Creme de la (organic, locally sourced) creme: Best of the California Bike Tour
At 3 a.m. on September 20, Sylva and Tyler drove to Arvada to catch a shuttle to the airport. Or at least they think they got on the shuttle, hopped off and checked their coupled travel bikes tucked away in their bags, zipped through security and headed to the United Club lounge. But it’s hard…
A beautiful sunrise from the United Lounge, which I almost missed repeatedly trying to fall asleep sitting up.
At 3 a.m. on September 20, Sylva and Tyler drove to Arvada to catch a shuttle to the airport. Or at least they think they got on the shuttle, hopped off and checked their coupled travel bikes tucked away in their bags, zipped through security and headed to the United Club lounge. But it’s hard to say… it was so damn early.
By afternoon — after spending at least three hours piecing our bikes and gear together in the check in area of the Portland airport — we were ready to ride. We navigated eight miles of glass with road on it to our friend Luke’s house in an area called Woodlawn. We soon traded his sunny porch for an even sunnier table at the local corner store. Cider in hand, we plopped down to enjoy a long afternoon with Luke and his sister Alex. I have no documentation of this part of the day because I was too lazy to walk two blocks back to Luke’s house to fetch my picture-taking apparatus.
After a day in Portland in Luke’s “Ghetto Mansion,” (complete with retro bowling, doughnut eating and waiting in line at way-too-trendy but yummy restaurants that specialize in biscuits) we rented a car and headed to Medford for some quality time with my BFFF Kelly and her hubby Jacbo. Two days later, off to McKinleyville, CA to spend the night with Jacob’s sister Bri and husband Matt, renters of Kelly and Jacob’s old but not yet sold house. Did you follow that mother’s brother’s aunt’s friends’ cat’s second cousin logic?
We dropped our car off in quirky, edgy Eureka, CA the next morning and began a biking journey that would take us the long way all the way down the coast. Four hundred fifty miles, four counties, several new biking friends, starfish, plenty of marijuana (when in Cali…) and a lot of cider later, we would be in San Francisco to stay with my uncle Brian and my bro Kyle and his girlfriend Kathy. Just to add a cherry on the top of our last Sunday of the trip, we’d let someone else do the driving — namely, an Amtrak conductor. After thirty plus hours on the train, we’d hop a light rail from Union Station, then a bus to Arvada and then get in the trusty Volvo — still intact after we abandoned it once more for multiple weeks at a park & ride — and drive back to Dillon.
Without further ado, here’s the creme de la creme of our journey in picture form:
PDX – Woodlawn (Portland, Oregon):
8 miles, mostly glass
Setting up shop in the Portland Airport. Just a note: Portlandians are positively enamored of their carpet. Some swatch was due to be replaced, but Portlandia rallied against it, and now it’s a “thing” to take pictures of your feet on the carpet when arriving home, coupled with something like #Iloveportland carpet. #wtf?
Luke and Tyler kickin’ it on the Ghetto Mansion’s front porch.
The strangely endearing psychedelic watercolor angel guarding Luke’s front porch.
Medford, Oregon:
Grabbing a little family breakfast in downtown Medford at Buttercloud!
After the cloud dome broke, it got positively warm and Jacbo, Tyler and I rode to Ashland via the scenic route. However, even the scenery couldn’t outdo Jacbo’s jersey.
What’s better post bike ride than a little wine at Roxyann winery?
And then some happy hour on the patio, followed by Carbonara, Americanos (the alcoholic variety) and hours of dog wrestling thanks to golden retrievers Miles and Canon?
Day 1: Eureka, CA – Ferndale, CA
21 miles, rolling
The beginning of a whole string of beautiful, sunny days! On our way, we stop at tiny Loleta…
…home of the Loleta Cheese Factory! We try samples for days and end up with a bit of green chili jack and sharp cheddar trims. Trims are merely smaller cuts of cheese, but we joke it’s a different kind of trim, if ya know what I mean… it’s harvest season in the Humboldt triangle, and they sure ain’t pickin’ pumpkins!
Ferndale, our stop for the night, is an agricultural hub. It was founded in the 1800s by milk barons, referred to as the “Milk Mafia.” They still have a pretty tight hold on the area; apparently, you’re not local until you’ve lived there twenty years!
Our choice campsite behind the grandstands at the Humbolt County Fairgrounds! For 10 bucks, it’s a screaming deal and we have the place to ourselves.
Downtown Ferndale is a clean, meticulously preserved slice of western history — like this cheerful (expensive, as most of Cali is) hotel.
Before dinner, Tyler and I have a little happy hour at the Ivanhoe Hotel, the oldest “hostelry” in the west. And home of a really ancient accordian player who sang incoherently for hours. We were the youngest folks there by half a century 🙂
Day Two: Ferndale, CA – Honeydew Campground, King Range National Conservation Area
47 miles, 4900′ climbing
A hearty breakfast at Poppa Joe’s in downtown Ferndale — where pancakes are truly the size of dinner plates — was just what we needed in terms of calorie loading. And the people watching — from old Farmer John in his high-water sweatpants to the flock of old men playing poker in the back before 9 a.m. — was resplendent.
Instead of following the Pacific Coast Highway, Tyler and I opted — per usual — for the (harder, steeper) road less traveled. Some roads, with names like “The Wall” were famous for their steepness. Grades of 15-20% were way too common.
Tyler waiting for me to catch up while gettin’ down in a cattle chute.
Even though my thighs were burning during the first five minutes, I’d probably do it again… maybe. At least the views kind of took my mind off of it!
Getting ready to descend The Wall straight down to the ocean. This part of the lost coast, where the road flattens, is the site of Cape Mendocino — one of the most seismically active spots in the entire San Andreas fault system.
After a seaside lunch, we turned inland again to the miniscule town of Petrolia, and further on, our destination: even tinier Honeydew.
Out of Petrolia we had another soul-crushing climb, but then the road became rolling through endless stretches of glorious woods. Although we were suddenly in the middle of nowhere, fences lined the road complete with countless “No Trespassing” signs. A skunky marijuana smell on the breeze explained everything…
We arrived at Honeydew Campground in the late afternoon to find one spot out of 6 or 7 available. Turns out, we were the only people not living there. The expansive setup next to us — complete with about 5 dogs and 8 humans — had been there for several weeks.
Sunset in camp was gorgeous, with the river reflecting the light and the moon not far behind. Unfortunately, the sunset was the most peaceful part; luckily we were exhausted as we fell asleep to the sounds of music, loud talking and barking dogs.
Day 3: Honeydew Campground, King Range National Conservation Area – Burlington Campground (Avenue of the Giants)
30 miles, 2200′ climbing
In the morning, the campground was eerily quiet; we arose from our tent to find everyone else rounded up by a BLM law enforcement officer. At least one unhappy squatter got a ticket. After the LEO departed and we packed up, we stopped at the tiny Honeydew store for Tyler’s second breakfast: ice cream. Then it was a steady 2,200′ climb up and over to the Avenue of the Giants.
Almost halfway down the other side, we stopped to check out the cemetery for the old town of Bull Creek, which was repeatedly wiped out by floods in the 1800s.
On the Avenue of the Giants, the trees were big and the road was oddly flat.
Our camp spot at Burlington campground on the Avenue. We reserved a spot online, but learned that the campgrounds try not to ever turn away cyclists. The point was proved when four cyclists appeared well after dark and set up shop across from us.
Day 4: Burlington Campground (Avenue of the Giants) – Phillipsville, CA:
20 miles, not much climbing
A picture perfect moment in the morning, with my bike looking ant-sized next to this arboreal giant. Did you know — by the way — a Redwood cone is the size of an olive?
Enjoying a nice morning warm up through grove after grove.
We didn’t have long to ride to the Riverwood Inn and Roadhouse in Phillipsville, so we took our time stopping every four seconds to soak in big trees and quirky towns.
Our sweet balcony at the Riverwood Inn. Amy, the woman who hooked got us settled, told us we better bring our bikes in at night. “It’s harvest season in Humbolt and people are f*cking weird,” she said. “You gotta protect your stuff.” Well, that pretty much sums it up…
We rode three miles round trip to the Chimney Tree restaurant for dinner. Its namesake, the hollowed out Chimney Tree (burned out in the early 1900s) is free to walk in and makes you feel like a hobbit.
For now, I’ve got to be like a Redwood and leaf. But stay tuned for breathtaking sunsets, tide pools, beaches, free fruit, raccoons and new interesting buddies in the next installment…
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