Pacific 1
I met Peter in the hostel in Seaside; he was from Canada and was riding a Kawasaki which he had bought in Panama. He had ridden up through Central America and Mexico and was almost home, he had a bit of trouble getting out of Panama he told me, “three times I arrived at the border and three times they turned me back, kept saying I didn’t have the right paperwork, the third time I’d had enough and rode down the road and crossed into Costa Rica through a field” He had no trouble crossing from Costa Rica to Nicaragua. I got some good information from him about riding around Central America, (another trip down the road a bit maybe?)
I set off the following morning on Pacific 1 and began the long trek down the coast, I began to see why this is a road the cyclists want to ride, the coast line is rugged and spectacular. There were places where 1 went onto 101 and headed inland through Federal and State forests, May was turning into June and still it was too cold for my liking. It was misty it was wet; it got to around 4pm, when I would normally be thinking of stopping for the day. I’d stopped up the road at a Wal-Mart’s store and bought a tent and mattress thinking I would start camping, first, to wake up in the bush and secondly, to save money. I’d run out of Hostels and was going to have to stay in motels until I got to San Fran, I pulled into a federal park $22 to put up a tent or $50 for a motel…no contest… I carried on to Reedsport; I was cold and wet but had a hot shower, a warm bed and a pub around the corner, I’ll save the camping for when it gets warm (if it ever doe’s). The guy at the desk kept telling me what shit bikes Harley’s were and people who rode them even worse, my teeth were chattering, my head was nodding, “yes I know, mmmm, yes your right, mmmm, your Suzuki is a far better machine, can I go get in the shower now?” I was all toasty again after a long soak in the bath, my phone rang which doesn’t happen too often these days, it was Susy ringing from Perth for a chat, I thought about the big house on the hill with the wood fire burning and felt a bit lonesome, all in the past now, off to the pub. All the positive thinking in the world wasn’t going to change the outcome when I opened the curtains the following morning. It wasn’t raining but the clouds were low, which meant I wasn’t going far, before I’d have to stop to thaw out, then I hit the Redwoods in Southern Oregon, the road started to wind around these giants. I looked through the canopy way up in the sky and saw a bit of blue, then I saw the Eagles hovering above the trees, I snapped out of it, eyes on the road son, you’re sitting on a 1450cc beast with enough power to flatten you against one of these monsters. Some of the trunks would take half a dozen people to stretch around them and if T Rex were to stick his head around, he would be dwarfed; I wanted to get off and bow to the majesty of these awesome trees. I regret not finding a place to camp so I could wake up and walk amongst them but continued on to California in search of sunshine and warmth and was soon back on Pacific 1 to that end.
The coast road is a slow one, south into San Francisco, it was the memorial long weekend which meant every man and his dog was on the coast. I passed through many seaside towns chocker block with tourists but not too many on the roads. The road winds around the cliff tops in spectacular fashion with mountains to the left and a sheer drop to the right, often without barriers to stop you going over, so concentration is a must, I came close on more than one occasion and the heart was pumping with the exhilaration of the ride. It was still cold but somehow I wasn’t feeling it, instead I was doing what I came here to do and had a warm fuzzy feeling doing it.
I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!