After ascending a 2500 mountain from sea level, we coasted through Humboldt Redwood State Park. We saw the largest coastal redwood and got the road mostly to ourselves because it was Monday. As a result, we hiked to several prominent trees and took our time enjoying the redwoods. Seriously just lingered at 3 mph on the road moving through them and wafting their images in. And most amazing of all, unbeknownst to us, Adam and Brianne had booked it across the main route after several days of recovery in a hotel room, in order to catch up with us. As we were pulling into our campsite for the night, Janna suddenly got a call from Brianne asking where we were. Realizing we were camped within shot, Adam and Brianne biked all day to meet up with us again. It thrilled us and capped off a sweet day. Gnarly grades of gravel road, biking mountain-bike style downhill, having to push my bike up two mountain passes with 38% grades in sections were all worth it for the Lost Coast – absolutely majestic. The road was so shitty that it tore off two panniers and knocked my front tire loose. Even going downhill, I about used up my brakes and had to re-tighten them because the road was a mess of riddled potholes and gravel for most of it. The Lost Coast was deserted, remote, and pristine. I can only imagine that this is what the coast originally looked like. Short day prepping for the Lost Coast tomorrow. We have our biggest climbs of the trip (2500 foot climbs) to get over the mountains and to the largest wilderness coast in the lower 48 states. Very remote, no towns, and miles of mountain climbs, redwoods, and untouched land.
Now a thought on car culture. I feel like people in cars are frequently angry (myself included). It’s as if we hate parking further than we want, we want to get someplace as soon as we can, and we can only drive to some places and not others because you can’t leave a giant metal beast running in just any parked spot. I have seen so many people just get flaming pissed by having to wait on other cars or bikes. Biking this distance has really shown me the opportunities biking realistically can afford as a common alternative for getting by: you can park pretty much wherever, you don’t get pissed at other people in your way, and motion is desired for the body not a consequence to be avoided. Finally, our campground for that evening. While in Arcata, I managed to feast myself silly on cake and pastries from a local co-op. I packed out a ton and took some with me for today's riding. As we pulled into our campground, which was a country fair grounds in the off-season, I managed to eat my last pieces. The place made us apprehensive. First, the "host" on duty refused to exit their RV when we checked in. Next, there were several minivans filled with trash (literally brimming to the windows with it) along with smells and appearances of drug usage. We found a spot way away from them to setup our tarp. Needing to urinate, I went over to the restroom/shower house. Inside, it was the quintessential replica of the main-scene bathroom from the movie Saw. Broken, dingy yellow tile greased and smeared with different colored (red, black, brown!) dried fluids adorned the walls. The lights were those sulfured yellow varieties only. The shower had no curtain. But the dark corner where it sprung did have a broken white plastic lawn chair underneath. All toilets where covered with garbage bags save one which itself was copiously filled with human excrement. I quickly used the bathroom making sure to touch barely anything, then decided to just plunge back in and take a shower regardless. By this point, an RV had pulled up to us and an older couple parked by our tarp's side. They came out to introduce themselves, and we ended up having a great conversation with them as they fried up some freshly-caught lake fish. After that, Janna and I climbed into the tarp to go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be the Lost Coast alternate, which meant we needed some good sleep for the large climbs. Around 1:30 am I woke up feeling a little off. My stomach began flipping over and over again. I rolled back and forth trying to settle what was increasingly a boiling mess in my gastrointestinal system. I started sweating profusely and knew I was going to vomit. I climbed out of the tarp and made my way in the dark to the Saw-restroom. I went in and dry-heaved for 20 minutes into a trash bag I dug out of the bottom of an overfilled refuse bin. I was crazy nauseous and couldn't believe I was sick in a hell-hole of a room like this. With a wave of nausea done, I went back to the tarp, laid down, and moaned with illness. Janna woke up and I relayed the awful sickness I was feeling. I got hit by another round of the urge-to-vomit. I sprinted to the Saw-restroom with Janna trailing. Janna confirmed that the men's restroom was far more horrid than the women's. I heaved into the trashcan several times before telling Janna to head back to the tarp. After she left, I thoroughly vomited all that cake up. I tied up the trash bag, placed in the overflowing bin, and headed back to the tarp at 4:00 am. Janna asked me if I still wanted to take on the Lost Coast after not sleeping all night. I said, "YES, absolutely." We awoke early for what turned out to be a 70 mile day. Crescent City was a route flat and cold with rain at 51 degrees. Immediately leaving the city we ascended a 1500 foot hill to enter the lofty mountains of Redwood National and State Parks. We pushed above the clouds and were treated to a summit awash in sun and blue skies. A harrowing descent into the dank fog brought shivers as we crafted our way across highways towards a 1000 climb at Prairie Creek Redwood State Park. I just couldn’t figure out how to thermoregulate. Keep my jacket on and sauna my saunters up climbs or jacket off for cool breeze on flesh that began to freeze on downward rides. However, approaching Elk Prairie Campground, we left the main traffic and had 6 miles of downhill all to ourselves through the heart of the original old growth stands of redwood. It was shocking to see the girth of trees in comparison to bikes. A day of motion and reset today. After a gorgeous morning conquering hills with the last coastline in Oregon, we had to cut the day short due to a serious accident with Adam and Brianne. Fortunately, everyone is safe and recovering; unfortunately Adam and Brianne will need to hang back while Janna and I continue to California tomorrow. They are fucking awesome and, after promises to hopefully collide our routes in the next week, we said goodbye and headed to Harris Beach State Park for the night. Below is what happened:
We were descending a hill along the side of a highway with a guardrail. The decline was sweet and swift, so I sped ahead to enjoy the feeling. Behind me, Janna and Brianne were talking while riding in line. A large pothole appeared on the shoulder. Janna called out, "Bump!" Brianne suddenly threw on her brakes as she hit the pothole, causing her to flip over her handlebars headfirst into the guardrail. She hit it so hard with her helmet and skull that the metal guardrail dented in. And it was a severe head injury to her. Immediately Adam and Janna stopped. A passing car saw the whole thing and called 911. Meanwhile, I was super far ahead at the bottom of the hill and starting a climb on the other side. I had noticed at this point that no one was behind me anymore. Confused, I stopped on the shoulder for everyone to catch up. A car pulled up to me and asked, "Are you with that group of cyclists back there?" I responded in the affirmative. The drive said, "Well, there was a pretty bad accident back there with one of them. One of them crashed and hit their head and the police are there." Panic coursed through me for all worst possible scenarios. I turned around and pedaled with shear power down and back up the original hill to the scene. There, I found Adam assessing Brianne. As a PA, he had the medical wherewithal to figure out that she didn't need am ambulance, but did need to get off her bike and into a hotel room for rest. I gawked at the dented guardrail, imagining the force it took with her head to dent it and dislodge a wooden post. With the help of the police, we put their bikes in the back of the cruiser and watched them drive ahead to Brookings, OR. Janna and I, shell shocked, got on our bikes and pedaled towards the town as well. We couldn't believe what had just happened. Once in Brookings, Janna and I made for the local state park to setup our camp gear, and then we rode into town to connect with Adam and Brianne who were staying at a local hotel. Through tears and words, we knew they had to stay for several days to allow her to recover and to assess for any delayed head trauma. It meant our group was splitting up. We relayed how we were going to take an alternate route in the next few days out to the Lost Coast. They had intended to skip it. However, we would be tacking on several extra days by doing this alternate. Perhaps, we all mused, there was a possibility for a meetup in the future again along the route. Crushed out 66 miles today. Started in the gray 49 degree dawn and proceeded to blue skies/solid sun. The coast continues to be stunning. In Port Orford, we met two young badasses. As we were eating lunch on the sidewalk outside the grocery store, we saw this 16 and 17 year old high school student pair ride up. They are good friends from Missouri whose parents let them fly to Seattle and do a summer solo trip tour by themselves to San Francisco. Basically, they are badasses because (as Adam, Janna, Brianne, and I agree) we could never imagine doing that at that age. They did a Kickstarter/Indie Go Go to raise money for the trip, they are 100% supported to do this by their parents, and they are absolutely brave/courageous to do this. Tonight, they joined us at our campground and we all chilled inside a laundry room inside the RV park talking about life late. Tomorrow, we enter the redwoods in California. Entered the Oregon Sand Dunes area and marveled at the appearance of it all. I have resigned myself to being perpetually cold and wind swept in Oregon. It is truly beautiful but damn if those same winds that whisper up dunes and sweep up coastline don’t also serve up unending headwinds (dear god when we ride north/west into them), tailwinds (thank god when they propel us south), and side winds (shit!) when nearly getting toppled over. We read to only ride the coast south and it is true. A few northbound cyclists we have met have laid out their harsh words for the wind but they push us south at 18 mph. However, the moment we stop, I’m instantly freezing. Highs are 62 in the day and 40 at night, and that’s without the wind. Simultaneously, we have also met a couple named Adam and Brianne. Their lives color our own and their stories bear remarkable shadow to our own life journey. Needless to say, our nights have been full of shared dinners and days riding together. For the time, we are riding south ensemble. Staying in campgrounds each night has afforded us those intimate conversations with others that life in normal would never allow. We stayed up late talking with a Fort Knox military retiree (doing this ride as his retirement trip), a Mormon that left the church, and some French Canadians who regaled us with tales of biking across Cuba. You meet those people along the road and in old RV parks that society sweeps aside or glances past; theses are people though immersed in the living of life. |