Leggett hill owned

October 29

I know this day is going to be painful. The altitude section of this map says there's a 1500 foot climb around leggett. My campsite is nearby so I know it's going to be a fun start again (/sarcasm). On the way up I run into Stephen again, smoking and coughing his lungs up. Three times. Now this guy is basically riding with a $100 bike, bottles of sunkist filled with water, and a blanket. He apparently ran out of food, so will have to take a bus the remainder of the journey. So much for my chance encounters with Stephen. I really regret not taking pictures of people like stephen or jaime or other friends along the way, but it feels weird to ask others for pictures. Kind of makes me feel like I'm taking a picture of the novelty of who they represent instead of who they are.

Anyways, so I get to leggett and I'm on state highway 1! Apparently it's not called PCH here but shoreline highway... and I'm confused, cause there's no big hill. I mean, there's been a lot of gradual uphill the last 10 miles but nothing big. BAM, 5 miles of windy, windy uphill with blind corners and logging trucks. Whenever I hear a distant rumble, I get off my bike and just hug the side of the road. Probably saved my life in a few situations. The problem with these hills is you just never know when they're going to end. Hope is all you have. The downhill of this was aaamazing. For the entire 1500 foot descent there were no cars going my direction, and I definitely did not abide by the 20 mph speed limit. First, my brakes would have died in 2 minutes if I slowed down to 20 mph. But most importantly, there was no way I did an hour long climb so I could go 20 miles per hour. I zipped around corners, being as efficient with maneuvering as possible, as I learned from hours of playing Cruisin' USA. Sweet downhill, right? And then a painful uphill again. Arrrgh. At this point in my trip, I'm feeling the onset of a cold, so I'm getting pretty grumpy. The wind is kind of howling so I can barely hear the rumble of logging trucks as WAM one rushing around a corner and i fling my bike into a cliff wall. Screw that, I can't hear, and I'm not about to die to a logging truck, so I walk the rest of the climb for safety's sake. The descent then was not nearly as sweet.

Back to the ocean. Beautiful views of the Pacific once again. Met a guy who was on a solo mountain bike ride going north to Seattle, and actually taking majority mountain bike routes. Insane. There were also lots of beautiful homes on the left side of the road, and one single home on the right which I can only assume belongs to a multimillionaire or mob boss... or both. I pass through towns I would never stop at.... ever. Today was my discovery that cheetos go amazingly with peanut butter sandwiches. This tided me over till I got to Fort Bragg, where, you guessed it, I had to get my wheel adjusted at the bike shop. I head to McDonalds on the way out of town, surprise surprise, and am on my way when 5 miles later I break another spoke. At this point, I'm cursing the universe and everything in it, when I get passed by an entire family on one bicycle. They had the seat on the back of the bike, a trailer with a kid on it, and a sit on the front of the bike, not a dual bike, but a seat in front of the handlebars, which also had peddles and gears. Balllllller. I'm slightly less pissed off, and get to ANOTHER bike shop at 4:45, but they're about to close and dont have time to solve my life problems. There's a campsite 2 miles down the road so I think, hell, I can ride that far and just come back tomorrow.

Wrong. 400 meters later my wheel blows up. Like, practically blows up. A gaping hole 1 inch long. It's walking time. And a lady stops and drives me and my bike to the campsite. She even offers me a place in her house for the night, but I smell like ass and don't want to impose (raccoons have stolen my soap twice already and I havent replaced it and as such don't really clean very well. at least they won't curse anymore). At the site I meet a couple who have had a couple rough days mountain biking in the middle of nowhere. And the really weird meeting. When I got dropped off in Arcata, there was a guy who was also in the car with me hitchhiking who was at this campsite. Crazy coincidence. He's hitching around the area in his free time after his summer job in Washington had an encounter with Fall. But hell, I'm tired so it's bedtime... 7:30 mmhmm mhmm good.

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to be on good pace and be tearing up the roads and consistently be stopped dead in my tracks by bike problems. I had gone 50 miles by noon, which would have meant 100 miles today! Instead, I went 60 miles total. It's like some deity doesn't want me to feel accomplished by making good time.