Fog

Again, no signal tonight. I had thought I was going to be staying with someone, inside on a nice couch, with WiFi. But these things don't always work out, huh? Instead, I'm sitting in a bathroom at a campground to use its outlet, dreading the short, but dark and cold walk back to my tent.

What a day. I awoke in my nice warm bed around 6:30, but clung to the covers until 7:00. After that, while I knew I ought to be getting on the road, I found myself locked in a nice conversation with my host, unable to pull away. ...Especially with a promise of a scrambled egg breakfast to come. It was delicious, full of fresh veggies, with a side of toast, and some high quality local apple juice. While I was itching to go by the end of it, almost 9, it was well worth the wait. And besides, I had less than 50 miles to go today...at least so I thought.

There was a lot of continuous climbing and falling today along the cliffs overlooking the ocean, some of it surprisingly steep, but I never had to get much over 300 feet at any given time, and with no individual climb dragging on forever, it really wasn't so bad. I think according to Google Maps I did more climbing today than I did from Standish Hickey to Fort Bragg yesterday, but it's hard to wrap my head around that considering how much easier going it was.

The fog came early and lasted for a long time. I first noticed it as I was climbing up a bridge which seemed to dematerialize halfway across into whiteness. As someone unaccustomed to the sea, particularly along this foggy section of it, I found it very disconcerting. The blue ocean had been swallowed up by a sea of white mist, like some terrible portent, wafting its chilling clouds out across the road, blinding as a snow storm. I can see why people warned me of it and its danger. Visibility was very bad at times, and many cars acted oblivious to the danger. I rode with great caution through this unfamiliar weather. And I took great relief when the warm sun burned the last of it away in the afternoon.

I came into Point Arena around 3:30, tried to call my host at the number she had given me, and got one of those wonderful no voice mail recorded responses. I also discovered the number was for a New York area code, and suddenly felt worried she'd given me the wrong one. I texted her, as well as sent a message on the site. Then I waited. Then I decided to do some shopping while I waited. The grocery store/cafe was dismally lacking for anything I wanted (namely bars that I could eat while biking) but I got myself a bagel, freshly toasted, and ate it while using their WiFi. And I waited. I waited all the way up until 5:30, when I determined that if I was going to make it to the next campground with a hiker/biker site, 15 miles down the road, before it got dark, I needed to go.

So, with a heavy heart, I abandoned all hope of spending the night indoors, and raced on toward Gualala. I wasted little time, not stopping to take pictures of the many cool sections of coast along that stretch, not getting to check out Bowling Ball Beach as my hosts of last night said I should. I reached Gualala with the sun getting low in the sky. Though since they actually had some semblance of a real grocery store there, I had to go in and do some restocking. While expensive, it wasn't quite so outrageous as the other smaller stores around here at least. I'll be honest, bad person as it may make me, while touring at least, I like chain stores, Walmarts, Fred Meyers (which California sadly lack), what have you. I know generally what they carry, they have all kinds of selection, and while the local prices will vary, they probably won't double or triple. Still, nowhere else to go (save the one competing grocery store in the town, located just across the street) I bought what I needed at Gualala Supermarket quickly, and then rushed on. The sun was bleeding orange in the sky as I at last made my way into the campground and found the hiker/biker site. There was one other fellow here, an older, retired, and well experienced bike tourist, and we chatted while I set up my tent and stuffed cheerios in my cheeks. He doesn't like couch surfing apparently (and I don't either in these rare times it falls through), having used it in his earlier days, and now is all about the camping, sometimes even back country. He enjoys nature over people. I can understand that, especially with how easy it becomes to loathe cars as a long distance cyclist, and everything associated with them...but as much as I enjoy my alone time cycling, as much as I like the outdoors, I'll still jump at the chance for strangers to take me in and make me a warm meal and provide me a couch or bed to sleep on.  ...Guess I'm kind of a wimp. Ah well, I can live with that.