Day 13 - Sam Taylor campground to Golden Gate!

This was the longest 30 miles Kristen and George have ever biked.  The route took us through at least 75 turns, each one-half mile apart.  Justin was elated to return to a more developed highway, with fewer hairpin turns.  Traffic and people smacked us in the face like the sudden stench of a city sewer.  On the bike, twists and turns took the cyclists through suburbs, bike trails, and gravel paths that led us to the famed Golden Gate Bridge.  While enjoying the views on the bridge, our exhilaration was stymied by spatially-challenged tourists riding helmet-less and witless on rented mountain bikes.  

Jen and Justin helped us celebrate the successful completion of our 625-mile bicycle odyssey by filming the crossing.  

In all, this adventure had less of a toll on our bodies as it did on our minds.  We would not have been able to complete this journey without the support and comfort of Justin, Jen, and Rosalee the RV.  

Day 12 - Bodega Dunes to Samuel P. Taylor campground

We departed our campsite in the suffocating fog, but soon welcomed the sun as Highway One took us inland to hot grasslands and endless cattle ranches.  George renamed this stretch, "le Tour de Manure."  Tiny, quaint towns where one can get an acupuncture treatment but not a cup of coffee, a gallon of gas, or a paper napkin line this stretch of the route.  Some towns pulled through, however; Tomales (for your organic bedding needs, please visit), Point Reyes Station (yoga classes) and Valley Ford offered yummy, greasy breakfasts  for the weary campers.  A visitor might think that hair stylists are not allowed to practice in these remote regions.  

Manchester to Bodega Dunes campground

After a grueling but satisfying 70-mile ride (our longest leg of the trip), we found ourselves arriving at our fogged-in campsite, fit for a Stephen King novel.

Before the fog set in, however, the ride presented us with some of the most scenic views of the blue-green Pacific Ocean yet.  This stretch is where postcards are made.  A series of hairpin turns carried us onto sheer cliffs 800 ft. above kelp-dotted lapping waves.  We crossed what seemed like dozens of cattle guards and sweated through sections of highway so precarious that they're gated off during strong winter storms. 

At the campsite, the chilly fog, smell of skunk, and the constant cry of children kept our spirits down.  We holed up in Rosalee the entire evening and avoided any contact with the elements outside.  

Day 10 - Mackerricher to Manchester campground (more Hwy One)

Today, the ocean was our constant friend at our right shoulder.  Surprisingly, our bodies responded well to constant ascents and descents, through the rugged coastline filled with gullies to cross and a shoulderless road to navigate.  Today's highlight was a stop in the town of Elk, CA, with a population lower than its elevation (250 ft.)  We munched on scrumptious rhubarb cobbler and talked to a local who wanders the one street, chatting up visitors and merchants.  

Our campsite was rustic, the only so far without running water or electricity, which was a welcome respite from nights of screaming children and drunken teenagers in the bigger state campgrounds.  

Manchester campground is home to many animals; on our evening walk to the beach we spotted fifteen deer, jackrabbits, several red-tailed hawks, and a herd of friendly cattle from a nearby dairy farm.  These curious cows loved us, and followed us for a half-mile down the road from the beach.  Our bovine company were so friendly and cute that we momentarily contemplated becoming vegetarians.  

Standish Hickey to MacKerricher campground (Hwy 1)

Our bike leg this round confronted us with the infamous "Legget Hill"...a "hill" that climbs 2000 ft. in five grueling miles.  After the long uphill haul, a 15 mile decent suddenly returned us to the splendor of the Pacific Ocean, along California's famous coastal Highway One.  Like a Mike Tyson punch to the face, the ocean hit us with a spectacular presence, following several days winding around big trees.  Justin and Jen met us near the top of the hill for a short and welcomed water break.  

After several miles of meandering in and out of small, quirky coastal towns, more cow pastures, and towering groves of Eucalyptus trees, we cycled our way to our resting place, a campground with miles of lapping waves and rocks full of playful young seals.  

Day 8 - Burlington to Standish Hickey campground

We started our ascent into the hills winding from the Redwood groves back to the beach.  We had been enjoying reasonably cooler weather for the first half of our trip, with coastal clouds keeping us safe from sunburns, until today.  Steep climbs up the hot grasslands bordering 101 made us sweat, and Kristen "bonked," in George's words (meaning:  she wasn't sure if she could make it any further.)  To help ease the exhaustion and take more brakes, she stopped to pee more than a 1960's Volkswagen backfires.  

Day 7 - Eureka KOA to Burlington campground (more Redwoods)

Today's leg started out on the highway, but quickly led us to a side trip along winding, country roads through cow pastures and dairy farms.  We saw many American flags, large, muddy trucks, and giant billboards celebrating the agriculture industry.  Kristen encountered her first flat, which George fixed, and we continued our day into the magnificent stand of old-growth Redwoods, along the Avenue of the Giants.  Along our 60-mile trek, we passed at least three "one-tree treehouses," and drive-through trees, with carvings of sasquatches and bears lining the highway.  Redwood kitsch represents americana at its finest.