Holed up in Humboldt

Days Twenty five-Twenty seven: Ft. Bragg to Eureka

The Pacific fog has finally penetrated my brain. If I were a priestess journeying to Avalon, I would have left the shore only to be swallowed whole and forever adrift in the mists. It's cold, clammy, thick and relentless. Riding through it on the bike is unpleasant. It seems that we have traveled through extremes, the unbearable oven of the west Texas desert and now the damp of the northern California coast.

After leaving our campground, we notice that about 10 miles up the road is a KOA that allows you to camp right on the beach. I wish we'd done that. The 1 is done. It has been swallowed by the 101, and will be a big fat boring highway the rest of the ride. This does nothing to distract me from the uncomfortable weather.

We got spoiled the last several days by all of the little adorable towns on the coast promising espresso and pastries. We keep holding out, hoping for breakfast or at least good coffee, but no. We stop to get fuel near the Cook River, and end up with gas station coffee and hot dogs. I totally feel like a North Carolinian. As luck would have it, there is a HUGE reggae festival happening in this tiny town starting the very minute we were indulging in our gas station gluttony. We settled in for some entertaining people watching; chubby girls with cowboy hats and too-too short shorts, twenty somethings with the predictable 420 wardrobe, musicians, locals, cars crammed with camping supplies and kegs. Looks like fun.

Back on the 101, we are given the option of taking the “Avenue of the Giants”, an alternative route that brings you through the Humboldt redwoods. Choose this route if you have the time. As I now understand it, Sequoias get big and broad, while Redwoods get tall. We rode through grove after grove of these soaring giants. Being on a bike is ideal, I spent most of the time with my head cocked all the way back, gazing into the staggering height.

By the time we get to Eureka, every bit of charm has drained away from the coast. Eureka is disappointing. We learned that several cities in California shipped their homeless populations here, and then the local state mental health institution closed and released the patients to the streets, and there's a meth problem. So, we headed out of the city as soon as we could.

For the next few days we are staying with a friend of the Pirate's. I have learned that friends-of-Pirates are often best keep anonymous, as you can imagine. This particular friend has settled onto a steep mountainside deep within Humboldt county. He lives in a camper down an impossibly steep dirt road. I'm surprised the Girl got down it. As we arrive, the weather worsens, and so it seems best to rest here until it clears.

For two days we cook, watch tons of movies, help with the farm and the camper, and listen to the rain. There is no internet, or phone service. I've lost count of days, and I feel pretty off course. I'm enjoying the rest, but I have an itch to keep moving. For me, this trip is about movement. I want to see the country from this bike, moving moving moving. I can visit and hike and camp and sight-see and shop on another trip. This stillness is unsettling.