Statistics:

May 22, 1981 - Anchor Bay to Russian Gulch - 48 miles

May 23, 1981 - Russian Gulch to Leggett - 54 miles

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Description of Events: 

The past two days have been trying times for all 3 of us. On Friday (May 22, 1981), we battled more hills and wind on our Northward trek up the West Coast. I was playing mind games with myself, which meant riding what seemed to be a more comfortable pace. However, doing so kept me well behind Paul and Dave. That had a bit of a negative effect on me because I enjoy being with the other guys, talking and laughing as we ride along. However, it wasn't all that bad because I was usually able to catch up with them at times. By all accounts, this was a difficult day of riding.

Along the coast, innumerable streams, creeks, and rivers meet the ocean. Oftentimes, the road would descend sharply to a little bridge, from which the rushing stream water, near the end of its journey, could be seen crashing into the Pacific. Then, there would be a steep climb to get back to where you had been before having reached the mouth of that stream. We did this more times than I can remember... each time having been a test of strength and endurance. Along with the natural hills, the wind, the cold, and the rain, riding the California Coast is one tough excursion, regardless of which direction one might be heading. The scenery, however, is worth it and helps to mitigate the physical effort that must be expended when traveling by bicycle.

We ended up camping at Russian Gulch State Park, which lies North of Mendocino. We got there rather early and had time to investigate the area and the beach. Dave and I rode back to Mendocino to get some food for dinner... and to look around the town a bit. After we ate, I decided to check over my bike, only to find that I had 4 more broken spokes. There was another cyclist camping with us who took a look at my problem. He said the spokes had been placed incorrectly, thereby throwing off the pattern, weakening the wheel, and leading to more breaks. With a better understanding of how to do the job (than did the fellow at the bike shop in SF), I stayed up until well after dark re-spoking my wheel.

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May 23, 1981: The late, flashlight-aided spoke repair and wheel truing job paid off because I didn't have any problems today. We rode 54 more tough miles to end up at Standish Hickey State Park, in Leggett, California. Our original plan was to go as far as Rockport but we were feeling good and the wind had died down. Since we were making good time, we decided to go for more miles on the day.

We had breakfast in Fort Bragg, which appeared to be one of the bigger towns we have seen since Sausalito. About a mile before Westport, we climbed one of the steepest hills we have seen so far. I was standing on the pedals to get up and over the top. 

Rockport was virtually non-existent when we got there, consisting of a handful of homes, so we continued onward to Leggett. The "big hill" that everyone was talking about turned out to be overhyped (in our collective opinion). The elevation rose from nearly sea level to a height of nearly  2000 feet over a 10-mile stretch. It seemed more gradual than some of the other hills we had climbed. I suppose all of the other hills and adversity we have encountered so far turned this climb into a non-issue for us. Thank goodness for that!

When we got to Leggett, there was a festival going on. I bought Paul and Dave a beer to celebrate conquering "the hill" and making it here. A group of motorcyclists gave us various expressions of quiet respect as we rode past their gathering. They had a better understanding than other motorists of the terrain we had come over to get here. Most motorcyclists we have seen on this trip have been respectful and somewhat friendly. Others, who we saw out on the road, are full of themselves and somewhat condescending... fake pedaling their hogs as they passed. We paid them no  mind. We had conquered quite a bit of this California Coast, so far, and we felt pretty good about it.

I had a good talk with Dave last night while working on my wheel. Both Paul and I have really come to like him and are enjoying riding with him. He's definitely a good guy. He will be with us for a bit longer but we will definitely miss him when he peels off toward Eugene. But that is still a few days away. Making a new and good friend is an aspect of this trip that I didn't fully anticipate when we started out. It is a wonderful ingredient that is contributing toward making this the epic journey (for us) that it has become.