Being fully honest with myself and anyone reading this, I've been having way less fun since reaching Highway 1. Signal has been in and out, there's been no shoulder more often than not, the road has been steep and winding and dangerous enough in itself, and traffic on it has been rude and at times very unsafe. I'm told things get better after San Francisco, and I really hope so, because today has pushed me to my edge.
I got around later than I wanted, finally finished packing out at nearly 9 yet again. I said a fond farewell to the other cyclist there, who was doing some mean skillet cooking as I left, and headed off. As soon as I got out of the park, I found I had signal again, and I was bombarded with texts, messages, and a voicemail from my would-have-been host last night. It turns out she had gotten back to me, even a somehow missed message from before I left town, but I hadn't the signal to know. And she had been left to worry about me. So as I messaged her to explain, I got to feel really bad about that as the start of my day's ride. I had gotten nervous and I screwed up.
The ride today had a lot of rising and dropping along sheer cliffs with views of large sea rocks and beaches of all sorts far below. It was hard work, especially the one rise up to 600 feet, but the views were worth it. ...Though less so when dealing with the traffic, either impatient behind me as I climbed steeply with nowhere to turn off, or skirting too close around me, or taking the other lane around a curve and coming scary close to oncoming traffic. I hated all of it. It seems so short a time ago I had shoulder to ride safely on and passing traffic was a source of entertainment with games of, "Will there be 10 cars of this color or that color that pass me first?" rather than a source of dread. I've said it before, I'll say it again, I'll take a busy, well-shouldered freeway over a less trafficked highway with no shoulder any day.
I had a very welcome reprieve from the ride around midday as I stopped in to see Fort Ross. It's an impressive place, a former Russian fort and center of their American fur-trading business. There were people out working in the garden for Earth Day, and folks dressed in period Russian clothing wandering about the fort and cooking a meal. I very much recommend seeing the place of you have the chance.
In Jenner, a neat little town with all kinds of kayaking action going on in its wide river that reaches the sea nearby, I stopped and got a banana, spinach and feta calzone, and for later, a lemon poppy seed muffin, my reward for the day's end. I also called my parents from a payphone, having no signal most the day, and being unsure if I'd get any before its end. Then I pushed on for Bodega Bay. Sometime around 5, traffic got way more intense, and as I was climbing up a steep hill into town, I collected a stream of angry cars behind me. I pedaled up as hard as I could, that being all I could do, with no shoulder, and nowhere to get off but down a steep drop, and turned out at the first possible opportunity. The lead car right behind me gave me a thumbs up, several others blared their horns at me and shouted obscenities. It made me feel like shit. What did they want, for me to plunge to my death to accommodate them, and keep them from losing that precious minute? I guess I need a thicker skin, but as the culmination of my frustrations, it just made me feel terrible.
I reached the campsite at last, down a long drive past most the other campgrounds, in a less than great sandy area, accessible through a narrow passage from the road that's covered in huge rocks I had a hell of a time getting my trailer over, and right next to the group campground where they're partying with lots of noise and annoying music... I struggled to set up my tent in the high wind, my tarp trying to blow away from me. And as the piece de resistance of my day, I set my prized muffin down on the picnic table, walked away for moments to refill my water reserves, and returned to discover seagulls devouring the last remnants of it, a crumby mess all over the table all they had left me. I ate my other dry food, jealously observing the noisy party nearby (which I have to walk past to reach the bathroom) with their full course hot meal and cold beer. I'm a less than happy camper, in need of a new attitude, and I'll be the first to admit it.
Oh yeah, and high amongst the other frustrations of the day, my front derailleur has developed the dangerous habit of pushing the chain too far when going into the highest gear and sending it off the gears. Thankfully, it seemed to stop happening for me when I set the rear gear lower...but then it suddenly did it again toward the end of the day. It was part cautionary shifting and probably a good deal of luck it didn't happen at any supremely dangerous times. I know there are limiting screws to adjust that should be able to prevent this, and potential of grit as the problem too, and also tension in the cables to adjust, things I should know how to do...but I don't. I know how to ride just damn fine, but I don't know any damn mechanics to fix stuff when things like this go wrong. And now, far from a bike shop, I am feeling the sting and folly of my incompetence. I should have messed with it tonight, but in all my stress I knew I just wasn't in the headspace for it. Hopefully morning will dawn with me not only having a fresh attitude but sudden competence at bike repair.
Right, and of course, to add to my stress, my hosting situation tomorrow is contingent on me getting there before 5. So I really have no time to mess around tomorrow, needing to get up and out of here early so I can make my 60 miles with a long climb in there somewhere. ...Yeah, seriously, can I just be in San Francisco already? Things are supposed to get easier from there.
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