conclusion

I'm having a hard time adjusting to the real world. I lost my debit card, left my credit card at the bar, hit something with my car, and sleep most of the day. My three weeks on the road helped me understand how valuable diversity in routine is. In touring, each day is made up of drastically different experiences, places, and people. But each day is also the same: Wake up. Oatmeal. Ride. Eat. Ride. Ramen Noodles. Camp. Sleep. The difference is the focus.

Such is life. We enjoy routine and are accustomed to it because we become good at it. After the first week I could set up and break down camp in an instant. I could ride up hills with 60+ pounds of life without much strain. I could be happy not talking to anyone, and smiling at everything. Although I established a routine, it was filled with vast diversity making it addicting and lively. If I had the time and resources I would keep riding all the way tip of South America. My goal now is to recreate this diversity in real world routine. I believe it is possible. Boston is a massive city.

People are key. Of everything I experienced, the people were most worthwhile.

Matt from Portland, his brother Greg, and buddy Jeremy were the first of my short relationships. I climbed a long hill with Greg. We marveled at the beauty of touring: the slow appreciation of roads, of bikes, of hills, and of nature. Matt and I talked about the subtleties of human powered adventuring and of the good found in bad things like "going over the high side." He's still out there riding somewhere on the coast, taking his time to appreciate and comprehend, meeting new people and inevitably contrasting them from our relationship.

Jefferson and Jarus Cox. The immensely interesting and fun loving brothers from DC. Different from Matt and his crew but still out for adventure in the short time off between tasks of ruling the world. I actually met them on several occasions as our paths crossed on the single path down the coast. They've made it to San Diego by now.

The European Girls. One taking the summer off and touring, like she does every summer. The other riding her bike to new work in New Zealand.

Karli and TramAhn. We rode together for a few days while my joints remembered how to function again. Santa Cruz was as nice as they foreshadowed. I shared the most scenic rides of the trip with them, likely because we rode slowly with many breaks.

A man walked up to me in camp outside of Brookings. I was sure he was a bum. His sun warmed skin and bleached hair complimented the tattered clothing and bare feet. Once he opened his mouth it was apparent that I was wrong. He had a friendly demeanor and eloquent disposition that is only found in the competent and educated. He gave me his spare fuel and explained his month long vacation, walking down the Oregon coast on the crest of the ocean where the land turns into sand. He was an elementary school teacher from Colorado.

California brought a new mood and new people. Adam and Ben ushered me to San Francisco. They were light hearted and heavy legged. The riding was much more enjoyable after I met them. Paces were fast and meals were long. I laughed a lot more.

The Canadians. Living the environmental dream and prospering. At sunset across a picnic table we discussed health care and the reasons it floats in its punctured ship.

I camped with recumbent Gary for three days. We didn't ride together because our paces differed but always met up at camp. He epitomized the alternative type of tourist. The retired and experienced. On my last morning I passed his bike outside a Mexican restaurant. I stopped in to share a last conversation and wished him luck on his trip to the border.

I rode with a high school economics teacher from Oregon for two hours. In the short time we designed an alternative approach to teaching economics at that early introduction so vital to the acceptance of the approach. I left him at the parking lot of a Walmart.

There were dozens unnamed faces I spoke with, shared meals with, shared thoughts. The old men selling fresh local food on the side of the highways. The park rangers, always loving their career like I hope to love mine. The once vibrant women working the bars, pouring the ale's and knowing that their lives are in that moment--not in the plans we talk about, or in the lives we wish we had.

And now back in Arizona, I prepare to leave again. It was almost an effort seeing my old friends for a last time before the move. Goodbye's and promises to keep in touch, plans to meet again. Who knows what plans will unfold and which were acts of gratitude or courtesy. As I drove away from the bar tonight I did my best to reflect on the reasons I left on my trip down the coast--and the many more guiding me to Boston--rather than lamenting on the lost moments of another minute or hour among them.

Being by the Pacific was made memorable by the people; living, learning, loving in Tempe was just the same. Thank you for your contribution.

-niko (by town lake)

Picture Addendum - Mid to So

Days 16 to 21

Picture Addendum - NorCal

Days 9 to 15

Picture Addendum - OR

Days 3 to 9

Picture Addendum - WA

Here's Days 1, 2, and half of 3.

day 21 - lompoc then chandler

44 miles today. With each hill I told myself it was the last, only to be enthralled by another in the close distance. I reached my aunt's house north of Santa Barbara: the end of my trip. I rode fast and alone and made it there by lunchtime finally feeling done--not because I felt weak, but because I felt strong. Tired, but strong.

Aunt Anna made up a climatic lunch that was the perfect conclusion to the 1,400 miles and three weeks. Dale came home, Lisa and Danilo arrived and we talked about the trip/cycling/life for some time. It was nice to shower between real walls with variable temperature control, and use shampoo, and stretch on carpet, and not eat like it was my last, and talk with people who know me. Dinner in LA's famous Tommy's Burgers and unsuccessfully avoided bums. I think we all had a hard time staying awake driving home. Just made it in around 4am.

I close my eyes and feel the gentle support of a mattress. I no longer hear the wind brush through the trees. The sounds of outdoors are motors. My window is glass, not mesh, and it suggests a rising sun, not a setting.

-niko (by the desert and farms)

...pictures to come.

day 20 - oceano

60 miles today. Easy miles. I spent my time and did all of the scenic side trips. Moonstone Beach. Cambria. Cayucos. Morrow Rock. San Luis Obispo Mission. Sat around at Trader Joe's and drank a quart of carrot juice. Walked the dunes to the beach and finished my book. As I read the left page I burried my left foot. And vice versa. The sand was fine and clean and got everywhere. A flock of dirty birds perched in the sand near by and watched me--and didn't watch me. I considered the possibility or desirability of running into them to disturb their sunset. Maybe they though of doing the same to me.
I watched my shoes fill with sand as I walked back to camp and did not care. It is my last night.
-niko (by pismo beach)

day 19 - san simeon

70 miles today. The first forty had four near thousand foot climbs separated by endless steep rollers. I convinced myself that I enjoy climbing. This made the day less painful. I actually climbed really fast and went through the last twenty miles of flats in an hour. Felt like I was chasing someone or someone was chasing me. I guess I'm feeling good. I flew past a beach crowded with elephant seals. I thought they looked more like hippos without limbs struggling to walk.
I got to San Simeon at two--way earlier than normal. So I went to the beach and did a bit of nothing. The camp site was littered with hippie walkers, singing and smoking, and retired recumbent riders. I went to sleep at 630 and woke up at 830 this morning.
-niko (by the pacific)

day 18 - big sur

80 miles today. I rode through strawberry farms. The air adapted the odor and made my mouth leak. I found myself staring at my legs thinking they look like x-mas hams: plump, burnt, and peeling. Then I rode off the road into some brush. I ate a bananna and stopped day dreaming. Broke a rear, drive-side spoke on my way into Seaside. The shop there charged me way too much to fix it and made an effort to avoid unnecessary conversation.

Toured the Monterey Peninsula and stopped for some fish n chips. Monterey had soft waves and clear tide pools off the cliffs of the shoreline. Then I climbed up into the Carmel Highlands and the fog came. The guy at the outdoors shop in Big Sur put it best. "This place has dense fog that travels in clumps." The fog banks are thick and can instantly reduce clarity, only to reveal it again in the next instant.

Sigur Rós made the day intense. Imagine climbing a steep grade through fog, heart rate pulling at your chest, heavy melody pushing at your ears. Top grade stimulating entertainment.

I'm hanging between Redwoods in my hammock; my head is hanging between thoughts of how my life became so good.

-niko (by the pacific)

day 17 - santa cruz

99 miles today. My legs really gave up on getting upset. They just feel the same all day. It took me a ten miles and and hour to find my way out of the city. Heavy head wind for the first fifty.
Near Half Moon Bay a group of road racers from Palo Alto caught me and I sat in. We went winding through local hiking trails and some secret back roads. It was nice drafting at 20+ for a while. One of them (Ruth) is actually good friends with Bikram Pat from asuctc! Small world.
I was falling into a mental slump coming into Santa Cruz when a commuter caught me. He let me hold his wheel at a fast pace into town.
Although I'm riding solo again I'm never really alone. There is always someone to ride with.
- niko (by capitola beach)

day 16 - rest

0 miles today. I should correct myself, I've walked a couple around the city. Rest day off the bike in honor of Bastille. I followed crowds through the streets and over hills. Think I got a good glimps of tourist San Francisco. I even managed to feel lost for a while. But on a trip like this that feeling never lasts long and no longer warrants alarm or concern, just subtle curiosity.

Bought a new book as I've lost my mood for Rand. Bukowski should bring some much needed diversity.

901 Columbus Café has two dollar drafts till ten. I'd say that's a great find.

- niko (by telegraph hill)

day 15 - san francisco

71 miles today. I am in a bed between the solid walls of my aunt's
condo looking out into the bay. Although this rest is physically
needed, it is a touch daunting knowing that I won't be on the bike
tomorrow.

We all rode together: Adam, Ben, and our Canadian friends. In the
morning we pushed fast intervals through the winding valleys. Lunch in
Point Reyes then a confusing path up to the bridge. Crossing the
Golden Gate was surreal and marked the end of the tour for all but me.
Adam's parents picked us up and provided a hip meal in Haight
Ashbury(?). Then they dropped me here.

In the last two weeks I've visited numerous remote places, barren
roads, empty campground, hopeless towns. Yet for some reason I never
felt alone until now--surrounded by humans and human achievement in
one of our best cities. It is likely because of the glimpse of real
world it remedies. My life on the road is no life one can physically
or mentally sustain. He can only wish to.

- niko (by sf bay)

day 14 - sonoma coast

68 miles today. It was one of leisure and the last night for my good friends Adam and Ben. We'll ride over the Golden Gate tomorrow where their respective families will meet them.
This morning we were distracted by a roadside antique sale that bolstered a vintage Raliegh road bike--rusty, worn, neglected, $25. It even included a new saddle to replace the old "crusty one" that happened to be a Brooks. I offered to install the new saddle and rode away Brooks in hand for 5 dollars. It'll need some serious restorative love to make it ride ready.

We rode fast but with frequent stops, even a nap in a meadow at the summit of a climb. More spectacular views today and steep rollers that ensured the use of the entire gear spectrum.
The stars are blinding. Even those typically struck with cowardice join in the twilight over Bodega. It is the first time I have seen them on this trip since nights are early and typically clouded. However, dusk has been creeping earlier as I have been creeping south.

Many cyclists at the Bodega Dunes camp tonight making for good company and a few laughs. Tents are perched on the soft sand and whispers of waves can be deciphered through the breeze.

-niko (by bodega bay)

day 13 - manchester

57 miles today. There are aspects of cycling that draw us to the habit: The sacred types of roads where bikes pass cars. A tail wind that makes movement seem motionless, effortless, and silent--save the gentle churn of the chain and sizzle of tires punishing pavement. The speed of travel that allows you to see so much more and offers time to appreciate and evaluate. The type of descents that mold bike and body while mind jumps between tasks of processing adrenaline, navigation, and marveling the leg-powered machine that makes it possible. The types of ascents that parallel a greatest sense of accomplishment and push pain into pleasure into satisfaction. And the joy of looking into the subtle grin of comrade cyclists experiencing these aspects and knowing that nothing needs to be said to express the land we just rode over and the motives behind such endeavors.

Today was one of those days.

-Niko (by point arena)

day 12 - westport

67 miles today. The sun just set over heavy breathing waves and the air temperature dropped as a light fog rolled in. We were treated at the end of the day with a long descent winding through redwoods concluding at a lookout over a much different Pacific than up north. It had been two days since we went inland when the ocean was grey and brown. Now it is too clear and bright blue with osprey diving for dinner and sea lions bathing in the sun. Ben and I went for a swim. The perfect finally to the hardest day of the trip. I felt strong and rode fast up hills to keep my cadence high--regardless of any opposition in my heart or lungs. It felt good, like racing.

We camped with a Canadian couple that we'd all met on separate occasions. After dinner we chatted casually and the conversation found way to healthcare. I enjoy talking with those who work in the industries that economic policy so heavily, and sometimes sneakily, affects. With my knife I carved a little bit of float into the fixed cleats I bought yesterday (the shop only had the no float cleats).

Taking an easier day tomorrow as a reward for the pain I've omitted from today's venture.

-niko (by the pacific)