HomeThr

With three of my favorite friends on Venice Beach in LA  :)

Bart and Paddy on Venice Beach on Saturday

I flew home on Saturday. I didn't want to fly for many reasons, but the train would have taken three days and a layover in Oakland.  Too complicated, too long and expensive in terms of time and energy. The Delta flight was the same price. 

Now on Earthday, Sunday, I sit in the warmth of the sun on my deck, grateful for a safe good trip, for the hospitality of friends and strangers, for luck and for being home.

The City South

This mural greets people at Union Station in LA
Diversity, Color, Hope
The building is beautiful, open, pleasant.

Marina del Rey
The Venice of California
Early Morning looking south on Friday

So I'm with friends at this lovely spot until tomorrow. Seals cavort in the waters just hundreds of meters from their house. Tomorrow I fly home.  I'm glad I didn't ride into LA.  As I watched the city unfold from the train (a wonderful, clean, on time ride) I knew I had made the right decision.  My bike book for the coast says, "Biking is for fun. If its not fun, change the trip." The cold lonely desert of Arizona and Utah is not for me just now. More trips later this summer and in life.  

The Coast to the Beach toward LA

Morro Beach with its ancient volcanic peak

One way to offer resistance is humor. No tyrannt likes to be laughed at.

Midland Preparatory High School in the hills near Santa Barbara before lunch.

Janet Willie, a friend from Manitou Springs, the school's nurse.

I slept at beautiful, clean, quiet, Morro State Park on Sunday night, a contrast to the night before. On the way there, at the recommendation of a local, I stopped at the Siren Bar in Morro Bay, with great live music and dark local beer. The sirens of this place sang sweetly. Unlike Odysseus I did not resist the temptation to enjoy the pleasures of music and food. I was even tempted to dance.

Monday morning a hard rain awakened me in my bivy sack. About 7 a.m. I rode to the Albertsons to buy some food:  OJ, one bagel, salted almonds, one cherry pastry.  I went to check out and then eat at the counter.  A man was sleeping, in the store, under the counter. I didn't feel comfortable, nor did I want to wake him. So I biked over to the McDonald's to use their WiFi and buy a cup of coffee.  When I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, I saw that I too looked like I was homeless: unkempt, suntanned skin, disheveled.  But for the grace of God...

Then began my biggest day: 80 miles. From Morrow Bay to Midland School near Los Olivos.  Ancient volcanoes along the way. Another hard rainstorm between Guadalupe and Santa Maria and then riding into the town, in the gathering dark, to meet Janet at 8 p.m.

Down the coast...

Some California campgrounds are sublime, some are not. San Simeon is a ghetto
crammed with people, pushed up against the HWY 1, dirty bathrooms and showers. My first negative experience
this year.  Plaskett and Banuto were divine.  Quiet, clean, space between people.  $5 per night with a shower.

The beach north of Cayusco.  Waves mesmerizing.  Gravitational energy shaping our world.

So I head down the coast to see an old friend and her husband from Park City who live in LA and a friend of my sister who lives in Los Olivos.  Only days now.  Then I will head home from LA to SLC on Amtrak.  I am well aware of all the political turmoil, but for now my focus is on the road and the rhythm. Although the horror of Syria, especially the children, haunts me and moves me to give to UNICEF's fund for Syria.  I encourage you to consider the same. 

Many of these coastal towns (Monterey, Carmel, Cayucos) are so rich, or at least the rich live there.  Not so attractive for me. I prefer communities that are diverse and connected. I wonder where Kai and his dog Black Lightning are now?  I wish them well. They are heading for LA too. We are the same but on different tracks.

The Pass

One of the staff blowing bubbles into the setting sun at Gorda on Friday the 13th

The Big Sur slide, looking south, closed to all traffic.   (You can see why.)  Still we snuck through at sunset and saved ourselves 125 miles and 7000 feet of elevation gain, plus traffic and hot temperatures.  It was scary and more than a bit dangerous.

Kevin, Ann and I the morning after the descent.  Without their encouragement I would not have done it.

America is broken.  This is Kai and his dog Black Lightning. They walked with us through the slide.
John Steinbeck's book The Grapes of Wrath is prescient. Poverty, xenophobia, unjust working conditions
and people living on the edge are still with us.

The journey continues as I read The Grapes of Wrath on my Kindle and all around me too, in real life.  Last night, Friday the 13th, I crossed the slide, an illegal crossing and a bit too scary.....and now am heading down the coast.  Mellow elevations, warm.  I've just had two wonderful Mango IPA beers at San Simeon with the Hearst Castle above me.

To Big Sur and Big Changes

Paul, this road angel, greeted me in the middle of nowhere with maps, food, a smile,
questions, encouragement, information and conversation on my way to Monterey and beyond.
Three days a week he waits for bicyclists to cycle by him.

Painting in Santa Cruz

Maybe the theme of my trip, maybe the theme of my life.  (Learning it, that is.)

The big change is that I have 333 miles to go to LA so I have decided to honor this "slow coast" by riding to LA, then taking the train back to Salt Lake City. There is so much to see, to enjoy.  I wonder who I would be if I had grown up here in this climate (emotional, political and weather?)  I always did like Greece better than Israel, the Mediterranean better than the desert.

The Monterey area is where John Steinbeck lived and wrote. I begin The Grapes of Wrath today on my journey. Only fitting because its about the plight of humanity during the Depression.  In some ways we are there again with great disparities of wealth and abuses of power.

Ansel Adams also lived in the area, in Carmel.  His ability to see and his mastery of the chemistry and the technology of "wet" photography is still unequaled.

Today I head to Big Sur, one of the most beautiful areas on the planet.  Paul the Road Angel encouraged me to go. The road is still closed to vehicles and but "sort of" open to bicyclists.  Here goes.  See you on the other side.

What am I looking for?

Haypress Campsite in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area
7 inches of rain in 16 hrs. A record for San Francisco.
My first night and I stayed mostly dry!

 Jonen, Nate, Chica

One of the reasons people fall in love with the California Coast

Guerrilla camping in the Redwoods near Pescadero

So a biker about my age approached me right after leaving the Golden Gate bridge, came up to me and asked point blank, "What are you looking for?"  I replied, "I'm not looking for anything."  He then said, "I hope you find it."  Made me think.  I am looking for that state of being and of mind where I am not looking for anything, but where I am open to whatever comes. Pedaling helps me do this. 

This goal puts me at odds with much of American culture but not all of it.  Thoreau would have understood it and John Muir and Annie Dilliard and many others.

Pedal on.

The Door Opens + Hospitality Once Again

Bob Rauk, neighbor and friend, took me to Amtrak in SLC at 10 pm

The Kelly Family on Wednesday eve in their home.

Every journey depends on hospitality, not money.  Every worthwhile journey requires some letting go, some synchronicity, some risk, sometimes more risk.   There is a beckoning, a threshold to cross, a voice to listen to, a task to accomplish and then the return home.  This is my continuing Odyssey.

Last year I met Joe in Kanab in May while he was in the first third of his 6000 mile bike ride. When her reached Park City he stayed with me for a couple days, then left his bike for a week as he traveled via plane to a Boston family gathering. We stayed in touch.

Fast forward to September 2017 after the high of crossing the Golden Gate Bridge when on a mid month Saturday I caught a track on Pier 35.  Crash! I didn't even know I had cut my foot.  It was my left shoulder that hurt like hell!  Its called distracting pain. I looked down. A cut 3 inches long on top of my arch, 1/4 " deep, bright red, but not bleeding.  I called Joe who was thousands of miles away. "What should I do? Where should I go?" Then I asked Siri, "Where is Chinese Hospital?" On Stockton, where Bruce Lee was born. I walked the four long uphill blocks. My foot throbbed. There was no wait at the ER.  They fixed me up professionally.

Long story short, after the emergency room visit, I took BART to his parent's home in Martinez, near Oakland.  Planned was a nice party. I would leave the next day for Reno via train and my ride across Nevada on US 50.  No way now. My foot was swollen. Blood oozed through the bandage.  Julie and Bob picked me up from the train, gave me a room and a home for two days. Sanctuary really.

Fast forward to April 2018.  Joe greeted me at the Martinez train station.  We walked to his house. Talked. Drank local beer. Swapped stories.  Then to his parents for more beer, conversation, great food.

The journey continues.  I will expect and rely on the hospitality of others. And I will practice the same. Friday I will camp at Golden Gate National Recreation Area, then head south along the coast.  Who knows?  Indeed I already do.

Jeff

About to begin

Today is the day. I leave at 1130 pm on Amtrak, the Zephyr, to Martinez, CA.  There I will stay with a bicyclist and his family whom I met last year. Joe was here in Park City and when I was injured in San Francisco his family took me in for a couple days.  

A neighbor will take me down tonight and if the train is on time,... if.....I will leave and arrive tomorrow at 330 pm.  Then a day to prepare before I take BART under the bay to San Francisco and onward.  Yes, I'm excited.  And ready.

Preparation

Wednesday + March 28

On the road, on the bike, into Life.  My first journey with life long friend Gary Barber.  Cascade, Colorado to Yellowstone and back. 1600 miles in 19 days on Schwinn Continentals.  Tanks!  We bought them Christmas of 1970.  $103. No fat on our bodies then and we were fast and strong.  No fancy gear.  Hardly any gear at all. 

Today I am in final preparations for the launch next week.  A bit more gear.  A bit more than a bit more fat.  A much better bike. Definitely slower.  But its all OK. I'm grateful I can still ride. Whenever I ride, I smile. 

This is the third summer in a row I embark on a long trip. This journey will continue the coastal route from San Francisco to LA.  Then Amtrak to Flagstaff. From there to the South Rim and home on Hwy 89. A month and 1000 miles or so.

Jeff