here are Andrew and his sister, Allison:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimCsoe06wbb3S_Tz0RhCMZDhwIy47uXNCTGn6LQanu5GrPa8x3-oGoz5Kh8c2xS-BYtxARbBv8zNZXle-bUfNfBwUSOu9Rb_imeC-1SUEkgfOxkjr5iZlQJ5uZISQX1u4h2sPpkAFf3DQ/s1600/allison-andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimCsoe06wbb3S_Tz0RhCMZDhwIy47uXNCTGn6LQanu5GrPa8x3-oGoz5Kh8c2xS-BYtxARbBv8zNZXle-bUfNfBwUSOu9Rb_imeC-1SUEkgfOxkjr5iZlQJ5uZISQX1u4h2sPpkAFf3DQ/s320/allison-andrew.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>They weren't going all the way to Lompoc and I still had miles and miles to ride, so we bid each other farewell––again––and I rode off into the rain and wind.<br />
<br />
It was getting dark by the time I passed Vandenberg Air Force Base and I still had miles to go. Fortunately, the brutal wind had calmed down. Barring any unforeseen problems, I would make Lompoc! Unfortunately, fortune was not on my side. Just a few miles out of town, I noticed that my rear tire was feeling a bit squirrelly...it was going flat! So in the dark, in pouring rain, with cars screaming by just ten feet away, I stopped and pumped it up, hoping it would hold enough air to allow me to make it the last stretch to a motel. After stopping two more times to add air, I pulled, thoroughly saturated but incredibly relieved, into a Motel 6. No way was I about to fix my flat that evening, and no way was I about to ride the next day. I slept very well that night.<br />
<br />
The next day I patched my tire and shot two videos of the process:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7RPKbABpAaU" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ocRecuTYnHg" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
<br />
I then explored Lompoc, another one of those horrific towns of nothing but strip malls, KFC's, Taco Bells, Circle K's and the like. Lovely. Here're a couple of pics of Lompoc:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXAmLHmdgJkngzZvSQTIdJH4puL3CCsNLXpr_uaNyAQ-DTgDhyfsDABFCe5vkucvVOZiYOl8A2vW9B30PX_5onJE0T5CH3lk9295ek4rqapqj6x5dUn1UkRVzisAEbdDpfm8_DSQpab4/s1600/lompoc-intersection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXAmLHmdgJkngzZvSQTIdJH4puL3CCsNLXpr_uaNyAQ-DTgDhyfsDABFCe5vkucvVOZiYOl8A2vW9B30PX_5onJE0T5CH3lk9295ek4rqapqj6x5dUn1UkRVzisAEbdDpfm8_DSQpab4/s320/lompoc-intersection.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZroqHNwfZT9OUQI_6-hEI5-66U_vafcvhnj0cfGHuEjgO1PinFbCzFuEefvSWMaY9qv4kFY5usr3zNfOrB9VgUwOplggEswwgMbReH2_x7e33FFoKII7QtXL0QtDK9a_LqKfklpEWDk8/s1600/lompoc-liquor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZroqHNwfZT9OUQI_6-hEI5-66U_vafcvhnj0cfGHuEjgO1PinFbCzFuEefvSWMaY9qv4kFY5usr3zNfOrB9VgUwOplggEswwgMbReH2_x7e33FFoKII7QtXL0QtDK9a_LqKfklpEWDk8/s320/lompoc-liquor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
On the 27th, after taking this picture of my motel room<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcmaWr4Weeoe3xtcEK7P43W5wT0k8rJSydOUoW1muF5bRzThRjbeh715y1KIdq6pf83JY5D5VIsuMWbeALUx_C0AJUUp1-8kUTtw2C7Qt_dAQpkAi6SO929MM1TDPq-EVmLJLam7SccU/s1600/lompoc-motel-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcmaWr4Weeoe3xtcEK7P43W5wT0k8rJSydOUoW1muF5bRzThRjbeh715y1KIdq6pf83JY5D5VIsuMWbeALUx_C0AJUUp1-8kUTtw2C7Qt_dAQpkAi6SO929MM1TDPq-EVmLJLam7SccU/s320/lompoc-motel-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>and buying a tube of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chamois-Buttr-8-Ounce-Skin-Lubricant/dp/B000HZGTUS">Chamois Butt'r</a>, I struck out for Santa Barbara and shot this video:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/m4MNmC3OCGc" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
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Highway 1 along the coast in this area is nicknamed El Camino Real, or "The Royal Road," also known as "The King's Highway." Here's a photo of one of the signposts:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaAlXJVUYy0_ZV_1pDoGsUN_Sgty_PuoQiWXeTPL4vKRqa1yhFv0KHR_LNRdBvA43EY-98unJm-9hjqKodVTa-OfHoL2oPlAPSRS_CVZjqm5ERgZwnvpQsY4zeOzMS6mFyoZ9bkuxzc0/s1600/santa-barbara-camino-real.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaAlXJVUYy0_ZV_1pDoGsUN_Sgty_PuoQiWXeTPL4vKRqa1yhFv0KHR_LNRdBvA43EY-98unJm-9hjqKodVTa-OfHoL2oPlAPSRS_CVZjqm5ERgZwnvpQsY4zeOzMS6mFyoZ9bkuxzc0/s320/santa-barbara-camino-real.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There are many oil drilling platforms in the area, just off the coast:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsK4MrtJ-72GrXi19e5LFypDVj_q-D-46R8PuJ4s3p7620LmE1nNptclnS94-0hNWg1VZ6Lj3PBF21ZytRCAwhgtQxfKsr2kMPgRRAqFW6Pun8_x7pt5JYbagkBGjkTqmM0WQVxuP_kbU/s1600/santa-barbara-oil-drilling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsK4MrtJ-72GrXi19e5LFypDVj_q-D-46R8PuJ4s3p7620LmE1nNptclnS94-0hNWg1VZ6Lj3PBF21ZytRCAwhgtQxfKsr2kMPgRRAqFW6Pun8_x7pt5JYbagkBGjkTqmM0WQVxuP_kbU/s320/santa-barbara-oil-drilling.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Rode through University of California Santa Barbara where I found a traffic roundabout...for bicycles:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtf1N6XLMk6IcUlUZf4Tfkobu_ad382IkQ5NjGwEU4SOiQVgQyVR56AgRdL6iWaFbDHxjHZ3YDWByrnF4jfm_Xi5kex77qdVIye2oq7SKHohpkUDbaykfhdVU5Yo04PgnoDmLxX1zbSjI/s1600/santa-barbara-ucsb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtf1N6XLMk6IcUlUZf4Tfkobu_ad382IkQ5NjGwEU4SOiQVgQyVR56AgRdL6iWaFbDHxjHZ3YDWByrnF4jfm_Xi5kex77qdVIye2oq7SKHohpkUDbaykfhdVU5Yo04PgnoDmLxX1zbSjI/s320/santa-barbara-ucsb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Cool!<br />
<br />
In Santa Barbara, stayed in a hostel where I met the usual assortment of American and foreign travelers and vacationers, including Linda, a 63 year old "career consultant" who lives south of Los Angeles in Newport Beach. When I mentioned that I would be passing through in a few days, she gave me her card and said I should look her up.<br />
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Here's the hostel's common area with most of the guests (It was the off season.) in the photo:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0DYM5bt-wM9Tp-cNLCw3_G1zZEJ4shZDotTuBSDK0NUm5iEsg_WytwrUmXiCJW5Ej8sFX5mPM0OQ4od7GZm76VT53bei8v17M9FTF33Tj59MV7BDWbfYZbO7-r55l1Fnk0xKxF5dOJg/s1600/sb-hostel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0DYM5bt-wM9Tp-cNLCw3_G1zZEJ4shZDotTuBSDK0NUm5iEsg_WytwrUmXiCJW5Ej8sFX5mPM0OQ4od7GZm76VT53bei8v17M9FTF33Tj59MV7BDWbfYZbO7-r55l1Fnk0xKxF5dOJg/s320/sb-hostel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Linda's the one on the far left. (If you're wondering why I'm apparently obsessing about Linda, I'm "foreshadowing!")<br />
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The next morning (Tues, Dec. 28th) I went to Joe's Cafe for breakfast. Three minutes after being seated, an attractive woman walked up and asked, "I was at the coffee shop across the street, saw you and your bike and was intrigued. Do you mind if I join you?" "No, please do," I stammered, "I'm Bryan." "Sara," she replied.<br />
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Turned out Sara, who lived in Santa Barbara, was a fellow adventurer and had some interesting tales to tell. It was a nice change from my typical solitary meals. We exchanged contact information and I continued pedaling south.<br />
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Just a few minutes down the road/beach, I noticed an unusual site; a pleasure craft appeared to be beached on the sand, so I stopped for a closer look. Sure enough, there was a sailboat sitting on the beach drawing quite a bit of attention from passers by. I took these photos of it:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyswSSNO2xa6bHYB_r-W7mFGIX68-fwSPSeVtnVEz5z7l6U_lE79Y4GUqKlNqtGZAncj9LXASFBrGXRQn_ltGL5b-bkCJUywDiKW3Lz0n2xCl7ZXMn1GmbuVI3W_UaL1d9BI9JtdGrXXY/s1600/sb-bike-beached-boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyswSSNO2xa6bHYB_r-W7mFGIX68-fwSPSeVtnVEz5z7l6U_lE79Y4GUqKlNqtGZAncj9LXASFBrGXRQn_ltGL5b-bkCJUywDiKW3Lz0n2xCl7ZXMn1GmbuVI3W_UaL1d9BI9JtdGrXXY/s320/sb-bike-beached-boat.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlrnS8uY3F7jFPGx9PGg-bMvPXxVVk9_695wnm-7v0Z4MrIaPLp0DBUZpgG7CddsMUBoU9gAD-MwjzTh94CCoTfF4DUJ7v3KJsPWhZ1o3BA2A4uotY8G8BHe7vKPpUukk6X3J61zFpGY/s1600/sb-beached-boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlrnS8uY3F7jFPGx9PGg-bMvPXxVVk9_695wnm-7v0Z4MrIaPLp0DBUZpgG7CddsMUBoU9gAD-MwjzTh94CCoTfF4DUJ7v3KJsPWhZ1o3BA2A4uotY8G8BHe7vKPpUukk6X3J61zFpGY/s320/sb-beached-boat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
No sooner had I snapped a few photos than a tractor and dump truck came crawling onto the beach toward the sunbathing sailboat. Without any hesitation and much to the shock of all the spectators, the tractor began mercilessly attacking the vessel with its grappling claw. It was all very odd. The way the tractor moved in and began methodically going to work, it was like this was an ordinary occurrence; just another day at the beach!<br />
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I shot video of it. I put music to it but Youtube stripped the audio away, claiming copyright infringement! So if you want the full experience, play Strauss' Blue Danube while watching this video:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/O4EQ6kZvsrI" title="YouTube video player" width="360"></iframe><br />
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Later passed dozens of RV'ers parked alongside the ocean. There are quite a number of oil drilling platforms visible from here. I wondered if the people in these diesel-guzzling behemoths saw the connection. Here's a shot of a few of the motorhomes:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UwnnviSDVWCZ4fmPesSms8aX-1DVj4_MhuxVhbXTD7rpuCvtMAcLwSidT-06O8pJqpv8-B670cqhricVqCzgvJ6n6zMYayUBu5hA5lGwPTpRI6ajZ4aXUaSDH1aBGnu0f3U2BrG9910/s1600/sb-RVs-oil-platform.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UwnnviSDVWCZ4fmPesSms8aX-1DVj4_MhuxVhbXTD7rpuCvtMAcLwSidT-06O8pJqpv8-B670cqhricVqCzgvJ6n6zMYayUBu5hA5lGwPTpRI6ajZ4aXUaSDH1aBGnu0f3U2BrG9910/s320/sb-RVs-oil-platform.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just north of Port Hueneme (Ventura?), there are waterfront neighborhoods that reminded me of Florida:<br />
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That evening got a motel room in Port Hueneme (why-KNEE-me).Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-36231137652026774912011-01-06T10:23:00.000-08:002011-01-06T10:23:35.651-08:00I'm still alive!For those of you inquiring or wondering, I'm alive and well in SoCal. Here's a photo of me on Jan. 3rd at the Mexican border:<br />
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I'm sorry I haven't been updating the blog. Between often not having internet access and/or being with people and not wanting to excuse myself to hunker down over my computer for hours, I've let the blog slide. I still hope to have it up-to-date within the next week or two.<br />
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Yesterday I left San Diego heading east. I hope to be in Phoenix by mid-January.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-87425007379973363202010-12-24T23:30:00.000-08:002010-12-24T23:42:56.072-08:00Napa Valley...by car<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tuesday, Dec. 14, 2010</span><br />
No bicycle riding today!<br />
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Being at the back (cellar) door of Napa Valley, Angelo offered to take me down into the valley to see the renowned area, visit a few wineries and do some tasting. Okay, twist my arm.<br />
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The weather wasn't the best––alternately drizzly and rainy––but Angelo knows the area intimately and took me around to some of the different towns and appellations, discussing each of the wineries, some of the history of the area, a bit about some of the world-class restaurants, including The French Laundry (Occasionally rated best restaurant in the world by esteemed culinary publications.), and stopping at Joseph Phelps Winery for tastings of their top wines. Their 2007 Insignia was the most expensive wine I'd ever tasted ($225/bottle), but to my unrefined palate didn't taste $213 better than a pedestrian wine I'd purchase from Columbia Crest or Chateau Ste Michelle. Maybe I just need to do more wine tasting!?<br />
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Being in the Napa Valley and, I suppose, needing to differentiate themselves from the fold, some wineries turn to exuberant architecture and art in an effort to attract the crowds. (What does this say about the quality of their wine?) Artesa, with its bunker-like architecture, is one of those wineries:<br />
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After lunch at a great little Mexican place, Angelo then mentioned, almost like an afterthought, that there was a winery he'd show me that was designed by an interesting Viennese artist...<br />
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I interrupted, "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friedensreich_Hundertwasser">Hundertwasser</a>?"<br />
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Angelo looked surprised. "You know of him?"<br />
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Know of him? He's a favorite of mine and I didn't realize there was a building here that he'd designed! (In fact, it's the only Hundertwasser design in the U.S.)<br />
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When I was in Vienna back in 1997 I'd stumbled across Hundertwasserhaus, an apartment building which, having previously only done visual art, marked Hunderwasser's foray into architecture. I was blown away by it and it really stayed with me, so when Angelo said we'd visit a winery that was designed by Hundertwasser, I was elated.<br />
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Photos can't capture it, but I tried:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtrCSX2ems4Kx6zlfgPRJHyB19AWe9nhvUz8Q3nqqZ41bRibgAnun9S-VJBZKbmh3ibNTCe7BTAWI1SyTzESCmarQ7eKyS5z4YKy3GC2CT5Dbm8qHkFOXuIdYwPqgEXpUwWvdnpO7KP0/s1600/hundertwasser2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtrCSX2ems4Kx6zlfgPRJHyB19AWe9nhvUz8Q3nqqZ41bRibgAnun9S-VJBZKbmh3ibNTCe7BTAWI1SyTzESCmarQ7eKyS5z4YKy3GC2CT5Dbm8qHkFOXuIdYwPqgEXpUwWvdnpO7KP0/s320/hundertwasser2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-57897670443836587132010-12-24T12:00:00.000-08:002010-12-24T12:00:38.502-08:00The City by the Bay!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monday, Dec. 13, 2010</span><br />
This morning I put some <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_(Be_Sure_to_Wear_Flowers_in_Your_Hair)">flowers in my hair</a> and left San Geronimo for San Francisco.<br />
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Just north of the city on the west side of the Bay is a string of $wanky communities that all look alike and run together: Fairfax, San Anselmo, Ross, Kentfield, Larkspur, Corte Madera, Mill Valley, Marin City, Sausalito. Here're a few photos from along this stretch:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWyoZE2NiCP5mrQX3BPlc08mh8Ty8Wum1YlYh84vEsrJ0sf9sxqG7q-zxfTn2LbVkCtY4HSp81LOUNjBR29J7lAfqtOrfykkw2mzbma7c7hUu6f5mIxAB_rLMArSgnz_l1-P4S5Oqvy0/s1600/san+anselmo+suburban+palms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWyoZE2NiCP5mrQX3BPlc08mh8Ty8Wum1YlYh84vEsrJ0sf9sxqG7q-zxfTn2LbVkCtY4HSp81LOUNjBR29J7lAfqtOrfykkw2mzbma7c7hUu6f5mIxAB_rLMArSgnz_l1-P4S5Oqvy0/s320/san+anselmo+suburban+palms.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VB1UGxBcyG7yVtT0Pa-1gTZ1DpUi4RO6Y19oiN5vypbw0ErKEy9Ozoj9ujsAw0li3-8hlnohwgni4YrOmOd73LmjK5hmq7EAZcm8C_JElTwsP2pBU7Se2OI1IIPSbx8blPKQOXJHB6U/s1600/san+anselmo+oranges+palms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VB1UGxBcyG7yVtT0Pa-1gTZ1DpUi4RO6Y19oiN5vypbw0ErKEy9Ozoj9ujsAw0li3-8hlnohwgni4YrOmOd73LmjK5hmq7EAZcm8C_JElTwsP2pBU7Se2OI1IIPSbx8blPKQOXJHB6U/s320/san+anselmo+oranges+palms.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisucynXQt1x7t7au_wndB01HE591sHceTt9yFxTKoD4SdYxGdNFzVZd8oXZxYVzrUxATXLZTT3AKf_nUWfAQlzCDWFljj35wg2KM9Gr4vtWzXOZswnpluXnCJbQhL3MupsrfmoG0n4yXc/s1600/sausalito+center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisucynXQt1x7t7au_wndB01HE591sHceTt9yFxTKoD4SdYxGdNFzVZd8oXZxYVzrUxATXLZTT3AKf_nUWfAQlzCDWFljj35wg2KM9Gr4vtWzXOZswnpluXnCJbQhL3MupsrfmoG0n4yXc/s320/sausalito+center.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBowsqq5fZuzG4FSOQOL1j_QKhARClCW4xz28TrsVWwIpj7HOFUbZb6QEpcunbKwUMT-T7POMu-BPSRbXFOXhI-qmCQ6Sc04whuj_CL_116qsUfoWJPZm7ruj6bCGfwjfBMaF9D0MaTQs/s1600/sausalito+bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBowsqq5fZuzG4FSOQOL1j_QKhARClCW4xz28TrsVWwIpj7HOFUbZb6QEpcunbKwUMT-T7POMu-BPSRbXFOXhI-qmCQ6Sc04whuj_CL_116qsUfoWJPZm7ruj6bCGfwjfBMaF9D0MaTQs/s320/sausalito+bakery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>There's a nice bike path that runs alongside Hwy 101 from Mill Valley into Sausalito. I shot this video somewhere between Mill Valley and Marin City:<br />
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And then!:<br />
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This really felt like the second big destination. (The first being the 'Welcome to California' sign.) Here I am looking pleased (Or proud? Maybe smug? Relieved?):<br />
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I mounted my camera to the rack on the front of my bike and recorded the ride across the 'Gate. Problem is, every little bump, crack and vibration is amplified in the camera. It's not as bumpy as it looks:<br />
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It's one thing to drive across the Golden Gate, but if you ever get a chance to walk or ride across it, I highly recommend it––it's quite amazing. (And you can't beat the price!) Here're a couple of photos taken on the walk/bikeway:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvs5MDLJ10WxCEdT8oFYUJimWezcYuq5uVjR1Rcm3HH12DrEcp8hLRG7EEmNB17C5PbRBY0Zj9-xID3RxyZOvxpilxEEuANCUo79Xj59onN6YyvzpJbAUh5JEBPj7nbeVhwBEXYMK8qcw/s1600/golden+gate+bicyclist+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvs5MDLJ10WxCEdT8oFYUJimWezcYuq5uVjR1Rcm3HH12DrEcp8hLRG7EEmNB17C5PbRBY0Zj9-xID3RxyZOvxpilxEEuANCUo79Xj59onN6YyvzpJbAUh5JEBPj7nbeVhwBEXYMK8qcw/s320/golden+gate+bicyclist+sign.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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Once on the opposite (south) side, I shot these photos:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cIwc2xIwEEzjnUdRKDlgiM9GfCCFiFXR4DehDWJ-UhgbTPZxL76qB6F6cld7CNz7r4Bq-MBZpVSuEOqEMvy-RrkpNV4uKJwSN_wwF6BwGKm74AkNT9xu0o__2t6XDHMAB6qYQfE8dYw/s1600/golden+gate+ship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cIwc2xIwEEzjnUdRKDlgiM9GfCCFiFXR4DehDWJ-UhgbTPZxL76qB6F6cld7CNz7r4Bq-MBZpVSuEOqEMvy-RrkpNV4uKJwSN_wwF6BwGKm74AkNT9xu0o__2t6XDHMAB6qYQfE8dYw/s320/golden+gate+ship.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I had an offer from Steve's dad (Steve is my sister Amy's "squeeze."), Angelo, in Vallejo for accommodations, so from downtown I was to catch the ferry to Vallejo which is at the north-northeast end of the bay. The Bay is so large that the ferry, a high-speed catamaran, takes an hour to get there! Here's what the ferry looks like:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggMi5wbCWna8bEDUWGxyRYRVQFBqfWsQCn1O4zafN5-FcCqV5t0UCPbxKAOz3fKYLqlwssSNM-cDRS6KQKxujf8GMkdARvcCYZT5R18_NYdbjZ9F3n3iISDKljdL337fVX5jSFjIN6YM/s1600/sf+baylink+ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggMi5wbCWna8bEDUWGxyRYRVQFBqfWsQCn1O4zafN5-FcCqV5t0UCPbxKAOz3fKYLqlwssSNM-cDRS6KQKxujf8GMkdARvcCYZT5R18_NYdbjZ9F3n3iISDKljdL337fVX5jSFjIN6YM/s320/sf+baylink+ferry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
From the Presidio at the south end of the Golden Gate, I meandered through the city, staying near the water so as to avoid the city's notorious hills, working my way toward the Ferry Plaza to catch the 5:15 to Vallejo.<br />
<br />
I had decided that while in San Francisco I would photograph the SF stereotypes, so on my way to the ferry I captured a few:<br />
<br />
<i>The Marina District:</i><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3BraFKNi-nIjvKMgC8ojfK7VX2Zl3SchqZEjJEI-h_gxSIH1-MUTwBFP1oAE4TjYjw6pFA4IcVK2JSQHlAFNa5mtMoJZBtY82ybIyX7WATPYXHAwq2J8xU5QBLRDMvXnua42qCw87KY/s1600/sf+marina+district+marina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3BraFKNi-nIjvKMgC8ojfK7VX2Zl3SchqZEjJEI-h_gxSIH1-MUTwBFP1oAE4TjYjw6pFA4IcVK2JSQHlAFNa5mtMoJZBtY82ybIyX7WATPYXHAwq2J8xU5QBLRDMvXnua42qCw87KY/s320/sf+marina+district+marina.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy5t3Mq4_RfM0WMqUwhTk8NLbKn_B80_zteXnUTICIUHM3Fh49d5fSr-Q7YrOKND-wn7TbAEyDU3QCsHd4d1LBcyclKEJS-1WTJKqOXUQSYn6DlKbo8XSewl0n4z2Ef8bF1Wveo7yXIQ/s1600/sf+marina+district+europe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy5t3Mq4_RfM0WMqUwhTk8NLbKn_B80_zteXnUTICIUHM3Fh49d5fSr-Q7YrOKND-wn7TbAEyDU3QCsHd4d1LBcyclKEJS-1WTJKqOXUQSYn6DlKbo8XSewl0n4z2Ef8bF1Wveo7yXIQ/s320/sf+marina+district+europe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIVqIP3y_ON3O9yO7YKIOrYWmBhyphenhyphenOHGLUZtAJ36Fmbmbt3FHquavlXMdd5DCkFdlFd5Y7_G_p5eP4noKWAKWBy49yDGFr-uvOcH4khYgeq6Sj3eoTOLi3ywh38Qn5oJ_wUGusalSmikY/s1600/sf+marina+district+xmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIVqIP3y_ON3O9yO7YKIOrYWmBhyphenhyphenOHGLUZtAJ36Fmbmbt3FHquavlXMdd5DCkFdlFd5Y7_G_p5eP4noKWAKWBy49yDGFr-uvOcH4khYgeq6Sj3eoTOLi3ywh38Qn5oJ_wUGusalSmikY/s320/sf+marina+district+xmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<i>The Ghirardelli sign:</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzISZDJ7Ld-5mBgDrzRIsUw6YvFNm73jfW7rBK0w6hirWbU-fOgqxpt8rQOqCiCP3pKWMIJfexrX_qb9HKnOV-3nafdHECeIQXqqwWbOVPVO8Yk4W-TTWmnuJtWlUBcXPIpRxkNAMG8Hk/s1600/sf+ghirardelli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzISZDJ7Ld-5mBgDrzRIsUw6YvFNm73jfW7rBK0w6hirWbU-fOgqxpt8rQOqCiCP3pKWMIJfexrX_qb9HKnOV-3nafdHECeIQXqqwWbOVPVO8Yk4W-TTWmnuJtWlUBcXPIpRxkNAMG8Hk/s320/sf+ghirardelli.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<i>Alcatraz:</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12B81A5dQtqCnAmnpQQIfv8X5H81mEqF1rNoGy3Jpyy9ZCKlu6_MRqhhhewY6oQw4l2deJdYOVMMFuyYrU_6st1_P4Ogotj8zO64ccgvW7YaApLL-V7wwJG1SGpSehg8ZILo4JI9jKvw/s1600/sf+alcatraz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12B81A5dQtqCnAmnpQQIfv8X5H81mEqF1rNoGy3Jpyy9ZCKlu6_MRqhhhewY6oQw4l2deJdYOVMMFuyYrU_6st1_P4Ogotj8zO64ccgvW7YaApLL-V7wwJG1SGpSehg8ZILo4JI9jKvw/s320/sf+alcatraz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<i>A cable car:</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgvdd7yxHOh85846T0_ONXZAepQ9dA5BBynB5IFrAytNhujHDPhLNgR_pBU2qdv0IYH8pw3NjYDTq_-dtbIMIvdS5EV_8PJbf5awC-jhCb2BE3-QlEDK-5Pt7DgP7dNeQs6MjVdBCEcA/s1600/sf+cable+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgvdd7yxHOh85846T0_ONXZAepQ9dA5BBynB5IFrAytNhujHDPhLNgR_pBU2qdv0IYH8pw3NjYDTq_-dtbIMIvdS5EV_8PJbf5awC-jhCb2BE3-QlEDK-5Pt7DgP7dNeQs6MjVdBCEcA/s320/sf+cable+car.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<i>The Ferry Building:</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_mK6jLlB3DzB_TzxmP2xlEhxFZcL9e1Cc3GcEqce7vLEqQpoQ4yLgSvvqvbzUV1TMtRqMTXZ6IaP5gG8uXRR49YowxzV8N7DoWQQFQ51r5pQcipwB-OvBGui66XCGIEeCrp6YwrsR8E/s1600/sf+ferry+building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_mK6jLlB3DzB_TzxmP2xlEhxFZcL9e1Cc3GcEqce7vLEqQpoQ4yLgSvvqvbzUV1TMtRqMTXZ6IaP5gG8uXRR49YowxzV8N7DoWQQFQ51r5pQcipwB-OvBGui66XCGIEeCrp6YwrsR8E/s320/sf+ferry+building.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Inside the Ferry Building is the Marketplace:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7lnX5SCPCH7GfqrHoFvK-G_YUCdlXdkj9dww4bvsEnxVUTAI15S8LnRpanGl8zo_ZcSUpE62hC0PFNU5SJHXesOaw-_k0bZ5T5DC8r1-M9PqqgBpq5PwBbvWGNfsxi2ehojZ0YLIgtc/s1600/sf+inside+ferry+bldg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7lnX5SCPCH7GfqrHoFvK-G_YUCdlXdkj9dww4bvsEnxVUTAI15S8LnRpanGl8zo_ZcSUpE62hC0PFNU5SJHXesOaw-_k0bZ5T5DC8r1-M9PqqgBpq5PwBbvWGNfsxi2ehojZ0YLIgtc/s320/sf+inside+ferry+bldg.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Snapped these as the ferry was departing:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIDjtPQqOvNpMmqV2LKtKkgvHVbo3oQO4kXemHSu7b5w2jPnX8d4kzD5AFnAcNnPyTSfAxgB6rhTO0PEQQzfwFup6O_bpBdOyxAAa3TAHMnVnw_YIW2Hpj6-fqAsZqeZJz99h9NQX0hc/s1600/sf+ferry+to+vallejo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIDjtPQqOvNpMmqV2LKtKkgvHVbo3oQO4kXemHSu7b5w2jPnX8d4kzD5AFnAcNnPyTSfAxgB6rhTO0PEQQzfwFup6O_bpBdOyxAAa3TAHMnVnw_YIW2Hpj6-fqAsZqeZJz99h9NQX0hc/s320/sf+ferry+to+vallejo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Angelo isn't really in Vallejo proper but up in the hills northeast of Vallejo in a newer development called Hiddenbrook. It took me a while to get from the ferry to his house, but Angelo was very gracious and had a wonderful pasta dinner waiting for me when I arrived.<br />
<br />
The problem with doing a trip like this is how much food one can/needs to consume after bicycling all day. When invited into someone's home for dinner it's embarrassing and/or potentially obnoxious when asking for third, fourth, even fifth servings. Sometimes I'll have rations stored in my panniers that I can eat later in private if dinner––for whatever reason––proves unfulfilling. Fortunately I haven't yet had to resort to clandestine calorie consumption.<br />
<br />
Angelo has a grand piano as well as a very nice electronic piano and I asked him if he wouldn't mind playing. I recorded him playing music from West Side Story, edited down here:<br />
<object height="289" width="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nb7Tfl2Ajfk?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nb7Tfl2Ajfk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="360" height="289"></embed></object>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-10506719187102667052010-12-20T12:27:00.000-08:002010-12-20T12:35:05.761-08:00Bodega Bay to San Geronimo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sunday, Dec. 12, 2010</span><br />
Passed this restaurant in the town of Valley Ford:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha78SCOoUxjomY3Au_-KImILn1AKctODhXdkRyDCtwHzzUiWLdQepprmPbuPC16GNWnjAWOFQsc78kud2GJsiSoVC5PWQ9YGaN_FvVM3w06lYnBRp8MPy1QwzDG6tl-AthpoEUrXOgT-M/s1600/valley+ford+dinuccis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha78SCOoUxjomY3Au_-KImILn1AKctODhXdkRyDCtwHzzUiWLdQepprmPbuPC16GNWnjAWOFQsc78kud2GJsiSoVC5PWQ9YGaN_FvVM3w06lYnBRp8MPy1QwzDG6tl-AthpoEUrXOgT-M/s320/valley+ford+dinuccis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I wonder what kind of food they serve?<br />
<br />
Highway 1 passes through the wee town of Tomales. Here's the general store:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Qjjs2htv8rpoiqCKpWsVRgPt1iabCKkEHpC41FdswNH8owsiVA7BxhTu30a_-e8-A3LZT8WCuTJCsDN4kQwE1oAJU5qSsC0zMUxJYfKe1YiIeSlN6Ks3l0ZzyxCfeN8tzV1vNmo0q1c/s1600/tomales+general+store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Qjjs2htv8rpoiqCKpWsVRgPt1iabCKkEHpC41FdswNH8owsiVA7BxhTu30a_-e8-A3LZT8WCuTJCsDN4kQwE1oAJU5qSsC0zMUxJYfKe1YiIeSlN6Ks3l0ZzyxCfeN8tzV1vNmo0q1c/s320/tomales+general+store.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And a panorama of a couple local businesses:<br />
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I've been surprised at the number of little communities like this. Many of them have very nice little bakeries/delis/coffee shops that serve as the town gathering spot. Today being a Sunday with decent weather there were a whole lot of both bicyclists and motorcyclists out. This was Tomales' bakery/deli/coffee shop gathering spot across the street from the general store:<br />
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Down the street was the church (Catholic, naturally):<br />
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North of the town Point Reyes Station, Highway 1 runs alongside Tomales Bay which was formed by the infamous San Andreas fault. The S.A. fault runs underneath the water here (left to right):<br />
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The arrow on this Google Maps satellite view of the Bay Area points to the spot where the above photo was taken. The thin line is where the San Andreas fault lies:<br />
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Over the last one or two hundred miles the flora has really started to change. We're <i>definitely</i> not in the Pacific NW anymore:<br />
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Road signs entering the town of Marshall, population 50:<br />
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There are a lot of these "Share the Road" signs:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrU69Xl1286lGbTdLJC3507nvYIhA23tGooo3gjf8lYyrGURnu0mCzmq-UF2L1o-U03ALgSn5vbAgDSKqUayfK90B5QnTzoy-0UWuwCqrONk7p0yxQPODtQI54atWLiASl50keBWjOHY/s1600/point+reyes+ferarri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrU69Xl1286lGbTdLJC3507nvYIhA23tGooo3gjf8lYyrGURnu0mCzmq-UF2L1o-U03ALgSn5vbAgDSKqUayfK90B5QnTzoy-0UWuwCqrONk7p0yxQPODtQI54atWLiASl50keBWjOHY/s320/point+reyes+ferarri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>(Notice the Ferrari 208? Very California!)<br />
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California is much more bike friendly and aware than I expected. (Maybe it's just Northern California?) Many more local cyclists than I'd've thought and car/truck drivers are much more courteous and accepting than I'd expected. Pleasantly surprised.<br />
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This is downtown Point Reyes Station:<br />
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Again, lots of bicyclists, congregating at the local bakery/coffee shop. If you find yourself in this area, don't miss Bovine Bakery (In the photo it's the place to the left of Viewpoints.) in Point Reyes Station. This is a very popular destination for cyclists from San Francisco as it's about 35-40 miles from the city and there aren't any brutal hills in between.<br />
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Yesterday I had connected with a warmshowers.org host in Point Reyes Station, but had said I'd thought I'd blow through Point Reyes and be quite a ways further south by Sunday evening. Alas, I ended up taking more time than I'd expected getting here and by 3:30PM was ready to call it a day. I called the warmshowers guy but couldn't reach him. So, not knowing where I'd stay, I pedaled toward Olema. The man at the front desk of a B&B which was way out of my price range was very friendly and offered to call the Two Birds Inn in San Geronimo to see what they could do. It was about an hour away but was much cheaper than the B&B and was the only option in the area. So off I went, figuring I could always camp somewhere if I found a suitable spot along the way.<br />
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Not having seen an adequate spot to pitch camp (The area was alternately hilly with thick vegetation, swampy/wet, or private, posted "No Trespassing" land.), I arrived at the Two Birds Inn and Cafe just after dark.<br />
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Chatting with a couple of the employees, I learned that the cafe has live music on the weekends and tonight a few musicians were coming in to play. They suggested I come back to the cafe in about an hour.<br />
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The room was bare-bones with no television or internet access, so I had no excuse for not checking out the evening's live entertainment. I found the cafe more crowded than I'd expected and the caliber of the music quite a bit better than I'd expected. It was a jazz ensemble with a few locals taking turns sitting in on piano and/or microphone. I recorded the hodge-podge group doing an 8-minute version of "Moondance," cut down here to about 30 seconds:<br />
<object height="289" width="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wG_EYut_-F8?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wG_EYut_-F8?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="360" height="289"></embed></object><br />
While still passive, it was much better entertainment than turning on the TV and channel surfing through a bunch of crap.<br />
<br />
Of course, I suppose I also could've been working on getting caught up on this dagnabbed blog!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-39211589527088125832010-12-19T17:02:00.000-08:002010-12-20T23:08:49.222-08:00Gualala to Bodega Bay<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saturday, Dec. 11, 2010</span><br />
Leaving Gualala, took these two photos of the Surf Motel:<br />
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Just a few minutes down the road and who do I see up ahead? Franklin from Bellingham:<br />
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Again, we ride together for a bit. Passed a very unusual house that reminded me of a wizard's hat:<br />
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Lots of livestock––mainly cattle, sheep and goats––along the way:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-o6y4mOfLNZ8jevaZPQ27jtxSqbv1Gldui7VHOI7A8Rcl_pmMNl-NuW5IJ3bndcmkRPqow1KApFIrYW0opqvOjcELW5Ui6oc4vw3gLkTym7RIn68KRMy7chhojep-E9sFUX3ZluYhiic/s1600/gualala+goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-o6y4mOfLNZ8jevaZPQ27jtxSqbv1Gldui7VHOI7A8Rcl_pmMNl-NuW5IJ3bndcmkRPqow1KApFIrYW0opqvOjcELW5Ui6oc4vw3gLkTym7RIn68KRMy7chhojep-E9sFUX3ZluYhiic/s320/gualala+goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Came across this general store in Stewarts Point:<br />
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Built in 1868. (100 years before I was born.)<br />
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Here's a panoramic view of the interior (The shelves in the far left of the photo are facing the shelves in the far right.):<br />
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The owner of the store told me the population of Stewarts Point is three. They live next to the general store in this house that was built at the same time:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1TrzIJ6JVHpifSktIzbTTx5A68PJz-I-Tw2GPs9JfsDUbQ0CFugNVgP4SmXooNcAUTzDD9MAce1su3SLO5-qsJUz6AykXfzO-_bIxztjaySHuoPau7uCxL998zGyUeK_a3DI3wm4U7Y/s1600/stewarts+point+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1TrzIJ6JVHpifSktIzbTTx5A68PJz-I-Tw2GPs9JfsDUbQ0CFugNVgP4SmXooNcAUTzDD9MAce1su3SLO5-qsJUz6AykXfzO-_bIxztjaySHuoPau7uCxL998zGyUeK_a3DI3wm4U7Y/s320/stewarts+point+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After leaving Stewarts Point, I was again back into thick, wet fog for most of the remainder of the day. Here's a view of what Highway 1 typically looks like along this stretch:<br />
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I think I passed a lot of scenery today which wasn't visible due to the thick vapor. Every so often the road would descend and I'd catch a glimpse of the water and rocks:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW_Pdsb68LSFZObTEW2EfAFNWvUOeGuBEIZqf4tFy1HjEAkv28Q3vNvQHD0uMFmvvALshm6ts0wn6ccz5qdteeqyQaTMoUsUL4Y55-9cULxe9Nq0Pcxo52Y8VGseYLtnr_0DB0rG_THw/s1600/stewarts+point+fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW_Pdsb68LSFZObTEW2EfAFNWvUOeGuBEIZqf4tFy1HjEAkv28Q3vNvQHD0uMFmvvALshm6ts0wn6ccz5qdteeqyQaTMoUsUL4Y55-9cULxe9Nq0Pcxo52Y8VGseYLtnr_0DB0rG_THw/s320/stewarts+point+fog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Or one of the ubiquitous turkey vultures attempting (in this fog, unsuccessfully) to dry its wings:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4cZMU_dRSTs4T_EtgD4sOLEtKT0W-PjT2OsuaaOeAWdjIVMNGDkvh09UX8RM2sWX0Xd1jjtjJu2ROcTLlTLjIuqoK9df8Jacy6HilZWBUhqFJLY58nAm1XPry7bGWBdXIqG1tOlznvI/s1600/ocean+cove+vulture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4cZMU_dRSTs4T_EtgD4sOLEtKT0W-PjT2OsuaaOeAWdjIVMNGDkvh09UX8RM2sWX0Xd1jjtjJu2ROcTLlTLjIuqoK9df8Jacy6HilZWBUhqFJLY58nAm1XPry7bGWBdXIqG1tOlznvI/s320/ocean+cove+vulture.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Stopped for a rest at this little market in Ocean Cove:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZBZw_5ppnf7fJFRTiSeTii7DrSBwfRKvmGqeCwQaTxOcVs4i4lkgeELzi9b0312btcg6YSRz2lq0o3Q8SBeMyT2_c4WcdiYDD4B3S8YNkW5FH3uAJmlr4AMIyYTCXmHk_3B7qrDIV6A/s1600/ocean+cove+grocery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZBZw_5ppnf7fJFRTiSeTii7DrSBwfRKvmGqeCwQaTxOcVs4i4lkgeELzi9b0312btcg6YSRz2lq0o3Q8SBeMyT2_c4WcdiYDD4B3S8YNkW5FH3uAJmlr4AMIyYTCXmHk_3B7qrDIV6A/s320/ocean+cove+grocery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The landscape here alternates between grassy, windswept, rocky hills fronting the ocean and thickets of trees/forest, usually inland a few hundred yards or more from the shoreline. Stopped in one of the forest thickets to get a photo of the sunlight streaming through and noticed spiderwebs on this plant (hemlock?):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBEw-g1TcrNFWnZLk2xi_NG8oXs_fwFgJXCb2OjPLfMVELfYluPLqMLVmK0zx6V2HmLsYSzF1Zw44dI5LA6QuAcXK8fmmN6qa-Vs7AHaiVdg-008M0aFhzfUhOs2tKNzdfJc1624acYQ/s1600/ocean+cove+cobwebs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBEw-g1TcrNFWnZLk2xi_NG8oXs_fwFgJXCb2OjPLfMVELfYluPLqMLVmK0zx6V2HmLsYSzF1Zw44dI5LA6QuAcXK8fmmN6qa-Vs7AHaiVdg-008M0aFhzfUhOs2tKNzdfJc1624acYQ/s320/ocean+cove+cobwebs.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Passed another interesting house:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCeKUvl3wAxhKDSEWDkRiPdad6ucE2NfnxIahEMqMsa0ZQzE-AFOAnSQw46fmIrnEWRvuhyeeF_uVZ4KZZ-qu4izK_v82ovAAAxOX2M_Uanr2b7dP-QrYMv7CSGqVY781O9vZdIS7QyU/s1600/jenner+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCeKUvl3wAxhKDSEWDkRiPdad6ucE2NfnxIahEMqMsa0ZQzE-AFOAnSQw46fmIrnEWRvuhyeeF_uVZ4KZZ-qu4izK_v82ovAAAxOX2M_Uanr2b7dP-QrYMv7CSGqVY781O9vZdIS7QyU/s320/jenner+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Stopped in Bodega Bay at Doran City Park campground. Pitched camp:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDa9YiXcuL8_N84sqaiAQSpEEbpz4LF-VzyxTMMt_ZlySsopuszlgcchRuYkTPzzTMHWeLJkQVeB0tjyr5uzQREqrW9SzLuEk85rLpLqPVNyert6Y0WcTBwJudeHwrpQsXZx7nD56T_Q8/s1600/bodega+bay+campsite+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDa9YiXcuL8_N84sqaiAQSpEEbpz4LF-VzyxTMMt_ZlySsopuszlgcchRuYkTPzzTMHWeLJkQVeB0tjyr5uzQREqrW9SzLuEk85rLpLqPVNyert6Y0WcTBwJudeHwrpQsXZx7nD56T_Q8/s320/bodega+bay+campsite+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Amazingly, if you zoom in on Google Maps, you can see the spot. Search for Bodega Bay in Google Maps, then start zooming in where the arrow is pointing:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfmchSmZYh6zIv2NsJwD7c4PA8PF_Dc4jtKBY-I4hyphenhyphenDyVtiFTCGkEvMKan0V0dtkCQ4hgwez9WqTr2C7RttxmxKDlYesgOOflxCoC8oAWzbb_nB8BDGvI-FWTlvIPayVDW9TaqiS1fKc/s1600/bodega+bay+campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfmchSmZYh6zIv2NsJwD7c4PA8PF_Dc4jtKBY-I4hyphenhyphenDyVtiFTCGkEvMKan0V0dtkCQ4hgwez9WqTr2C7RttxmxKDlYesgOOflxCoC8oAWzbb_nB8BDGvI-FWTlvIPayVDW9TaqiS1fKc/s320/bodega+bay+campsite.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
You'll find the campsite with the fire pit/barrel thing and the picnic table (I made a circle and rectangle to mark the fire pit and table.):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRukkH1aYTsNvzQXeiKG4cW6q-ts2qfejM9Kp5NpANHu36xbWeiA1ZMMdAJa__7TaIWdu0Oz_DQTFVkUxzB46KT5ELd6AOuGe-L7Dh9t9drxzTZjVsMfyRpqKq_lvAGQw222npI3OYziI/s1600/bodega+bay+campsite+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRukkH1aYTsNvzQXeiKG4cW6q-ts2qfejM9Kp5NpANHu36xbWeiA1ZMMdAJa__7TaIWdu0Oz_DQTFVkUxzB46KT5ELd6AOuGe-L7Dh9t9drxzTZjVsMfyRpqKq_lvAGQw222npI3OYziI/s320/bodega+bay+campsite+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Cool!<br />
<br />
Met two other Bay Area residents (They weren't together.) who were camping nearby; Adrian, a young guy who was camping around, killing time before going to work on a farm in Petaluma, and Nicole, a 20-something who'd been out day-hiking with friends and had decided to camp in Bodega Bay instead of going home. The three of us sat around the fire at my campsite and talked. Adrian had a guitar with him, so he added ambiance for a while. If it all sounds enchanting and groovy, it wasn't. The air was slightly cold and thick with water vapor/fog, the conversation wasn't inspired or interesting, and the guitar playing (noodling) quickly became tiresome. Eventually I told them I needed to hit the sack and they left.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-9684943915020813872010-12-19T12:38:00.000-08:002010-12-19T12:39:58.326-08:00Fellow touring cyclist #2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Friday, Dec. 10, 2010</span><br />
Finally left Fort Bragg headed for Point Arena. A few miles down the road, came across only the second long-distance cyclist I've encountered since leaving SeaTac. Franklin:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZlDqx5nDF8WmlUrBbJI6-HbxhjwYiPfQAHryNLkZ7-1yY_cmV_doIXG7-w-JZos7_8C3bFcoB99Z3tIcWf-dLB0VKVQ5MWgYcYYWHTnjlQtZfij8HI9CwRfPgoa3XJYYO4Ps1iXBWYI/s1600/franklin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZlDqx5nDF8WmlUrBbJI6-HbxhjwYiPfQAHryNLkZ7-1yY_cmV_doIXG7-w-JZos7_8C3bFcoB99Z3tIcWf-dLB0VKVQ5MWgYcYYWHTnjlQtZfij8HI9CwRfPgoa3XJYYO4Ps1iXBWYI/s320/franklin.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Franklin had left Bellingham, WA a while back and was headed for Vallejo, CA. I gathered that he'd lead a fairly hardscrabble life––he'd worked as a long-haul trucker and had also served in the Merchant Marines––but had recently found (or was found by) Christianity and was on a journey to "see what the Lord provides." He'd spent a few years as a kid in Vallejo, so was going back. I was amazed (aghast?) with the crudeness of his set-up: A worn out Trek mountain bike, no helmet, no lights, blue jeans and leather military boots, a huge backpack on his back and a smaller one hanging on the handlebars, a bunch of stuff in a big trash bag, and a one-liter Gatorade bottle to carry water. Wow. Nice guy, though, so we rode and talked for a while. He was riding pretty slowly so I eventually left him.<br />
<br />
The weather today was a dense, wet fog that, when riding, makes everything facing forward heavy and damp within 10 minutes. Too warm to put on rain gear, though. Temperature in the mid-50's.<br />
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Fog is visible in the background of this photo of one of the myriad B&Bs/Inns along this stretch of California coast:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwWQRPv6QnMJp2iFUg6T6dHC2mFl7rbjXipqoCMsi6_S9B4DYIpvUNoQSeYCR93TO3PKvj963IpHNijJ2WqvVP8yPzsLXdaLFWhWG4ljPOj1v46hfe8E2KbAb7Qt-GEcFB8QJ0IS6Y9E/s1600/elk+b%2526b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwWQRPv6QnMJp2iFUg6T6dHC2mFl7rbjXipqoCMsi6_S9B4DYIpvUNoQSeYCR93TO3PKvj963IpHNijJ2WqvVP8yPzsLXdaLFWhWG4ljPOj1v46hfe8E2KbAb7Qt-GEcFB8QJ0IS6Y9E/s320/elk+b%2526b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I stopped here for coffee and found out the owner had grown up in Seattle and knew it well. She invited me to browse around the grounds which included multiple accommodations buildings, a garden, a garden store/greenhouse and restaurant, all situated at the top of cliffs overlooking the ocean. This was one of those places that advertises Wedding/Honeymoon/Romantic Getaway Specials. All very "shi-shi."<br />
<br />
Passed through Point Arena without stopping after finding it a bit dilapidated and devoid of adequate accomodations. Decided I'd look for a spot to camp south of Point Arena, not realizing that it's almost all residences and private property. (Although, it appeared that 90% of the residences, many of them very nice, were vacant––likely wealthy San Franciscans' "summer homes." I considered stealth camping on one of these properties but decided against it because you never know if the homeowner is going to come rolling in at 11 PM to find a bicyclist camping uninvited in their yard.)<br />
<br />
By 5:15 PM I hadn't found anything suitable and it was pitch dark. I'd ridden over 60 miles since leaving Fort Bragg, I was wet from fog and sweat, and I came across another "Surf Motel," this one in Gualala. I caved. It sure beats pitching camp in the dark.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-68894089053305575992010-12-19T12:09:00.000-08:002010-12-19T12:09:44.884-08:00Fed up in Fort Bragg<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thursday, Dec. 9, 2010</span><br />
Getting a bit fed up with my increasingly cantankerous body finding different ways to give me grief. Today it was gastrointestinal.<br />
<br />
Awoke at around 5AM with something bludgeoning my digestive/intestinal tract. By 11AM––checkout time––things hadn't improved, so I had to decide whether to strike out and hope my intestines fix themselves or stay another day at the Surf Motel with the safety and comfort of a convenient toilet. I opted for safety and comfort.<br />
<br />
So yesterday's rest day turned out to be a waste of time and money. Argh.<br />
<br />
This extra day did allow me, later in the afternoon, to get back to Headlands Coffee and get a photo:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4fOmFz8noEUJJB0OGXlg9rM5c-z0xI0Ws8Nw_Gc_aTUnQWyWSGicU118zaTqaD_uFvQODCe6pIQ231Mzy_o3di6ZUPW-M2Qf61S73wJrMGfrgvu-vCkqRLDfruq7cY9GLHCSNGZyWQE/s1600/fort+bragg+headlands+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4fOmFz8noEUJJB0OGXlg9rM5c-z0xI0Ws8Nw_Gc_aTUnQWyWSGicU118zaTqaD_uFvQODCe6pIQ231Mzy_o3di6ZUPW-M2Qf61S73wJrMGfrgvu-vCkqRLDfruq7cY9GLHCSNGZyWQE/s320/fort+bragg+headlands+coffee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-70322122930850699742010-12-12T23:45:00.000-08:002010-12-12T23:45:55.592-08:00Rest day in Fort Bragg<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wednesday, Dec. 8, 2010</span><br />
Didn't do much today other than watch a bit of TV and stop at a few of stores in Fort Bragg to find a bit of duct tape, a camp spoon/fork (to replace the one I broke), a few groceries, and possibly a replacement rearview mirror for the one I've cracked by bumping it into a trashcan. No luck on the replacement mirror. Fortunately, the cracked one still works.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow will leave for Point Arena.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-83466966288761719362010-12-12T23:29:00.000-08:002010-12-12T23:29:16.677-08:00Westport to Fort Bragg<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tuesday, Dec. 7, 2010</span><br />
The ride from Westport to Fort Bragg is only 15 miles but I didn't feel like riding any further. Besides, I'd decided to take Wednesday as a rest day as my muscles were feeling a bit thrashed and the next town south was Mendocino which doesn't have any modestly-priced motels. (It was supposed be raining Tuesday evening and possibly the next couple of days so camping was not in the cards.)<br />
<br />
This part of the California coast––US 1 from Westport to San Francisco––is pretty swanky; very few budget motels, but lots of B&Bs, upscale resorts and "inns," some connected with wineries or spas. That sort of thing. I've learned that anytime you see lodging that lists Wedding/Honeymoon/Romantic-Getaway Specials, it's going to be pricey. (People might go to Motel 6 for a getaway, but it's not the romantic variety.)<br />
<br />
I guess Fort Bragg isn't a "romantic" destination because it has a number of reasonably-priced motels, such as the Surf Motel, which I checked in to on Tuesday afternoon.<br />
<br />
Rode back into the quaint part of Fort Bragg––you could call it the "historic district"––to Headlands Coffee, a great little coffee shop which has a very Portland-esque vibe.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-54572363676987205242010-12-09T22:14:00.000-08:002010-12-12T22:49:18.586-08:00Misty Mountain Hop<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monday, Dec. 6, 2010</span><br />
After seeing Hobbiton, USA, I've Led Zeppelin on the brain, hence this post's title. Hobbiton, USA started me thinking about how easily the lens through which we view history is distorted.<br />
<br />
Before Peter Jackson and his Lord of the Rings films, there was a whole culture––esp. in the 1970's––around JRR Tolkien's books about Middle Earth which has been forgotten or at least largely diminished by the recent films. In the late 1960's and 70's, "Frodo Lives!" was a slogan popular with hippies and counterculture types.<br />
<br />
Led Zeppelin was one of a number of bands that were part of the pre-Jackson Tolkien culture––they recorded a few songs, including <i>Ramble On</i> and <i>Misty Mountain Hop</i>, which referenced themes from the books.<br />
<br />
Left Garberville in a light rain and only four miles later stopped to record this video:<br />
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<br />
From here the weather improved as I eventually––finally!––left US 101 in Leggett. Leggett is where US 1 begins and where I continued my sweaty ride up and over the "Misty Mountains" (aka the Mendocino Range). US 1 comes down out of the mountains, suddenly, onto the quintessential California coast, and it's quite a dramatic reveal.<br />
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Here's a photo of the coast with US 1 visible to the left:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QTGhXCi5o6zlWU1ATiJeVAbtddPGuyMpwKg741pZLQOT2pWWmTcqPhHOLfaSL-B5hq31Cn2_8U1KXAlOQ867fCTjBqBmrbTAiZbTQaNsse7c-ldI_GCBsrlRKNJ-QLikgwhT1vBGDQ4/s1600/westport+coastline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QTGhXCi5o6zlWU1ATiJeVAbtddPGuyMpwKg741pZLQOT2pWWmTcqPhHOLfaSL-B5hq31Cn2_8U1KXAlOQ867fCTjBqBmrbTAiZbTQaNsse7c-ldI_GCBsrlRKNJ-QLikgwhT1vBGDQ4/s320/westport+coastline.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And an interesting cloud over the water:<br />
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Tonight checked into the Westport Inn. Greater Westport is about 260 people.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-66479913789157630342010-12-07T23:34:00.000-08:002010-12-09T18:16:48.849-08:00Eureka–Redcrest–Garberville<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Dec. 3, 4, 5 2010</span><br />
Spent a second day in Eureka running a few errands: Needed to replace my rain pants as I'd worn mine out (They were hold-outs from my motorcycle-riding days.), needed to pick up a camp stove as my little handmade penny stove wasn't cutting it (purchased the <a href="http://cascadedesigns.com/msr/stoves/fast-and-light-stoves/pocketrocket/product">MSR Pocket Rocket</a>), and wanted to get a Verizon phone as my AT&T contract had finally expired and AT&T coverage is poor out here.<br />
<br />
Saturday the 4th, newly rain-trousered, camp-stove-equipped and wirelessly-reconnected, I left Eureka for Redcrest.<br />
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Beautiful weather! Passed through the itsy-bitsy town of Loleta and stopped at the Loleta Bakery for coffee:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoyLSCPY4N-3FeKfIZgAzEMFU1E3dS7QSsmC4202lR7qSHWHUh5Q-qfd40djrGw-o04vPg3tfWVPkmFif4sLvfsOqxW2mgTPOulmB_Z3uQ6GEc7VzH2LPRKwaTwhMkDvAkEEJEQaCXzQ/s1600/loleta+bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoyLSCPY4N-3FeKfIZgAzEMFU1E3dS7QSsmC4202lR7qSHWHUh5Q-qfd40djrGw-o04vPg3tfWVPkmFif4sLvfsOqxW2mgTPOulmB_Z3uQ6GEc7VzH2LPRKwaTwhMkDvAkEEJEQaCXzQ/s320/loleta+bakery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is downtown Loleta:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdX4maRJn3HQiFIO3WmQFEsCdRSbnnTGcfQcGq4IhcSzfTWOB8AA85GdsGjauS_j6hFXElj9NCbvMeHkWsHYVUvJSDv-YZaGyice8irC5Oa4MxfdS84P-UqJdistQ7INCAoyV5Jws4uQ/s1600/loleta+downtown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdX4maRJn3HQiFIO3WmQFEsCdRSbnnTGcfQcGq4IhcSzfTWOB8AA85GdsGjauS_j6hFXElj9NCbvMeHkWsHYVUvJSDv-YZaGyice8irC5Oa4MxfdS84P-UqJdistQ7INCAoyV5Jws4uQ/s320/loleta+downtown.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The bakery is the yellow building.<br />
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The town was built around the big cheese factory, which closed down when a newer facility was built a few miles away. Here's the former factory:<br />
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Just south of Loleta, came across these archetypal toadstools (6-7" diameter):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_M7-suFo9idWOmLdE-U3v6LMbavYzElxOZt38XQ0Iz1QdoKF7gXi77f-qYaXEq8lDHUJpPdKG5Tfq5Zd65Hdimu_ZvMhYLC_LMimXv0iCnDTd7QJ8cSw5AdAB1b1jsVxOu6r4ALIcyg/s1600/loleta+mushrooms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_M7-suFo9idWOmLdE-U3v6LMbavYzElxOZt38XQ0Iz1QdoKF7gXi77f-qYaXEq8lDHUJpPdKG5Tfq5Zd65Hdimu_ZvMhYLC_LMimXv0iCnDTd7QJ8cSw5AdAB1b1jsVxOu6r4ALIcyg/s320/loleta+mushrooms.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>There were actually gnomes living underneath them and just a few feet away was a rabbit hole!<br />
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Mid-afternoon, rode through Scotia, a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Company_town">company town</a>, owned by Pacific Lumber Company. Interesting architecture. (Unfinished timber...fitting.) This is the Scotia Museum:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWXYXGTf-u1swNpuXvws-UadMTtG_9nBk_8wlRt8fCC4uF1ja8jGsvgHhEg8A6Z1CJU_bx0V2tGOBRsO_4WRqXT3NXI_0O4dHleLlpTzJ3B8W_O1GsfWoZOSRUtusdue55xAbPQLhGf8/s1600/scotia+museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWXYXGTf-u1swNpuXvws-UadMTtG_9nBk_8wlRt8fCC4uF1ja8jGsvgHhEg8A6Z1CJU_bx0V2tGOBRsO_4WRqXT3NXI_0O4dHleLlpTzJ3B8W_O1GsfWoZOSRUtusdue55xAbPQLhGf8/s320/scotia+museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The town movie theater:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj167GM9W6Jkv90RI9Xz8fI7-TiIoSsChJAhHblLctdeVwnB2FBiN6j57wM4SKWjguxi2ondJ5GDXfl3_cNbEnIty18R7Tw40ZkfIMStCJigCyUSHZJT67-81zRBKKBYB0fiIsqN_g4JNA/s1600/scotia+theater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj167GM9W6Jkv90RI9Xz8fI7-TiIoSsChJAhHblLctdeVwnB2FBiN6j57wM4SKWjguxi2ondJ5GDXfl3_cNbEnIty18R7Tw40ZkfIMStCJigCyUSHZJT67-81zRBKKBYB0fiIsqN_g4JNA/s320/scotia+theater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>(Why it says Winema instead of Cinema, I've no clue.)<br />
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The elegant Scotia Inn:<br />
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And the lumber mill:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7Y4_0kTRt6vRcN8zX_vm-C5Ot_28xgEyY8hHh4OwhZpG-szru8fptTTKijVP7XJBNRbRFAtyMU_ePJ68JkOnA8vTLI9OSz2qh_mKVXhcqcsqPv6MWzmYJ0RhHBaLmIOCg-VGOVEs65Q/s1600/scotia+lumber+mill+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7Y4_0kTRt6vRcN8zX_vm-C5Ot_28xgEyY8hHh4OwhZpG-szru8fptTTKijVP7XJBNRbRFAtyMU_ePJ68JkOnA8vTLI9OSz2qh_mKVXhcqcsqPv6MWzmYJ0RhHBaLmIOCg-VGOVEs65Q/s320/scotia+lumber+mill+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
After an exceedingly awe-inspiring late afternoon ride on the <a href="http://avenueofthegiants.net/">Avenue of the Giants</a> (US 254), arrived at the Redcrest Resort. By the way, if you haven't been there, I highly recommend visiting the Redwood forests and Avenue of the Giants. This has to be one of the most beautiful places in the U.S. Particularly nice this time of year since there're hardly any other tourists around. (Apparently it gets completely crazy in the summer with the invasion of the motorhome/RV/camper-driving tourists.) For a superb vacation package, combine the Redwoods with the S. Oregon/N. California coast. I should be a travel agent, right?<br />
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Along the Avenue of the Giants, the town of Redcrest is hardly even a town but the Redcrest Resort is a nice little group of cabins in the woods. Mine was cabin #9:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu316NHZz4XUeljZ81jNocRkr_0_VFVm3XQpm6dYa3BbAcsHM696czhHiW6hoWht7X0LNYA1zl3Higa7pQov-JY8M1fdhRIsYnRQO_fYdtqcv3DfgAJq58JjXeLJ-crI4AChPITxSbm0/s1600/redcrest+cabin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu316NHZz4XUeljZ81jNocRkr_0_VFVm3XQpm6dYa3BbAcsHM696czhHiW6hoWht7X0LNYA1zl3Higa7pQov-JY8M1fdhRIsYnRQO_fYdtqcv3DfgAJq58JjXeLJ-crI4AChPITxSbm0/s320/redcrest+cabin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Across the street was the Redcrest Grocery:<br />
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Sunday the 5th, leaving Redcrest, the weather was beautiful. Stopped in Miranda for a break and watched a local enjoying his Model T:<br />
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He drove past a number of times, occasionally sounding his Ah-oo-ga horn:<br />
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Right after I took these photos a light rain started. A few miles up the road in Phillipsville I had to risk getting the camera wet to photograph Hobbiton, USA, a kitschy low-budget theme park now closed and being reclaimed by nature:<br />
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Supposedly the park featured sculptures and dioramas depicting key scenes from The Hobbit. From the entrance a few Hobbit-hole entrances are visible, one (Bag End?) with Gandalf next to it:<br />
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Did a Google search and found a photo of what the sign looked like in its glory days:<br />
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Tonight am in Garberville at the Garberville Motel. Tomorrow will involve some brutal climbing.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-48289664777995744542010-12-04T23:04:00.000-08:002010-12-04T23:11:07.409-08:00Eureka!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thursday, Dec. 2, 2010</span><br />
Before leaving Orick, I put plastic/mylar (typical grocery) bags over my shoes and taped them around my ankles. It was 47 miles to Eureka, much of it in heavy precipitation, and the grocery bags kept my feet perfectly dry!<br />
<br />
Passed this very "California" house in McKinleyville:<br />
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After McKinleyville comes Arcata, home of Humboldt State University (northernmost of the California State University system), then Eureka.<br />
<br />
Tonight I'm at a motel in downtown Eureka.<br />
<br />
Eureka is the largest town I've been in since leaving Portland. The population of Eureka is probably close to 30,000.<br />
<br />
Like the San Francisco area, Eureka is chock full of Victorian-era architecture. Apparently, due to its location in Northern California and poor economic conditions, Eureka didn't experience the post-WWII redevelopment and "urban renewal" that so many other communities experienced in the 1950's, 60's and 70's. Therefore, hundreds of Victorian residential and commercial buildings from Eureka's boom in the mid-late 1800's have survived, most in spectacular condition. (The economic boom in the mid-late 1800's was from the logging industry.)<br />
<br />
Here're are a few houses that were blocks from my motel:<br />
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And what many consider to be the greatest, or at least most extravagant, example of Victorian style of any house in the United States, the Carson Mansion (W. Carson was a logging baron):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-RUoD-XFNIS0UAz6piqbwF2i9Dm4H4GkPsuvd7zpTvtnr99_m_7E-Qibe61IUW9xwOsi2F2ALpGPW-fjptzm0fY6xtc3c3hXskE6U_3bGBAI0brhZCWii00T_lDn4MDRrCOR-ZPPtAA/s1600/eureka+victorian+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-RUoD-XFNIS0UAz6piqbwF2i9Dm4H4GkPsuvd7zpTvtnr99_m_7E-Qibe61IUW9xwOsi2F2ALpGPW-fjptzm0fY6xtc3c3hXskE6U_3bGBAI0brhZCWii00T_lDn4MDRrCOR-ZPPtAA/s320/eureka+victorian+5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
They just yesterday lit it for the season:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfjwsUhJHXWqcojtlznXp9YxXyM1PJHH_ZVx30JNjterxfU6UCavT7bfpeQ8yf9SVszw5QGLK-jWaaWwflSI82F7_08-48XpcYZgbAvdPFoNGh80_YVoizoBMMhWL5xx73ZVDHR85bZc/s1600/eureka+victorian+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfjwsUhJHXWqcojtlznXp9YxXyM1PJHH_ZVx30JNjterxfU6UCavT7bfpeQ8yf9SVszw5QGLK-jWaaWwflSI82F7_08-48XpcYZgbAvdPFoNGh80_YVoizoBMMhWL5xx73ZVDHR85bZc/s320/eureka+victorian+7.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-2621422896990074892010-12-03T17:48:00.000-08:002010-12-03T17:48:36.671-08:00Rain, rain, rain<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wednesday, Dec. 1, 2010</span><br />
The two guys, Perry and Gary, who own/operate the Ravenwood Motel had, when I checked in, recited the usual line about continental breakfast offered in the morning. This usually means mediocre coffee and maybe some stale donuts in the lobby. So how surprised was I to discover in the common kitchen area an enormous spread consisting of not just coffee, but tea, juice, cider, hard boiled eggs, cereal, gourmet pastries, walnut/apple bread, bagels w/ cream cheese, cottage cheese, sliced peaches, pears and pineapples. And all the more amazing because I was the <i>only</i> guest at the motel! Despite my avoidance of wheat/gluten and dairy, I felt it would be rude to not partake of the bounty. (Not that I took much convincing.) <br />
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Here's a pic of the spread:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVvK-vBpz4p1sobTu6Bo0_m3VtZ3vOI3Jq2kBs7NoMx4wuy32If8vEwPPAkZVVxfAVAQzQWSs_0xI98CMlDC3smMQjFr4McfsbdPfGw_i-VLWADmSI274qPUw5C_YCbRqzefXp5iwFzY/s1600/ravenwood+spread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVvK-vBpz4p1sobTu6Bo0_m3VtZ3vOI3Jq2kBs7NoMx4wuy32If8vEwPPAkZVVxfAVAQzQWSs_0xI98CMlDC3smMQjFr4McfsbdPfGw_i-VLWADmSI274qPUw5C_YCbRqzefXp5iwFzY/s320/ravenwood+spread.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And another view of the little common kitchen area:<br />
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Conceptually, I knew that leaving Seattle in November I was signing up for some very wet riding, and had tried to steel myself for it, but the reality of it I'm finding demoralizing. I keep telling myself that better weather is (hopefully) coming, but that knowledge is doing nothing to keep the cold, pelting, drenching rain from completely waterlogging me within the first half hour of riding.<br />
<br />
That's how it was this morning as I left the immensely comfortable Ravenwood Motel, thinking I'd ride to McKinleyville, 53 miles south.<br />
<br />
Seven miles south of Klamath, the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway diverts from US 101 and zig-zags through Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. Absolutely, positively stunning. Despite my increasingly drenched and miserable state, I couldn't help stopping occasionally to marvel at trees that were even larger than the ones I'd seen yesterday. I hope to return here someday when I have more time, am drier, and can better appreciate this ancient forest.<br />
<br />
20 miles after leaving Klamath, in the itty-bitty town of Orick, soaked to the skin, chilled and wanting desperately to dry out and warm up (My shoes and socks again felt as if I'd stepped into a puddle up to my ankles.), I pulled into the only motel in Orick; the dumpy-looking Palms Motel.<br />
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Yuck. What a contrast to the Ravenwood back in Klamath! My room reeks of 40 years of cigarette smoke, there isn't level floor space anywhere, the bedspread looks (and feels) like it hasn't been cleaned since it was new 25 years ago and the lamps on either side of the bed don't work, among other problems with the place. But the heater in the wall cranks out the hot air and I'm grateful to be able to get dry and warm.<br />
<br />
After seeing so many motels with empty parking lots (See photos at bottom of yesterday's entry.) because of this being the off-season, I thought it a bit strange that the Palms Motel parking lot was full. I now realize why: half the town of Orick is living here. I seriously think I'm the only transient resident who doesn't know everyone else here. (The walls are so thin I can hear everyone outside and they all sound like they know each other.)<br />
<br />
Won't sleep well tonight with all the community activity outside.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-55546391717792660032010-12-03T02:54:00.000-08:002010-12-03T03:07:22.456-08:00Giant trees!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tuesday Nov. 30, 2010</span><br />
In a persistent drizzle, left Crescent City, (never to return).<br />
<br />
Highway 101 from Crescent City winds up and through Redwood National and State Parks, the second National Park of my trip. (The first was back on the Olympic Peninsula when I skirted Olympic National Park.)<br />
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Here's the sign at the entrance:<br />
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Related to the Giant Sequoia, Coast Redwoods are the tallest trees in the world. Their trunks don't grow as wide as the Sequoias, but they do grow taller––some nearly 400 feet. Their trunks can be 22 feet wide at the base! (Giant Sequoias can be nearly 40 feet wide! Unreal.)<br />
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Here's a medium-size tree:<br />
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And another:<br />
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Compelled to wander in amongst these towering giants, I parked my bike and followed a hiking path a ways. Until now I thought the old-growth Douglas Firs at Mt. Rainier were impressive, but this was just breathtaking.<br />
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Walking through this forest, there was something familiar about it that I couldn't put my finger on. And then it hit me; I remembered why it seemed familiar. Here's a photo I took once I remembered where I'd seen this place:<br />
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Look familiar? <br />
<br />
No? <br />
<br />
How about now:<br />
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That's right, Redwood National Park was where George Lucas filmed the Return of the Jedi scenes representing the forest moon of Endor. I was on Endor!<br />
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Not finding any Ewoks, I mounted my <strike>speeder</strike> bike and sped off.<br />
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This being California, there are all sorts of amusement-park-esque attractions attempting to lure tourists. Here's the entrance to one called "Trees of Mystery" (complete with a representation of George Lucas and one of the horned aliens from the Star Wars movies):<br />
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Interesting moss-covered trees over the road approaching the teeny town of Klamath:<br />
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Staying at an immaculate little motel in Klamath called the Ravenwood:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbsoFnTUon-M6hLYDvsomrsUXmlBy5WyAetN1xIgMN8rgDwzf_e1BI0tIwLVjyOiKLN8-fsIhjyfgU-y3-eotVJTSJ-ukDzTVIxwrrxtgP8rH6bMDDi16yzL3qMVuj8QaytAOebs5uxQ/s1600/klamath+ravenwood+motel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbsoFnTUon-M6hLYDvsomrsUXmlBy5WyAetN1xIgMN8rgDwzf_e1BI0tIwLVjyOiKLN8-fsIhjyfgU-y3-eotVJTSJ-ukDzTVIxwrrxtgP8rH6bMDDi16yzL3qMVuj8QaytAOebs5uxQ/s320/klamath+ravenwood+motel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Nice thing about traveling at this time of year is there're always vacancies:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2BJJEDIrajdUeCytoH5Z8KagDOm3LX1pbf0hPhpzQOw40yKUAbeQMfNmyHa_jxVUuRxP7N_9tcuS_nJC9Jov_Fj7JayOeYwfkKymPnl562eA6matE8LdQbKaVFWgIM3ayJ5hvFvF8O0/s1600/klamath+ravenwood+motel+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2BJJEDIrajdUeCytoH5Z8KagDOm3LX1pbf0hPhpzQOw40yKUAbeQMfNmyHa_jxVUuRxP7N_9tcuS_nJC9Jov_Fj7JayOeYwfkKymPnl562eA6matE8LdQbKaVFWgIM3ayJ5hvFvF8O0/s320/klamath+ravenwood+motel+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-88936285533433761032010-12-03T02:06:00.000-08:002010-12-03T13:38:07.550-08:00The Golden State!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monday, Nov. 29, 2010</span><br />
I can't remember the last time I took off without wearing my rain pants. Today the weather was terrific (well, at least not raining), so left Gold Beach.<br />
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Four and a half hours later I arrived at the southern Oregon border:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJd7Xsmeo9yYEUJV2O3-CB6W-k4B8Gk1CpojUDwBwKqV-w32qaxj7U4iq9cSSPnSWlNN3z5Kht5EMZtFymgfPWPeK6UVK-4Un6sHbWhpaBjf3rzGM-Ge21IQem08hEAvxtIQgVbF4Dw8w/s1600/leaving+oregon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJd7Xsmeo9yYEUJV2O3-CB6W-k4B8Gk1CpojUDwBwKqV-w32qaxj7U4iq9cSSPnSWlNN3z5Kht5EMZtFymgfPWPeK6UVK-4Un6sHbWhpaBjf3rzGM-Ge21IQem08hEAvxtIQgVbF4Dw8w/s320/leaving+oregon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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And lo and behold, I turned around, and:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xkUVwbalhYGBpcbYYpPIGKBoyVp_ltzLJEHNO0GsUOPuZN4SqJ22o0TTdIfRybWqj3_OrMWyk7dxvHuYx5XqszW-X6QhcOgZ0-u22VVAls3WUZI1uivlL68O25yOXeu-cUoErw-NrC0/s1600/welcome+to+california.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xkUVwbalhYGBpcbYYpPIGKBoyVp_ltzLJEHNO0GsUOPuZN4SqJ22o0TTdIfRybWqj3_OrMWyk7dxvHuYx5XqszW-X6QhcOgZ0-u22VVAls3WUZI1uivlL68O25yOXeu-cUoErw-NrC0/s320/welcome+to+california.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>CALEE-FORNEE-AH!!<br />
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A lot of farmland in California. Here's the old downtown area of Smith River, CA:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIH3fTOdySrz16BafLLCKKpH6L6m1dt4N-gZzcVxulC-TZZ-0Hom6WjY8NLM9Dpy-U7HIoZRSV8xyb_E_O0-Ol7QszRXMmbRQacBUR7yo_01TgTdgozGikM4CvKzOJs-upQw8L6XE6h0/s1600/downtown+smith+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIH3fTOdySrz16BafLLCKKpH6L6m1dt4N-gZzcVxulC-TZZ-0Hom6WjY8NLM9Dpy-U7HIoZRSV8xyb_E_O0-Ol7QszRXMmbRQacBUR7yo_01TgTdgozGikM4CvKzOJs-upQw8L6XE6h0/s320/downtown+smith+river.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We're definitely not in Oregon anymore:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNcSV3GeNvMc059rSz3udOIsb8trtTEokiSDy8xOGVJ6NJgs240UXb0nmsrFj5bYk7KLquFNlArzOLRpjANj8EgfNOYJEHW83NXEZFdU7GS68fEqHRtNP-x2WK6bKwmx6PGQ7ioxbmI8/s1600/house+with+palms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNcSV3GeNvMc059rSz3udOIsb8trtTEokiSDy8xOGVJ6NJgs240UXb0nmsrFj5bYk7KLquFNlArzOLRpjANj8EgfNOYJEHW83NXEZFdU7GS68fEqHRtNP-x2WK6bKwmx6PGQ7ioxbmI8/s320/house+with+palms.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
An unusual gift shop/museum (museum?):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy24vGAA6jCCZ282m6opimFfIM3_SRMQoBAieHkLNYjGzfl-Ar_dB_zbOupZTXgvzLw5yvgXDbGqaaJZU_VLYW5tVw8gY3x4LLbsLVZ-yrO14z-2a2YO_vRFETzqElw5yqX-uf8_mwSzo/s1600/ship+ashore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy24vGAA6jCCZ282m6opimFfIM3_SRMQoBAieHkLNYjGzfl-Ar_dB_zbOupZTXgvzLw5yvgXDbGqaaJZU_VLYW5tVw8gY3x4LLbsLVZ-yrO14z-2a2YO_vRFETzqElw5yqX-uf8_mwSzo/s320/ship+ashore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After riding past <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pelican_Bay_State_Prison">Pelican Bay State Prison</a>, one of the nation's Supermax prisons, arrived in Crescent City––one of those medium-size cities I was disparaging in a previous post. Corporate Town, USA.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-18012864770499544522010-12-03T01:34:00.000-08:002010-12-03T01:34:26.234-08:002nd day in Gold Beach<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sunday, Nov. 28, 2010</span><br />
The bleeding stopped, so I'm able to take a picture of my sliced finger:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxJbh-jgs3UcZhH8eMa31ZEj71rgceGpR2A8q-TpG4dMwQt89oLuMTyn3ffrpLvBXnN3_iuI93FEDfMrtE5BNpfVyIM4RDSAt8jPMwlW-27wC294XaUDo3vts8BgYb9_ZykiUyhgc8WM/s1600/cut+finger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxJbh-jgs3UcZhH8eMa31ZEj71rgceGpR2A8q-TpG4dMwQt89oLuMTyn3ffrpLvBXnN3_iuI93FEDfMrtE5BNpfVyIM4RDSAt8jPMwlW-27wC294XaUDo3vts8BgYb9_ZykiUyhgc8WM/s320/cut+finger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Still feeling a few residual issues with my "bike-saddle region," I decide to spend another day off the bike. Besides, Gold Beach is a nice little town to hang out in.<br />
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Went to Gold Beach Books. Picked up a biography about Samuel Adams (the Founding Father––not the beer brewer).<br />
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Took this photo in the coffee shop attached to the bookstore:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjspw_buaFQJb2q8F-KeFp1wkijfHd4g2fKOkNHSeTV7_Y-1GA_JBz2M3h9yjtLrQ60-nUnvFubiauzbNE_xjcRL1nzrZpqw5QwuNHKOuRuUjNYR73ipsoDIca-PmiUqG6QCC7-owfit4/s1600/gold+beach+bookstore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjspw_buaFQJb2q8F-KeFp1wkijfHd4g2fKOkNHSeTV7_Y-1GA_JBz2M3h9yjtLrQ60-nUnvFubiauzbNE_xjcRL1nzrZpqw5QwuNHKOuRuUjNYR73ipsoDIca-PmiUqG6QCC7-owfit4/s320/gold+beach+bookstore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Isn't this what you expect in a small town––two local guys chatting over a cup of joe at the local coffee shop?<br />
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Problem with staying in motels (besides the expense incurred) is that I end up watching too much TV. Not having TV at home, it's exciting to have so many shows and channels to watch! Except that it's all pretty worthless and a waste of time. 99% of it is rubbish. Must...resist!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-14392712816065111042010-12-03T01:16:00.000-08:002010-12-03T01:16:28.850-08:00Gold Beach<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saturday, Nov. 27, 2010</span><br />
After replacing my blood-soaked bandage and finding the bleeding under control, I set off for Gold Beach, 28 miles away.<br />
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After yesterday's nastiness, the weather today was better, although still got a bit wet.<br />
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I'm getting way too many photos of the Oregon coastline, but can't resist photographing the bizarre rock formations. Like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33UpfklSeD-P0DExqiPS6tuBET6c1feMmbS3tzJhsEEqTgwHNw012wMNwdbrLdQE0MibNc3NCpMYcywSOL-Bz1mV9Lb-2Sq-OvCAHOE0-4Xzl1imXmn0DegcEBrqoLV6ZowMBlIHW0-w/s1600/tilted+rocks+seashore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33UpfklSeD-P0DExqiPS6tuBET6c1feMmbS3tzJhsEEqTgwHNw012wMNwdbrLdQE0MibNc3NCpMYcywSOL-Bz1mV9Lb-2Sq-OvCAHOE0-4Xzl1imXmn0DegcEBrqoLV6ZowMBlIHW0-w/s320/tilted+rocks+seashore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
What powerful forces at work to tilt and shift the ground like this. Incredible!<br />
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And who can resist photographing a rainbow?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEPBLDEkHAEjMARoZxtqNLIviZhJ-PRJv3wCd1JHB7vbeDh76EiBoByvIzjHUq8gHYSxtvRADH4EvB82byTWSnb9z-urBCw_o-DUoqJoUXYQ8wI_YFKT8kYq41-4Yx-Zq45dxu71okKA/s1600/rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEPBLDEkHAEjMARoZxtqNLIviZhJ-PRJv3wCd1JHB7vbeDh76EiBoByvIzjHUq8gHYSxtvRADH4EvB82byTWSnb9z-urBCw_o-DUoqJoUXYQ8wI_YFKT8kYq41-4Yx-Zq45dxu71okKA/s320/rainbow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Arrived in Gold Beach at the mouth of the Rogue River. Named for a nearby beach where gold had been mined.<br />
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Nice little small town.<br />
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What I like about these small towns is they fly under the corporations' radar. No Starbucks, Walmart, Rite Aid, Applebees, McDonalds, Barnes and Noble, etc. Instead you have Gold Beach Books (w/ coffee shop), The Port Hole Cafe, McKay's Market, the pharmacy, Barnacle Bistro, etc.<br />
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So many medium-size towns now have lost their character; every one the same as the next: Here's the KFC next to the Taco Bell next to the Pizza Hut, and over there in that mammoth complex is the Walmart, the Safeway and the Walgreens, and then there's the Home Depot across the massive intersection from the Starbucks and Barnes & Noble.<br />
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Every town just like the last...and the next.<br />
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Ugh.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-27876326961394240272010-12-01T17:10:00.000-08:002010-12-06T20:24:14.291-08:00Charleston to Port Orford<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Friday, Nov. 26, 2010</span><br />
20 miles south of Charleston, Nathan and I stopped at a coffee shop in Bandon for coffee (and Wi-fi).<br />
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Stopping for coffee has become a very anticipated part of my day. The enjoyment I daily derive from a hot cup of coffee and a Clif bar has become almost ridiculous. In fact, I've been surprised by how much I've been finding pleasure in such simple things as changing out of wet into dry clothes, eating a meal, and taking a shower.<br />
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I wish I could say the same about deriving pleasure from riding my bike, but in all honesty, between the cold, drenching rain, the slight pains in my butt and lower back, and the busyness of the roads I'm riding, I'm not particularly enjoying the actual act of bicycling. Wait, that's not entirely true; there have been a number of times where the weather has been nice, I'm not experiencing any bodily discomfort, and the particular road is desolate and scenic. Unfortunately, those times have been relatively few.<br />
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That said, I wouldn't want to be traveling any other way. Thousands of cars, trucks and RVs have roared past me and I think about how much the people inside are missing as I'm catching the subtle scent of the trees along the side of the road, hearing the sound of waves crashing on rocks mingling with the barking of sea lions on the beach far below, noticing the odd assortment of curios scattered around and behind someone's dilapidated trailer (home?), and feeling and tasting the salty haze generated by waves crashing on the shore.<br />
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It's a fantastic way to travel.<br />
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Here're three photos of the shoreline just west of Bandon, OR:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBghYmDGp5HENe0bIZtwrEtD2VEZuhUnB3i3Rn-tqSk27jAmFwxADgiZfR4x2xr8DdPEecoq1pua1d9iYDIJwZP7p_Z-kCF4dHFiZZz-i7BMk_EU60n8mKZZ84_u2fsjt71OkAYoH5fms/s1600/bandon+seashore+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBghYmDGp5HENe0bIZtwrEtD2VEZuhUnB3i3Rn-tqSk27jAmFwxADgiZfR4x2xr8DdPEecoq1pua1d9iYDIJwZP7p_Z-kCF4dHFiZZz-i7BMk_EU60n8mKZZ84_u2fsjt71OkAYoH5fms/s320/bandon+seashore+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFMisvRfhEauAmOMgyDv41Jhjndf-f7sNeoOm3C9R2Rf714x2iRm4phMRkuuSAV8smgky972cQEU3ssYY2tCZL_EVN4sxL4KrGxJyG-vivB8sHQarH7Pi4rgVdO4JQW4VZ_4-MJn9yXk/s1600/bandon+seashore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFMisvRfhEauAmOMgyDv41Jhjndf-f7sNeoOm3C9R2Rf714x2iRm4phMRkuuSAV8smgky972cQEU3ssYY2tCZL_EVN4sxL4KrGxJyG-vivB8sHQarH7Pi4rgVdO4JQW4VZ_4-MJn9yXk/s320/bandon+seashore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaKuJU3IVfsNXeggU37kRbwSphYuIH0cSErY7E5DS8boMOCsfu75qEVABu-a5ge5EnOfnk7lIRgC3rKsMFOeHq5YC8AjbAPGuovmLpM_7FZRNd2XflJNsuFE_hAgoRmcVzFRKlQ9mmS8/s1600/bandon+seashore+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaKuJU3IVfsNXeggU37kRbwSphYuIH0cSErY7E5DS8boMOCsfu75qEVABu-a5ge5EnOfnk7lIRgC3rKsMFOeHq5YC8AjbAPGuovmLpM_7FZRNd2XflJNsuFE_hAgoRmcVzFRKlQ9mmS8/s320/bandon+seashore+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just south of Bandon, Nathan and I wished each other well and I rode off toward Port Orford, where I am tonight.<br />
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Arrived here in a practical tempest. The guy at the desk at the motel asked rhetorically, "You're out riding in this?!"<br />
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I don't have much choice.<br />
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Not wanting to venture out in the storm in search of food (Port Orford doesn't have much to offer, anyway.), I fixed some rice in the microwave in the room and, slicing some vegetables, proceeded to just about cut my finger off.<br />
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I'm exaggerating. But I did slice my finger pretty good. Thinking about how to get it sewn up if the bleeding doesn't stop. (Port Orford has a little medical clinic that's open Mon-Fri.––it's Friday night right now––and the nearest hospital is 28 miles further south in Gold Beach.)<br />
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Tightly bandaged for now.Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-17189186489796410522010-11-28T23:08:00.000-08:002010-12-02T19:31:34.870-08:00Stealth Thanksgiving<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thursday, Nov. 25, 2010</span><br />
Under beautiful, partly sunny skies, left Florence and headed for Coos Bay, 50 miles away. Here I am taking a break next to a little bucolic lake:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu8OysanJdPQdDsBIjg9oRr0mCqnKrY9Kh4iRqwJGATxDsIa7gOzIvpGPFaGty29pGCYyqpUCw91EXOO_Kvzr6wmk5JZAxWItiQl9OT_J013Eod8oDATHp3cE7kB95yPgcKpKN0Ssp70/s1600/break+south+of+florence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu8OysanJdPQdDsBIjg9oRr0mCqnKrY9Kh4iRqwJGATxDsIa7gOzIvpGPFaGty29pGCYyqpUCw91EXOO_Kvzr6wmk5JZAxWItiQl9OT_J013Eod8oDATHp3cE7kB95yPgcKpKN0Ssp70/s320/break+south+of+florence.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Between Florence and North Bend, Highway 101 skirts Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area, the largest expanse of coastal sand dunes in North America. Unfortunately, the dunes are all open to dune buggies and ATVs, so the whole area is overrun with hicks in pickup trucks towing their stupid man-toys in to wreak havoc on what would otherwise be a serene wilderness area. The dunes are scarred with tire tracks and the incessant drone of ATV engines. Tragic, really.<br />
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Here's a scarred dune just north of North Bend:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjex3cxVoNk-UKzJiATiisy6CY2yJfEPAXRosDOA0lvYE-DX9J0dAZf69oSzTixLr7xXw4CDcqXExNyjQNFZbhs1iWuqMZznsFboEOWIs_WlhpRXqKrFLeP4s1aNqv65wBuB6EnyG9s6F0/s1600/dune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjex3cxVoNk-UKzJiATiisy6CY2yJfEPAXRosDOA0lvYE-DX9J0dAZf69oSzTixLr7xXw4CDcqXExNyjQNFZbhs1iWuqMZznsFboEOWIs_WlhpRXqKrFLeP4s1aNqv65wBuB6EnyG9s6F0/s320/dune.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And the bridge into North Bend:<br />
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Coos Bay is just south of North Bend and, figuring I'd camp for the night because of the decent weather, I stopped at a Safeway along the way. Riding up to the entrance, I recognized a cyclist already there––it was Her Majesty's Royal Bicyclist, Nathan.<br />
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Nathan has been "stealth" camping all along his trip (rain or no) and I figured I could pick up a few tips from him, so we set off to find a state park in which we could stealth camp.<br />
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Stealth camping refers to camping either in an undesignated location (ie. private property, city/county/state/national parks, etc.), or in a designated area but without paying the requisite fee.<br />
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Just south of the little town of Charleston, a tiny fishing community, we found Sunset Bay State Park and an adequate spot to pitch camp.<br />
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Here's a market in Charleston:<br />
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And a photo Nathan took of our tents (mine's the further one):<br />
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And the bay next to which we camped:<br />
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It was one of my more memorable Thanksgivings. It would've been better if my little homemade <a href="http://www.jureystudio.com/pennystove/stoveinstruct.html">penny stove</a> hadn't kept going out, but I was eventually able to cook a delicious meal of veggies and rice with bacon. So take your turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy and cranberries and shove 'em down your pumpkin pie-hole!<br />
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Happy Thanksgiving!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-25840928164834641782010-11-27T18:43:00.000-08:002010-11-27T18:45:02.654-08:00My first encounter with a fellow touring fellow<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wednesday, Nov. 24, 2010</span><br />
Needing to pick up a couple of things at Fred Meyer and get my bike cleaned and lubed (Riding in the rain, the water and road grit and grime wreak havoc on the chain and derailleurs.), I stayed another day in Florence.<br />
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Riding back from Fred Meyer, I happened upon the first touring cyclist I've yet seen. Nathan:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwiULDPMdCg3q59e17cAw4DooJcLfYwMpx0ZSzIuTo7AZ-WvRcfWMEVCC07bd0FYBblAo9-sB3akEEWitUVKTWh1N3T7pOmZacuoPvjKLUqwT7GinfXHFs6Mj1oO3LKK21qdMTuMqqvM/s1600/nathan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwiULDPMdCg3q59e17cAw4DooJcLfYwMpx0ZSzIuTo7AZ-WvRcfWMEVCC07bd0FYBblAo9-sB3akEEWitUVKTWh1N3T7pOmZacuoPvjKLUqwT7GinfXHFs6Mj1oO3LKK21qdMTuMqqvM/s320/nathan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Nathan hails from Reading, UK, and is riding from Prudoe Bay, Alaska down to Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina. 18,000 miles! Jeez, makes my ride look like a little jaunt around the block! <br />
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We chatted for a bit, exchanged website info and bid each other adieu.<br />
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Nathan's website: <a href="http://velofreedom.wordpress.com/">http://velofreedom.wordpress.com/</a>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-17248082260120300022010-11-27T17:40:00.000-08:002010-11-27T17:40:01.942-08:00Yachats to Florence<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tuesday, Nov. 23, 2010</span><br />
Awoke to two inches of snow on the ground in Yachats. By late morning it had melted enough that I was able to depart for Florence.<br />
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Shot this video south of Yachats (Click the YouTube logo in the lower right to watch it larger, then click 360p below the video to select a larger size, then the arrows button next to it to expand. This can be done with any video on my blog.):<br />
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Found the Landmark Inn in Florence––an incredibly nice hotel (It looks like a small group of condos.)––for a better rate than most of the motels I've stayed in. Viva la off-seasoné!Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674612633665798085.post-36551135990040749922010-11-23T22:34:00.000-08:002010-11-24T22:30:30.366-08:00How to make time slow down<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monday, Nov. 22, 2010</span><br />
Feeling much better in my "bike-saddle region," this morning I headed south.<br />
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Shot this video when the rain let up as I rode along the coast from Lincoln City to Yachats:<br />
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(I was right about the pelicans––they're California Brown Pelicans. They're going to Palm Springs to spend the winter sitting next to the pool and playing golf. But I was wrong about the rock––it's basalt, not andesite. Still volcanic.)<br />
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Today I was thinking, I started this trip only three weeks ago? It's amazing me how much time has slowed down since I started. November 2nd seems like two months ago.<br />
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I suspect the perception of plasticity of time has to do with the fact that speed is relative. Fruit flies, because they're cruising around having a variety of new experiences, probably feel like they have long lives. And 2,000 year old Sequoias, because they're sitting doing nothing; every day/month/year/century just like the last, feel like their lives are painfully short.<br />
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Wait, this is common knowledge, isn't it?<br />
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Tonight I'm at the Ya'tel Motel in Yachats (YAH-hots; rhymes with straw rots). Here's the sign in front of the motel:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6SkY8zuIVfum_b9WowwJRLvSyPEdJBZohDRx5H5XZ6fO6h3PfiTYPbvyCL2WoHZtHHRIFvCxj_E0wx33xsEYwQANSEsQGxWbcP_ET9IgodfaBDpTeMB6e9Fu9YjiWgqL7Tilat5zFiU/s1600/yatel+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6SkY8zuIVfum_b9WowwJRLvSyPEdJBZohDRx5H5XZ6fO6h3PfiTYPbvyCL2WoHZtHHRIFvCxj_E0wx33xsEYwQANSEsQGxWbcP_ET9IgodfaBDpTeMB6e9Fu9YjiWgqL7Tilat5zFiU/s320/yatel+sign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13377109550882324012noreply@blogger.com4