Rolling through the giant Redwoods of North California

The final state

After almost 5,000 miles of cycling I entered California, the last state on my trip through America, there was no letting up on the pace though as I had a wedding to get to in Novato, just north of San Francisco. I'd been looking forward to California for some time, especially the swathes of ancient Giant Redwood Forest. In fact I was in such a hurry to get to Redwood National Park that I skipped coffee and 2^nd breakfast and instead cycled on up the long hill out of Crescent city fuelled on an assortment of Jelly Beans.

Finally I reach the Giant Redwoods of California

My lookalike - the mythical Paul Bunyan

The Redwoods are old and massive, the last remnants of a forest that covered much of the North California Coast. Over the next 2 days I'll be cycling through 90% of what remains of these amazing trees in their own environment. Immediately on entering the forest the temperature drops and the humidity rises; either side of the road redwood trees stand 200ft tall in groves tucked into the tight curves of the coastal mountains. The road wound up a relatively short ascent to 1,300 ft before plunging me back down towards sea level; with giant trees right up the road shoulder there's no room for error as I sweep round the tight curves of the damp road. Near the bottom I find a huge talking statue of Paul Bunyan, the mythical lumberjack, and his blue Ox at Trees of Mystery. To the bemusement of everybody arriving, Paul Bunyan actually addresses people as they arrive, inviting them to climb up onto his size 52 shoes for a photo, it all sounds like a recording until he starts to pick out people by what they're wearing and doing. As I grew my beard heading coast-to-coast, several American friends started likening my appearance to that of Paul Bunyan; I even drew a little inspiration thinking of a mythical giant conquering the miles of open road across the American continent. Meeting my new hero was something of an event for me, and I got to know his story a little better. The Trees of Mystery museum also contains an informative and intriguing collection of native artefacts, describing the lives and customs of many of the local tribes. I decided to give the tree walk a miss; I had the best view in the house anyway cruising down the open road on my bike.

Me & Travis riding through the Redwoods

Down the road I stop at an Indian reservation for another burger and at the local gas station to pick up some snacks for the road. See the gas station double up as the local "casino" was a little depressing with 3 or four locals sat throwing quarters into the slot machines at 2 in the afternoon, surely there must be something better to do around here. The area's wildlife is certainly healthy; I cross a river filled with salmon starting there long run upstream escorted by massive white pelicans and a few seals playing in the deep water. Heading up a hill into the next swathe of forest I catch a glimpse of another cycle tourer – Travis, a guy I'd met at the campsite a couple of nights ago, the same day I took it upon myself to challenge my liver at the Bandon Cranberry festival. Despite cycling almost 5,000 miles, I still haven't managed to get over my tendency to chase anybody in front of me and I end up sprinting up the hill chasing the as yet unknown figure ahead. Fortunately it's a long hill as Travis is a seriously strong rider and when I finally catch him, right at the brow of the hill, I find out he'd been filming me the whole way and pushing hard to try to stay ahead. If I'd known all this maybe I'd have just chilled out! Turns out me and Travis have a few things in common – we both rowed at University, we're both out cycling to get away from it all for a few weeks, and we both like to put in lots of miles every day. What we don't share is a similar physique, despite being a similar height, Travis weighs less than 75% what I do, still that makes the 25kgs I'm carrying seem relatively a lot less to me than him.

Me & Travis hiding out in a giant redwood stump

A stag Elk and his harem just off road

The next few miles are some of the best of the trip, sweeping slowly downhill through great swathes of massive redwoods. Awesome to share the experience with somebody else and we were both snapping away at each other with our cameras and Travis had his camcorder running the whole way. We stop briefly to pose inside a massive hollow tree trunk, easily space for 2 bikes and riders; you could have probably fitted a tour de France team in there. I leave Travis at Elk Prairie, where he's staying the night after heading off on a long hike the same afternoon – apparently 70 miles on the bike is not enough. Finally all the Elk warning signs seem worthwhile as I spot a herd of cars stopped by the side of the road. A huge stag is guarding his harem of maybe 20 doe elk in the grass just off the road. The stag is majestic, stood in the middle of the group whilst the doe chill out on the ground around him. On down the coast I pass freshwater lagoons patrolled by blue heron and white egret, climb around Patricks Point Drive where noisy seals fight it out with long-haired, scruffy surfers for the best breaks and wind my way down the backroads past McKinleyville and on towards Eureka. After 110 miles, I stop at the KOA – a chain of campgrounds – 3 miles short of Eureka after they promise I can get pizza delivered to the site. After a quick dip in the Jacuzzi with another couple of cyclists taking it easy riding down the coast, I call up for pizza delivery only to find it's too late for delivery. I end up having to jump back on the bike and cycle 7 miles there and back to Arteta for what was possibly the best pizza I'd had for months, still I was pretty angry and tired, and only placated by the free beer I got as the taps almost ran dry. The pizza was too big even for me to finish so I ended up saving 3 pieces for breakfast, I just hoped there were no bears in the area because that night my tent smelt to high heaven of meat feast pizza.

Chasing day riders down the Avenue of the Giants

Signs like this one on the Avenue of Giants
 would eventually annoy me

Giant Redwoods

The next day I manage to pop my tube whilst pumping it up delaying my departure and meaning that by the time I hit the hills farmland and farmland the other side of Eureka it was already getting hot. By now the 101 has turned into a 2 or 3 lane highway and is certainly not built for bikes. I'd spent the last few days ducking off it onto side roads but at some points there's just no alternative, or more accurately, the alternative involves a bloody great hill, so the flay 101 seems a lot better an option. The next big side road to the 101 is the 31 mile Avenue of the Giants that runs almost parallel to the highway but winds through the southernmost giant redwood forest in California, in the valley inside of the coastal mountain range. 

Cycling through a living Giant Redwood

With the strong sun overhead, the trees provide welcome shade, trying to follow the trunks of the trees up to the canopy I almost fall off my bike, but can't resist doing it several more times. The road is gorgeous, largely quiet and a big destination for cyclists. I catch 2 or 3 groups who are riding the section with full support and I'm very jealous of their lightweight carbon bikes carrying nothing but a bottle cage or two. For me, this is the first time I get overtaken by cyclists for a while and I have to admit defeat as the road ramps up going from one valley into the next. I stop briefly to get my photo taken by some leather-clad British Bikers as I cycle through a living tree, but press on as I've a long day to complete and a long climb to finish it.

Tall Trees!

I found this by the side of the road

As I head back up the coastal mountain range all roads lead back onto the 101 as it climbs steadily though blasted canyons and alongside cold, fast running streams far below. Up in the mountains the tourist attractions get more bizarre; I could have stopped at "Hobbiton Tree House", a Big Foot Museum or the "Mysterious Thing". But I deliberately avoided the country café advertising its views in the window "We love God, the American Constitution and The Tea Party", seeing as I prefer coffee I decided to give it a miss. I'm fortunate to find a campsite at the top of the final climb that's just about still open, apparently winter's coming fast. The garage opposite's the only shop for miles, but does a great trade in burgers and ice cream sundaes that suited me perfectly. As everywhere here, I shared the campground with a couple of other cyclists – a pair cycling down the coast from Portland, and a guy who'd spent the whole summer cruising up and down the coast – even after 10 weeks on the road, this guy made me feel that I hadn't chilled out anywhere near enough.

Heading out on Highway 1

Heading out in the morning, I'm feeling pretty good after my breakfast burrito and am buoyed on the signs suggesting San Francisco is only 150-160 miles away. With 2 days to get to my friend Nicole's wedding in Novato, about 20 miles shy of San Fran, it should have been a cruisy couple of days. After my last 2 miles on the 101 I take the turning onto Hwy 1, the road that will take me all the way to Los Angeles. My euphoria at the fact is quickly snubbed out though as the road ramps up and a road sign reveals that I've just added over 60 miles to my journey and 2 cruisy days had turned into 2 days of racing just like that. For a moment I regretted committing to getting to Novato a day early to go wine tasting the day before the wedding, but then again, I love a target and I was just going to have to deal with it. Hwy 1 winds up through the forest with tight switchbacks taking you up and over the coastal range at around 1,800 ft. As soon as I hit the pass, I was swept up in a sea of mist rising up off the Pacific, it was amazing how on one side it was completely clear, but immediately over the pass it was down to about 20m visibility. I plummeted down the narrow road almost blind to the switchback turns and quickly hit the coast, or at least I presume I did because you could smell it and hear the ocean rolling in. With the heavy mist it was a few more miles until I finally caught a glimpse of it even though it was only a few metres away. The road winds on along the coast, bucking up and down around invisible bays and coves. On through Westport around 10am, the hippy town has yet to stir and I just press on up the road, anxious to put in the miles whilst I can and make tomorrow an easier day. As I get closer to the finish line I've been neglecting my bike more and more, and now I've lost the use of my lowest 3 gears, I hadn't cared up till now, but the California coast here winds up and down like a bucking bronco and a few times I run out of gears and am left virtually crawling up 15% inclines watched by a curious coyote and several eagles, maybe wondering if I'd keel over and make an easy meal.

My normal view of the California Coast

On up the coast I can't resist stopping at Fort Bragg's North Coast Brewing Company for some beer tasting in the local tap, even though it's only 11:30am. It's so early, the gas is a little over excited and I end up getting all my tasters for free as the barmaid can't manage to pour any more than half a glass plus froth. I stop at the kookie town of Mendocino for lunch, no bar in sight and nothing but organic hippy food. In the end I settle for a vegetarian lasagne, very tasty but somewhat lacking in meaty flavours. I'm told by my Dad Mendocino does have a bar, and is stunningly beautiful; I couldn't find the bar, maybe it was being hidden by the heavy mist that was also disguising the town's natural beauty. The mist has hidden the coast from me all day, making the repeated steep climbs seem even harder. At around 4pm I've had enough and send a text to my Californian friend Nicole complaining about the weather. It seems that was enough, I don't know what she did but minutes later the mist cleared to reveal a stunning coast south of Point Arena all the way to Gualala, the beautifully named town where I camped for the night. There I meet the funniest cycle tourers so far – a couple of Spanish fire-fighters riding down the coast on hired racing bikes. That day they'd started just a couple of miles down the road from me but had hitched most of the way in a convertible sports car with their bikes sticking out of the top. I pop back to town for dinner and return in darkness to find the 2 girls in the tent nearby seemingly on a bad trip from something – not my problem though, after 111 miles and almost 8,000 ft of climbing (the most of any day other than the Appalations) I could sleep through anything.

When the mist cleared the coast was stunning

Scenic Highway 1

Sea Ranch chapel

After yesterday's long day, today is an "easy" 96 miles to reach Novato and once again I set off into the mist. For the first 10 miles I ride through Sea Ranch, an exclusive enclave of 320 inhabitants who's spent huge sums of money building massive houses to try to keep anybody else from gaining access to the area. The designer chapel is open to the public though and looks perfectly designed for the coastal winds that must blast through the area in winter. Further down the coast the road its way around countless coves as the Pacific batters it from the west. I have to admit that hwy 1 here is the most amazing road I've ever ridden, it may not be the smoothest surface, but given the conditions it's in pretty good shape. The engineering it must have taken to blast the road into the steep cliffs and build bridges over deep gulches is amazing. Then combine that with the awesome camber on each of the sweeping bends that allow you to really throw the bike round the downhill bends and keep as much speed as possible around the hairpins that accompany every little cove. My bike is riding like a dream; even with my weight and 25kg of luggage, it's stiff as anything and glides through the corners as I try to keep all my speed for the uphills.

More fleeting moments of sunshine

Up into the mist between Fort Ross & Jenner

Between Fort Ross & Jenner, the road climbs up into the cliffs and it feels like I'm riding through a surreal landscape. I can hear the ocean 500ft below, but can't see the next sharp corner 50ft in front. The road just keeps on sweeping up, past the roadworks where half the road has fallen into the ocean, false peaks and 500ft vertical drops. It's impossible to judge the grade of the road from sight, only by how hard or easy it feels in the legs. Finally, the road starts point downwards and I'm in my element freewheeling all the way down, pulling away from the cars following me that can't keep up through the steeply banked curves. At Bodega Bay, I need to buy some new board shorts – I accidently left mine by the side of the road a couple of days back – trying some on, I find that I've dropped from a 38 – 40" to a 34 – 36" waist, scary stuff – I buy the 34" as I'm sure I won't stay this "skinny" when I get back behind a desk in the future. Turning inland, the mist clears and I have to scale a couple of steep hills to make it across the valleys into Novato. But even with my lack of gears, the prospect of seeing friends drives me up and over them and I cruise into Novato in the late afternoon. After 8 days on the road from Vancouver, my stuff is pretty stinky and I decide to pull in at a laundrette to wash almost everything I own. Sat there in my newly bought board shorts I'm looking forward to a couple of days off and one helluva party to come.

Sensibly they had closed the scenic vista trail

Downhill into Novato

Almost there...

Arriving at the wedding I eventually find the bride to be and my other friends from Water Polo – Apparently I'm hardly recognisable from the guy that left London 2 and a half months earlier. According to the girls I look amazingly relaxed and am sat there with a permanent grin on my face, this bike riding thing must be good for the soul and everything. Over the next 3 days, we hit 4 exclusive wineries, make use of the onsite swimming pool to drown anybody that dares play water polo and experience an awesome wedding, with dinner and reception under the sun then the stars outside in the hotel garden. Thanks to Nicole, my suit arrived in one piece, but now swamps me and we all had a good laugh as I modelled it the day before the wedding to make sure I could get away with it; the verdict was that I could, but only just.

Maybe the suit got a little baggy on me...

Taking time out from the ride to hang out with good friends was amazing again, reminding me that I miss them on the ride, but it seems that my bike's become a friend I can't stand to neglect as well – I even took her out for a short spin the morning of the wedding to get away from it all – transitioning back to normal life could be difficult…

Wine Tasting & Tutoring

Nicole and Jordan - two of the reasons I was racing down the coast

Thanks to all those who have already sponsored me and contributed to the North Staffs Adventure Playground - I'm hoping to hit 1000 pounds so please donate using the following link:

http://www.justgiving.com/BigRedOnABike