Sweat,Tears, and...

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to regularly update the blog, Twitter, or even text anyone. My phone has had no signal since we left Sausalito. My GoPro died halfway through the first day. But finally, I am able to update my whereabouts and what's happened leading up until now.

And I promise you, it's a whole lot.

Day One:

We were buzzing through San Francisco's traffic heading towards the Golden Gate Bridge. It was cold and foggy like the city usually is. It felt like triumph enough making it to the bridge (which looks like a painting) and basking in the glow of the other bike tourists who took pictures alongside us. Crossing the bridge was another story. There are true tourists stumbling along the bridge, not paying any mind to the bike lanes, so it was a little difficult getting across. After that, we were in a stupor on how to get to where we needed to go.
We followed other cyclists through Sausalito (a cookie cutter fish town of which we would see more), got directions from random cyclists who suggested all sorts of ways to get to Canada.

I started running out of energy in Corte Madera, where I was sure we were lost, and by the time we got to Fairfax I wasn't sure if we could go any further. We had only gone maybe 30 miles by this point. But it was 30 miles of steep hills that, as a Floridian, I am not even used to walking on.

In order to get to our final destination for the night, we had to overcome a giant hill that took over an hour to reach the top. We walked our bikes of course. Upon reaching the summit, we cried and breathed heavily, "It's the top! We made it! We're here!"
We stood for a minute so that we could catch our breath. It was about 5 pm and we still had to make it to Samuel P. State Park before dark.
Another cyclist was etching up the hill behind us. Upon his meeting us, we talked for a bit. Hunter congratulated him on making it to the top still elated to have made it himself.
The man traveling from Rio, Brazil only said, "Oh, it's just a small hill," before quickly descending.

It was close to nightfall, but we knew we were just a few miles from the campgrounds. We stopped at the only restaurant/grocery for miles, an Indian restaurant called Arti's. I devoured my curry and we got ready to set up camp and rest.
With the promise that we would be able to sleep soon, my energy kicked into overdrive. But it faded quickly when we got lost. And then we got lost again.
It was night when we made it back to the Indian restaurant.
With no energy and no certainty of making it to our destination, my body broke down.
I started crying excessively. I couldn't hold the tears back. I had reached a breaking point.
Hunter tried to console me but it wasn't in my control. It was like my body was crying not me. I wasn't emotionally upset. My body just couldn't take the demands I was making.

A woman named Linda came to our rescue. She picked Hunter up from Arti's and brought him to the entrance of the campgrounds. Upon his return he was contagiously joyous. We thanked Linda and made our way, in complete darkness, to the camp.
There was relief, but I was so tired it barely showed.

As we entered, a stag crossed our path. My faint headlight made the stag glow. He must have been about ten feet in front of us. He was strong and beautiful.

We set up camp. I taught Hunter how to raise a tent. We brought our food into the tent and had Bambi snuggle into my sleeping bag at my feet.

At about two in the morning, we heard the zippers on our panniers being pulled open. Fearing that someone was stealing our things we quickly opened our tent flaps and shone our light on the perpetrator.  

Our thieves were a pair of raccoons. It was picturesque. Their little grabby hands holding onto a couple of our things looking at us like, "What? Just close your tent and don't mind us".

Hunter couldn't sleep listening to the masked creatures and continuously opened the tent in an effort to scare them away. At one point, I awoke and tried to scare a raccoon away who thought he was hiding just beyond our bikes. When I shone the light at him, he took it as an invitation and tried to come into the tent. I quickly zipped it closed.

I woke up to Hunter trying to scare away another one. I looked over as Hunter flashed the light out the tent for what would be the final time.
A nose was a foot away from his face. He thought it was a raccoon.
Until it roared.
He flung the tent closed and laid down.
"Was that a freakin' bear?!" I whispered, my eyes so wide they could fall out.
The roar was the kind of roar you hear on television all the time. The kind of sound that you don't find threatening. The kind that many are desensitized to.
But the real thing. That's pee-in-your-pants terrifying.
Not that either of us did that.

With the bear sniffing around our tent, we looked up our options.
The very first direction: "This is Bear Country. Don't ever bring food into your tent."
Bambi slept soundly on my lap. I think she was pretending.

When it sounded like the bear had left, I cautiously opened the tent to check. The coast was clear. We through our food far away towards a tree and pulled our tent out of the ground, running it towards the middle of the campgrounds.

And then we slept.

Day Two:
In the morning, the light gleamed through the baby redwoods. Birds that I've never seen before were singing and swooping down in front of me.
I checked on the food. The raccoons had stolen two bananas, a slice of bread, and a Clif Bar. I moved the food back to our tent.
In the middle of the camp, there was a food lock box which we couldn't see at night. Oh well.

It seems I've run out of time to finish this blog entry. I will have to wait in order to update you on what happened the second day as it's time to get back on the road.

Beware the bears,
Nik