Continuing on...
Day 14- Peel ourselves away from our surrogate family...hosts that define the very word 'hospitality.' Sob sob. The wetness continues as we hit fog as thick as a fat man's arteries...soaking our gear. After the day's pedaling stops, I set up my tent behind a church. Ben, fearing bike-loathing church goers, sleeps across the street on the ground between 2 flower troughs. The fog gives the effect of sleeping inside a giant humiditor.
Day 15- Discover minor abdominal pain, only to realize later that it’s a hernia false alarm and simply a result of the laughter orgy with our hosts 2 days earlier.
During today's ride we run across a German couple cycling from Anchorage; for the next 1.5 years they're pedaling to Argentina...giving Ben and I the likeness of meager circus pony rejects compared to these German Stallions. The woman, as tall as most suburban neighborhood shrubs, is carrying almost twice the weight as either of us.
That evening, at the State Park campground Hiker-Biker Sites, we met the most colorful persona of the trip. His name...John. His cycling destination...California. His mental stability...as stable as a chair with 2 and a half legs. Upon first encounter, the man was normal. Monotone, 57 years old and blessed with the ability to swing any conversational topic back to something he had done. We asked where he had bicycled from with his mountain bike and he said Seattle. However he then mentioned how he had taken a bus from Seattle to Portland...which consists of the bulk of the trip. Fair enough. The man didn’t even pack a sleeping bag.
Day 16- However the best part of the John show occurred in the morning. One second everything is peaceful, normal and levelheaded. The next second we find 'ol John boy screaming 4 letter words at the top of his lungs, heaving his belongings all over the campsite, and throwing the all-in-all best temper tantrum I've seen out of a 50 year old...ever. It was brilliant. And what brought this on? The misplacement of his camera and air pump, the latter of which he found within seconds. While John was picking his orange peels out of the bushes, Ben and I quietly exit stage left. Nutjob.
Break my first spoke of the trip. Apparently I’m ass heavy.
Today is also Christmas day for me. Score three major finds on the side of the road 1)Leatherman knife 2)working cell phone and 3)a kitty. I keep the first two but run out of room for the second. My only option to haul this little black cat would be to strap it under one of my bungees. As inhumane and entertaining as that would have been, I suggested it ride in Ben's trailer. He had plenty of room. Why not? Apparently allergies were why not. So Cruel Ella De Ben made me leave the wee black kitten on the side of the road, crying. I threaten to use my new phone to call PETA on Ben. He tells me to "shut it."
Day 17- Realize we've been heading in the right direction by spotting more and more surfboards as car roof ornaments.
Ben and I go to the farthest most western point in the lower 48....Cape Blanco. Equipped with a lighthouse, Ben and I stand at the edge and yell at Japan.
Our accommodations for the night consist of the area fire station. Ben and I are up late playing dress up with the fire uni's.
Day 18- 2 states down, 1 to go! With Washington and Oregon out of the way, we're ready to tackle one of the tallest states in the union...California! Knocking on Redwoods, we hope to have the same weather experience for this 3rd state as the past 2. Somehow we made it out of the Evergreen and Beaver states with only one, count em one, day of real rain. At the state line, Ben and I do our respective dances; he throws out the 'No Rain Dance' and I lift the jersey to display my 'Truffle Shuffle.'
Motorists slow down and point out to their children what happens when you do drugs.
Later on I find myself hungry and take a brief respite beside a wild blackberry bush. Bad idea, for I proceed to gorge myself on blackberries as big as my chubby thumbs. My stomach soon realizes that this was adverse to the idea of biking as I complain to Ben about a sore tummy. I get the old 'shut it' again.
We camp in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park for the night, surrounded by trees that make your neck ache from craning your head back to get a glimpse of the tops...300 feet up! My entertainment for the evening consists of watching Ben struggle to fit his hammock's ropes around these massive trees. Once he accomplishes that mission, we proceed to celebrate our 1st night in Cali with a big bottle of wine, a picnic table, and 3 squirrels. Pathetically, it was one of the better parties I’ve been to in awhile.
Day 19- We take a 6 mile detour through Jedediah Smith Park. Amazing. Spectacular. Spiritual. By the end of the 6 miles Ben and I are hugging the trees, rocks, our bikes, and each other (but he held me way more than I held him). The place ranks on my list for a recommended visit by any and everyone...especially with a bike seat on your bum.
Adversely, hours later we visit the most depressing place on the west coast...Klamath. Outside of town had potential as we patron a huge Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox statue....equipped with the largest pair of blue balls I had ever seen (Ben had seen bigger). Spent almost an hour cracking 'blue ball' jokes, then finally move on to town proper, where we find that most of the place is in the confines of a worn out, dilapidated fence. Stopping at the gas station, we are lucky enough to witness the local social junk show. Folks wander in and out sputtering syllables and bumble with coins in an attempt to confuse the staff...and vice versa. We both walk out feeling dumber then when we arrived. And then, THEN, to slap a cherry on top of it all, while pedaling out of town, Ben gets rocks thrown at him by street corner kids. Lucky guy.
Day 20- Decide to spend the day on foot frolicking around the tallest trees in the world...the Redwoods. In the visitor center, we ask the ranger "where is it? Where is the tallest tree in the world?" She raises her eyebrow, hunches over, and whispers to us "you'll never find it." With a sinister laugh, she claims that even she doesn't know where it is as its kept secret from all rangers. Only research personnel know where it is. Apparently years back when the tallest tree was in this park (Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park) they advertised it and encouraged tourists to visit the "Worlds Tallest Tree." They even provided a shuttle to it, making it more accessible. Yet within 10 years of this circus, the top of the tree fell off. Redwood trees have a root system that don’t go very deep in the soil (6-10 feet) and all of the people traffic around the tree compressed the dirt so much it compacted the root structure. Hence the roots couldn’t pump water up to the top of the tree...killing it. Every year the tallest tree title changes as trees grow and get more competitive (some have been busted shooting up on Miracle Grow). This years tall tree...376 feet tall.
Day 21- We hit the worst road conditions of the trip yet. Of course we find this after we pass by a couple road closure signs, but this one is off the charts. The road, built on the coastline on unstable ground, has been sliding out a little bit every year. So the county comes in and pours a little bit more asphalt on top every year...until you get what you see here. A multi-layered sandwich cluster of asphalt, some of which were almost 4 feet thick. With local county funds as broke as our political system, the street has been closed for almost 2 years. Ben and I walk/repel down this section.
We arrive down the road into Arcata, which is synonymous for Splitsville for Ben and I. Ben, having a schedule to stick too and a flight to catch, pedals on south while I, lacking either of the two, stick around in Arcata. He also wouldn’t share his Chicken and Stove Top the last 2 nights which was the last straw for me. We know the dynamics of the trip changes from here on out as we will both be flying solo, but just as a hypothermic Leonardo DiCaprio stretches out his hand for a soggy but still attractive Kate Winslet in Titanic, Ben and I know our hearts will go on. Plus the fact that I have an incriminating photo of him and a 10 year old boy.
Miss ya Husky, Tank, and Ben!
Zip off to explore Arcata's town square, which provides me with a first impression of a man urinating on a bush while another is arguing with a tree about Bush. Wow. The Plaza as its known is an eclectic hangout for local Humbolt State students, resident artists, bums, and anyone who's ever been called Crazy, Nutjob, or Inmate. As one can expect, it has a character more colorful than a Toys R Us warehouse full of sex toys. Hard as I looked, I couldn't find any inhibitions in Arcata.
Tonight I spend in my tent in the backyard of the local bicycle shop. This campground's view is a bit different from previous...going from ocean and forest scenes to bike ramps and a half pipe.
