Although I had hoped to meet some other cyclists on the road, I didn't think I would be meeting one so soon, just minutes after crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. The super fun and adventurous Candela was cycling through the Presidio, with only a couple of plastic bags of gear strapped to the back of her borrowed bike, finding her way with her iPhone. She was heading the same way as me, to Monterey, on her first little bike tour. All she had with her was a sleeping bag, the clothes she was wearing, and a few freeze-dried meals. She was going to figure out places to sleep as she went. Respect.
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| Candela |
We decided to ride together, and soon after we both had our first taste of decent headwinds leaving San Fran, up to 60km/hr at times. It was a wake-up call. At times it was like riding up a steep hill while being on completely flat ground. I was working so hard and getting almost nowhere. Pedestrians almost overtook me. I was a little disheartened to feel so drained on only the second day of riding. I would have felt worse if I had seen the weather reports before leaving Menlo Park, and realised that those very winds heralded the arrival of the first of two unusually large storm fronts that were due to hit the coast in the coming days. Maybe it was better not to know.
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| Coastal scenery near Devil's Slide. |
We ended up not making it to our planned destination of Half Moon Bay due to the wind, and found ourselves in an area with few accommodation options. After being refused permission to camp on the ample grass in an RV campground, we had to get a little creative. Candela petitioned a church, who, somewhat amusingly, didn't feel comfortable letting us stay for liability reasons. We were getting a little desperate by 9pm, still having nowhere to stay, when we were saved by some friendly guys at a nearby fire station who let us stay with them for the night. Good thing too, because the first of the storms hit that night.
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| Straight shooter Candela messing around in the transformer/monkey head/old battery. |
The next day the weather cleared up long enough for an easy ride to Half Moon Bay. By nightfall though, the weather was closing in again, and as I pitched my tent I eyed the gathering clouds. Those same clouds then proceeded to dump copious amounts of
agua on the campground and almost blow it off the coastline. I spent most of the next 36hrs huddled in my tent, coming out occasionally to cook and eat, or head to a nearby Starbucks to warm up, dry out, and use the internets. On the second night of being bunkered down, things began to look a little serious. A ranger came around and said she was worried about the trees falling on my tent with the storm winds, I gave her my best "She'll be right, mate", but even I wasn't convinced as I nervously watched the water pool around and under my tent. When the tent was just about to flood, and I thought I would have to at least move it, or perhaps admit defeat and find a cheap hotel, all of a sudden the rain stopped, the wind dropped, and the storm was gone. I had outlasted the storm, but it had been a close thing.
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| The ocean, stirred up before the storms |
Soon after the rain had stopped, two more rather wet bike tourists rolled into camp, Jim and Erica, who were headed for Santa Cruz for Christmas. I had almost forgotten about Christmas. It was December 23rd. I had dinner with my new friends that night, and got some useful tips about bike touring. Mainly about the importance of beer. I didn't realise just how serious they were about that until the next day, Christmas Eve. I woke up to clear skies, and waved off first Jim and Erica, and then also Candela, who was turning back due to the terrible weather. I set off down the road, solo again, but with the worst of the weather behind me. The sun was perched high in the blue sky, and I had a gentle wind at my back. It was a good day to ride.
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