Cyclists of La Mancha

Before I offered to sew Justin’s flag for him, he was planning to use a bag full of zip ties and an ad hoc hole punch to get the job done.  He did not want me to go to any trouble, but I insisted: “It’ll only take five minutes! No problem.”  Okay, so the sewing skills I had acquired back in grade nine home economics were a little rusty.  Five minutes somehow became half an hour and one ugly looking, albeit functional, flag. 

On the plus side, this gave Justin and I the chance to chat a little bit, and discover more things that we had in common.  We had already commiserated over our frustration with law school at dinner. The topic of what I was doing in life before cycle touring had somehow come up, much to the misfortune of my dining companions. Though I tried to keep it brief in order not to spoil the happy mood, a bit of a rant was inevitable.  As my friends nodded politely, Justin mentioned that he had also become fed up with his legal education, having finally had the courage to drop out near the end of his final year.

During the flag sewing process, we learned that we also shared an interest in reading, and began to discuss the books we were currently carrying with us.  I had chosen a light and poppy Douglas Coupland novel for easy reading, the only kind I knew I would have the energy to do on a trip like this. Justin, in response, whipped out the 17^th century Spanish literary masterpiece, Don Quixote. Well then.

Truth be told, Justin had just picked up the book, and he was a little bit concerned that he had jumped in over his head.  I could understand his worry; 800 pages of 400-year-old literature including 10 pages worth of unpronounceable Spanish names was definitely not my idea of a good post-cycling wind down. Nevertheless, I was excited about this particular classic. For one thing, it was one of my favourite works of literature, though I had only read excerpts of it. It is long, true, but written in a style that is highly entertaining and far more accessible than other similarly renowned works. For another, Don Quixote is the perfect story to read on a bike tour.  Justin and I agreed - the similarities are uncanny.

For those of you unfamiliar with the tale, it goes something like this. The protagonist, Don Quixote, goes insane from reading too many books (ahem…cases) about knights having adventures and being heroes. He becomes delusional (check) and decides that he is going to live out these stories by becoming a knight himself, and going on an adventure (same idea, check). Having no idea how to actually go about this (that’s right), he gathers some pathetic semblance of gear (check), finds a guy crazy enough to go with him (does my imaginary friend count?), and sets out to face a world of imagined perils (check). Finding none, he fabricates them, and then goes on at great length about his heroic deeds (as we speak, check).  He also puts himself through a great deal of pain and suffering for no good reason (check!). Everybody thinks he’s nuts, but he doesn’t notice or care (check and check).

Needless to say, this was a book we could relate to. Given the astounding appropriateness of the text and our mutual enjoyment of the written word, Justin and I decided to dive into this massive tome together by reading aloud to each other. Hurray for story time!  

the offending burrito

The reading began after Justin and I spent a day off together in Fort Bragg, near MacKerricher state park. We rode into town with Katie and Brent, who visited the bike shop while we got our laundry started at a nearby laundromat. After meeting up for a delectable mexican comida, we parted ways with Brent and Katie, heading for the library to do our internet duties. Unfortunately the internet stopped working at the library as soon as we arrived. To make matters worse, the librarian did not take kindly to my suggestion that she may need to reset the modem, though I think she was mainly concerned with the leftovers that I was carrying in a styrofoam container.

the sampler at North Coast Brewpub

Summoning my courage to face this surly adversary, I asked if I could try my luck again with a new password.  She refused, noting that I had already used up my one free pass for the day (despite not ever having reached a homepage) and proposing that I come back later after finishing my burrito. I went to the table where Justin was sitting to tell him what happened, but before we had a chance to leave, the librarian kicked us out, scowling at the remains of my lunch as she ushered us out the door.

Having failed at our library quest and feeling downtrodden, we decided to try the bar. We had heard, after all, that there was a pretty decent brewpub in town. Thankfully, the North Coast Brewery cut us a break.  In exchange for using their wifi, we got drunk, starting with a sampler of every beer they brewed and then moving on to full glasses of our favourites. As we sipped the various ales, pilsners, lagers, IPAs, porters and stouts, we took turns using Justin's netbook (if one of my blog posts seems a little off, now you know why).  To top off this day of deliciousness we stopped at the ice cream shop on the way out of town.  Having fulfilled our internet mission and supported the local economy, we were heroes once more. Hurrah!

Despite feeling a little bloated, Justin and I mustered up the energy to toss a frisbee when we got back to camp. Afterwards we met Jesse and Liz, two new cyclists who had arrived at the campsite that day.  They encouraged us to check out the pier, which boasted tidepools and excellent views of the area. As we walked over to it, I told Justin about the tradition of road disc amongst my friends in Campbell River, and promptly proceeded to throw his frisbee into the swamp. Another smoothe move by yours truly.  Luckily, Justin carefully selected a stick with which to fish out the frisbee, in yet another act of bravery. Story time ensued, the first of what was to become a nightly tradition throughout our travels together.   

Justin and I set out together the following morning, stopping about 12 miles down the road in the quaint town of Mendocino for some coffee and wifi time. There we ran into our friend Ty, beaming and full of stories to tell as usual.  An hour of grocery shopping, bathroom trips and bike chat later, we finally got back on the road.

Although generally easy riding in comparison to our recent Leggett Hill adventure, the day’s route had a few of its own challenges in store.  Now that we had completed the highest peak, it was time to face the steepest. The tight switchbacks took the form of a giant three-armed monster who could only be slayed by vigorous pedaling. For the first time on my trip, I saw what all those bike geeks meant when they said that the front of a heavily back-loaded bike might actually lift off the road on a big enough uphill.  Holy crap. Of course, in true hero style, we conquered the beast.  It was tough, but it felt amazing. No amount of flat riding can compare to the booming, artery-clearing, cardio pulsation of pushing up a serious grade. 

Since that evening’s suggested state park was closed, our only viable option was the private K.O.A. campground nearby.  Much as we pined for the familiarity of coin-operated showers, we had no choice but to pamper ourselves with a pool, hot tub and outdoor kitchen for one night L  As a bicycle adventurer, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. 

As we went into the store to pay for our luxury camping experience, we finally encountered the legendary Donnie and Sarah.  Sometimes on the road, you get to know other bicycle heroes through the stories of others, before actually meeting them. Such was the case with this remarkable couple.

Donnie and Sarah

Donnie and Sarah had been riding their bicycles for four months. They had started in Alaska, and were headed all the way down the west coast of the Americas to Argentina. Alaska to Argentina - It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?  They apparently thought so; neither of them had so much as cycle commuted to work before this trip. Quixotic, indeed. 

abalone shells



After many nights of stealth camping on the side of the road, Sarah was eager for social interaction. We chatted the night away, cooking and hot tubbing together. The next night, we ended up camping together again at a slightly less lavish state park.  In the process of scoping out the hiker biker campsite, we met an eccentric Californian couple who were leaving their campsite a night early and offered to let us use it.  We hung out with them while they packed up, and they showed us an impressive collection of abalone shells that they had collected at a nearby beach.  They scribbled out their address on a piece of wood, just in case we needed help down the road, before driving off.  Once again along our adventure, the kindness of strangers prevailed.  

Your most honourable bicycle hero,

Dana