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• Position your wrists so your palms angle down slightly above your forearm, not locked upward.
• Bend your elbows out a little, just enough to unlock them. Don’t lock them inward.
• Keep your shoulders down and relaxed, not shrugged.
• Don’t lock your back and neck or “arch” or “hunch” them to the limit of their movement. The back and neck are a bigger topic that I will cover in more detail in another article.

The reason we lock these joints is that it allows the bones and ligaments to support our body weight, not our muscles, so we don’t get as tired. But if locked joints sound bad, that’s because they are. Really bad. If your joint is flexed to one end of its range and you hit a bump or something causes unexpected movement, it can force the joint to be flexed beyond its limit. Locked joints can pinch nerves, inflame joints, cause numbness, and irritate arthritis. But these symptoms don’t surface until the long run, so they are not always associated with riding posture. People will ride with their wrists and elbows locked and ask why they have numbness in their hands sometimes. It is not always natural to link the two together. On the other hand, riders feel immediate muscle relief when they lock their joints, so there seems to be a clear relationship between the two.

So you might think the simple answer is to stop riding with locked joints, and that would be the end of the lesson. Unfortunately, riders often experience pain when they start riding with properly flexed joints. This is because they are using muscles for support instead of locked joints. Supporting your weight this way is pretty specific to cycling. You don’t do it when you walk, sit, run, swim, etc. So those muscles may not be in very good shape for this kind of activity, and the pain riders experience is most often due to sore muscles, not nerve issues as riders often think.

Further complicating matters is that cycling doesn’t exercise those muscles very well because they don’t move much while riding. This kind of muscle activity is called isometric. Isometrics are very good, but usually in combination with other exercises that move the muscles too. Imagine trying to get strong biceps without actually moving your arms. Simply riding more is not always the answer.

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Where you place your feet/pedals when coasting is important; pedal placement differs depending on the situation. When coasting through a curve, rotate the cranks so the outside (of the curve) pedal is down and the inside pedal is up. This lets you transfer your weight properly for cornering and gives you better clearance.

When coasting in a straight line, keep the pedals level, i.e., at 3 and 9 o’clock. This lets you use your legs as suspension to absorb bumps without bouncing around, and move quickly to the right cornering position. In other words: when your pedals are at 6 and 12, they are mostly extended or bent, so you can’t absorb bumps nearly as much, and you may have them the opposite way you need them for an unexpected curve or swerve.

When you coast to a stop, rotate one pedal down at the last second to get a foot close to the ground and stop.

If you watch any pro bike video, you will see that this is how they all coast (there are a few other advanced techniques though); it is second nature to experienced cyclists. But beginners may have to think it through consciously for a while before it becomes a habit and “feels right.”

Continue reading]]> If respect for human life is not a good reason to respect cyclists, maybe caring for the planet is.

I live in southern California, where a large percentage of the population considers themselves “green” or “environmentalists” or “tree-huggers.” The streets here are brimming with Teslas and Priuses, and buildings are festooned with solar panels. We vote in favor of gas tax increases and encourage people to “get out of their cars” and use alternative transportation like carpools or the minimalist mass transit system.

I also consider myself active in supporting a cleaner environment. Among other things, I ride a bike and eBike for transportation rather than driving my car when possible. I have bags and a trailer for my bike, and I use them to commute and run errands. I put thousands of miles a year on my bikes that would otherwise go on my car. Bikes and eBikes are far greener than hybrid or even fully electric cars. And the reality is that electric cars are still priced beyond the reach of many people.

With the sudden popularity of eBikes, I expected to see more people using bikes as transportation. Yet I rarely see anyone else using bikes this way. Whenever I go to the grocery store, I stop and answer questions from people about what I am doing, implying that they have never seen anyone run errands on a bike. My conclusion is that people ride bikes almost exclusively for recreation.

It should not be this way. Where I live, most roads have dedicated bike lanes with clear lane markers and labels. But most eBike riders ride on sidewalks, which is usually illegal and creates problems for pedestrians. Or they ride only on dedicated bike trails. Those are nice, but they rarely give access to the places needed for commuting or errands. I talk to people online and in-person, and the reason for all of this is clear: they are afraid of riding on the street with cars.

I ride on the street anyway, so this fear I see in others is not surprising. I’ve gotten comfortable with a lot of street-specific skills and techniques over my 35 years of bike commuting that keep me safe. But the reality is that even on very short rides, I encounter drivers who intentionally try to run me off the road. They pass as close as possible to me on the right (California has a 3-foot passing law), often driving in the bike lane after passing me. They cut me off to take a right turn in front of me so close to me that I have to hit the brakes very hard to avoid hitting them. They pull out in front of me, honk at me, yell at me, throw things at me, swerve at me, and tell me to “get off the road” even though I am riding legally in a marked bike lane. These have been constants throughout my years as a cyclist. Learning to deal with them emotionally is an important skill.

The irony of this occurred to me recently when yet another Prius tried to bully me off the road. We have miles of bike lanes that could be used to reduce our carbon footprint, but they are not, and for one simple reason: “green” drivers go out of their way to scare cyclists off the road. They do it a lot, and it works.

My message to the self-proclaimed green people of California is this: support cyclists you see on the road who are working just as hard as you are to save the planet. Give them more than the 3 feet required by law. Make eye contact. Smile. Wave. See them. Accommodate them. Protect them. Care about them.

As a footnote, I have a suggestion for law enforcement as well. Many motorists use their vehicles in such a way that it qualifies as brandishing a deadly weapon. By coordinating an unmarked officer on a bike with another officer in a vehicle, these motorists could be caught and cited. It would not take much for word to get out that random cyclists were police officers, which would be an effective deterrent. I have read that this is being done in some places, and I think we need more of it.

Continue reading]]> Note: This is an older article that was written in the early days of rising eBike popularity. I am keeping the style unchanged, since it reflects an interesting historical period of eBike adoption. Enjoy!

eBikes are getting more popular all the time, so it is easy to buy a complete, ready-to-ride eBike. But it wasn’t always so. For years, I have been making eBikes by converting regular bikes with a kit consisting of a motor, battery, controls, and electronics. Ready-made eBikes often have specific mounts for the battery, but for conversions you need to get creative. The most popular ways to mount a battery are on a rear rack, on the down tube using the water bottle “braze-ons”, or strapped to the frame.

For my latest eBike conversion project, I made a different kind of mount. I mounted a “triangle” battery in the front triangle of the bike frame with two custom “cradles”. This allows for a very large battery. The cradles are riveted together from “L” section aluminum stock that supports the battery on the bottom and sides. The cradles serve as both a mount and a partial case/protector. They are more compact than a bag or case and have proven to be durable. Using both water bottle mounts makes the system stronger than a down tube-only battery mount, and it gives the battery much more side-to-side stability. This mount allows for a low center of gravity, near to the center of the bike lengthwise, and is supported by the biggest and strongest tubing on the bike.

This is not a full how-to plan with lists of parts, dimensions, etc. If you make one yourself, it will be custom, so the overall design matters most. Think of this as a baseline design with modifications as needed. I will share the modifications I had to make as examples. You may not need them all, and you may need to come up with some of your own.

In more detail: The cradles are made with two pieces of L-section aluminum stock as you can get at most hardware stores. I used medium-thickness aluminum. The L stock pieces are connected with 2-4 cross strips of aluminum flat stock. Two of the cross strips need to line up with the water bottle braze-ons and are drilled for the mount bolts; others can be at the ends of the L sections. The inside of the tray should be lined with padding everywhere the battery touches. The battery needs a strap routed outside of the cradles over the top of the battery since there is no top cover. Locating the strap between the braze-ons will prevent it from sliding past them. I used aluminum pop rivets to connect the various pieces of aluminum stock. Done right, pop rivets are light, low-profile fasteners, plenty strong enough for this application.

I hoped my choice of materials and construction would be durable, and after a year of testing, it has been. I chose aluminum stock, and rivets make it light and easier to work with than steel hardware.

Note: these pictures may make the cradles more complicated than they really are. They are a simple design with a couple of twists thrown in, and a few mistakes visible in the pictures. If I could make them over again, I could fix some of those mistakes, but they don’t affect the function of the cradles, so I am leaving them as is.

As for tools, you’ll need a pop rivet tool. I had a bit of a learning curve figuring out how to install a secure pop rivet, so you might want to practice and find a how-to video. I used a Dremel to cut smaller pieces of aluminum stock and to trim, buff, and round sharp corners. A compact circular saw is good to have for the bigger cuts. You could do big cuts with a Dremel, but it is slow and eats up a lot of cutting wheels. You will need a drill for the pop-rivet pilot holes and frame-mount bolt holes.

Here are the modifications to the baseline design I needed to make; your mileage may vary:

Removable L section on one cradle for battery installation/removal. The basic design is simple, but you will probably need to address how the battery is installed and removed. If you have enough clearance between your battery and frame, you may be able to angle the battery and drop it into the cradle. But my battery fills up too much of the frame to allow for that. I made one L section of the down tube cradle removable. Instead of rivets, it is held in using short bolts, flat nuts, and slots that allow it to slide in and out.

Compensating for battery shape mismatch with the frame. The shape of the battery and your bike frame triangle will probably not be an exact match. For best support, the battery should rest squarely at the bottom of both cradles for the entire length of the cradle. I made the seat tube cradle a “cradle within a cradle” design. The outer cradle aligns with the bike frame, the inner cradle aligns with the battery, and the two cradles are pop-riveted together. This double-cradle design solved another problem for me: my battery cables exit the back of the battery in the center (side to side). That is where the seat tube is, and my battery cannot rest against that, or it will eventually bend and break those cables. The double cradle also holds the battery away from the frame and gives the wires room to exit without a sharp bend.

Allow room for a front derailleur. My bike has a rear hub motor, which allows for a front derailleur and a wide range of gearing. I had to cut away part of the seat tube cradle to make room for my derailleur. There are many kinds of front derailleurs and mounting options, and many bikes don’t have them at all, so this is definitely a custom issue. I used a bit of trial and error to get mine to fit, marking it and trimming away bits of the mount until it worked.

The things I did to monitor the battery for the first year are good ideas to continue as regular maintenance. I periodically remove the battery to clean and inspect it and the mount. I have had to redo some of my rivets that were becoming a little loose. One of my frame braze-ons fell off and into the frame. That was an issue with the quality of my bike frame, not the battery mount. I replaced it using a standard bike rivnut tool. The new rivnut is stronger than the original one and was pretty easy to install.

This mount allows me to install a big 1.6kWh battery pack, good for over 100 miles easily, maybe up to 150 miles under ideal conditions with minimal (but still useful) levels of assist. The result is what I call an “adventure” eBike. Because of the battery size, I can use this for big all-day rides like centuries, exploration, hauling loads, errands, touring, etc., without range anxiety. I am happy enough with the results to recommend it and share it with other eBike DIY builders.

Continue reading]]> This is a snapshot in time before my bike tour began. It is written from the perspective of the ride being in the future, which it was at the time. Enjoy!

My tour of Northern California starts in less than a week. I will be riding from Eureka to Oakland along the Pacific Coast Route. It will take me through Redwood forests, right along the coast, across the Golden Gate Bridge, through San Francisco, and finish with a ferry ride to Oakland. I’ll fly to Eureka and meet my bike there, which I will ship separately. Then I will return home with my bike on an Amtrak train to southern California.

Of course, I have a picture of all my gear, organized and ready to go! I have been doing the usual overplanning that I do for these trips. Doing research and organizing is my way of dealing with the excitement and anticipation that comes before each trip, but sometimes I go too far. By that I mean I can get a little pre-ride burnout from all the planning, and the ride itself can feel a little anticlimactic. But that is just an illusion. As soon as I start the ride, I realize that all the preparation in the world is no substitute for the experience, and over-preparing takes nothing away from the ride.

I also prepare a lot because I am a working stiff. I get a few weeks of vacation a year, and I need to optimize it for family trips, romantic trips, emergencies, etc. So my bike tours are not done in what I call “nomadic” or “vagabond” mode. By nomadic, I mean a tour where you have a general idea of where you are going and how long it will take, but no strict schedule. I look forward to the time when I can take a month or two and wander around the country. But for now I want to get the most I can out of one week. So I have identified all the sights I might want to see. I have my route and campsite or hotel picked out for each day. And I have made all the reservations I might need, all ahead of time.

This year’s trip has already encountered some adversity. I had originally planned the trip for May 17-27. That was the week before Memorial Day and gave me a holiday to use instead of a vacation day. But, ah, the best laid plans of mice and men. Those original dates should have been well past the end of the rainy season along the route. As those dates approached, I was watching the long-term weather forecast just in case. Overplanning, remember? And this year some late-season rain hit Northern California. It was not a major storm, but I would have ridden most of the week in conditions ranging from drizzle to heavy rain.

So I was faced with a decision. I could take a little extra rain gear and go, or I could reschedule. My decision to delay the trip ultimately came down to the nomadic vs. limited time format. With only one week to ride, I wanted to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. Were I in nomadic mode, I would have taken a week of rain in stride as part of the bigger adventure. Plus, I also came down with a nasty infection the day I would have left. I spent a few days running a fever and taking antibiotics. So the decision to delay turned out to be a good one.

I have changed my gear around a little since my trip last year. I decided to carry a little extra weight, and I got a 2-person tent instead of a 1-person tent, along with a few other luxuries. Among them is a GoPro camera, and I plan to take some videos of my travels. I am pretty excited about adding them to my blog. And just like last year, I plan to make a blog entry for each day of the trip. I will post them sometime after the ride is over. My blogs will include my routes, recommendations, and other information. I hope other riders find it all useful and entertaining. Time will tell!

Continue reading]]> It’s been a while since I have blogged about a ride, but not since I have ridden. I busted out the camera for a blog, and it’s time to share a few local secrets from this gravel ride.

My current gravel steed is a Diamondback Haanjo Carbon 7c. It isn’t included on most lists of gravel bikes to consider, and that is a shame, but it is OK with me. I have updated most everything on my ‘jo, giving it a Di2 drivetrain and a second wheelset: a 27.5s with NoTubes Crest Mk2 rims and Project321 hubs with magnetic pawls. The frame is worthy of the good stuff, and the bike surprises me with how light it is every time I portage it over a stream. The hubs have so little spinning resistance they feel like they actually accelerate for a moment when I start to coast. The Schwalbe Thunder Burt 2.1 tires are the absolute biggest you can cram into the frame and fork, and I don’t recommend them for when it is mucky out: there is so little tire clearance that the abrasion of normal amounts of mud against the frame/forks would be worrisome. But for a dry dusty ride like this one they were no problem, as long as your wheel dish/truing is spot on. And since I build my own wheels, I make double sure it always is.

I once again plotted out my ride using RideWithGPS. I had a few goals: a lot of dirt, a climb on pavement and a descent on gravel, and a stop at Docent Brewing in San Juan Capistrano, adjacent to a groomed dirt trail near the end. Consider it crushed.

My climbing took me through Rancho Mission Viejo and on to Rancho Santa Margarita, including the Patronnes Parkway bike lane. The lane is a mixed bag: it is a bike only route, but it is adjacent to a road that is for all practical purposes a freeway and separated by only a low cable fence. I had no problem with it, but it may not be for everyone. The main climbing was complete somewhere along Meandering Trail Street, where I “summited” and descended quickly to Arroyo Trabuco.

During the drop into the Arroyo, a mechanical issue reared its ugly head. Under hard braking, the fork got into resonance where it shook violently. It was easily remedied by lifting off the front brake momentarily and getting back on it a little lighter. It was manageable but far from optimal. I checked the thru-axle and headset adjustments. It didn’t feel like those issues, which I am familiar with, and those adjustments were fine. I was pretty sure it was a brake caliper/pad/rotor issue. The fork has been fine, and the front brakes squeak for a moment when first applied, and that indicates vibration and less-than-optimal braking. I could have stopped and adjusted the caliper position, but it was not worth interrupting the ride: I was in a good place and riding a wave of positive energy. I wasn’t going to let an edge-case brake issue get in the way. [Note: I discovered that this was front brake pads when I got home and swapped in a new set.]

There are several ways down the Arroyo. I chose the less technical route, which allowed me to make a relatively easy stop at Starbucks. I am stuck on Nitro cold brews right now. I had a different brew planned for later.

After ‘bucks, I crossed the Arroyo and dropped back in at my now-not-so-secret entrance, which gives access to more nice gravel riding. A season of rains washed the road out by Trabuco Creek, which flows at the bottom of the Arroyo. During the rains, it swelled into a raging torrent and rearranged the landscape. An army of bulldozers attempted to tame the creek and put the gravel road back in place. It worked for a while. But the little creek had other plans, and it shifted again, taking out the new road. Fortunately, riders, hikers, and equestrians have rerouted the path through the area, and it is great fun now, with maybe a few patches of deep, loose gravel across what used to be a road, or a streambed or whatever—all great fun.

I continued south out of the Arroyo and made my way to the Oso Creek area, which is another local secret for gravel riders. I entered at the Saddleback Church campus, which is a lovely, green, shaded and historic. The trail through the Oso Creek basin passes along an area that I am pretty sure is going to calve off like some glacier and drop a huge section of real estate into the creek. The trail follows a deep crack, and then the terrain slopes downward toward a cliff at the creek. Time will tell. Oso Creek merges with Trabuco Creek (the little untameable stream from earlier), then that merges with Horno Creek. And along the banks of the San Juan Creek trail is where I stopped for lunch at Docent Brewery.

I finished the ride at a slower pace after Docent, but it was worth it. The ride along the beach is a circus of humanity and full of riders, runners, children, skateboarders, drunks, you name it. It is best to take it slow through there. The final leg back home is familiar ground, of course. As usual when I complete a big loop like this, I want to make a few changes and ride it again soon, which I am sure I will.

Continue reading]]> As I prepared for my trip to Northern California, it seemed like I went over my checklist about a dozen times. Each time I found something that I needed to pack or change. Somehow I ended up feeling confident that everything was good to go. I packed my bike and gear into a bike box I got from a local dealer (thanks, “Buy My Bikes” of San Juan Capistrano!). I shipped it using bikeflights.com, which always saves me a chunk of cash when I ship my bikes. I sent it to the Travelodge in Eureka on Monday, who said they would hold it for me. Even though the tracking confirmed it, I called the hotel, and they confirmed that it arrived.

I work about 3 blocks from the airport I was departing from (Orange County / John Wayne / Santa Ana International Airport), and my flight left at about 4:30 PM that Friday. So I worked a half day and walked to the airport. Everything was going according to plan, amazingly. The flight departed on time, and I was off.

The flight had a layover in San Francisco International (SFO) for a while, giving me time to eat dinner at the airport and have a look around. SFO was actually a pretty interesting place, at least the part of it that I was in.

The second small leg of the flight was delayed a few minutes, but they made up for it, and the small jet was very comfy. One nice thing about smaller planes is that there are no middle seats. I had the window seat. When I was not talking to the golfer sitting next to me, I was in awe of the view as the clouds swirled around the mountains below and the sun set the rim of the sky ablaze in a fading orange band.

If there was any snag in the trip, it was surface transportation from the airport to Eureka. Lyft/Uber showed service at Arcata Airport on their websites. But the app told a different story. When I got on the ground and tried to get a pickup, neither app showed any service available to the airport. Lyft showed that I had to be picked up a half mile away in the middle of nowhere. Something was not right. There were cabs waiting outside the tiny, quaint, cold, dark terminal. I think if I had waited for a while, I might have gotten Lyft service within an hour. Instead, I decided to use the warm cab sitting curbside. It cost me a few bucks more than the fare the Lyft app showed, but I did not trust the quoted fare at that point. I was happy to get a ride to my destination.

I checked into the hotel, carried my bike box to my room, and did a quick assessment of my gear. All was well. The box had taken a few hits, but it did what it was supposed to do and protected my gear inside. I waited until the morning to fully assemble the bike. I unpacked only what I needed to get comfortable for the evening and slept well.

Continue reading]]> Day 1 started as expected: in the cute coastal town of Eureka, with overcast, damp weather. I was pleased to find I hadn’t forgotten anything, which I usually do on bike tours. I would not be 100% sure until I made camp for the night, but it was “so far, so good.” I made a quick stop at the local drugstore for a few extra items, and I hit the Waterfront Trail. The trail kept me off the roads and traffic of Eureka, but too well, so I took some detours off the trail to explore old town and have breakfast.

My first side trip was to the Carson Mansion, which is well worth a quick stop.

Farther down the trail, a visit to the old town area and breakfast were on the agenda. The Greene Leaf was having a gourmet brunch on Saturday, but I was happy with a classic egg combo. I leaned my bike against the front window and could see it while I ate. So far, I had avoided locking my bike while keeping it secure.

Old town had a lot to see, even before most places were open, so I pedaled around the area to make sure I didn’t miss anything, then continued my journey south.

I passed through so many other small towns that day: Loleta, Fortuna, Rio Dell, and Scotia. You can see most of them in my video. But somehow Scotia escaped all of my efforts to record it. It was a very well-kept little town, and it used the Eel River for industry – mining and logging. Logging trucks were very active along the roads I was riding.

Riding conditions that day were dominated by the tailwinds, which were welcome as always. Winds from the north are the prevalent conditions in the area, which is why most cyclists riding the Pacific Coast Route take it from north to south. I passed a group of 3 riders that were fixing a flat while I was on a freeway section. I checked in with them, and they said they had everything they needed.

I finally arrived at the feature of the day, the Avenue Of The Giants: a presumptuously named road to be sure, but it lives up to its name. Going from the sunny, warm open highway to the canopy of enormous trees so suddenly was overwhelming. I had to stop, compose myself, and savor the experience as my emotions were getting the best of me.

While Redwoods dominate the scenery, they are interrupted briefly and occasionally along the road by private farms, run-down residences, RV parks, and a few tiny villages. I planned to get food at a market in the village of Weott close to Burlington camp. But all of the locals that I asked about supplies said there was no store in Weott. This was even though I looked it up online and even did a virtual drive-by. But Internet-based information is notoriously inaccurate in a place like this where cell service, let alone internet access, was rare. So I stocked up with a sandwich early. The little market in Weott was there, however, and I stopped in for supplies. When I told the owner about how no locals seemed to know the store existed, her face collapsed. After recovering, she thanked me profusely and grabbed a phone as I walked out; I can only presume she did it to call all her local contacts and get the word out.

That night, as I planned, I camped among redwoods at the hiker/biker campsite at Burlington Campground. I was joined by many other riders, including the three that I saw along the freeway. It is always nice to see riders that you encounter during the day with mechanicals join you at the end of the day. I had dinner with Luic and Alison. Luic is a teacher from Quebec, a native French speaker. Alison is a social worker from British Columbia. We talked about a wide range of topics including the French language, homelessness and the opioid problem, teaching/learning in a professional setting, accents, travel cooking, and the best route to take on a touring bike to get across Los Angeles. I am usually pretty talkative, but the beauty of the surroundings and residual endorphins kicked in and made me an even more enthusiastic conversationalist than usual.

As I set up camp, I was very happy to discover no forgotten items. The campsite had good enough cell service for cellular data, so I cozied up after dark and streamed and surfed my way to sleep under a canopy of giants.

Continue reading]]> Day 2 was the day of my tour when I had the least amount of riding planned. I normally covered about 50 miles a day. If I rode at that pace, I would pass through the redwood region without spending much time there. Riding less would make the day a sightseeing tourist day. Oddly, that is a physical challenge for me. I can ride long distances on my bike, but stopping for long breaks and starting up again is hard; I would rather take a few short breaks and get all my riding in one session. That may seem counterintuitive, but I picture my body like a flywheel: it takes a lot of energy to get rolling, and once it is spinning, it doesn’t want to stop. But alas, tourist traps and natural wonders are not distributed according to my riding preferences.

I am an early riser, and waking up in a silent campground in a place like the Burlington campground among the huge redwoods was a delightful experience. I prepared breakfast in my vestibule as usual, which let me start slowly without getting out and setting up at a picnic table. Being an early riser also gives me uncontested access to restroom and shower facilities.

Other riders began to get up and prepare for the day ahead. I said my goodbyes and rode every bit of a few hundred yards next door and stopped at the park’s visitor center. It had a lot of history told in images and artifacts accompanied by detailed information and narrative. It included the “Travel Log”: a camper/RV of sorts made from a downed tree log estimated to be over 4800 years old.

After so many miles riding along the banks of the Eel River, I finally took the opportunity to pull off the road and walk down to its banks. The crystal clear water held up to close inspection; I have seen manicured ponds that did not look as pristine. The water was warmer than the air temperature, too. As I rode through the park that day, I saw many people setting up day camps along the river, usually in one of the few areas deep enough to swim in.

Farther down the Avenue of the Giants, I encountered the village of Meyers Flat and the Shrine Drive-Through Tree. There were multiple drive-through trees in the area. This one was privately run and a bit campy, but still fun and an interesting experience. While I was there, several cars went through. One driver pulled up and decided they might not fit, so they backed out and didn’t go through.

I bought a deli lunch at the Four Mori market in Meyers Flat so that I could take it with me and have lunch in a redwood grove farther down the Avenue. The nice lady running the place shared the location of her favorite spot just off the road in the direction I was going, which turned out to be a great place to have lunch. She also hooked me up with a small bag of ice, which I really appreciated. Ice is the one luxury that I cannot easily pack while riding. Coolers or thermoses that could handle ice are too big for me to deal with. In many locations, ice is only available in bags too large to carry. I have even bought a big bag of ice and thrown most of it out. But the lady at the market was nice enough to open a bag of ice and let me take a small amount in a plastic bag, which was perfect for my beverage at lunch.

All of the villages along this section of the route were picturesque and nestled among the redwoods. Miranda and Phillipsville were both scenic and busy on a Sunday morning.

The nature of the towns changed as I went south, however. As I approached Redway, I saw a man walking along the shoulder of the road. I presumed he was a rare hiker traveling along the same route. As I passed him, I said hello. But his look back at me was strange, and he was filthy and not equipped for a long journey. Just down the road, I saw a blue tarp covering a tent house just off the road, and I added it up: he was homeless.

I don’t want to dwell on the homeless situation throughout my blog, so I will cover it once here rather than bringing it up each day. I feel I should not ignore the issue. I encountered many homeless people during my tour. Many were living along the bike trail in Eureka the day before and through Redway/Garberville on this day of the ride. I saw more of them as I traveled south. In the city of Oakland and during my train ride home south from Oakland, I saw numerous large encampments throughout the state. Bike trails and railways are where many homeless seem to be able to get away with living illegally without being evicted. The number of homeless people is a chronic problem in California historically, partially due to the nice weather. Still, their numbers have exploded in recent years due to many factors, the rise of opioid abuse among them. Unlike the small numbers of homeless people I am accustomed to, the new, larger groups make no effort to hide. They gather, sleep, and build dwellings in very visible public places, and cities and the state seem unable or unwilling to do anything about it. While they are not all violent or criminal, some of them can be. Touring cyclists are not afforded the protection of an enclosed vehicle, and bikes are target items of theft for the unscrupulous among the homeless. The topic of the homeless came up every night at the hiker/biker campsites, and we all took extra precautions to protect our safety and belongings in areas where the homeless population was visible. Alison at Burlington campground was a social worker very familiar with the situation, and I learned a lot from our discussion. No place was worse than Redway/Garberville, where the homeless seemed to outnumber the rest of the people. I had planned to stop and get food in Redway.
There were dozens of homeless people in and around the market, nearly all of them staring at me and my bike as I locked it and went in for supplies. After a few minutes in the store, I decided to leave quickly without buying any necessary food. I was watched closely as I unlocked my bike and rode away. I was so unnerved by this that I forgot to stop for food at the next village of Garberville, where the homeless situation was similar. I found supplies in Cook’s Valley just past my destination that night at the state park. I don’t want to discourage people from riding through this area. No cyclists I spoke with had any firsthand experience of any direct problems with homeless people. And the homeless are not a problem in the remote camp areas where I stayed. If you ride through the area, be aware of the homeless population and avoid the large groups, especially if you are riding alone.

While making my way through Garberville, I encountered another cycle tourist with his bike pulled off the road, all of his bags removed, and his hands covered in black grease. He had a mechanical problem with his bike: he couldn’t get his rear wheel to spin. I was worried the internals of his hub had seized up. On closer inspection, I realized his thru axle wasn’t lined up right. I adjusted everything properly, and we got the wheel spinning, so the hub wasn’t the problem. But his bike had a strange thru axle I had never seen before, and neither of us could figure out how to tighten it all the way. It sounds odd, and it was. After doing all I could, the rear wheel would not fully tighten, and it had a lot of side-to-side play. The rider thanked me and said I was free to go. He was riding with a group and was in contact with them on his phone. I left without fully resolving his mechanical problem, but I did manage to help a little, and to the best of my abilities. Still, I am used to staying with people until they can get riding again. Fortunately, I met him later in the day at the gas station/convenience store in Cook’s Valley, and he thanked me and reassured me that I had helped a lot. I was happy to see he could continue.

I stayed at Richardson’s Grove State Park campground that night: another lovely park set among the redwoods. My fellow cyclist at the site was Reuben from Sydney (Australia, duh!). He was a research assistant at the University of Sydney and later became staff, wearing many hats. He was riding the entire coast in one trip, and we had the same destination in mind for the next day, so we would camp again if all went well. Reuben shared the story of staying in a campground where a mountain lion made the sound of a screaming woman in the middle of the night, which is not uncommon. It terrified some of the campers there, including a couple of women cyclists who couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Reuben, like myself, always slept with earplugs and an eye mask, so he didn’t wake up for it.

It was also Father’s Day that day. I would have never intentionally scheduled a trip all by myself for Father’s Day, but I messed up. My trip was originally scheduled for the end of May, which is usually well outside the area’s rainy season. But the area was hit by a big rainstorm that week. If I were riding for months, I would have dealt with some rain, but I would have been riding in the rain for my whole trip, so I decided to delay the ride. I rearranged all of my travel, reservations, and work vacation schedule in a bit of a panic and unwittingly scheduled it to include Father’s Day. I realized it only after everything was moved, and I decided not to move and to delay it a second time. I enjoy time with my family on Father’s Day, and reminders throughout my ride made it clear it was Father’s Day. Each time I was reminded, I felt a pang of disappointment about messing up my schedule.

The park had spotty, terrible cell service, but my daughter called me for a Father’s Day talk, and we spoke for a long time. It was a wonderful talk, and it helped make up for my feelings of missing out on the day. My cell service seemed to fade just as we were finishing up our conversation anyway, and I couldn’t make another call during my stay at the park. Getting cell service for just the window when my daughter called was like a little bit of magic during my journey. I think service got worse because more campers were showing up and overloading the local cell tower, but I am sticking with the magic narrative.

Reuben was a disciplined rider who was taking the next day of riding pretty seriously. The route would include the fabled climb from Leggett, which is the biggest climb along the entire Pacific Coast Route. He turned down my offer of cheap wine I had gotten in town and climbed into his tent early to get in extra rest and an early start for the next day. I had looked at the next day’s elevation profile and read about the ride on social media, and I expected a climb, but not like Reuben seemed to be expecting. He was a younger, leaner, stronger rider than me, so I was sure he would be fine. I retired only shortly after him, leaving most of my wine untouched, so maybe I was actually looking forward to the next day with a little more trepidation than I was willing to admit.

Continue reading]]> The part of Northern California that I was traveling through was full of Bigfoot references. Statues of Bigfoot, murals, and advertisements featuring the beast dotted the area. Whether locals believed or were amused didn’t matter. Bigfoot was part of local lore.

On Day 3, I awoke to an empty campsite, though another cyclist had been there the night before: Reuben. I don’t know why he left so early. Maybe he got spooked by Bigfoot. But even if he did, Reuben was in for something far scarier: the climb from Leggett.

Leggett IS the biggest climb along the Pacific Coast Route. Accounts of cyclists’ tours often portray it as truly horrific. But I looked at the elevation profile before my ride, and I saw that Leggett was smaller than the big climbs you encounter on most tours in the US. The elevation profile showed two separate climbs, so it is broken up into pieces as well. How tough could it be?

I got a relatively early start and stopped less than a mile down the road in Cooks Valley for supplies and “breakfast”: an egg panini, virtually identical to dinner the night before. My food supply was low because I hadn’t stopped for food in Garberville the day before, as I had planned. It was nice to know I would survive if I didn’t stick to my super detailed plans. My plans weren’t meant to be rigid, but to keep me from ending up without a source of water for a day or having a similar crisis.

The approach to Leggett was full of smaller hills and was a steady uphill grade that started tenderizing my legs before the main course of the day. But the views of the lovely Eel River and heavily forested lands made it worth it. One of the frontage roads that would divert me from the freeway was closed, keeping me on the official route. It did, however, shave off some miles from my planned route.

It was here that I noticed I couldn’t trust the elevation profiles my navigation software generated, and that was a good thing. I planned my ride each day and made a GPX track and elevation profile. While I am happy to change my route on the fly, the courses give me a baseline to work from and know what to expect. When I first looked at the elevation profiles for the ride, I was a little overwhelmed. Many days called for over 4000 feet of climbing, which is on the high side for me on my loaded touring bike. But when I looked closer, I could see something was not right. The elevation profile was full of impossible spikes up and down. While passing over a very high bridge that day, I discovered one of the reasons: the elevation profile didn’t recognize the bridge and showed the elevation as if the road went all the way down the huge valley and back up again. Elevation data was also thrown off by roads that ran along the top or bottom of a steep cliff, occasionally reading the elevation as though the road went up and down the cliff. So the mystery was solved, and I dreaded the climbing on the days ahead a little less.

The day was not without its tourist stops. Confusion Hill is a gravity-gone-wild kind of place. But I got there before they were open, which was fine by me. I didn’t need anything to make me any dizzier than the terrain already was. I took a brief stop with good cell service and returned to the business at hand.

The little hamlet of Leggett was the namesake of the climb for the day and the last place I could get supplies, which meant carrying the extra weight of dinner over the hill. It was also the location of THE drive-through tree, the Chandelier tree, which warranted a short side visit and a little messing around.

After getting my fill of tourism, I was back on the road, and there was no avoiding it: Leggett was next. The hill is significant and is really two hills that I will call Leggett major and Leggett minor. Major is first and bigger of the two. Leggett minor was shorter, but its grade was steeper and unrelenting. All the other cyclists I talked to about the climbs agreed the two hills were about the same difficulty.

The road has a shoulder of varying width, not always big enough for a touring bike. The scenery continued with the redwoods, especially in the valley between the two climbs.

The transition to the rugged Pacific coastline was sudden and dramatic. The coast was drenched in sun, but the pounding waves sent mist into the air, giving it a surreal look after days of clear air inland with the Big Trees.

The campground I stayed at, Westwood Union, was quiet on a Monday. I was the only one there on a clear bluff of treeless campsites overlooking the ocean. Hours later, a lone RV joined me. None of the other riders I had hoped would be there showed up. It was remote: a water spigot, a pit toilet, and almost no cell service. I looked forward to my hotel stay in Mendocino even more and made do with water I heated myself instead of a shower. The coastal wind was not what I expected or what was forecast. It was a heavy ocean breeze from the southwest following the common pattern of shifting direction late in the day. I fully staked and guyed out my tent just in case. And the wind died down in the evening as usual. After a day of big climbs and with the sound of the crashing surf below, I slept well on the bluffs above the Pacific.