Sydney to Melbourne: Back on the bike for Christmas

So after 3 and half months of adventuring it was time to get a job and earn some coin again. Fortunately the job didn't arrive immediately and I had lots of fun hanging out in Brisbane, search for jobs in city parks (on the free wifi), hanging out with my friend Lochy at his luxury apartment and pool. The Brisbane job market was slow going so I took at awesome weekend in Byron Bay, hanging out with Lilli, spying breaching whales off the Eastern most point off mainland Australia and narrowly avoiding a late night visit to Cheeky Monkeys. After a couple of weeks it was time to leave the tropics and head for Sydney where Todd was kind enough to put me up whilst I continued to search for jobs. 10 days later I decided I needed another hobby to amuse myself so took up surfing with a weekend's lessons with Ryan out of Manly beach; a long and crazy night out with the backpackers and the rediscovery of good (never again) made the Sunday's 9am surf lesson a rude awakening to say the least.

 

Back on the long and open road

Of course immediately after I found a new daytime hobby, I job found its way to me, just as I was enjoying a winning session watching the Melbourne Cup, though the $4 I won didn't even buy a schooner of beer. The next six weeks it was back to the desk job with the very occasional Sunday morning 30 mile ride down to La Perouse. I'd have ridden more but the 6am Sunday morning starts that suited the guys with young families didn't necessarily suit me, my first trip came after about an hour's sleep. After 6 weeks' work I'd gone through a couple of beards, a few nights on the town and piled back on a few of the pounds I'd lost in America. My contract took me up to a week before Christmas and with nothing better to do and a family half a world away, I could think of nothing better to do than load up and jump back on the bike. I targeted the Coopers, great family friends, 1000km along the coast in Melbourne, and based on my form in America I naively thought that'd be easy in a week. Of course I wanted to have a good send off from Sydney so the night before I left I headed out on the town with some of my new water polo team. I even deliberately went out in shorts trying to get an early night, but after missed train connection, wine in hands and teppanyaki the bar still let me in. half an hour later the night took an interesting turn as the Budweiser girls took a liking to us and in return for a $20 bucket of beers they ensured we won a $200 bar tab…

Of course, I never saw any...

So my 1^st tour in Australia didn't start so well, as I completely failed to meet my intended 8am departure and instead ended up of the train to Kiama at about 2:30pm! To be honest, that train ride may well have been the hardest miles of the trip and I felt a lot better when I jumped on the bike and headed 20km down the coast to Gerringong and fish & chips supper. I rolled the tent out for the first time in 2 months and just in time for the rains to start pouring down – didn't matter though, I was knackered and I slept like the dead.

NSW sunset 

In the morning, the rain was still pouring down, creating a small moat around the tin roofed camp kitchen. It was clear that I was the only one stupid enough to get up in this weather but I had a long day ahead and very few miles behind me so I wanted to get going. A tailwind must have been pushing me along as I cruised along the flat behind 7 mile beach and into Nowra for a coffee with Sigrid & Dom, a couple of Warmshowers hosts who'd offered to put me up but given the nature of my departure there was no chance of me making Nowra by nightfall. Sigrid & Dom's bike tales made my jaunt across America seem like a couple of laps round London's Richmond Park. They'd been all over, every holiday they took seemed to involve bikes and they'd covered tens of thousands of miles, all at their own pace. Their stories reminded me how great the bike is as a vehicle for exploring and experiencing places, the tales they told were really engaging and I found it hard to leave. Back on the road the rain was still pouring, it only stopped long enough for the clouds to part as I climbed a long hill and the local fly population took quite a liking to my sweaty face. Most of the day is spent rolling over hills, enclosed by the branches and the smells of forests of eucalyptus. The body's still suffering from the combination of Sydney partying and 2 months off the bike. Eventually I persuade myself to part with $5 for a small Gatorade (it was $3 for 2 litres in America) which sorts me out. After a short lunch at Ulladulla I roll on past small cove and beaches, each hidden over the brow of a hill, and into Bateman's Bay. Tonight I'm staying with friends in Denham beach with a grand view of the ocean from the back balcony. They searve up a feast of Eye Fillet Steak & Hollandaise sauce – might not be any sports nutrition books, but it damn should be! 95 miles today was tough, but tomorrow's going to be worse!

Bateman's Bay at the end of day 2, legs slowly returning

Single lane bridge on over Wallaga Lake day 3's long ride to Merimbula 

It's hard to leave in the morning, the rain's back with a vengeance and looks like it's set in for the day. Waiting for it to stop is useless so at 8:45 I roll out in my waterproofs along the coast road although the beach is obscured by more eucalypt forests. The weather breaks after 20km just as I ride up Deua river from the mouth into the town of Moruya – cruising past elegant black swan, the first I've ever seen. After Moruya, the road cuts inland and turns distinctly lumpy, nothing's very high but it's hill after hill in to the arty town of Bodalla for a sausage roll (Australia does make exceedingly good sausage rolls!). I roll on through Narooma, but don't see anything that takes my fancy for lunch, only when I'm a few miles down the road do I realise it's another 20 miles to the next town by which point I've done 68 miles! Despite plenty of wildlife signs on the road there's not a sign of anything edible as I turn off the highway for Wallunga Lake. A narrow road leads through coastal forest before sweeping down and over a single lane wooden bridge across the lake. Pelicans and black swan bathe in the rare sunshine as I continue across the lake on a causeway, then up and over Wallunga Heights with sweeping views of the ocean and down into Bergamui for another lunch of fish & chips by the harbour. Tonight's target is Meribula, another 45 miles down the very lumpy coast road, you certainly earn the spectacular ocean view here! With the road bucking up and down, it feels like Highway 1 on the west coast of California, but this time I've got 1 day's riding rather than 10 weeks behind me. Just as I'm thinking that a cocktail is the last thing I need, I stumble into Mimosa Rocks national Park with steep winding hills through dense forest growing on a sandstone outcrop. The scenery is fantastic but I don't get time to contemplate it as the road plummets into Tathra.

Over the Walaga Lake's bridge

I could have stopped here for the night, but I'm nothing if not stubborn and I'm determined to stick to the plan. I quickly refuel on ice cream and tackle the crazy steep hill out of town that from the bottom looks like a cliff face. At the top there's the option to drop down into the port, an option I decline and instead head on along the higher coast road. Approaching 100 miles the hills get worse and I find myself standing and pumping the legs up hill after hill of 10%+, maybe I should have sorted out my gears before I left! The downhills are crazy though and I hit a new touring record of 50.8mph down one of them, clearly I'm so tired I don't want to waste any speed by braking! Finally the road drops like a stone into Meribula and I find myself slamming on the brakes as I hit a 50kph zone at closer to 70kph. I find a hostel behind the beach and waste no time in locking up the bike and running for the ocean to wash off the day's salty sweat with salty ocean. It's exhilarating, and already a lot colder than Sydney. 112.7 miles and almost 8,000 ft of climbing for the day made this the 2^nd hardest day on the road since New York and certainly a triumph for mind over matter.

Merimbula's inviting beach after a long, hard day on the road

I wake up in the dorm I had to myself and can definitely feel the exertions of yesterday. Another quick dip in the ocean soothes some of the pain, or at least has me worrying about the cold water instead. From Merimbula the road hugs the coast (and bucks up and down) for a little longer until heading inland for a couple of days at Eden. I imagine Eden was very picturesque, but being down a steep hill, I decided to press on. After 25 miles I hit a truck stop at Kiah and, given the sign claims it's the last shop for 100km I decide to stop for 2^nd breakfast / early lunch all in one. A big, burly ex-trucker serves me a huge burger and proclaims that the steep hills are behind me!On I roll to the state border and plenty of photos by the state sign – a reminder of the US. The first town I came to in Victoria was Genoa, not at all like the Italian port and more like a mid-west ghost town. There was once a thriving town here with post office, restaurants, gas station… now all these were provided by the pub that was only just surviving. Arriving around 2pm, the pub was open but nobody was cooking so lunch was a coke and 2 packs of crisps. The bar lady was as surly as they come but was kind enough to show me to the water tank to refill my water bottles with collected rainwater – no chance of mains water out here! The ex-trucker may have been lying – after Genoa the road wound up and up through Mt Alfred National Park with gum forests enclosing the road all the way. Finally the road crested at Mt Drummer, all 360m of it (feet sound so much better!). The day ends at a $10 camp ground in Cann River. Run by the pub it gave me a good excuse for a cold beer after another hard day. Strolling along the river I even heard a Kangaroo – the closest I’d get on this trip. At around 8:30 the mozzies attacked so I dived into my tent to sleep off the ride; my legs were feeling stronger but my arse was now suffering, long slow hours in the saddle were beginning to take their toll.

Happy Christmas Victoria!

Cann River

A Taste of  France on the Victoria Coast

The princes highway continued its way inland through forests which were beginning to get a bit samey, after 30 miles or so I had the chance to duck off to the coast and took it, although in the end it added an extra 10 miles. It was a blessing to get away from the highway with its tight curves and huge trucks and the coast made it worth it. Cape Conran revealed miles of sweeping golden beaches backed by lush coastal forest. The road ran 50m inland, promising sights of wonderful wildlife but sadly they were all hiding from the midday sun. Frenches narrows just before Marlo were stunning lakes at the mouth of the river; viewpoints from the road gave a view along the coast from 50m above. A light tailwind heading up the river valley encouraged me to keep going and I felt I as flying at 20mph for the 10 miles into Orbost. The old East Gippsland railtrail heads out of Orbost and I tried to pick it up immediately but after a couple of miles it as beating me up so bad I jumped back onto the highway through to Tostaree then jumped back on the railtrail to Nowa Nowa. By now the trail was easier as it headed through head high grass, The breeze from my riding set off clouds of white butterflies then pushed my onwards. Old trestle bridges peppered the trail, sadly all no out of bounds meaning I had to plunge down gullies hard on the breaks and use all my gears to scramble up the other side. By the side of the trail I found a shy echidna who curled up in a ball on my arrival. I stopped long enough to see him crawl off into the forest at a pace akin to a tortoise. The day finished after another century at Bruthen, the promise of a Brewery I never found was too much, but instead I had to settle for the local pub filled with the bakery girls’ Christmas party. The party was going strong when I arrived at 6 and by 7 they were dancing on the tables. This might sound like a welcome sight to a lonely cyclist, but instead they scared the hell out of me and I quickly scurried back to the campground and instead chatted to some ex-truckers camped up for Christmas even though they only lived 15km away.

Cape Conran

Frenches Narrows

East Gippsland Rail Trail, sadly  he bridge was closed

An Echidna on the rail trail would be a new way to get a puncture

The next day I popped into the bakery for breakfast and as greeted by some world weary faces from the previous evening. Rolling out of town I spotted the brewery, 50m past where I turned around the previous evening, alas at 8am it was closed. After a couple of small climbs the land flattened out into diary plains, with the wind behind me I was flying along again. I take some backroads out of Stratford to be off the highway again and almost get lost amongst the cow fields but the blazing sun keeps me on track. By now my nose is crimson and my lips are puffed up from the fierce Australian sun which gets stronger the further south you go (lack of ozone), I’ve even bought an ultra-cool visor to try to shade my face. Eventually I climb out of dairy country and up past Yallorn North Brown coal mine, which is trying to rebrand itself as “clean” – it’s not and is a huge scar on the landscape. Victoria’s trying to build a new energy boom off this stuff in the image of WA & QLD, I have to hope they fail. A last stop at bogan paradise Lake Narracan – jetskis tearing up a stunning lake surrounded by forest. Overnight at the campground by the racetrack in Moe, 125km out from Melbourne the town seems to be dying a slow death everywhere except the racetrack and adjoining casino which are huge!

Lake Narracan, Bogan Paradise

Early start at 6am on Christmas eve, the winds behind me and I’m determined to cover the 80 miles to Melbourne as fast as possible. Other than the first 10 miles it’s 2-3 lane highway all the way, with narrow bridges and gradually increasing levels of traffic. 2^nd breakfast after 46 miles means it looks good for lunch in Melbourne. 3 lanes become 4 with lots of traffic lights as I approach the city and I’m eventually forced off the highway with 6km to go as bikes are banned from going further. On the back lanes I find that City girls don’t pack the same weight as country girls and Melbourne’s fashion for tight lycra is more than a little distracting. I finally roll into South Yarra, hot & very sweaty (too sweaty for a hug) at 1pm just in time for a well-earned lunch!

Celebrating Christmas Melbourne style!

After around 1,000km in a week, I feel I’ve got my cycling legs bag, though it was painful stuff earning them. I’ve also shed some of the “desk weight” and happily tuck into a huge Christmas lunch kindly put on by the Coopers. Stranded Brits came from all over to join the party and I spent Christmas day eating, drinking, jumping in the open air spa and dodging hailstorms as Melbourne’s famous weather finally gives out on me. Boxing Day at the MCG for the cricket rounds off an awesome 10 days and work again seems a million miles away, but it’s time to pack up the bike again and head north – next stop Brisbane and New Year on Moreton Island.

A short ride to the Bay of Islands, NZ

Auckland – Mangawhai Heads – Whangarei – Kerikeri - Paihia


Arriving in New Zealand, the plan was to catch up with friends, watch some rugby, drink some beer and put my feet up for 10 days or so after an exhausting 3 months in America. The last time I watched England at a world cup was in 2003 and we went on to win it, so the omens were good. It all started so well; England scraped a last minute win against Scotland (waiting to peak at the right time); My amazing hosts, Cat & Emily, threw us an amazing party even if most of them did dress as scots for the big game. I caught up with old friends now settled back in New Zealand and even squeezed in a winning return to water polo in the Auckland social leagues. The one thing I'd failed to do was put my feet up and rest, but to be honest I felt pretty good and was itching to get back on the bike.

Cat & Dave, dangerous Irish hosts!

After 77 minutes of biting my nails, England finally scored a try to defeat Scotland!

What I hadn't factored in was that normal people go to work Monday to Friday, and come Monday morning there was nobody left to play with, so instead I jumped on my bike and headed north. Unfortunately to head north, I first had to head west, the only viable way out of the city on a bike. A storm was brewing but fortunately the wind was at my back and it drove me out of the city as if it didn't want anything to do with me anymore. Unfortunately later in the day, I'd have to turn back eastwards to reach the coast north of Auckland and the wind would get its own back on me. Having ridden across North America, a short 96 mile ride to Mangawai Heads should have been no problem at all. However, New Zealand through weather at me worse than any I'd ever seen in America, driving rains, blustery winds, blowing me and my 45kg loaded bike all over the road. Descents became pretty hazardous as the rain impaired my vision and swept across the road and the wind blew my line all over the place. Waterproofs were useless, the rain found its way through in no time. And in all this I got a puncture (the first for 1,000 miles) and then another, and another still. By the time I arrived at Mangawhai Heads I was almost white with exposure and my host had started worrying if I'd ever show (I'd have called if it wasn't too wet to use my phone and too cold to stop). Emily's Mum gave me a bed a great feed in Mangawai, conversation was so good that she even managed to stop me rushing off in the morning and instead we headed out for a walk along the beach, meeting all the locals as we went. Mangawhai was stunning; the waves looked very inviting, though I suspect they would have also been a little cold!

Longview Estate Vineyard

When I finally got on the road it was fortunately the calm after the storm and the coast road north out of town was gorgeous, back on the highway the ride was uneventful, with a short stop at the Longview Estate Vineyard just south of Whangerei. Unfortunately wine tasting wasn't enough and I ended up carry a bottle of wine for the rest of my NZ ride! Into Whangerei I found a great camping spot in the park and headed up to explore Whangerei falls, a beautiful little spot of course at the top of a nice hill! Unfortunately not much happens in Whangerei on a weeknight so there was no more partying for me.

Up and over the hills to the Bay Of Islands

 The next day was a change to ride along the coast to the Bay of Islands – hill after sweeping hill revealed views of little coves and rolling waves as the coast road hugged the shore. Definitely worth the detour off the main highway. I finally came in view of the Bay of Islands and caught the short ferry ride across to Opua followed by a stiff climb out of the port. My destination for tonight was just outside KeriKeri at the B&B next door to a house my sister still owns from her time spent here, but the main road seemed the easy option, so instead I headed past the Waitangi monument and off onto forest tracks north of Paihia. The forest was awesome, full of tree ferns, but the tracks were not the best, both me and the bike took quite a battering in the 10 miles it took to get out the other side and I looked like I'd been for a mud shower when I finally turned up at the B&B. My hosts were fantastic, and I heard a great many stories from around the world, and gained great insight into the value of New Zealand milk – the land of the most productive pasture in the world! I even got a trip by car to see more of the coast the next morning, sadly the weather didn't oblige and mist shrouded the views.

The sun even came out for the day along the coast into Russel

Happy Days with the sun in the sky and smooth tarmac under my wheels

Descending into the Bay of Island

My hosts Tom & Audrey in Kerikeri

There was still time for me to fit in the short ride to Paihia, a kayak around the Bay of Islands and a night at a quiet hostel before jumping on the bus back to Auckland. After 300 miles or so I'd at least worked of some of the previous weekend's excess and felt ready to go again, sadly England didn't perform in the rugby and me life as a good luck charm was over. My final days in NZ were spent either dressed as an 80s rockstar or catching glorious Snapper in the bay. Next stop Australia and, after 3 and half months, I'll be trying to get back into the working world!

Winning in the rockstar look at Jon Bon Jovi singstar house party

Greg too me fishing in the bay and caught a snapper

Dinner was fresh Snapper

 

 

North American Epilogue

The extent of my original route planning, I largely stuck to it!

 
So after cycling over and around North America, I can now step back and think a little about what I've learnt:
I love riding my bike

• The wind in your face
• The satisfaction of covering the miles
• The challenge, the routine, the simplicity of just getting up in the morning and riding
• That "you must be mad" look people give you when you say you're on a push bike
• The things you see along the way that you'd miss in a car
• The sounds and smell of the open road and the places you travel through
• It forces you to stop in places you would otherwise skip and meet genuine people who don't expect visitors

Good times!

Strangers can be incredibly friendly and accommodating:

• People I never knew before happily put me up in their house and fed me
• Strangers in bars bought me drinks
• Scary bikers offered me a spare bed
• Invariably when I needed company I found it, though not necessarily where I was expecting to

Warmshowers: great for a place to stay and a friendly face

When you let things happen whilst knowing your ultimate options, if you keep an eye out for opportunities, things tend to work out well in the end

• Whenever I had nowhere to stay, something, or someone turned up
• Whenever I was hungry or thirsty I managed to get somewhere where I could get food or water

Steve and the team at South Shore Cyclery literally picked me up off the street and gave me a place to stay

I can ride a lot further than I thought I could

• When all you've got to do all day is ride your bike, you can cover a hell of a lot of miles
• So long as I gave my body food, any food – even greasy burgers, it was happy to ride on
• Hills and mountains slow you down, but you can just rind it out and you'll get there eventually
• Gatorade is like cycling fuel!
• But a 10 mile detour is still too far when you have to ride the same road back again

Back-to-back 100+ mile days over the Rockies

America is a vast and diverse place

• From the big bustling cities to the small mid-western frontier settlements
• Flat open prairie to the vast, open rocky mountains
• Misty, winding coastal roads to mile after mile of dead straight roads through fields of corn
• The dry sandy beauty of the Badlands vs. the lush green scenery of the North Cascades
• The guy working hard to make a living in the Black Hills who just wants to be left alone vs. the dreamer on the coast who can tell you what's happening all over the world
• America is opening up to cycling, many roads have wide shoulders that are perfect for riding, and in other areas old rail lines have been turned into beautiful, flat trails that wind through open country

Just one of the many stunning views, this time descending the Big Horn Mountains

The wind can be your best friend or your worst enemy

• At you're back it'll push you all the way, helping you easily cover the miles
• In your face it'll stop your every pedal stroke, make even a short day hard work and prevent your hearing what's coming up behind you

Happy to have made it to the Pacific and to still have several weeks of riding in front of me

Surprising, after all those miles, I haven't had enough – immediately on finishing I missed riding my bike. So basically, it doesn't stop here, I'll take whatever opportunity I get in New Zealand & Australia to throw my things back on the bike and hit the road again, before I take on South East Asia for a month in the middle of the year. You'll hear more from Big Red as I find the time to write up my subsequent adventures.




Some Statistics from North America:
Distance Travelled: 5838 miles
238,000 ft climbed
8 punctures
4 rear tyres
2 front tyres
3 chains (1 snapped!)
1 new Bottom Bracket
2 falls (both at a standstill)
Top temperature 40 Degrees Celsius (Wisconsin & 100% humidity)
Low Temperature: 2 Degrees Celsius (Montana)
Highest Pass: Big Horn Mountains at 9,015ft
Biggest Climb: 4,500ft in 14 miles (Big Horn Mountains)
Biggest Descent: 5,000ft in 18 miles (Big Horn Mountains)
Most Climbing in a day: 8,100ft in 98 miles across NE Pennsylvania (also hardest day)
Biggest Day: 139 miles into Missoula, Montana
Longest Day: 9 hours 21 minutes riding to Badlands National Park, SD (129 miles)
Fastest Day: 17mph into Missoula, Montana
Maximum Speed: 50.0mph descending into Victoria City, Montana
Slowest Day: 11.2mph through Black Hills, SD to Rockford
Pair of Sunglasses lost / broken: 6
Weight at start: 109kg (17st 2lb)
Weight at end: 100kg (15st 10lb)
Most fun state: Iowa – RAGBRAI is Crazy
Most Fun City: Chicago, great times with great friends
Most beautiful national park: North Cascades, Washington – green forests, snowy mountain passes and deep blue lakes
Toughest guy I met: Sirius, walking my route in reverse!
Cheapest Pint: $0.75 Budweiser during happy hour in Cody, WY

Destination Los Angeles

A wedding party that started with Margaritas was never going to be a quiet one, so setting off for San Francisco my head was still a little fuzzy and certainly not up to navigating the multiple, contradicting cycle routes paralleling highway 101 up to and across the Golden Gate Bridge. I was midday when I finally get started, after catching up on all the gossip from the night before. My phone told me that San Francisco should have been a brisk 25 miles away, along a network of almost interconnecting bike routes. That’s where the problems started, each cycle path was signposted to the next town rather than the any ultimate destination and at critical points, like downtown San Pedro, they just completely disappeared. After several wrong turns and a few miles in the wrong direction, I settled on bike route number 5 and hoped it would lead me into San Francisco. To my surprise it did, heading across an expansive park attended by herons and into the beautiful waterfront town of Sausalito. To be honest if I’d planned a little better (or at all) these cycle routes would have been fantastic; they take you on quiet country roads or exclusive cycleways, once they are all linked up in a couple of years they will form a phenomenal cycling corridor into the city. 

Riding over the Golden Gate Bridge

The climb up to the Golden Gate Bridge was fantastic, my mountain legs were serving me well and I was able to overtake a number of day riders – there’s nothing like other cyclist for motivation. Up onto the bridge I took one final wrong turn before joining the throngs of cyclists slowly crossing the bridge on the exclusive cycleway alongside the main road. The bridge was amazing but the traffic was hectic to say the least. Pedestrians and inexperienced cyclists are far more dangerous than cars on the road as they are so unpredictable and here you had both trying to share a narrow two bike wide path. With bikes going in both directions there was no room to overtake or stop but this didn’t stop people doing so at random times to take photos, chat, or probably simply to get in my way. I cycled across without stopping and was glad to be safe on the far side and in the city of San Francisco. After taking a couple of photos my first task was to find an In N Out burger – I’d been craving one almost since the last time I was here back in 2003, again I wasn’t disappointed, my burger was very tasty but later on when I found out about the “secret menu” with Animal fries and Quad burgers, I wanted to go back again.

Made it to San Francisco

This was as heavy as the mist got

Chilling with friends in Delores Park

At this point I felt comfortable putting gin the miles, so there was no need to get back on the road immediately, instead I spent a three days chilling and hanging out with friends in San Fran. After a few strangely civilized beers with my RAGBRAI friend Terry from Chicago, I met up with Aaron, another roundabout RAGBRAI connection and my host for my first night in San Francisco. Aaron’s an ex-college and minor league baseball player; it’s interesting to hear how hard it is to make it in a sport that on the face of it seems so simple. The dark side of it is there though, the suspicion of widespread drug taking sometimes being the “extra 10 yards” you need on a hit to make it in the big leagues.  Our night out started with delicious cheap tacos, progressed to wicked margaritas in a cool bar with cool company and end with a delicious “healthy” Chinese, I could get used to San Fran. Along the way I had the most random meeting of the trip so far, bumping into an old Water Polo friend – Vanessa – in the only bar I visited in a city in which I’d no idea she lived! The rest of my time in San Fran flew by catching up with more Water Polo friends, cycling up, and down, the steeping road in the city, dining on a rooftop overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and planning out the final leg of my trip.

Brixton in the heart of San Francisco

The polo girls followed my from the wedding

The Legion of Honour, San Francisco

San Francisco Beaches in the early morning

After 3 days in the city it’s time for me to jump back on the bike and start the last leg to the city of angels. Riding out of San Fran in the early morning, the mist clings to the coast, but it’s remarkable that I’ve spent 3 days in glorious sunshine here; it’s normally covered in fog! The ride out hugs the coastline high above the ocean and gives fantastic views of both the ocean and the city. Soon I’m out in the open again and cruising past fields, scrub and the open ocean. Overpriced, under-nourishing organic food gives way to cheap, hearty, filling Mexican tacquerias feeding a multitude of types, including the odd local rider out for a spin. As the evening approaches I roll along the promenade of Santa Cruz past surfers catching waves, dolphins and sea otters playing in the kelp and thousands of migrating shearwaters. Further round the bay I set up camp and engage in a little body-surfing in the now warm Atlantic with nobody but a playful seal for company. At a bar I manage to enhance my vocabulary whilst chatting to a huge security guy downing Tequila halfway through his shift. He describes his life as “scribbly” – a life spent wandering outside and across the lines.

Santa Cruz Beaches

A lone Pelican chilling out at Moss Landing

Riding along San Andreas Drive, you cannot help but be reminded of the fragility of the region, an earthquake will hit, it’s just a question of when, but somehow we’re able to forget this. Cycle tracks zig-zag across the busy highway passing through dry prairie with squirrels scurrying out of my way, and then direct me through spooky, mist-clad, fields tended by huge teams of Hispanic manual workers, people who form the bedrock of the hugely affluent Garden State. Back on Highway 1, a huge troop of California Sealions have taken over a dock at Moss Landing, originally intended for boats, and are making a hell of a racquet whilst a Japanese film crew focusses on a pair of Sea Otters that a playfully feeding by diving for and then smashing clams together right in front of them. Further out in the bay there are more Otters, pelicans, egrets, herons and other wading birds; I find it hard to drag myself away, but after an hour watching I must press on. 

The Cypress Forests of 17 mile Drive

On down the coast I hit Seaside, with pretty but stern girls running along the promenade (people generally seem less friendly now). Harbour Seals lie sunbathing, balanced like statues on the odd protruding rock and the wind gets up as I head out to the headland. Turning the corner I head down 17-mile drive, free for bikes but a toll road for cars. The road winds past exclusive golf courses (such as Pebble Beach) tended by healthy looking dear and played by fat men driving golf buggies. Big houses, fast cars and high hedges give the impression of foreboding rather than beauty and to be honest I’m glad to be back on Highway 1 heading up into Big Sur. The hills start immediately but the ocean is obscured by the afternoon fog. Camping in the forest I decide to ride out for dinner and end up riding up a 1000ft hill in the dark only to find the deli closed 5 minutes ago, I had to make do with sandwiches and hope for better in the morning.

Big Sur

Big Sur should be the last big hills of the ride and it’s time for me to put them behind me, especially as I have a long 118 mile day ahead of me to reach Pismo Beach and the welcoming house of Collette, a friend’s mother, and her partner. The road here is again narrow, passing steep cliffs and precarious bridges as it winds from cove to cove. The fog lifts just enough to see the stunning waterfall spilling out into the surf at Julia Pfeiffer State Park.

Water meets Surf at Julia Pfeiffer State Park

Nature relieving herself into the Pacific

Highway 1 hugs the coast through Big Sur

I catch a guy who, at 49, has cycled the road too many times to remember, but he’s back again as he loves it so much. He’s able to describe each of the coming climbs in detail and reassures me that the road will flatten out with a tail wind in about 20 miles time. Over the last of the climbs I pass a couple adding layers for the descent, I’m still in shorts and singlet, maybe there’s still a bit of the British weather left in my bones! On the way into Pismo I stop to check out the huge elephant seals (and the adults were away fishing in Alaska) and ride past the 1^st of seven sisters at Morro Bay (a conical shaped hill towering above the surrounding march). Riding out of San Luis Obispo I pass a guy who appears to shout after me, I’m rushing to find somewhere to shelter for a 5pm interview so power on oblivious. When I eventually stop, Larry – Collette’s partner – finally catches me up, apparently I wasn’t hard to spot but was running an hour or two early… Larry & Collette were great hosts, plying me with wine, beer, more steak than even I could eat and great conversation into the early hours of the morning.

Elephant Seals at Piedras Blancas

A squirrel surveys the scene at Piedras Blancas

The day after the night before is always hard and this was no exception. Now, instead of the growing euphoria I had approaching the Pacific, I was beginning to feel sad that, with 3 short days left, my ride was almost over and anxious about what comes next. Motivation is hard to come by and I let a Canadian, cycling from Vancouver to Mexico, drag me up the only major hill of the day. The coast is murky again and the only highlight was spotting a beautiful cream coloured owl roosting in a tree by the road, however, once I’d returned with my camera, it had scuttled off. I try to find things to fill my time but instead just keep grinding out the miles, especially when I found 4 jersey riders to race with riding out of Santa Barbara, briefly providing me with motivation to hammer it rather than cruise along. 

Steve after we took another wrong turn at Ventura Beach

I was in danger of reaching LA a day early until I met Steve on the bike paths by Ventura Beach. He persuades me to grab lunch and chill out for the rest of the day. Steve’s riding to get fit, largely for his 2 kids – he decided he needed a challenge to motivate him and is riding from San Francisco to San Diego in 2/3 weeks having only started training 8 weeks ago. It’s a pretty impressive achievement and shows what a determined mind can do. He’s wildly unprepared, both physically and in terms of his bike – he had no spare tubes and was riding with tyres at about 30psi (mine are at about 90). He’s living a full life already though and always somehow found a way to muddle through, and here he is doing exactly the same. Riding back to the campsite after dinner we have to cross a bridge covered in spider’s webs, by the time I stop my bike has collected several large, luminous garden spiders and I’m covered in their webs.

Garden Spiders on my bike after a night ride across a bridge

For my last day’s ride I find the best donut shop so far – Spudnuts in Oxnard, every donut conceivable, I could have eaten one of each but instead settle for a light breakfast of 4 and a coffee. Highway 1 hugs the coast at the foot of the Santa Monica Mountains. It’s Sunday so a fair few jersey riders are out, I use them as motivation, letting them drag me up hills on their skinny bikes and see them look back in disbelief that I’m still there at the top. RVs dominate the roads and campsites and surfers share the waves with playful seals. Malibu goes on for miles (27 I think), there’s certainly a lot of money here, but not a lot of community if you have to drive 10 miles to find a shop. 

5,850 miles later

I stop at the LA City Limit, set in scrubland by the ocean, to take a couple photos but feel no euphoria; I’m loathe to finish at all. At Santa Monica I switch onto the bike paths sharing them with the beach types on rollerblades and laidback cruiser bikes. Eventually I make my way through Venice Beach markets, I’ve cycled 5,850 miles to get here and it feels weird amongst all the tourists who’ve flown in. Suddenly I spot a stall collecting money to provide free food for the homeless, a guy is out in the path asking for contributions, as I approach he changes his tune and instead offers me a free lunch; damn I must look good right now!

Putting a brave face on it, but to be honest I didn't want to finish

Hollywood!

I’ve some time to kill before meeting up with Valerie, my host in LA, so I go for a dip in the ocean, cruise through Beverley Hills and Hollywood and eventually find myself climbing Observatory Hill as the sun sets over the mountains behind. But every good thing has to come to an end, and as night falls I ride into North Hollywood and park the bike for the last time, swap cycling shorts for boxers and head out on the town for some low key celebratory beers with a bunch of budding LA actors & actresses. Over the next 2 days I took a trip to the baseball, listened to a normal Karaoke night in a bar that was better than any talent show I’ve ever seen on TV and read the script for an Inbetweeners audition (hope my English accent did the trick on that one).

Watching the baseball with the only Ranger at the Angels stadium

Great tip for the day

Bye Bye North America, you’ve welcomed me and I’ve loved my time here, but unfortunately you only give me 90 days on my VISA and I used 89 of them, so it really is time to move on. Bring on another summer in the Southern Hemisphere.

The Sunsets over Hollywood and my ride across America

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