Cycle Tour Big Sur to Kirk Creek, a Concert on the Coast

My bicycle tour of the California coast continued into its 4th day on a Tuesday. That put me right in the heart of a work week, beyond the feeling of a mere three-day weekend, and firmly in a vacation-adventure frame of mind. My ride that day would take me from Pfeiffer Big Sur campground to Kirk Creek campground, which is a bit of a spoiler since I started the day not sure where I would end it.

I made breakfast in the vestibule of my tent, once again using its protection as a great way to get an early start without stepping out into the cold. The neighboring redwoods seemed to think their needles were a good accompaniment to any recipe, and I had to go to extra lengths to keep from including them as an ingredient in my omelet.

After breakfast, I went to the lodge and enjoyed a fancier cup of coffee, used the meager internet/cell service, and charged my electronics. Michael and Yvonne, the lodge staff, were wonderful. We talked about Big Sur history, cycling stories, plans for the area, coffee-making tips, etc. Michael knew a lot about the area’s history and how the land had changed over time. He took me on a tour of some of the pictures in the lobby, using them to explain how the bridge and road had changed over the years, how there used to be rooms in the lodge, and other great local trivia.

Back at the campsite, my bike touring neighbor Shane had changed his plan. Originally he was going to go for a hike that day. But instead he decided to do a local ride. He was traveling with a bike trailer and wanted to leave it behind for a day. His route took him in the same direction as I was going, then up the challenging Nacimiento-Fergusson Road, which was near the campground I ended up staying at that night. It was sort of implicit that we wouldn’t ride together; his pace was clearly faster than mine. For non-cyclists, this might seem a bit strange, but cyclists’ speeds can vary widely, and you don’t presume to ask another rider to crawl along at your pace.

I departed first, so I knew we would see each other out on the road. The ride out of the valley was a long, steady, steep grade.  I was looking for the new bridge, completed just a few months earlier after an existing span collapsed. Its failure made all roads into Big Sur Village impassable, isolating it and creating an emergency. There are many bridges on the road, each with a date marked on it. There was only one from the previous year, so I easily identified the new one. Construction was complete, and the area was clear of equipment and returned to normal, all amazingly quickly.

It was not long until Shane rode up effortlessly from behind. He was nice about it and slowed his pace to match mine for a while, and we talked. Unfortunately, because of the long climb, I couldn’t do much talking. I think Shane could have delivered a State Of The Nation speech. Eventually we said good-bye and hoped that our paths would cross again later that day, which they did ever so briefly as we passed each other going in opposite directions.

Traffic continued to taper as I went south, more as I passed each tourist destination. By the time I passed Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, traffic was getting downright sparse. The ride that day was pure, uninterrupted, classic foggy Big Sur coastal cliffs.

I wasn’t sure where to stay that night: Plaskett Creek or Kirk Creek campground. Plaskett Creek had running water and showers that Kirk Creek lacked. But Kirk Creek is the only campground on the ocean side of Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) in the Big Sur area, offering a more intimate relationship with the coastline as you camp. And you could buy water by the gallon there, enough to drink, cook, clean, and bathe.

I stopped at the little restaurant in Lucia, and I was pleased to see they had expanded their small market. [It has since burned and is currently out of operation. But the owners say they plan to rebuild.] I reduced my load by buying just enough food late in the day for that night and the next morning. Unaware of this well-stocked market, I stocked up at the Big Sur Deli near the beginning of the ride and carried my supplies with me all day. The market in the remote area is good news for cyclists and hikers. They had food, ice, and other vital necessities. Like a good wine selection.

I ended up deciding to camp where I always do: Kirk Creek. In the words of real estate agents everywhere: location, location, location.

While I set up camp, I met Tom and Michael. Tom was not a cyclist, but he was using the hike-or-bike area legally to get a first-come, first-served campsite the next day.  He was a sustainability engineer. I was very curious about what that meant, and he answered my questions. I learned a lot about his perspective and good stewardship of the environment even for big engineering projects.

Tom was meeting a group of other sustainability engineers who camped together at Kirk Creek every year. One of their college professors had started the annual event years ago. He had since passed, but the tradition carried on in his memory. During the trip, the professor used to catch fish from the ocean on the shore below the campground to feed everyone. That was no longer possible because the fish population in the area had declined. The location and its changes over just a couple of decades inspired Tom and his fellow engineers.

Michael was a gifted musician traveling by bike with his guitar. He arrived by descending the steep, twisty Nacimiento-Fergusson road and would continue north. He and Tom played guitar duets, we sang, I provided wine and whiskey, and we watched for whales breaching in the ocean. You know, your everyday chance meeting of strangers.

 

I got free internet from a guy traveling in his huge solar electric Mercedes Sprinter, with a Hughes Gen 5 Internet dish set up on a tripod outside. He had pitched a sign that said, “Internet Cafe.” I asked him how much, and he said it was free, and he gave me his WiFi password. The van was a beauty, and we talked about how it worked. He told me he had done an electric conversion on an old Chevy van, and when Mercedes saw it, they hired him to help develop a solar-electric Sprinter. The big beast was part of his compensation.

I went to prepare dinner that night, but the flame on my camp stove fizzled out. I worked around it by changing my menu. I presumed, mistakenly, that the butane canister for my stove was empty, even though I had only used it a few times. More details on that in the next blog. I asked a few other campers if they had an extra butane canister. No one did, but everyone I asked offered to lend me their stove, which was wonderful. I planned to stop in Cambria the next day and buy a new fuel canister. In the meantime, I threw out the canister I had, which I later realized was a mistake.

I climbed into my tent early as usual, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs below. I slept well in the fog of the coast, surrounded by fellow adventurers.