It's been, what? Just a few days since my last entry and I'm rapidly becoming stronger physically, mentally, spiritually. The answers to questions I've been asking myself for months are shaking away the dust that settled upon them when I devoted my energy to working a nine-to-fiver.
I can transcend what used to be steep hills as if I were zooming over the flats of Florida.
I can pitch my tent in a matter of minutes.
This entry is actually incredibly difficult to write. It's 9:31 pm in Arcata (which is actually way passed my usual bedtime on this trip) and I'm struggling to remember what's occurred in the last week. The thoughts I thought. The sights I saw. It feels like I've been on the road for a month, if not more.
And so perhaps it's best to rewind the days. Starting with today.
I'm sitting inside a Super 8 motel room. We both needed a shower and a break for the day. We washed our clothing. We did nothing. All day. My left leg is covered in bruises and my left knee wants to give up even if I'm only walking.
Arcata feels like the kind of small town one might watch in a Spielberg film.
Hunter's tire was flat this morning. We walked to Arcata from Eureka. The coast is visible from the highway again. And there are tons of tsunami warning signs. The sky is getting grayer and the clouds are moving more quickly. The people are changing too. Suddenly, I've traveled back in time to the 90's.
Eureka looks like an old western town that grew too quickly. Everything is on one main road (the 101) and the houses are on either side. It's actually a bit depressing, the way the town looks. The people aren't too different. I'm amazed that Eureka and Arcata are so close to each other because they're nothing alike. Like these twin sisters I knew in my fifth grade class.
We woke up this morning in Billy's backyard. It was covered in weeds and garden snails climbed the fences and our bikes, perhaps looking for something more exciting. The sky was completely gray and it misted down on me as I sat in a lawn chair, next to Billy's old pile of hair from a month-old haircut. My entire body was aching as if I fell out of a seventy story building and hit the concrete, but survived. I awoke throughout the night due to cramps in my knees and thighs.
Billy was especially helpful. Letting us crash in his backyard and making us homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast. They were delicious.
We have been biking on average 40 miles a day, uphill, against the headwinds. Every Hike N Bike we stop at for the night tells us we're one of the crazies for going north. But I've never seen it and that's enough to push myself forward.
The 40 mile bike trips are becoming increasingly intoxicating. Our trip to Eureka was mostly on the Avenue of the Giants, surrounded in shady redwoods and small ferns. Occasionally, a town with a population less than 150 would appear in the giant forest offering a small market or tourist attraction. I was especially fond of the Bigfoot themed gift shop, although we didn't stop. Everything is carved from wood and it feels as if you're biking through a time capsule that will never get older. The towns on the Avenue feel forever stuck in the forties. But the forest itself.
The trees are ancient. They're majestic. And you're reminded of how infantismal the human species is compared to other species of the Earth. You're among gods on the Avenue of the Giants.
The night before Billy's backyard, we stopped in the Burlington campground on Avenue of the Giants. We got to pitch our tent right in the middle of them, albeit right in the middle of a ton of other folks as well. We might as well have been a small suburban neighborhood with the amount of people camping.
In the Hike N Bike, an 37 year old man and a 25 year old woman sat at a picnic bench greeting us.
"How are ya?"
"Oh, good. Tired," I chuckled.
Looking around, I noticed there wasn't much space left.
"Is there another section where we should camp? Don't want to take too much space."
The man replied, "Oh no, don't worry about that. Besides, the guy in the other site talks to himself in a little girl's voice at night."
"Oh," I frowned and pulled my tent off my bike.
While I can't remember the man's name, I remember his cat's. He and Funtime had been on the road for 16 months after quitting his job with 20,000 dollars saved up as part of a plan from his employer. He was carrying more than I would ever think about towing. His bike looked like it had been on the road for years.
"I came to California to meet other crazy people. Well, crazy enough to bike 1000 miles for fun. Seriously, no one in the right mind thinks that's a fun thing to do."
He had been in Arizona for a while, eating rattlesnakes. He showed Colleen and I the video of him capturing it.
"Look, he's comin' right at me!"
"Well, of course. You're poking him with a stick and trying to cook him," Colleen retorted.
I only remember her name because she repeated it on purpose numerous times after I told her I had forgotten it. She was extremely scientific and well organized.
The two of them were both Aquarians. Both wonderful talkers. The four of us laughed and joked until the rest of the camping sites had gone to sleep. We replaced the lyrics of songs with new lyrics about biking.
Colleen sang, "They see me biking/They hatin/They gonna catch me bikin dirty".
We talked about caloric intake and how much we smell.
I told them what had happened to me on the way from Cloverdale. I had just ingested the biggest burrito knowing I was going to be heading up some of the biggest hills I had yet encountered. After stuffing it down my gullet, I tried to push myself up a mountain. The entire climb I had to puke. I kept stopping and starting holding my my head down into my knees. At one point, I began to vomit into my mouth and had to swallow it. I needed the calories.
They both laughed having similar stories. We also all joked about Gatorade. A drink we never really cared for or needed until we started touring. Colleen rolled her eyes, "Ha, we're athletes".
I wish I could take my time to share every detail of this trip. But I can't.
I thought I'd make it to the previous day, but unfortunately, I'm exhausted.
All I can say is Leggett was beautiful. The bikers there were just as unique. And the graffiti inside of the food lockers is always inspiring.
Oh, and the nature/scenery/mountains/rivers/trees/birds are literally breathtaking. I actually had to stop just to watch the wind blow the long grass. It looks like it's being painted in real time.
Everything looks like a painting here.
Good night,
Nik
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