Montando Para Mariscos

Sound has become a feeling as it whispers over the skin of my face there are clicks and bumps. Two wheels  lick a sand smeared highway. We ride along endless waves--look at a map and see how far we came as if in a dream sequence a month has passed. I only crave five more minutes . Dear readers, If I can arouse your slightest desire to journey on bicycle then I will consider this a victory.  Fin's devoted readership (you) will not be graced with the daily programming you have come to thirst for. I, the other half, the unheard voice, only seen in pictures or mentioned in an occasional post have come up to bat. He has asked me on several days to write an editorial piece for the blog, I have declined with excuses ranging from "too tired" to such malignant woes as "I don't have it in me tonight". Rest assured dear readers, these were only ways of putting off the inevitable joy of addressing in writing the thoughts and feelings I have experie

We were low on breakfast in the morning, and hungry, so I borrowed a few strawberries from the fields next door to us at sunrise (with all this acreage, they wouldn't miss a couple). Lluc scrounged a muffin from a dumpster somewhere and we ate well. Will was up with us, already getting kickstarted on his day of jabbering on about how my aluminum pots are going to give me dementia, and how the US government has nuclear fission technologybut doesn't want to use it because they're making too much money off of oil. I hadn't the patience for it at that time of morning, so we left pretty soon. Felt bad to leave Lawrence from Kansas City-- another friendly hiker/biker in the camp-- there with him on his own.  The air was still now, the winds of yesterday clearly having moved somewhere far away. We ride through wide open fields off brussel sprouts, strawberries and artichokes for some time. A produce standwith a sign for 7 kiwis for a dollar really caught our attention, and

The clouds appeared to be splitting above the trees as we roused. I gave a card to our host when we were ready to make our way down the slope. In return she offered us recommendations to about every food establishment from there to Monterey, and a couple in Baja. They all sounded good but weren't particularly useful. Though, she did recommend a side road to take from her place in Pescadero back to the coast. I'm very keen on local's advice on alternate roads, especially if they bike. So we said thanks and followed her directions down the Cloverfield highway through some lovely farm country (some very happy chickens and pigs) to the Gazos creek road, which wound its way following the wooded creek to the ocean.  There was a strong North wind, which we were very glad to discover. A little boost from mother nature. Riding with a tailwind, we made great time all the way to Davenport. It is an odd feeling too; all around the plants are dancing, but on your bike you hardly

There was a dense fog over the city in the morning. It seemed to know it was time to get back to business. I must say, I really did enjoy my rest days in San Fran, and Lluc seems refreshed too, after some time in the Central Valley. Quality lady time for both of us... that probably has something to do with it. Sounds like there was some pig feeding and good eating, some pleasantly warm days in the surrounds. I was extrenely pleased to have hit nearly all of the things I had wanted to see in the city, and was given countless more; the Morrison Planetarium, the Fillmore, City Lights Bookstore, Baker beach, and all the various neighborhoods. I remarked that it felt as though I walked through 5 different cities just in the span of a day. It is incredible too to see it built upon those same rolling dry hills and rugged coastline cliffs we have been riding through for a week or more. It does stands out, a marvel in itself. I gathered my things from my dear cousin's a

I've been off the bike now for three whole days. The legs are feeling loose, the bum a little better, and the stomach satiated, but more importantly, my head is fresh. The immediate concerns of the road have been at bay and and in their absence, I've been able to look back at the journey so far and think about the things we've seen, and not seen. We've seen coastline; lots n lots of coastline. Ever-changing, ever-roaring surf, chipping away patiently at the land, grinding it from giant cliffs into the finest of powder. Every day we ride and come back to the ocean, still churning as it was when we left it in the morning-- as it was when we left it in Cape Flattery. The vastness and endlessness of it continues to mystify me. With this coastline, we've seen coastal people and coastal towns. Most have been on a spectrum from recreational to industrial; industrial towns mainly have focussed on natural resource extraction (logging and fishing), while the recreational

I emerged from my tent as Franz, the older German man who was camped next to us was rolling out off camp. An early start, but he is a little slower-- we've passed him several times. Don't think we'll be running into each other in San Francisco though... "Guten morgen!" I hollared after him. There was a grunt from the tent. Lluc thinks its me yelling at them, "Lluc and Morgan!"  I dry my tarp and tent in the rising sun and starlings hop around it. I pack up while L&M discuss their day. By nine, I'm ready to roll. San Fran: here I come. Short goodbyes and see you soons, and I'm headed up the Bolinas ridge. A nice big hill to start the morning. Rolling through farmland, I think 'what a transition I will see today.' Down the other side to a bike path through Samuel Taylor state park. Bike paths are such a treat. They really can make my day. Deep trees and winding shady brooks brought me through the San Geronimo valley. I passed s

Walking back to camp after splashing some water on my face from the campground faucet, who should I see but Mo and Lluc, walking hand in hand. Ain't that a sight to see. She got some days off and drove through the night to get here. The girlfriends have really come through on this trip... we did dream it all up before either of us had others, but aren't we lucky they still let us go? It was reason to celebrate, so we rode into town got breakfast at the local diner down by the docks of Bodega Bay, the boats showing green streaks down their hulls in the morning fog. Breakfast was also a powwow: the next week will be a more complicated maneuver than our everyday keep-heading-south M.O. First of all, San Francisco lay just under 80 miles away, too much for a single day (though some of the bikers at camp were going for it). Second, Mo and Lluc will be shooting from me here to take some time and visit a farm in the Central valley they're working on this Winter (afterall, we