Alone

With nothing else to do, I forced myself into an uneasy sleep with the aid of earplugs and sleep mask about half an hour before the sun had even set last night. I awoke often, shifting uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing my legs, moving to my side and then back onto my back. When morning finally came it dawned with a sense of triumph and relief that I had endured the night, dry and unharried. I remained in my sleeping bag still for an hour after dawn, unwilling to face the cold air beyond it. But finally I got up, packed, and on the road again.

I took North Bank road to get back most the way to 101, as to largely avoid highway 18, which I had bad experiences riding out on, on my ludicrous 7 mile excursion to that porch. I often fear roads running parallel to highways because cars often use them to go faster than they would be allowed on the highway, from my experience, but this one was largely residential and it proved the much nicer way to go. Once back on 101, heading properly south and having actual reception again, the foolish choice of last night felt wiped clean, and I made my way in relatively good spirits.

I saw a hell of a lot of gorgeous coast today. I feel my inept photos, taken in the overcast light, fail to do justice to the beauty and character of this section of coast. There was one stretch that the bike route took me off the highway for a time and on a steep, winding, one-way road along sheer cliffs. It was a lot of climbing, but it almost didn't seem like that much work because of the beautiful views I was awarded for it, ones most people missed.

My efforts to find a host tonight sadly failed and I had to resign myself to camping. Unsure whether I would have either electricity or data, I went into a nice little diner (I was the only customer when I arrived), got myself a veggie burger (yep, boring and predictable, that's me) and used their outlet and wifi. When I got out, it had started to drizzle, and I turned my collar up to the damp with dreary disdain, my resistance to the weather evaporated in my time in the warm cafe. But it was only three miles on to the campground, and thankfully, Beachside State Park proved a really nice option, right along 101, nice beach access, a good hiker/biker site that seems somewhat sheltered in the trees for only $6, this bathroom I'm in right now with electricity (yep, standing here charging my phone) and even a shower. I washed my hair, but in the cold, and with no good clothes to change into, I just couldn't bring myself to take a full shower.

And now, the day's biking done, my tent set up, my teeth brushed, everything finished until morning (when I have to do the dreaded work of cleaning up) I find myself feeling alone. I went to sleep alone last night, I'm camping alone tonight, with only a few brief interactions with other people all day, and in all likelihood I'll be camping again tomorrow. I like doing my bike vagabonding solo, having the increased freedom and responsibility of handling the decisions and obstacles on my own, and I even enjoy spending the day biking by myself, inside my own headspace. But part of why being hosted is so nice, beyond the obvious free amenities and not camping, is having some normal human interaction at the end of the day. As socially awkward and unusual as I may be, I still crave that as much as anyone. It's not easy spending multiple days in virtual solitude. But then, ultimately it's just another struggle that's part of the vagabonding adventure. And somehow, typing my thoughts about it into this black rectangular thing and sending them out into the aether makes me feel better about them, strangely less alone.