San Fransisco

My acquaintance with Californian tourist information continued the next day, when I stopped in Arcata. I had heard about a forest fire just south on the highway 101, and that the campsites were closed. Of course, they knew about the fire, and that it was smokey, but couldn’t tell me anything more. I asked if they had and cycle route maps, and was told, sorry, no. Then I noticed on the wall a big map saying “Cycle Routes in Arcata”. I tried to remember the route through the town, and set out again.

Actually, I was happy to find a few cycle route signs, and followed them. There seems to have been a great amount of thought put into this route, as I followed the signs onto the busy freeway and passed the “bicycles prohibited” notice.

In Eureka, stocked up with food from a supermarket, I went to try and find more information about the fire, at the so called information centre. “Where is the fire”, “are the campsites open”, “is the smoke ok for a cyclist”, “where can I find out”, “is there a bus service I can take through the area” - all my questions were answered by the usual “I don’t know”. I had little choice but to set off and hope for the best.

Making my way south, the freeway was now much quieter again, and despite some long and unexpected hills, the riding was good. I was soon at the start of the “Avenue of the Giants”, where I could leave the main road and follow the old freeway through the massive old redwood trees.
I found a small hike n bike campsite, and set up camp, watching the twin bladed helicopters lifting water out the river and flying overhead to drop it on the fire.

The next day I hadn’t gone far when I started to smell and see the smoke, although it didn’t really get that bad, as by that time the fire was contained and well under control.

The problem is, that by constantly stopping the small natural fires, the smaller plants, dust and general biomass build up. This burns very easily, and can quickly get a fire big enough to reach up, and set light to the lower branches of the trees, quickly creating a really big fire.

It is amazing how big these trees are, but it is also a shock to see how little forest there is left. Cycling through and constantly being passed by huge logging trucks loaded with freshly felled redwoods, just emphasises how much logging still goes on.
At Legget I was able to leave the freeway, and head down the co

st route - highway 1. I soon started climbing, winding up the small road, getting past each hairpin bend to see the road continuing up. Maybe eight miles later, I had to be at the top, and was able to take the next few miles back down to the coast at ease.

Partly because of the fog, the headwind, and the fact that all the traffic and main towns were inland on the highway 101, the California coast line was far more wild than it had been further north. The problem was that I now had around only two hundred miles to go, and quite a few days before I needed to be in San Francisco. I had to slow down.
I had found a couple of small, empty hike n bike campsites along the coast, and on my final night, before I got to my destination, I planned to stop at a certain site in Point Reyes National Park. I arrived to find a stressed park warden whose computer system had broken, and was trying to sort out bookings. I was strictly told there was no spaces left in any of the sites in the park, and the hostel was full, and I would have to find somewhere else. Point Reyes being the overnight camp stop for everyone from San Francisco.

Luckily, the alternative he gave me was only a few miles south, but by the time I arrived it was truly dark.
It was a bit of a shock, after camping on my own, or with one or two bikers, to find maybe twenty or so cyclists in the hike n bike camp. More than I had seen in all the USA so far.

So, an evening was spent telling cycling stories. A group from Ireland were nearing the end of a round the world trip, buying bikes in various countries, riding around, selling or giving the bikes away, and moving on to the next place. Another guy had taken a bad crash earlier in his two month ride, it had cost him over $5000 at the hospital to get a broken leg and arm fixed - he couldn’t afford the fee for putting his front teeth back, and was now faced with a few hundred miles of riding to get home. I was glad I had managed to extend my travel insurance. The stories were regularly interrupted by shouts of “raccoon”. These aggressive little animals would run within inches of people, into tents, onto tables and fight for any scraps of food.

By nine, we were all well asleep, and people started waking at around six the following morning. It didn’t take long before most people were out on the road again, some back to San Francisco, some heading various routes north.
I set out with another rider, and together we found the route, with help from the many day trip road cyclists out, towards the city, crossing the “Golden Gate Bridge” and to the end of my 2700 mile trip.

It was great to be finished.

Would I do it again? Well, not the same journey. The north of Canada and Alaska are awesome places, with magnificent wilderness landscapes, and I would love to go back, but riding the vast distances once was enough.

I was lucky with the timing I chose, missing the mosquito infested summer season of the arctic, but getting out just before the snows really started coming. I was glad, especially as I journeyed through the lower states, that I was well past the main tourist season. If I was to return to USA, I wouldn’t want to ride the rest of the coast, but probably head inland to national parks - Yosemite or Death Valley.

I could have cycled around most of Europe in the same distance, through many countries and hundreds of towns. All with fresh food, places to stay and campsites for tents. It would be a lot easier. Maybe this is my next trip....