Right out of the park I left 101 to turn off into highway 1. It felt like a momentous moment. I'd been following 101, with just a few detours off it here and there, since partway through day one, and now I was leaving it behind. Highway 1 started out with a bang, to be sure. It was a grueling mountainous climb, steep, winding, no shoulder, limited traffic, but lots of big trucks. But as bad as the climbing was, it was going down that was actually much worse, something I almost never say as a cyclist. Those switchbacks were insane. I've gone over the Rockies, but for as steep and far a fall as those mountains had, they were cake compared to this coming down since they had gradual curves. These turns were hell, no visibility around them, incredibly tight, some with speed limits posted as low as 10mph, and some cars speeding around them at 30 to 40. I was just begging for it to be over, as I burned rubber on my brakes to keep in control. Then once I finally hit bottom, it was long before I was climbing all over again, and then descending another crazy set of switchbacks, though thankfully not as far. Eventually the roller coaster ride ended, with me shaken up but alive, and glad to be so, and I rode on for a ways through forests, before finally reaching the ocean with a feeling of triumphant reunion (as I had been inland for a few days now).
The ocean marked the return of my cell signal and the end of the long, twisting rises and falls, still some very steep cliffs to go up and back down constantly, but nothing so bad. There were a few ludicrous places still, like going down a steep drop, making a u-turn and then climbing right back up to the same height on the cliffside opposite, in plain view of the road I had taken down. And there were also some unpleasant sections of construction with one lane traffic and racing to get through as to minimize the time I was delaying others. But generally, things got boundlessly better once I got in sight of the sea. And it was a lot of gorgeous coastline too.
Near Fort Bragg, I had a car pull over in front of me and gesture me over. I went as beckoned and came up to an older man, a self described SOB (seniors on bicycles) who told me I really ought to get off the highway and go on the trail through this state park. He led the way up to the entrance, chatted up the folks at the gate, and had them show me the way to the bike path, which would take me right into Fort Bragg, with no traffic. It was all paved too, I was told. ...Which it was, but still the kind of paved that it is cracked, bumpy, and beats the hell out of the guy hauling a trailer. But it was alright going, and definitely a worthy view for the excursion if nothing else. I realized one problem though in that my hostd were not in Fort Bragg itself, but just before it. But I was able to skirt off the trail and back to the highway a little early through an oceanside appartment alleyway. The trail was just a few yards from the highway at that point.
My hosts weren't home when I arrived at the end of a long driveway onto their 30+ acre property. But I didn't have to wait too long. One of them is a cyclist who biked across Canada when he was younger, and still bikes often around town. He let me know he passed up a motorcylist in favor of me, and I expressed my gratitude. They made me feel right at home, shower, laundry, everything I'd been missing. I even got taken out to the local pub for drinks, before coming back and having a very nice lentil soup and cornbread dinner with conversation about our home states, adventures, cycling, sailing, and all sorts of things. It was everything I needed after the rough going of today.
Tomorrow should be easier, and only a few days on and I'll reach San Francisco!
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