Although it's been over a year now since I concluded my cycling trip in the western part of the USA, I can still recall the last day as if it was yesterday. From waking up in Carpinteria and having a quick breakfast of a chocolate drink with a muffin at the local mini-mart to a soft-serve cone at the Venice Macdonalds and settling down on a walkway off Washington Boulevard, there were an action packed 14 hours of summer and many miles of sun and surf to enjoy.

At first there was the purpose built cycleway between Carpinteria and Ventura, which squentially filled with joggers, morning walkers, recreational cyclist and ended in a carpark of 100+ RVs. Well, I stopped counting after 100 and the RVs still stretched beyond the bend. The cycleway turned under the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) and soon passed a camping ground. This was a nice spot for a break. Some more chocolate and a sandwich later and downtown Ventura awaited me. But a sharp right put paid to any window shopping for the day. Mike, at Carpinteria the night before, mentioned a fair at Ventura. And that is where I ended up. The structures and equipment was set up on the left of the road. The mobile living quarters in the carpark on the right. For the second time this morning, I had the pleasure of riding through an awakening population of holidaying summer creatures.

A little further on was the Ventura harbor. After getting lost in the suburban landscape to the recreational facilities and riding the footpaths of the local park, I had the audacity to do a sudoku in the local newspaper, only to place it back in the pile two copies from the top. Someone would have discovered that their local news was decidedly second hand. A quick bite at lunchtime and moving on past the neighorhood air force base. I took some pictures of the Sidewinder and Hellraiser missiles, among others, exhibited just off the freeway out of town. Luckily the freeway became a local road in a short distance so that I could keep the wet blue stuff close to my right side.

Malibu. If any name says Sun, Sand and Surf, it surely is this. The surf was evident almost immediately. The four foot waves of Santa Monica seemed laughable at the breakers here. The road was full of surfboards on roof racks too. And then there was the road sign, Welcome to Malibu, 27 miles of Beach. I had planned to stay another night at a camping ground, but getting so close to Santa Monica, the familiar surroundings of the hostel and the 99 cent store spurred me on to make this the last leg of the trip. Even though it was getting late and darkness wasn't far off, my legs felt fine. Thoughts of finding Charlie Sheen's place and the set of Two and a Half Men, or the lavish mansion of Robert Downey Jr's Iron Man ... forget it man, they are just works of fiction.

At last came the turnoff to the Getty Villa. Santa Monica's pier came shortly into view, out of the haze of the sea mist. Or was it the darkness of the sunglasses with a setting sun? Soon the PCH would run into the Santa Monica Freeway and it would be time for me stop. Unfortunately the hostel was booked out for the weekend and I'd have to wait till the Monday to get a bed. A few days to unwind. Shower at the beach, clean the bike with some rags behind the library, enjoy the people at the tourist shops. About a week to get through to catch the plane back to New Zealand. The trip is over. If ever I earned an icecream, it sure is the one on the evening of the last day on the road.

Peace Out :)
Arnie.

Hello All :)

At the last entry I just left Sarah and Kristine at Refugio State Park. The day provided favorable conditions and I made good time getting to Goleta, to the west of Santa Barbara. After a decent lunch from a 7-eleven it was time to find a bike shop to buy my third rear tyre (ed: stupid spelling wizard doesn't speak english). The ride through Goleta was pleasant and the weather was much more like summer than on any other part of the trip sofar. In the desert you can expect it to be hot, at altitude you can expect it to change, but here at the coast it really felt like a holiday and a celebration. The Santa Barbara urban area even had three cycle routes marked out, the coastal, mid-town or the foothills route. I stuck to the mid-town one for most of the way, but I would probably take the coastal route as much as possible next time around. Not that I'm planning a next time, but you never know. There's already been so many choices on this trip and so many sights still to see that one lifetime may not be enough.

Traveling along the designated cycle route I did come across a local commuter, also on a bike, who was kind enough to lead for a few miles and then give me a few landmarks to pass. Suddenly I found myself at the waterfront and had an amazing view of the ocean, the harbor and the boats and all the crowd on the beach enjoying the afternoon sun. Then it struck me that for the most part down the Californian coast, I hardly saw any human activity on the water. But here in Santa Barbara it felt only natural that the marine environment was part of the modern human race.

Uplifted from the afternoon scene, I rambled on. East, towards Los Angeles. The next town I rode through happened to be Carpinteria, where I was challenged by the restored tram's driver to a race. He said he'd beat me on speed, though I'm sure I'd have had him on distance. Those electric tourist boxes on wheels are not known for their trophy haul, but they sure are a winner in the snapshot stakes. Anyway, I decided to admit defeat when a Foster's Freeze sign caught my eye. And after a delicious cold treat to rival any Dairy Queen order, it was time to find a spot to stay the night. Luckily the Carpinteria State Park was only a turn to the right, across the railway tracks and round the bend in the road. I almost expected to see Kyle and Jeremy again at the Hike and Bike section, but instead there were two others there instead.

Mike and Jay were two oldtimers who just happened to be at Carpinteria State Park at the same time as me. Both arrived here at their own leisure and both had their own travel plans to get ahead. Both were well prepared for a prolonged stay in the outdoors, in fact Mike had lived out of his bike & trailer for a few years now. Mike also proved to be the more sociable of the two and the more intellectual. We ended up talking for a few hours over a pot of tea that he brewed, as the trains (mainly Amtrak trains) passed by.

Thus I learned a bit about just about everything in life. Mike had an interest in quantum physics and the effect that the concept of time has on an individual in different parts of the universe. Some might see this as a variation on the Theory of Relativity and they would be right. He also enlightened me on the possibility of a tiny black hole being formed by the Large Hadron Collider (LHC). Some conspiracy adherents have predicted that the black hole would mean the end of the universe, but when you come to think of colliding particles and man-made experiments, if this was to happen then it would have happened with Lord Ernest Rutherford's cloud chambers too. Well, guess what, the universe still exists and I'm still writing ...

Another interesting topic that came up was the American conquest by the Europeans. Mike mentioned that those races who honor their dead are much harder to conquer than those who don't. This lead to an evaluation of history and attitude to life through the ages. Mike also told me how he once faced a slow death in the desert due to a hip injury. Far from any town or city, he either had to move or perish. I guess he chose to move. A wise choice, though he didn't think it was wise to choose when there is no alternative worth considering. And so the night passed along, almost until midnight. Mike impressed on me to visit the fairgrounds at Ventura, which I was scheduled to pass the next morning. He was traveling west and north, hoping to get to Refugio State Park the next day. By the looks of things he did about half of my distances each day, though he had the luxury of not worrying about airplanes to catch.

Until next time,
:)
Arnie.

This entry is about a pair of Californian boys, as alluded to a couple of entries ago, and a pair of Canadian girls, both chiropractors with their own blog and all of us riding and camping at similar places. The boys are Kyle and Jeremy. The girls are Sarah and Kristine. Both pairs were following the same cycling tour guide and planner. While I stayed at Limekiln State Park camping grounds, Kyle and Jeremy were supposed to stay at the next camping grounds. These were closed though due to the recent wildfires and were now used by firefighters and volunteers. So the boys ended up at the camping grounds after that. Ironically, the Wheeled Migration group did stay at the closed camping grounds after they asked the people in charge there. Oh well, such is life.

The next morning I was up and riding before either of these other pairs. Mind you, I had not met Sarah and Kristine yet. I ended up leapfrogging them to Gordia, where I had breakfast at the Whale Watchers Cafe. This was the day that I received a lot of enjoyment from the Wheeled Migration group, please see the previous entry for more details. At the end of the day's ride, I was tired, yet exhilarated from riding legally on a freeway. At last I found Morro Bay State Park and parted happily with five dollars for a Hike and Bike camping spot. This is where I was greeted by Kyle, or was it Jeremy, either way it was a familiar voice. They were sitting at a table in semi-darkness between the trees. But a stunning brunette drew all of my attention away to the table to the left of Kyle and Jeremy. Sarah also said hello and was interested to learn the limited information that the boys had about my cycling exploits so far. And then Kristine showed up.

It was a very lively half hour busy with full on chatting and socializing between the five of us and all tiredness was forgotten until the fullness of the night arrived. Sarah and Kristine were the first ones up and away in the morning. I had a cold shower as the coin machine didn't work, but I was too lazy to find one that did. With the help of the maps from the previous night it was easy to get the day's ride started. Breakfast came at Los Osos. The rest of the day was another typically lonesome ride further south. Some of it inland, some of it along the coast.
Pismo Beach, Arroyo Grande, where I surpassed the 3500 mile mark, Guadalupe and Orcutt, all of them smallish towns, but with a wealth of vistas and a lot of fruit and vegetable land in between. Next up was the Vandenberg Air Force Base and the space observatories before the day concluded at Lompoc.

A friendly gas station attendant advised me to stay the night at River Park. About half a mile before getting their I had my third puncture though. Thus I arrived at the campground walking the bike. And yet again that familiar voice greeting me as I was about to drop my sorry ass on the ground. And Kyle and Jeremy and Sarah and Kristine were all laughing at the scene I inadvertently portrayed. To be fair they did help me get the tube patched and looked after my backpack while I took off in the dark backtracking to a gas station with a working air hose. Back at River Park there was another middle aged couple who were also riding the same route along the coast. I forgot their names by now and even their nationality unfortunately. Having a notebook on you is all good and well, but the brain needs to engage occasionally to use it.

The next morning saw another staggered start. Each of the groups, if I could constitute a group on my own, took off at different times. It was the last time I was to see Kyle and Jeremy that morning in Lompoc. I hope they finished their trip in good time and in even better spirits. Sarah and Kristine though had breakfast along the road. And even more cyclists were spotted traveling the same route. This time a couple of elderly Europeans. Danish I think they were. Or German. They live in California and do the coastal route annually. Of course these elderly gents had to take their breaks just before I arrived and they took off just as I caught up. ever mind, as long as I could keep moving. Sarah and Kristine were nice company on the road for a while until the first serious incline. Then they left me for dead. Sucks to be traveling on a slow mountain bike with the heaviest load in living memory. But I caught up with them at a rest stop at Gaviota. Their tourist guide mentioned a hot springs and some other (car) travelers also inquired about this point of interest, but even though the girls went back to find it, the hot springs must have dried up and the track head overgrown. The point of interest was just that, a point on a map, relegated to the pages of history now.

Sarah and Kristine would pass me one more time along the coast, traveling east more than south. We were not far from Santa Barbara now and they decided that Refugio State Park would be far enough for them, as they were ahead of their schedule. Kristine was all excited at the prospect of attending a friend's wedding while Sarah would go back to work. Kristine suffered from loss of feeling in her fingers due to cycling, a condition that mildly affects me too, but due to both the girls being chiropractors they were able to help each other recover when they needed. That and their youthful disposition would have helped them get ahead of their schedule. We exchanged blog addresses at Refugio State Park and that would be our last goodbye also. Kyle and Jeremy would be well ahead of us all by now. The couple from River Park also dropped by at Refugio State Park for a bit, intending to do touristy things.

Although the day was not over yet, what else remained to be talked about will need to hold for the next blog entry.

Have a nice day all :)

I was up before anyone else at Limekiln camping grounds. At a guess it must have been around 5am or so. It was still dark and I still could not tell where the noises were coming from or what they belonged to. It didn't matter anyway. I was out of there and back on the road. For the first hour in total darkness, there was a grand total of zero other road users. In the next hour there were only a couple of work trucks passing by in either direction. I had breakfast at the Whale Watcher Cafe at Gorda. It was still a bit expensive, but with only a few places spread out along the coast, it was a case of "beggars can't be choosers". The weather was no better than the day before, but at least the visibility was good enough to see a pod of grey whales passing through. There were also a few places with seals to be seen from various vantage points and I even spotted (actually I nearly rode over) a snake on the shoulder of the road. My first live snake, or the first that I will remember for the rest of my life. I might have seen a snake before, when I was still living in Holland (Driebergen, near Utrecht), but I would have been only 6 or 7 years old back then.

As the morning progressed I came to pass a few other cyclists from an organised group, and in turn some of the group passed me. They were on a 10 day trip from north of San Francisco going to San Luis Obispo, as I mentioned in my previous entry. Their plan was to attend a 3 day conference on better and greener living. Not surprisingly they had a website called wheeled migration. The stops they had planned on the way, for this day, included a brunch of sandwiches and fruit. Further on they had lunch at a cafe at San Simeon. Then they split up for various sightseeing divulsions and reunited later that night at Morro Bay. I stuck with them for some very pleasant company and conversations for most of the day. I even got a library visit and a blog update done at Cambria, which is a very scenic town aimed at tourists and lifestyle.

So evening approached on this pleasant and sunny day. Cayucas, just north of Morro Bay, heralded the return to civilization. And Freeways. But as luck would have it, most of the freeway stretches here allowed cyclists to use the wide shoulders. At least on the parts where there were no business loops or bypasses. So at last I could travel on a freeway legally. The big question now was to travel to the next town or look for a place for the night. I wasn't tired yet at this stage, but it had been a long day and I already had one session of riding in the dark. Luckily Morro Bay State Park was not far off the main road and they have this thing called "Hike and Bike" overnight tariff of US$5 for a single tourist. A steal really, considering the facilities are slightly better than the average camping grounds. Then again, hot showers cost extra, at a quarter per 2 minutes (I think).

The friendly state park clerk at the gate showed me where to go and who is there to greet me when I find my spot? Why, it's Kyle and Jeremy again. But this time they had company. I got a big "hi" from Sarah Hughes, a Canadian chiropractor from Toronto. And a bit later I get to meet her companion, Kristine, also from Toronto. It turned out that Sarah and Kristine have been leapfrogging with Kyle and Jeremy all the way from Vancouver down to Morro Bay and they will probably carry this on for a few more days yet. Same bike trip, same paper guide, same enjoyment from it all.

Keep on Truckin'
Arnie.

The road down the coast can be lonesome at times and it can be full of life with no warning. It was very winding and very hilly, a combination that made for slow cycling. Yet it didn't feel like I was wasting time or missing out on anything. At this point in California, the coast was just like it was in Oregon, with a slight improvement in visibility. There were opportunities for a few photos to be taken, a bit of smalltalk with fellow travelers at rest stops and scenic outlooks, and soon enough Big Sur was within reach. There were some other cyclists passing through Big Sur, most of them going in the same direction as me - south. A group of scouts going to Disneyland, a few fit and able young men going to a conference in San Luis Obispo and a couple of Californian boys, who had some puncture problems which forced them back to Monterey by bus before they could continue their trip on their own power.

Big Sur was also the only place where I rode through the scarred remains of the large scale wildfires. Most of the campgrounds in the area were closed or being used by the firefighters and the road had only recently reopened. Yes, one of the main thoroughfares of the state was actually closed for three weeks while the fires were out of control. It felt like all the travelers were passing through this town. All there is to do is connected to beach or bush, or both. Maybe in another time it would have been different. Maybe in another year it will present a completely different face. But at this time it just felt peaceful after all the drama that took place here.

I met up with Kyle and Jeremy again a bit further south. They are the Californian boys that I mentioned above. They have a paper guide on a coastal route, the way that other cycling enthusiasts mapped out ages ago and been tread (or pedaled) by countless others. We had a nice chat at Lucia, where the locals couldn't shut up and the prices were sky high. There were some guys from the local monastery hanging loose until nightfall, some travelers looking for a meal and even a family still driving to get to Six Flags. The father was surprised that Six Flags was nowhere near PCH or the 101, but after I got my map out and traced a route just off the I-5, he seemed much surer of the way ahead that night. It was still going to take 4+ hours to get there, but they would have had all of the next day to enjoy it.

So I left Lucia with a reasonably filled tummy and totally in the dark, literally, as the sun had set and the night did not offer any moonlight. The first campgrounds I passed was Limekiln. It was full, or so the sign said, but there is always room for a cyclist. Kyle and Jeremy were aiming for the next campgrounds, so I didn't expect to find them here. I didn't expect to see the campground so chocka as the sign said, it was absolutely full. The driveway turned off the road and back under the bridge. The camp headquarters were built next to a stream, with bridges just past and to the left of it. I had to travel the length of the camp and exit the other side, onto the beach. Strange animal noises warned me not to go too far. Hearing the waves crashing on the sand would have sent the same message to my weary brain. Sleep came swiftly.

---

There's only one way - to get to LA
It's all the rage - P-C-H

Hello Peoples

After we woke up at Curry Camp at Yosemite, Phil, Chuck, Barbara and me needed to sort out where we were to go that day. It was Sunday now and soon the business of everyday living would consume us once again. Phil knew a good place at Groveland where we could meet, so he took me along there while Chuck & Barbara were not far behind. Chuck showed his appreciation for the weekend by picking up the tabs for us all. After that, we went our separate ways. Phil drove me out to Napa, just north of San Francisco and made sure that I was on the right bus to Vallejo in order to take the ferry across the bay.

The ferry ride was not what it seemed it would be. The sun was shining in Napa, but it soon disappeared on the water, or from the water, or just hid behind clouds - whatever it is that a sun would do to stop spreading warmth and light and rays and the like. Still, the ferry went past Alcatraz (no pictures sorry) and docked downtown at the ferry terminal (where else?). All that I had to do was find a way south. A local cyclist pointed me in the direction of the CalTrain station, which went as far as San Jose. This was further south than the local trax system would have taken me and it skipped over some of the bad parts of town. When three different locals of the Bay area tell you that a suburb is bad, you'd better take heed!

Once the CalTrain ended its journey at San Jose, it was time to take care of a few trivialities of life. After that, sorting out which bus service would go further south. There was no apparent direct line which went to Monterey, just Santa Cruz, which I wanted to avoid. In the end, I chose a bus to go to Gilroy instead. This bus concluded its run at 1am and forced me to look for a wayside resting place. By now, after seven weeks on the road, this was child's play. And thus on Monday morning I had some time to make my next move to be a good move. There was a bus line to Monterey after all, but it would not arrive for a few hours. Time to do my laundry once again. There was even an episode of Charmed on the screen at the laundromat - nothing like a bit of eye-candy whilst the machines tumble and turn ...

Monterey, city of history and the starting point of my trip down PCH - Pacific Coast Highway. It was a good time to get some brunch, update my blog at the library and set off with good intentions. Except that brunch consisted of a potato salad from the night before, the library was closed for another three hours and PCH was a designated Freeway at this point. A local fireman, watering the garden at the fire station, explained how I could get around the Freeway problem. The blog update fell by the wayside (I'm doing it retrospectively), though the potato salad was remarkably palatable considering my ordeals over the last few days. All in all it wasn't a bad way to traverse 150 miles through the Bay Area. And at last I was on my way to Big Sur.

Yours,
Arnie.

And so Day 1 came to an end. Lots of pictures were taken on the way to Little Yosemite Valley camping grounds and several rangers were patrolling around the place to keep an eye on a few aggressive bears. After we had setup our tents and bivouac sacs, we started dinner. Phil spots a young guy named J.D. staggering into sight and looking to walk right past us. Just as Phil hauled me in on the road only a day before, so he again hauled in JD to our party for the night. Soon darkness fell and it was time to go to sleep. I saw the rangers patrolling about 4 or 5 times, but it didn't stop a bear from walking right past me, past Mark and sniffing or licking Phil's face. He had some insect repellant still on him. The third bear in three nights.

The next morning we set off pretty late for the final ascent on Half Dome. The walk was easy until the treeline, when a bare (I was told this word was inappropriate to use in conversation) rock surface yielded up an anthropogenic ascendency trail called the Golden Staircase. It looked worse from a distance than it actually was, so my initial fears of vertigo were soon quelled. Again there were a few people on the way who could have used some help, like the guy who got cramp in both calves, one a short while after the other. Half Dome was full of people this day, a Saturday during the peak holiday season. Chuck and JD were ahead of the rest of us and they had gone up the "cables" section for the final few hundred yards. Mark, Barbara and Yours Truly decided that our present position was enough for the day and skipped the cables part.

Partly due to the large number of people on Half Dome and partly due to time pressure to get back to "The Valley" of Yosemite Village (Curry Camp), we had a small discussion to decide to go back to our camping site at Little Yosemite Valley. Phil was to remain at the top waiting on Chuck and JD to return while Mark, Barbara and Yours Truly started the return journey. On the way we passed a distressed victim of the altitude/heat/dehydration in the care of a ranger, but otherwise all went smooth. This victim was later airlifted out of the wilds by helicopter. Soon after we got back to our Little Yo camp, Phil arrived with Chuck and JD. Time for a last bit of swimming and relaxation, filling up drink bottles and camelbacks with Phil's activated carbon pump and off we went.

The first indication of foul play became evident at the top-most of the major waterfalls on the John Muir trail. The air was hazy and full of smoke. It was guesswork as to the origin of the smoke - a flare up of a hotspot or a windshift from an uncontrolled wildfire? We were in the dark until we got back to Curry Camp. Getting back to Curry Camp before darkness also proved to be a nervewrecking time, but we made it. Then we found out that the smoke was caused by a new wildfire near Mariposa. The utility companies had cut off the electricity to Yosemite National Park as well and the complex was running on auxillary generator power. No hot showers for us weary backpackers, but we did get some hot pizzas and cold beers.

Later on, after a mix-up in cabins was sorted out at the registration desk, we went to sleep. Chuck and Barbara took one bed, Phil had another. JD was going to sleep in his car for the night and I decided to settle on the floor. Phil would have nothing of it and insisted I sleep in his bed while he was going to use his air mattress outside. As it so happened, another bear paid him a visit during the night to steal his drink bottle. Phil had left some electrolyte solution in it and the bear wanted it. Phil did manage to scare off the bear and retrieve his bottle, but this would be the fourth bear in four nights in Yosemite within 40 feet of me. I now have a reputation that I cannot lose!

Chillin'
:)
Arnie.

Hi All :)

Things didn't quite go as planned since the last update from Markleeville. Although I had a lot of discussions with various cyclists in town about Monitor Pass and cycling events in general, as it turned out, I only did about 10-15% of the climb before I was picked up by a guy with a beard in a red truck. He was going to Bishop, had already picked up another oldtimer at Lake Tahoe and saw me struggling in the heat of the afternoon. And since Yosemite was on his way, he dropped me off at Lee Vining. It was a nice stop on the way, lots of things to do in the neighborhood and lots of memorabilia to buy. But all I ended up with was some food and an ice cream.

On the way up to Tioga Pass pretty much the same thing happened. I got picked up by a young guy who worked at the Tuolumne Lodge and he took me into Yosemite National Park itself. I made my own way to Tuolumne Meadows, the campground, where I got a good spot just 2 spaces from the entrance, despite the "full" sign at the road. Walking to the shop, to check the opening time in the morning, I spotted some deer on the road with my flashlight (it was already dark) and a black bear between the road and the campsite. In the morning, walking some close-by track to get warm, there were a marmot and some prairie dogs to digitalize as well. During breakfast (at the shop) I made the aquaintance of extended family #1, who were traveling the same direction as me that day. On the way out of the camp they even offered to take me to the south entrance, where I intended to go to, but I happily declined their invitation on the grounds of enjoying the park while I was in it.

This enjoyment did wane a bit in the afternoon, though after a lunch at White Wolf, some middle-aged guy named Phil in a white truck decided I looked too tired to go on pushing my bike uphill and he insisted to give me a ride into the Yosemite Valley, Curry Camp to be specific. It turned out that he was an accomplished mountaineer and professional guide for small groups on day/overnight trails. As we entered Curry Camp, there was a cinnamon bear in one of the trees, only 18 months old according to the rangers in charge of chasing the bear out of the camp. I decided to stay in Curry Camp for the night as his guest. That night I fell in with extended family #2 while waiting in line to order a pizza, as they wanted to hear all of the adventures I had been through up till then.

in the morning I was asked if I wanted to help Phil and his party up to Half Dome. There were 5 of us then. Phil, Mark, Chuck & Barbara and me. Only 2 of us had any real experience of backpacking (guess which 2...), so what is normally a single day affair was going to be an overnighter at Little Yosemite Valley, 4 miles from Curry Camp, about halfway up at an extra 2000 ft elevation from the valley. The top of Half Dome is an extra 4 miles further with another 2500 ft elevation to go. All went smooth on the first day, though a few other people could use some help. Like the lady who was paralysed with fear descending the stone steps or the pair of Mary & Melissa who needed some extra water and who over-estimated their abilities. Luckily Mary was upto the task and not beyond getting help for her friend. I hope you both made it safe back down that afternoon.

(to be continued)

Good Morning World :)

Yesterday's ride started off slow, walking the bike uphill to Truckee, as I mentioned in the previous update. It got better after Truckee, with the sights of all the tourists and holiday makers enjoying the Lower Truckee River to the full extend of all it's recreational potential. There were rafts, tubes, paddles, ankle waders and you name it, it seemed like half of the California was there out in the sun having a good time.

The river flows out from Lake Tahoe, which itself is dammed to control the flow. It is the only outlet of the lake, although there are about 30 little streams and brooks flowing into the lake. There are roads all around the lake with lots of seasonal tourist attractions, both for summer and winter. And despite all the crowds in the towns and villages, it didn't feel as crowded as the traffic on the road suggested.

The ride itself was kinda scary, small roads with next to no shoulder, but I got through okay. Unscathed, to say the least. The traffic also died down a bit as I got further south, but it was still busy compared to most roads of this tour. And there is one thing that I just can't understand ...
Why on earth would America build a road going inland from the lake and rising 600 ft, only to go back to the lake - when the lake's edge is level all the way! Maybe the Swiss can teach the locals to build roads around bodies of water.

Anyway, moving on from Lake Tahoe, I stayed the night at the Lake Tahoe KOA campgrounds. Today I'm going over several mountain passes on my way to Yosemite. I've stopped at Markleeville on the CA-89 for brunch and a blog update at the library here. Cyaz all when I have recovered on the US-395 :)

Have a happpy day all,
Arnie.

... there's fire.

Yesterday I came as close to the wildfires in California as I am likely to get. Fortunately this one was already contained and the firefighters were only damping down hot spots or watching for flare-ups. Still there are a lot of them about in the forests. Firefighters, that is. Spring Garden is the place, on the CA-77/89, east on Quincy. But how did I get here?

Since the last update, I managed to travel further west from Bieber along the CA-299 to McArthur. There were a lot of locals visiting the only shop open on a friday night. It almost seemed like downtown in a big city - everyone jostling for parking spaces, people moving about left right and center, deliveries being dropped off and the main products being sold were alcohol based. Talking to a few locals here, they suggested I take a small detour through Cassel(sp?) to get from the CA-299 to the CA-89. And since I needed a place to stay the night, why didn't I tag along with the Fall River Century cyclists at the fairgrounds in town? They served a superb breakfast of big fat pancakes, slabs of ham and pairs of scrambled eggs. Of course I only eat two of those three, but it was a great breakfast nonetheless.

The rest of the day (Saturday) was pleasant enough too. After seeing some of the riders in the event around Cassel and moving onto the CA-89, there was a BBQ and Arts & Crafts day at Hat Creek, to the benefit of the fire department there. Although I could not buy anything besides food (ice cream mainly), I did get to talk to a few of the fire brigade volunteers. One of them even saw me at Lookout, just before Bieber the previous day. Another remarked that the state of California could open up about 1200 miles of the I-5 for cyclists, but that will come too late for me on this trip. For the rest of the day, progress was slow. The entire way was blurred by smoke from the nearby fires, even though most of them were already contained, still the air was thick of the smoldering aftermath. And it was hot that day. I made sure to tank up at every campground and RV park and still I was thirsty when I entered Lassen Volcanic National Park that night. Not to mention that I was exhausted from the uphill road sections of the day. Still it was nice to settle in at the South Summit Lake Campgrounds for a well deserved sleep.

The next morning it got worse. To get out of Lassen Park on the south side, I had to get past the summit. Another two hours of pushing the bike uphill, four miles of which were on a gravel road due to road works. And the prices of the food at the summit (of the road - not the summit of Mt Lassen) made me cringe, but I needed the energy so badly ...
Oh well, a few snickers bars would have to do until a settlement south of the park. This came in the form of the Mill Creek Inn, where I had a good omelet breakfast at 11.30am. Later that day I made it into Chester and did my laundry. The afternoon/evening ride took me close to Quincy, further down the CA-89, although I had to sleep at the roadside this time.

The next morning was a slow start. Getting to Quincy was a stop-start affair with lots of walking the bike on the uphill sections. All the climbing had finally caught up with my legs. To make matters worse, the rear tire suffered its second puncture of the trip. Still, only two punctures in over 3000 miles of traveling is not bad. My pump doesn't do a good job of inflating the tire, but luckily at Spring Garden there was an old timer with a garage working on a boat trailer who pumped the tire up to 65 psi (pound per square inch). It was also time for a little rest and he had a few stories to tell, so it didn't turn out as bad as it could have been. No sign of the fire that I mentioned earlier. Also, the smoke and smog seemed to disappear as I progressed beyond Spring Garden that afternoon.

The afternoon approached fast now and there was a bistro at Blairsden, on Bonta St, where they filled me in on a bit more local information. Like, the nearest library was at Portola. I didn't quite feel like a detour that way, but updating this blog was high on the list by now. So I did take the detour, only to find out that over half of the sites I regularly check on got redirected by the Portola library service for inappropriate content (web based chat!). Oh well ...
Later that night, after getting back to the CA-89 and eating dinner/desert, I got to talking with some riders from a local club or outfit, some of whom were in the Fall River Century, others who just enjoy riding a bicycle. They offered me a place to spend the night, except that it was in the wrong direction. Thank you again America for your generosity (seems like every post these days has this in it somewhere :) ), but with all the hills and mountains in the Sierra Nevada, I prefer to keep going forward as much as possible. I made it to a campground just outside of Sierraville that night, last night to be exact.

This morning I did some more climbing, to Truckee this time. The library here in Truckee does allow me to update my blog. I could also take a look at various road atlasses without having to disect my backpack. There are still a few climbs left to go, but once I'm out of Yosemite National Park, it should be plain sailing until the CA-33 into Ventura County.

Cyaz all next time,
Arnie.

Heyas All :)

Anxiety.
Ever since I got to Seattle I've been on edge.
Maybe it's because mentally it is the halfway stage, even though in miles it is well over halfway.
Maybe it's because I'm heading back to Santa Monica now instead of going further away (Vancouver? Alaska?)
Maybe it was the weather at the Oregon coast?
Maybe it's because time is running out - my plane leaves on August 10.
Maybe it's because I'm homesick?
In any case, I took a good time-out in Winston, OR to figure things out over a dinner of icecream, bananas, a peach and some cookies.
It looks like I can make Los Angeles in about a fortnight, all things going well, so I need not worried about getting stranded in the USA.
And with the pressure off I can enjoy the ride a bit more.

Moving on to other things. Just as I complained about the Oregon weather at the coast, the day cleared up nicely and it was outright hot on my ride east. Finally settling down in Winston, OR for the night. I had my very first Dairy Queen cone - an extra large one! Unfortunately I still had to sleep by the roadside, under the stars, but at least it wasn't all that cold in the morning. Next up was a ride through Roseburg OR (elev 500ft), to Crater Lake. Or so I thought. Even with an average of 12.5 miles per hour until Steamboat Inn (very nice cafe), I only ended the day at Diamond Lake and an elevation of over 5500ft. Other than the usual things, there was a full moon and it made for a nice picture with its reflection in the water. The next day I would find out that my legs didn't work anymore ...

At the edge of Diamond Lake I met up with a couple of boy scout leaders. Later on, as I was struggling in Crater Lake National Park, they decided to offer me a ride over the big bumps (7500ft at Rim Village), which I graciously accepted. They had a group of about 13 doing a cycle ride around the crater rim. It felt nice to witnes and be part of the start of a medium-sized organised event again. I guess it's nostalgia coming to the fore. Earlier that day there was a group of 3 Oregonians doing a 14 day tour cycling in Oregon, visiting about a dozen lakes on their itinerary. They were impressed enough with my own tour of 9 states that they paid my entry to Crater Lake. Thank you again America for your generosity :)
After Crater Lake came the big descent to Klamath Falls. Asking for a Subway shop, I was directed to downtown and they happened to have a busking night on Main Street. It was very nice to see musicians on every block with gear from home practice to full-blown cover bands suitable for small arenas. The genres ranged from classical and folk to country, pop and rock.

Today I've gone from just south of Klamath Falls, OR to Bieber, CA, part of Big Valley. Even though the library has closed for the day, the visitor's centre under the authority of the Big Valley Chamber of Commerce has an internet computer available to post this from. A local at Tulelake filled me in on another good area to investigate with all the attractions there, but I just have no time to add this to my list at such short notice. So here I go again closing this update.

Peace Out,
Arnie.

Brrr ...

I feel frozen. Third day on the Oregon coast and this is the coldest yet. In the middle of July even!
No sun to be seen. It was there briefly last night as I sensed a red glow just before sunset, but the dunes got in the way. $20 for a campsite designed only for RVs. Mind you, with this kind of climate you need an RV to enjoy a holiday. I didn't mind the 38F at Madison Junction in Yellowstone, as I knew the sun would come out to warm me up. But here it's a different story. No sun and no warmth. I'm wearing 4 layers of clothing to ride my bike. All that is missing is the snow.

So I've headed inland. Roseburg will be my stepping stone to Crater Lake National Park. It's still not getting any better. Clouds everywhere and on top of things I even had to walk my cycle downhill on the bridge at North Bend. That's the first time I had to walk DOWN and hated it. On top of that I can't even catch up with MySpace on the public libraries in Montana/Washington/Oregon. Maybe I can only do it at Santa Monica again. That would suck! Oh well, I should concentrate on going from sea level to 8000 ft elevation again. That should take my mind off these petty worries.

More later as I pass other (and hopefully better) libraries,
Arnie.

Hello Cyber Lurkers

Today I'm in the Siuslaw Public Library in Florence, OR. I hit the Oregon coast at Lincoln City yesterday and you wouldn't know it till you got wet up to your ears. Fog everywhere. And cold! The wind blew from the north with an arctic chill that made it all seem way too much like Scotland. No RV/campgrounds would allow me to take a shower either, but I still managed to get my laundry done, the last time that happened was at Leavenworth, WA.

The fog let up only in a few select places. It seems the inland mountain range called The Cascades sucks in the coastal air with moisture and a few eddies blow back to the sea to create an arc of clear space. I got some good pictures from these arcs though as I traveled down the coast. Maybe I'll get to Coos Bay tonight, but I'll probably won't quite get there. Last night I did get to sleep at a campground at Seal Rock when the wind picked up and the weather threatened to break out on me. A guy named Bob filled me in on the local climate and while the wind was expected, according to him, it wouldn't rain that night. He was right. So I went to sleep after an entertaining night talking with Bob and a good long hot shower.

This morning the weather was much the same as yesterday. Cool and windy with few opportunities to take photos. The wind is still coming from the north, so riding the cycle is easy compared to last week through Washington. Stopped at the Sea Lion Caves about 8 miles out from Florence, OR. Got myself a couple of hand-drawn maps of the world and of the USA as souvenirs. And a few pictures of sea lions sunbathing on rocks. Other than that, it is a quiet day here at the Oregon coast. I'd rather be sailing in this weather than sunbathing, but you can't have it all now can you?

Time to pack it in again,
Arnie.

My bad for not posting this yesterday, but the library in Newport, OR closed their computers down early.
Hope you got a few of your offspring to come, as the majority of us are otherwise engaged this year through one means or another.

Bye :)
Arnie.

Gidday Mateys

The last couple of days have been a lot of riding and looking at a lot of stone and ice. There were also a lot of trees there and fresh air, but not much else. After downtown Seattle came a trip on the Sounder to Auburn and then a bus to Enumclaw, from where I resumed peddling and getting to Greenwater, just north of Mt Rainier National Park. On the way there, some young people kindly let me have some oil to put on my chain to stop the squeaky noises that can get so annoying, so thank you very much again America :)

The next day was a long arduous uphill climb with plenty of stretches of walking. A lot of cyclists seemed to be out and about that day, none of which were walking and none of which were carrying big backpacks like I was. Still, lots of pictures were taken for my efforts and lots of water was drank from streams crossing the road. On the way down, on the WA-123, road works slowed progress for a bit, but as I was the last one through of a particular batch, I had the road (the right lane anyway) to myself for about 30 minutes until the next lot of cars caught up to me.

Getting to the next rest/food stop at Packwood I was told that the next stage of the south-bound trip through Washington State would not be possible, as the Forest Service road through Mount St Helens National Volcanic Monument was closed to all traffic. Since there is a Ranger Information Station at Randle just down the road from Packwood, I decided to stay the night there (in Randle) and ask about the state of the road in the morning when the Ranger Station opened. It turned out that they were going to open the road later that day (Friday), but they were still working on it throughout the day.

Thus I set off for Mount St Helens. It was another beautiful day for cycling and lots more opportunities for photos and streamwater consumption. The road was very quiet and the few brave souls who did try to get through were all turned back by the barriers barring their progress. Thank you all who advised me about this, but I had already gotten permission from the workers to get through, as long as I was careful about it. Mount St Helens itself didn't give too many photo opportunities, but I did get a number of shots in. And even a shot of Mt Adams, another 12000ft peak like Mt Rainier, though this pic will need a bit of Photoshop work done on it to bring out the contour. On the way down past Elk Pass (4000ft), and still with the road closed, I had the pleasure of about 15 miles of free-spinning all the way to the southern end barrier. Again, not a soul on the road except for the Forest Service workers, so no worries about getting knocked off my bike from behind.

I did have a good dinner at Amboy, WA that night and slept in a paddock beside the road. In the morning (today) I managed to catch a C-TRAN bus from Battle Ground to Fisher's Landing and another bus across the Columbia River. Then a TriMet Red Line train to downtown Portland, OR, where I'm composing this entry in the Multnomah County public library. The plan is to travel towards the Oregon coast today and down the coast tomorrow. We'll see then how things develop after that.

Peace Out,
Arnie.

Howdy y'all

This morning I woke up at the banks of te river Skykomish at Sultan, WA. It is a public access site for fishing boats, but how was I to know at nighttime that it was closed after dark? Anyway, about half a dozen cars with boat trailers were already parked there when I packed up my stuff and got going. And it was still before 6am! The port-a-loo didn't have any toilet paper, so I had to use a serviette from the 59'r diner at Coles Corner from yesterday's ride - I had an icecream there.

No sooner do I get down the road and get a hot chocolate at the gas station in Sultan and the machine overfills my cup. Then when I get to Monroe I find that the commuter service to downtown Seattle only has 3 departing times and I was late for the last one by 30 minutes. Then when I hit the WA-522 it turns from highway into freeway. And when I finally get close to downtown Seattle, I see the commuter service from Gold Bar (a food stop on yesterday's ride) does go all the way into Seattle after all, despite what the timetable schedule at the Gold Bar supermarket said!

After all that I made it to the Seattle Public Library, where I'm posting this from. Last night my right knee got pretty sore while riding, but this morning it wasn't so bad. It does make it's presence known, but I'll just have to do most of the work with my left leg and take lots of breaks (more icecream - did I mention I was addicted to the stuff?). The plan is to travel further south today, with or without public transport, and make my way onto the WA-410 towards the back of Mt Ranier and Mt St Helen's. Then on to Vancouver, WA and Portland, OR.

Until then,
Arnie.

Hi Again All :)

I've decided to stop for the night at Leavenworth, WA. Seattle will be two more days away, but the services at the Pine Village KOA are what I desperately needed after all the headwinds I had to endure these past few days.
Patricia Harm, who is doing the Big Ride Across America to raise funds for lung affliction research, was complaining about them too, the headwinds that is, and she is traveling in the opposite direction to me!
The title refers to the Bavarian character of Leavenworth. Fachbau houses and matching costumes are the norm around here. They even have a street called Alpensee Strasse. And the surrounds are angled rocky slopes with liberal pine trees on them - very central europy like.

On a more dire note, my right knee started to hurt a little when I was riding to the Wenatchee library earlier this afternoon, which is another reason why I will take it easy for the next few days. Walking on the knee is fine, no problems there, but I'll be darned if I push that bike and backpack all the way to Mt St Helens, the Oregon Coast and Yosemite National Park before boarding the plane back to Auckland. Btw, that reminds me to throw in a link to the Leavenworth Public Library, another branch of the North Central Regional Library system here in Washington State.

Ciao,
Arnie.

Howdy Folks

Today's update comes from the North Central Regional Library at Wenatchee, WA. The ride, since the last update, took me into Washington State, through Spokane and Davenport Coulee City, where I reached the milestone of 2000 miles on the cycle computer. Then on to Waterville the next day and now Wenatchee, but hopefully I will end up closer to Seattle still by nightfall.

So what's new then? Entering Spokane felt like a throwback to 1975, when I was on a skiing holiday in Romania. Spokane was very reminiscent of Bucharest, minus the soldiers. It left a very sour taste on my mind riding through and seeing all those dirty buildings in the industrial part of town - not that there seemed to be any other part of town to go to!
Things got a little better just to the west of town, at Airstrip Heights. This was more like what an American town or suburb should look like. At least the commercial aspect of this place was.

Davenport is a small town in the county. It feels like a small town and has a peaceful feel to it. Like the other towns around here. Anyway, I found a quiet little corner at the Lincoln County museum to sleep at and I was back on the road before 6am. This happened to be Sunday again and I was a bit sceptical of finding places to eat, as most would be closed, or so I thought. I was wrong. Creston was first on the route and the local cafe had a long waiting list to be seated. So I just had a muffin for breakfast with some water to wash it down with. Wilbur, the next town, on the other hand, had a supermarket that was open by now and I could delight in some fresh fruit.

Moving on and no other place seemed to even have a shop, let alone a shop that was open. I stopped for afternoon recess (it was hot again!) at Hartline and after about three hours continued to Coulee City. Here was a truckstop disguised as a Shell petrol station with lots of good food and drinks. I had a 8" pizza and the usual assortment of icecream & cookies, milk & soda. But boy, did I feel bloated after that place. I tried to reach Waterville after that, but only got to halfway by nightfall. So another night spend beside the road in the open.

I did get to Waterville the next day. Some bikers were also at the only cafe that was open at that time, a husband and wife with a couple of friends. I forget their names - my apologies to them if they read this. It turned out that they knew a lot about cycling and triathlons as well and one of them had my breakfast bill on his credit card before I even knew what was going on. Again, my utmost thanks for your generosity America!

And lastly, for this entry, onwards to Orondo and Wenatchee. There are lots of fruit vendors here in this area and I've already eaten a couple of stomachs full when I just should have kept going, but again it is a very hot day and I can do with the rests between cities. Oh well, as long as I stay under budget from day to day I should be alright. I have a bike to send to Minnesota after the ride and games to buy/install/subscribe to when I get back - and vegetables to plant for some decent homegrown organic produce. Still, Seattle seems such a long way off on a bicycle and then the zig-zag tour south left to ride ... I hope the fires in California will be under control by then.

That's all for now,
Arnie.

A double posting from the Rathdrum library branch of the Kootenai-Shoshone Area today. This one is dedicated to some wonderful people from Thompson Falls, MT and their generous hospitality.

I met Del Simmerman outside the Grocery Surplus Store, run by a group of Amish people, just south of Thompson Falls. Although their shelf items were very cheap, they didn't have all that you'd expect at a grocery store or supermarket. I was outside consuming some of my purchases when Del started a conversation with me from his ute. It lasted until his wife and daughter came out of the same grocery store with their purchases. Del had just before invited me to their place if I was passing by, but it was too early in the day to commit to a visit just yet.

And as it so happened, we repeated this at the next supermarket, where I got fresh fruit to supplement the "meal" from the surplus grocery store. Jane gave me directions to the public library in Thompson Falls, which had a bit of a wait for the next available internet computer and I also needed a shower badly and do my laundry. All in all these chores took way longer than I expected them to, but as it turned out to be a stinking hot day, I was in no hurry to resume my cycling that afternoon.

I did resume the trip at about 7pm though. And it did take me past the Simmerman's place. Not wanting to be impolite, I did swing by their house and found them already waiting for me. They have a rural home with a bit of land around it, fenced off to keep the wildlife away (they even had a bear getting at the chicken feed one year) and already started growing flowers for the summer. The evening itself went rather quickly with stories from Del's time in the navy, their travels and recollections from quite a few places that I've been through as well, like Searchlight, NV. They've lived in California for some time as well and gave me plenty of tips on where to go and what to avoid. Del is also into mind puzzles and managed to stump me on a good number of them, except the ones with bicycles, wheels and motion oddities. They offered me to sleep on the living room floor, which I (hopefully) graciously accepted.

The next morning Jane asked if I drank coffee, which I do most of the time in my daily life, but has been rather sporadically on this tour. She said she doesn't make coffee unless others do, as Del doesn't drink coffee and she doesn't drink it by herself. Then she made pancakes for breakfast. I had some with maple syrup and some with peaches. A good breakfast as far as this tour is concerned, if not the best one yet. She also send me on my way with a bag ful of cookies. Del shared the morning newspaper with me and opened the gate for my bike on the way out. It had gotten to 10am by now, way later than most other days that I ride. I thank them both from the bottom of my heart for their hospitality.

My hat off to these wonderful people,
Arnie.

Happy Belated Fourth of July to All

The title is yet another quote, this time from John B. L. Soule. Last time I wrote an update from Missoula, this time I'm in the Kootenai-Shoshone Area branch at Rathdrum. That time it was a call for settling the western parts of America. In my case, it is a means to get from Yellowstone to Seattle. Unfortunately, there is no easy cycling route between the two places.

As for an update on the route, I left Missoula on the Mountain Line Bus #10 and walked up the hill of the US-93. I got a ride over the hill to beyond Arlee by a guy named Joe, a hunter who would like to hunt deer in New Zealand one day. Though hunting isn't my thing, I was still able to tell him a few things about it, like deer hunting with a net from a helicopter. Anyway, I made it past Dixon on the MT-200 that night. The next day going through Thompson Falls, I happened to meet Del & Jane Simmerman. One thing led to another and I ended up staying the night at their place. The day after that was the 4th of July, though I neither saw nor partook in any of the festivities. Just another ride west through Sandpoint and finding a place to sleep behind the Careywood Fire Station on the US-95 - it felt more like going north and south that day than west!

That's it for this update,
;)
Arnie.