US Prologue - Leaving Raccoon City

I liked the idea of going from bridge to border - the Golden Gate Bridge that is, all the way to the Mexican border. So I started riding north. I cycled the 80km from Menlo Park to Marin Headland, giving me the chance to wave off super San Fran, and some of my favourite places, like the Gothic Rocketship, the city's lights, and of course the bridge.

Farewell Rocketship

I camped the night in what turned out to be a picnic area, rather than the Bicentennial Campground I was aiming for in Marin Headlands. Not one but two rangers came by to remind me I wasn't supposed to camp there. I pleaded Australian and they let me be, a technique I was to become rather familiar with.

Riding north over the Golden Gate Bridge to my camp on Marin Headland.

Although I had been warned of the raccoons in the area, I knew not of their determination until that night. While I was cooking in the dark by myself, I heard some rustling and cracking sounds. I turned around and there was nothing there. I kept cooking. I heard it again. I looked around again and this time saw quite a few eyes reflected in my torchlight. "Ah, that would be the raccoons", I thought and turned back to to keep on eye on my cooking. For a few minutes though, every time I turned around, the eyes got closer, and closer, and closer. I don't know if you've seen that scene (from about 10m30s) from the TV version of The Shining, where the hedge creatures keep getting closer and closer but the kid doesn't see them move...

Well it was a little like that. With raccoons. When they started to get really close, almost to my food on the table, despite my shouting, it became obvious they were not afraid of me at all. Thinking that if I didn't do something soon I might actually have to wrestle my food out of their claws, I went on the offensive and ran around like a crazy person chasing them with a stick. They moved away, but then stopped and looked at me looking only mildly bemused, as if they were thinking "Well we're just going to come back later, silly stick-waving human...", as they slowly retreated in the face of my stick-waving prowess. Eventually even their eyes disappeared from my torchlight. I was sure they were going to come back and bother me again later in the night, but if they did, I was too deeply asleep to notice.

The view from my slightly damp campsite in Marin Headlands.

The next morning the trip started in earnest, with a view of the bridge framed by a grey day, and all the road in front of me. In a little over two hours, I was to meet my first bike buddy, and after only just crossing the Golden Gate Bridge!