Windy Miller

Well I survived last night's storm, just. It really hammered down for most of the night and the wind kept howling. I took the advantage of an early morning lull in the rain to pack up my wet tent, wrap up warm and hit the road.

I suppose the Tehachapi area is famous for its wind given the literally thousands of wind turbines on the hill. That wind blew me for most of the morning as I hammered towards Palmdale. Only when it turned into a cross wind did I slow. The Sierras are well and truly left behind now, and the landscape is now chaparall, much drier, but still high. It could be much warmer too but it's become unseasonably cold and wet for my visit.

Stopping in Palmdale for internet and directions for tomorrow's route through LA, I got a coffee, sandwich, lots of questions but no supplies. Idiot. I thought here would be one last shop on the route out of town. There wasn't and stupidly I didn't turn round. Instead I made a decision on my full stomach rather than the empty one I have now.

The final leg of the day was a long one up and over a mountain pass, dropping into a remote campground. Remote enough to have no water!

So I am on serious water rations tonight. I had 2 bottles to get me to the next water source in LA itself, and after my dinner, a small pack of noodles and a sip of water, I have 1 and a third. I have a few peanuts left over but am afraid to eat them as they make you thirsty, don't they?

Anyway, I had a pathetic attempt at making another fire tonight. Aided by meths from my cooker I had a good start but a lack of logs let me down. Just as the sun went down over the hill, the wind picked up drastically blowing down the mountain. As I chased my rubbish flying down the campground I didn't notice my map take off and land on the fire, not so pathetic now that it couldn't burn the relevant section of the waterproof, tearproof, but not fireproof map.

Here's to a still day tomorrow, with few hills to dehydrate on, and clear sign posts to LA in the middle of these last desolate mountains. Wishful thinking I guess. Should be fun.

Tehachapi Loop, di loop

Like some boyhood designed trainset, the Tehachapi Loop is a stunning piece of ingenuity and engineering. In the 1870s the railroad company needed a route through the mountains from Bakersfield. The problem was that the steam trains could only climb a 3% gradient maximum. Near to the town of Tehachapi (where I am hiding from a storm in my tent tonight) the valley was too steep. The solution? A 1/4 mile section of track that looped 360 degrees over itself. This was just enough to gain the 50 feet or so in height to allow the train enough puff to get up the hill. Brilliant.

I puffed and wheezed up a few hills too myself today. I've developed a bit of a bronchial fluid on my chest, which makes me sound like I've been smoking too many Woodbines. Don't worry, I am very brave, I'll be ok.

It was a day of 5 climbs culminating in the road alongside the Tehachapi Loop, by far the most interesting and enjoyable, aided as it was by a nice tail wind. As I climbed the road approaching the loop I heard the classic US train whistle as a train approached. I put the hammer down (OK I sped up a little) and found myself at a lookout point just as the massive goods train with 4 (yes 4) engines, entered the loop. What chance that, I asked myself, feeling like the 8th luckiest man alive that minute, as I got my pictures for the album. 15 minutes later as I continued my climb however, I heard a whistle from a train just behind entering the loop, perhaps it wasn't that rare after all. Anyway, it was a great sight, and apparently it took 3000 Chinese labourers 3 years to build.

My arrival in Tehachapi itself was swift on a rare tail wind. Then, just as the rain started falling, I realised I had overshot my campground, and had a 4 mile slog back into the teeth of the driving rain and wind. My reward for persistence, rather than curling up by the side of the road, crying, and dying of exposure, was to be greeted at the campground with hot (well more like warm) showers - a feat of engineering to rival the Tehachapi Loop in my book.

Campground heaven

Arrived today in Camp Nelson, in Sequoia National Forest (again). Beautiful spot right by a river and for the first night whilst on my own, I made a camp fire. And a good one too.

California is really blessed with campgrounds, most of the ones I have stayed at have been publicly run. You get your own pitch, picnic table, grill fire, and fire pit.  Most nights I have made use of the picnic table only, to lay out all my shite, and cook up noodles - I've been so tired and focused on bed.

Today I was tired too bit the beauty of my pitch, the abundance chopped wood, a half read newspaper, and temperature approaching freezing made the difference. It took all my cub scout skills with old leaves, small twigs, pine needles, and newspaper to get it going but it's roaring now.

Today was a cold and slighty wet start as overnight rain cleared. Then a lovely ride past citrus fruit farming land into a beautiful cattle valley - hopefully the pictures still capture the light.

As I started the inevitable first stiff climb of the day, I saw and got overtaken by another cyclist! Shock horror. He was in lycra, looked to be in a hurry, and continued for a mile ahead, about 1/4 of the total climb then headed back down. He was about the 6th cyclist I've seen in 2 weeks. Lycra clad riders rarely stop to speak.

First 2000 ft climb of  day completed, I rolled into a small town for fuel. No I've not attached a moped engine, it's what I've come to see food as.

Then came a wonderful 4000 ft climb up to Camp Nelson. The sun came out, the wind was at my back, the road surface was good, the club sandwich was burning well in my stomach and the road really interesting with switchbacks and little sharp inc lines. I really enjoyed it, and I find it really cool to see myself writing that. I've found a climbing mode and speed with all my gear that really suits me. Weird.

Anyway, as I await the sun to go down tonight I have the company of this literally roaring fire and gentle white noise of the river to enjoy. No need for ear plugs tonight.

2 week limit on camping in California shocker

Would you believe it? There's a law in California that states you cannot camp under the stars in a tent for more than 14 days in succession.

Yes I've bailed out into a Lodge for the night. I drive a hard bargain and it turned out only twice as much as the campsites in town, so I couldn't turn it down.

I'm in Kernville, a cool rafting town on the River Kern. It's got everything of importance - I'm in the microbrewery as we speak enjoying the Sequoia Ale.

Today was bloody cold. The first climb was sweaty and I was happy to find a lodge at the top to eat pie and dry by the wood fire.

From there it was basically 40+ miles of descending 5000 ft. A few ups here and there, there was a headwind, and it was flippin cold, but I cannot complain.

The beer, food and Californian camping laws are all good.

Animal magic

Having left Yosemite and cracked on a hundred and fifty hilly miles down south in the last couple of days, I muse today on animals.

Firstly midgies, or mozzies - hence the picture of my post ride patented ankle defence solution. They just love me. I'm covered in bites despite my best attempts to avoid them - deet, covering up and occasional showering. 'Occasional' might be the problem here, drying sweat is driving them mad. 

Today I've seen, heard, and come in contact with a complete menagerie of animals... turkey vultures, other unidentified birds of prey, crows, swifts, birds that cheap a 3 note song (the first note higher than the second two), cows of all shapes and sizes, sheep, pigs or hogs, squirrels (lots), hares, peacocks in full show, penultimatley dogs, and finally flies. I'm sure I've missed a few, but the latter 2 are worth expanding on.

I've only been chased by 1 dog prior to today and that was some miniature terrier - still scary. Today was different, just as I passed a sign saying 'no trespassers - we shoot', a whole load of loose dogs came after me. Normally the passing of this English cyclist stimulates a barking or two from chained or fenced canines. This was a whole different ball game. Luckily, these dogs understood good old Anglo Saxon swearing and shouting and a shot of adrenaline helped me sprint off up the hill. I suspect the sign is redundant when you have four legged friends like that.

After the dogs came the relative safety of the flies, but blimey they are a pain. Attracted by profuse sweat no doubt, as I climbed almost continuously from 750 feet to 6500 feet today, these things were relentless. I must have looked like Linus from the Peanuts cartoon with a cloud of flies trailing behind.

The attraction of flies is a vicious circle too. As they are attracted, you try and swat them, using more energy, producing more sweat, attracting more flies. You can also try out running them. This works for a while, before they catch up. Once again you're sweatier and more attractive (to flies). Flies seem to attract flies too. As I passed some flies on the road, devouring some roadkill no doubt, they just jumped on with the others. I am sure the health dangers are minimal, but as they kept trying to land on my eyeballs, I swotted madly again and again, more sweat, ad nauseum. Eventually the cold altitude saw off the most (reader please add word for strong, dogged, etc, I can't think) of my friends and I was suddenly alone with the massive Sequoia trees in Kings Canyon National Park - I'd arrived.

Quick note on things other than flies you don't want to encounter when you are climbing on a loaded touring bike (ie slowly).... cattle grids - the ultimate poor road surface for 2 yards, overtaking cars when you are struggling to hold it straight, oncoming cars when you have wandered over to the wrong side of the road for a gentler incline (quiet roads only I promise), and of course unchained dogs. I suspect my list will grow.

Ok, noodles and bed for me.  Snow forecast for the next 2 days above 6000 feet. I'm gonna hotfoot across a couple of National Parks and get low. I'll still be high spiritually though - this is fun.

Cheers, James

Yo Yosemite

A different planet.

5 days after being left by Lisa and Richard in Lake Tahoe I freewheeled for 9 miles down into Yosemite Valley.  It's like nothing I've seen in my life. Deep glacial valleys, monster waterfalls, lush meadows, and endless granite cliffs really confront the senses.

I'm struggling to get pictures off my camera at the moment, so will post another blog later with some of the highlights of the Sierra Nevada I have experienced. For now the lower Yosemite Falls will have to do.

I've been in Yosemite now for nearly 4 days hanging out with climbers and hikers. I have more pictures of Yosemite than Ansel Adams himself (look him up), or the Japanese tourist sitting next to me.

Yosemite Valley itself has been brilliantly opened up to tourists from all backgrounds to enjoy, whilst maintaining some tranquility. Walk a few miles on a hike and you are nearly into the Wilderness. Hiking in cycling shoes has been tricky, but the other option was flip flops.

It's a privilege to have enjoyed Yosemite, but now my physical, mental and electrical batteries are recharged, I hit the road again tomorrow.

Pacific Coast Highway - Destination Santa Cruz

Santa Lucia Mountains ahead

I woke up on Day 5 of my Pacific Coast Route adventure to the most amazing day - a deep clear blue sky all around.  I set off for my 60 or so miles up the coast to Big Sur in a relaxed mood.  After stopping off to compete with the elephant seals in a burping and farting contest I approached the stretch of the route where the Santa Lucia Mountains reared up about 3000 ft and plunged straight into into the sea.

Road Closed!

As I mentioned last time, I had diligently checked for road closures the night before, and was given the all clear.  So when I was stopped by a passing motorists who told me that the road was closed ahead, of course I paid little attention, thinking blithely that they meant the temporary road closure north of Big Sur 60 miles away.  Then after about 30 miles I saw this....

  

(No), Road (Really Is) Closed

Of course, I continued to ignore the signs, but now with my confidence slightly diminished.  It was only when I saw this, that I really believed the road might actually be closed....

About turn
I had a good chat with the workers at the site of the rock slide.  They were pretty chuffed it was such a big one -with a big slide like this comes danger money and emergency over time! The main engineer and I chatted about walking down to the beach and over the slide, but as we did so, a whole load more rocks came cascading down the scree slope.  It became pretty obvious I would have to detour and make a trip over the mountain range, twice. Luckily the engineer made me a very generous offer of a lift back down the coast to the main route over the mountains.

(2 weeks later as I write this the road is still not open.  Apparently they have to transport all of the rock to first a transit site, and then onto a designated spot on the coast where they are allowed to 'feed' the Pacific ocean with the rock to continue the production of sand for the beaches)..

So the enforced revised route became...

Day 5 Part 1 - 30 miles from Hearst San Simeon Campground to Rock Slide 3 miles south of Gorda (A to B)

Day 5 Lift - 35 miles south or so to intersection of Route 1 and Route 46 (B to C)

Day 5 Part 2 - 55 hilly miles from intersection of Route 1 and Route 46 to Lake Naciemento Campground (C to D)

Day 6 - 58 miles to Kirk Creek Campground (D to E)

Day 7 - 27 miles to Big Sur Campground (E to F)

Day 8 - 81 miles to Downtown Santa Cruz (F to G)

View Larger Map

View from the first mountain climb

A 2000 ft climb from where the Caltrans engineer dropped me off was pretty spectacular, and tiring, giving me a view back to Morro Bay from whence I had come the day before.

The rest of the day was equally stunning through a wine growing region.  Unfortunately, by now I was off my map, and as well as being unforgettable for its beauty, it was also memorable for its endless winding turns and undulations.

Lake Naciemento the next morning
After a night in a campground by a reservoir populated by fishermen in speedboats, I woke up to fog all around.  After a short climb I was enjoying another blue bird day...

Fort Hunter Liggett
From the lake, the route headed north for a while and then west back towards the mountain range, and the coastline.  For about 20 miles the route passed through the most beautiful parkland scenery within the Fort Hunter Liggett training grounds. I stopped here for a quick pit stop, and did not get shot.

Climbing back over the Santa Lucia Mountains, again

800m high and hot.  I used the bathing facilities in several creeks on the way up.

My reward for hard work?

As I reached the top of the pass, I found $2 lying on the road, so I picked it up.  I was now both spiritually and financially rewarded.  I also nearly ran over a rattle snake 50m down the road - I didn't pick it up.

Descending

The 800m descent on my fully loaded touring bike was surprisingly fun, and quick - all that weight makes you accelerate pretty fast when you take the brakes off.  I couldn't help but overtake the few cars I came across.  Half way down I stopped to take in the view again, and heard the sound of a seal coming up 400m from the shore.

Kirk Creek - the best campground?
With my 100 mile detour complete, I arrived at Kirk Creek Campground, only about 20 miles up the coast from the rock slide.  I was met by the most hospitable campground host, and showed to the pitches he has reserved for bikers - the only remaining pitches on the whole campground.  It is an amazing spot, right on the coast, with gorgeous coastline all around, and a backdrop of the mountains.  To cap off a marvelous day, I had a great chat with some fellow touring cyclists, and the lovely Ardria and her mates in the next pitch even gave me a beer, fresh fruit, and some great route advice for the rest of my trip. I was rather giggly after the beer, ate my dinner and enjoyed the sunset.  Top memories.

The next morning...

My plan was a short trundle up the coast to Big Sur so I had a nice lie in.  Not a bad view from my tent  as I awaited the sea mist to burn off.

Bon voyage a pied
The 30 miles or so to the state park at Big Sur were very relaxed and enjoyable.  As I came down the last hill towards the campground.  I stopped at a lovely deli and had my first corn dog - basically a deep fried frankfurter. And it was so damn good I had to have 2.  And then because I had eaten them so quickly and had not allowed my stomach time to register the fact, I had a roast beef sandwich.  And to cap it off I swilled it all down with a litre of ice cold beer.  I felt quite full after that.  Whilst doing so, I met this rather eccentric Canadian guy who, in his retirement, was walking from Alaska to the southern tip of South America.  It was going to take him 4 years.  My own tour of the West Coast was put well into perspective.

Another perspective
Big Sur state park is well renowned for its Coastal Redwoods, the tallest trees in the Universe!  I had a great few hours walking round the parks and looking up into the canopy.  That night I met another couple of  pensioners doing the same route as me, but from North to South.  We shared stories, whiskey, and interesting chat about bike kit (I bet you can imagine).

Early morning dash

The next morning I was rudely awoken by my alarm at 5.45.  About 2 months before, a rock slide had taken half the road down into the sea about 15 miles north of Big Sur, and the repairs they were making meant that the road was closed from 8am until 8pm.  I struck the tent and decamped in about 45 minutes, and then sped up the coast to beat the closure.  I crossed Bixby Bridge, right by the roadworks, in good time, just as the sun made its first appearance for the day. 

Punnet o' strawbs

As I rode north from Bixby Bridge, I left the Santa Lucia mountains and the really dramatic coastline behind.  Carmel and Monterrey were a bit of a shock to the system, 5 days since seeing my last big town.  The terrain flattened and once again I passed through agricultural land.  I needed to pick up a present for Lisa and Richard, so I took the opportunity to buy them a Giant Artichoke.  (2 weeks later, as I dine with them for the last time we are still debating how you would actually cook one).  I also jammed down the juiciest, sweetest punnet of strawberries I have ever tasted and powered up the final stretch of coast into Santa Cruz. 

Pleasure point - the end of the road. For now.
So after about 80 miles, I arrived in Santa Cruz.  As I rode into town, chatting to a few people on the way, I picked up a really nice vibe.  Snat Cruz is the home to many a  cyclist, skate-boarder and of course surfer.

I was keen to ride all the way to Lisa and Richard's house, but when Lisa told me it was another 15 miles and a 1500 ft climb into the mountains, I accepted her kind offer of a lift.  As we drove up the steep 1 in 4 road up to her house, I realised that I had made the right decision.  As I looked out from Lisa and Richard's balcony over the hills with a beer, my tour up the Pacific Coast Highway ended with a suitably majestic view.  Bring on the San Francisco Bay area.

Pacific Coast Highway - Half time analysis

As the Thrills so rightly sang, 'Santa Cruz is not that far'.  And so I arrived at Lisa and Richard's on Monday night, 8 days after leaving LA.  Low batteries (mine and my phone's) and piss poor reception meant that I couldn't write any more blog entries whilst on the road, so here's the first of 2 retrospectives... 

Sit rep

After 4 days on the road I arrived at San Simeon State Park, the start of a really beautiful stretch of coastline, famous for the Santa Lucia mountain backdrop. (It's also famous for its rock slides, more on that next time).  Here's a breakdown of how I got there and a map for orientation...

Day 1 - 95 miles from Palos Verdes (LA) to Faria County Park Campground (A to B)

Day 2 - 88 miles to Lompoc River Campground (B to C)

Day 3 - 44 miles to Oceano Campground at Pismo State Beach (C to D)

Day 4 - 68 miles to San Simeon State Park Campground (D to E)

View Larger Map

A few random pictures, videos, observations and anecdotes follow....

Overnight stop at Faria County Park

There's nothing quite like dipping your toes in the ocean.  Especially after a day in hot shoes, and with badly sunburnt calf muscles.  End of Day 1.

Highway 101

Day 2 started with some lovely riding into Santa Barbara where I sampled my first (and sadly my only) triple egg omelette, and endless coffee refill.  SB had some great beaches, a good feel to it, and some amazing cycling paths through the city and out to the University.  I'd like to go back there one day.  

Heading north on Highway 101 (and Route 1) turned out to be less enjoyable however.  There's a section where you just cannot avoid a 2 lane highway for about 10 miles.  The hard shoulder is pretty wide and safe, but the weight of traffic makes it less than ideal touring.  However, with the headwind picking up again, I started to take solace in the passing of big double trailer trucks.  About 2 seconds after they pass you get the sensation of acceleration from the hole they create in the air, and you are pulled along by an invisible hand for a good distance, sadly for the block headwind to return moments later.

When the hard shoulder disappears, the passing of trucks, any vehicles in fact, is less enjoyable.  Particularly so through a narrow tunnel, climbing up a 1 in 10 hill.  Check this video footage I took. (Wait until the truck comes through, and sorry for the language).

First big climb
I spent a lot of time on my second day thinking about the physics of cycling - albeit a simplistic view. I hadn't quite reached a touring cycling nirvana by that point where the mind just wanders in a liberated fashion.  As I climbed the long hill out of the Highway 101 tunnel I seemed to be battling all of the forces at play in cycling:

• gravity acting on the huge mass I was carrying up the steep hill
• wind resistance from the strong headwind
• rolling resistance from the piss poor hard shoulder road surface
• the exhaustion of my energy reserves
• and, an ear worm caught in my mind - Madness, 'Night Boat to Cairo' (Why?)

No wonder I ended up doing about 4 mph up that hill for about an hour.  Still the view at the top was nice.

Handlebar palsy

By the time I arrived at Lompoc on the night of Day 2, the ring and little fingers in my right hand were tingling and almost numb.  Classic compression of the Ulnar nerve (I later diagnosed with help from Google) - handlebar palsy.  I planned a short day for Day 3 to allow rest and recuperation, and a little tweaking of my bike position.

Roadside fluids

Day 3 was only 44 miles to Pismo Beach.  I found myself in Guadalope, which I thought was in Mexico - it certainly felt like Mexico as I road through the town.  I enjoyed a lovely large breakfast burrito, large coke and large coffee.  Think I am turning all 'merican.

Pismo Beach creature

I had a lovely afternoon off the bike in Pismo Beach on Day 3 - it's endless.  I spent 2 hours walking towards the end of the beach where they allow dune buggies, and got nowhere near.  I did find an ancient creature of the sea though.  I also lifted my handlebars by 15mm, and moved my saddle forward by 10mm to relieve my Ulnar compression.

Whizzing along into San Luis Obispo

With half a day's rest in my legs, and no early morning headwind I managed to jump onto the back of Lance Armstrong (red Radioshack top in the lead) and his training gang for their morning ride, and got a tow into San Luis Obispo.  I picked up coffee, cake and comforting extra bar tape in this cool little town before continuing.

Road closed - hilly but beautiful

Coming out of San Luis Obispo I decided to follow a local cyclist past a 'road closed' sign on a cut through to Morro Bay.  2 miles of climbing later the road really was closed and we turned around and came back down.  It was worth it for the views.

Coastal mountains looming

Towards the end of Day 4, approaching San Simeon, the Santa Lucia mountains started looming up on the horizon.  Up to now I had been playing on slight inclines, these are the real deal.

San Simeon State Park - campsite heaven

Day 4 ended after 68 lovely miles.  I had finally got into the touring rhythm at last and was spending (almost) no time looking at the race stats on my GPS.  I had even moved on to Madness' 'Bed and Breakfast Man' as my ear worm.  The remote campsite at San Simeon State Park was a perfect match for my mood, even with it's enforced free-style outdoor showering.

All clear

Bizarrely, the campsite even had mobile phone reception. Via a phone call to Lisa in Santa Cruz, I diligently checked the California Highways website for information on the road ahead, a notorious section.  'All clear' was the reply.  By the time I rode 30 miles down the road the next day, it was anything but all clear....

On the road (and the bike path)

95 miles from Palos Verdes (LA) to Faria County Park

Test

So I'm finally on my way north after a great week with my old friends the Bracegirdles (not a nickname). LA was much as expected, a place of extremes, but amongst the madness I enjoyed great walks, a few cool rides, baseball (watching the Dodgers, watching my godaughter, and hitting imaginary home runs at the batting cages), much throwing of footballs, and of course plenty of burgers and beers. 7am Monday 11th April however, it was time to head for San Francisco...

7.30am I headed off. The delay was not due to tearful goodbyes, I swear Pete was welling up though, but was down to an unforeseen blood bath that morning on the patio. The scene was like something from CSI, but the cause much less worrying, Missile's bloody bloody tail. To cut a long story short and avoid a shaggy dog story, the previous night Missile (a Pointer) had decided to try and cut her own tail short and had nibbled it, cutting it badly. She's a furious tail wager too and blood was everywhere before we knew it. The next morning I discovered her bandage had not worked when I stepped outside to get on my bike. I managed to wash most of the blood off, but if I get stopped by the Police I will need a good alibi.

Anyway, off I rode eventually, fully laden for the first time, and straight down a 20% descent. At the previous night's weigh-in the bike and panniers came to 87 lbs. I think about 30 of that is the unloaded bike and the other 57 lbs is tent, sleeping bag, food, clothes, electronical equipment, chargers, maps, book etc. And I thought I had been frugal! Time will identify redundant baggage. Luckily my Long Haul Trucker (LHT or Trucker) handled beautifully and even stopped when asked to do so at the Stop sign at the bottom. Phew.

Progress was swift at first across LA bay, on the pan flat 20 mile bike path with a slight helping tail wind. Venice beach was just waking as I peddled past, quite a sight - them and me I'm sure.

The next stretch I was dreading. The route moves onto a 2 or 3 lane (both directions) highway for about 10 miles past Malibu. Luckily, for all of it there's either a bike lane, or hard shoulder. The riding was pretty good surprisingly as I sped past some pretty swanky back doors to houses fronting the Pacific ocean.

Luckily the road quietened and narrowed after that, but I hit my first real climb. Within about 50 yards I was in bottom gear, of 27! It's been nearly 2 years since I've done fully loaded touring and I had forgotten the feeling of just grinding it out, lifting all that weight against gravity. Some sweat.

I was now looking for a breakfast stop, but despite this being a coastal route, much of this part has no access to the coast. It wasn't until Paradise Cove, an omen, that I was offered my breakfast table. 42 miles, in about 3 hours. Chuffed I was as I sat on the beach munching a beef sandwich (thanks Suzi), half a packet of biscuits and a banana.

Then it got tough. A beautiful stretch of proper Pacific coastline introduced me to the prevailing northerly wind that must pick up around lunchtime. I then dropped into a flat farming stretch around Oxnar that offered me no respite with a block head wind. Lots of Mexican workers here picking the crops, then literally running back to the tractor to drop off and then running back to their slot. Looked like tough work, and I felt a little less sorry for myself.

I eventually ran out of energy in Ventura and succumbed to my first McDonald's, sorry. It was the only restaurant in sight, had a bike stand outside, and I was by now desperate for lunch (it was about 3!).

Finally my destination was within striking distance, and the route followed the beautiful coast again all the way to Faria County Campground, right on the beach.

I put my tent up immediately, good discipline I intend to stick with, and then sat on a rocky headland contemplating my first day on the Pacific Coast Route. It was a weird day of contrasts, but great fun, and offered me a strong taste of what's to come... beautiful coastline, tough climbs (well any climb is tough with the equivalent of a small person onboard), headwinds (I knew this before starting out but chose to ignore it), and good times.

Oodles of noodles for supper, shower, and lights out at 8.30!

A steed is born

First things first, the bike. No soul searching, life affirming experiences, or major revelations today. I'm on a flight above the Atlantic to see the Bracegirdles, McCracken and other weirdos in California. I have a newly built bike stowed down below as my trusted steed, and it seemed  appropriate to pay it due respect with the first entry on this blog.

2 pictures should tell the story - a before and after. The first shows my old faithful Argos (Racing Cycles of Bristol, not catalogue retailer of High St) looking slightly concerned about its impending fate. The burly Surly Long Haul Trucker stands in the foreground in anticipation of a life in the Perrott stable.

Why another bike I hear (some of) you ask? Well it's a tale of different steel tubing, and a riveting one. (Riveting. Steel. See what I've done there?) Whippy Reynolds 531 vs industrial grade Cromoly 4130 in the Long Haul Trucker. For fully laden west coast coastin a sturdy tank is required, so a frame basically made of scaff poles (albeit pretty ones) is the equine breed of choice.

Picture 2 shows the 'after'. The Argos is stripped back, to make a glorious Audax comeback one day, and the Trucker is born, ready to be saddled up, laden and ridden into the sunset.



I loved the process of building the Trucker. I do a fair bit of fiddling with my bikes, friends' bikes and Bristol Bike Project bikes now, but there's nothing quite like starting with a bare frame and creating your own ride. Out on Lime Road for the first time she is as steady and predictable as a mature shire horse. Giddeeup!

I must say a big thank you to Mike and the boys at Strada Cycles in Bristol. The Trucker was a bit of a last minute decision - I only had 2 months to plan this trip! Strada had the frame at the shop for me within a couple of days, no qualms, dramas, worries.

On the day of the build, I think I broke the record for the number of trips to a bike shop. Good thing it's just up the road. Mike and the Strada boys sorted me out with hangers, noodles, outers, inners, and a quick re-dish thrown in for good measure! Support your Local Bike Shop if you can.

Before the guy sitting next to me wakes up to regale me of more tales of LA excess, a quick thank you to my mum. She generously gave my house a good spring clean yesterday, before approaching super-mum status by driving me to the airport. I think she appreciated the new hoover (£33 from Currys, a thoroughly recommended bargain) more than the Trucker however.

James