Further down the coast

Bodega Bay was next on my stops.. and I didn't even stop. Just a dinky little town as usual, but more scenic and more surfers. The signs for San Francisco just kept decreasing in mileage, so I was highly motivated to just hit the city I'd been waiting to go to for a few years now. Closer and closer the moped brought me, and the excitement (and traffic) just kept growing. Finally I see it: signs for the Golden Gate Bridge! Almost there! Wait.. traffic was gridlocked. Good thing I was on a moped, and could (later found out, legally) split lanes. Goodbye 2 hour wait, hello GGB! The large hill right next to the bridge entrance provided for an excellent first view of the bridge.. and an epic one it was. The fog had just cleared enough to see both towers. It was probably due to the extremely intense wind I had to fight with in order to stand up. What is it with this coast and wind? Sheesh.

View from the top of the hill


Same view, other direction.

My ride along the bridge was slow, but fun. A few near accidents were thanks to me staring at the huge towers and lines of red that were above and around me. Sorry folks, it happens. At least I didn't actually hit anyone.

Getting off the bridge was a mad scramble of cars, right into downtown San Francisco. Now, I had no intention of actually figuring out where I was at this point, because I was too concerned with observing everything (a surprising amount of adult entertainment right on Lombard) and just taking the city in. I really just putted my way through traffic, and up the hills for an hour or two before I decided I needed a place to stay that night. A hostel by the name of Backpacker's Inn Hostel was my choice. And here's what happened.

I was lucky enough to get 1 of the last 2 beds available that night.. not a room, just a bed. I hadn't really thought about why a hostel is much cheaper than a hotel, but I figured this is why. No big deal, I was tired and ready to just sit down.. even if it were around a mess of people. I put my stuff in my room, threw the sheets on the bed, then 'ventured to the upstairs social room that I overheard someone speaking about. The room was simple, but accessible. 2 couches, a breakfast table and some chairs, 2 computers, and a little kitchen with lots of cooking supplies. I sat down and hopped on blogger to keep you kids updated on where I was, and started to upload some photos. Not a few minutes later, a kid by the name of Dan, from London, England came in and had a seat on the couch. We exchanged hellos, and basic traveler's questions. The conversation kept going as a few more people slowly trickled into the room. A few German kids, some Italians and a few Dutch scattered here and there. Before long, we were all involved in a whole room/group conversation and shenanigans about who knows what. It was a lot of fun... then the German kids proposed we all go out drinking. Go figure! There were about 9 of us wandering the streets of San Francisco without any sense of direction except to find beer. 25 minutes later we FINALLY found a bar. It was a little, yuppie bar, but whatever, they sold beer so everyone was happy.

Dan tried his hand at photography, but Freddie wasn't having it. This is in the communal room

The night concluded with a handful of us sitting on the porch, discussing random things... and eventually just myself and a girl from France named Julie were on the porch, talking about life. A good night in all.

The following day was my day to explore, and that I did. From the Embarcadero, Coit Tower and Pier 39 to Golden Gate Park and Alamo Square (my favorite place of all times). I probably lost 5lbs hauling all my gear up the steps to Coit Tower, only to find out there is a ROAD that takes you to the top. Doh. C'est la vie.

Here's where things turned a little sour in my mind.. where was the real San Francisco? All I saw were crowds of tourists and others scrambling around with their DSLRs that they didn't really know how to use. Where are the artists? The musicians? The hippies? I was really let down by what I had seen (in a social aspect, not landscape.. the area is just amazing). I had gone out to a bar, and ended up just sitting there without one person who seemed interested in a conversation. Awkward. No where else on the west coast have I felt that alone just hanging out somewhere. C'mon San Francisco, why aren't you living up to the hype? The next 36 hours really drove the nail home... I'll just provide a clifnotes version, since anyone reading this has probably already heard the details from me.

Bar 'til 2am, talking with some people
Leave bar, hop on moped with all my gear
Come to my senses at 7am while walking around, 6 miles from the bar and missing everything but my phone, debit card and license.
Police/walking/homeless shelters/panic ensued, followed by a horribly stressed stay at a hotel.

At this point, I had lost everything. My life had just been put on pause, and I had no recollection of where it could have gone. Fuck. How did this happen? What do I do now? Do I go home or attempt to make it to San Diego? Many thoughts went through my head in such a short amount of time, and I couldn't comprehend any of it. Eventually I had come to terms with losing everything I had, cutting my losses and heading back to Baltimore. It hurt, pretty bad. Finally I contact my mother to let her know what had happened, since I had my feet on the ground at this point, and anything sooner would have caused her to panic. Not 15 minutes into the call, I hear a beep.

Katey: "Dude, they found your stuff. Call the Daly City Police."

Holy. Shit.

I was saved. I was redeemed. My trip was redeemed. I've never felt such a rush of pure relief and joy. I frantically called the police station, attempting to locate my stuff. It took about 30 minutes of phone tag between 3 police stations, and an hour of standing around before I received a phone call informing me of the location of my stuff. I punched the address the officer had given me into my phone, and saw that it was 3 blocks away from where I was, on the OTHER side of the street that I had been looking.

There it was. The little, slow, Slovenian noise trap that is more of a social nuisance than a mode of transportation.. but I couldn't have been more excited. I ran 3 blocks, keys in hand, ready to just hug the damn thing. Right as I arrived and caught my breath, this little Japanese lady comes out of her garage, right where the moped was parked. "Is this your bike? I see it here for many hour so I call police! They talk to you?" Broken english or not, this old lady's concern for a moped being parked on the sidewalk saved my life. I asked her how I could repay her, only to hear "I'm just glad you're not hurt. Be careful!" Just amazing. Not long after, I drove happily to the police station, where my bag was waiting for me. Everything was there except my Ukulele.. but I'd much rather have lost a $30 uke than the other valuable things in my bag. I was back on my feet. It was amazing. I can't thank that old lady, Katey, Susie's Mopeds, and the officers involved enough.

Whew.. time to get out of San Francisco for a few days.

Eureka!

Since my previous blog entry had the entire Eureka/Arcata part taken out, I'll attempt to recreate it.

Eureka was pretty snazzy. I met up with Rachel, August's friend Caroline's sister, some time around 5pm, after I scurried over to a motorcycle shop to buy a new helmet (woot!). We had a quick little conversation then headed back to her house, where she kindly cooked a dinner of burgers and sweet potatos.. some pretty epic sweet potatos, might I add. That night we went to a little Irish pub, Shanty, and had a few dollar pints of PBR. Can't complain. Afterwards I got a guided tour of old town Eureka. It was probably 1 or 2am when we were walking around, so the only noises you could hear were the faint ramblings of smokers at the two bars that were open. Everything else was completely silent, and pretty awesome. The town itself (at least, the old part) has a very rustic appeal. Ornate little buildings, street lamps and some brick roads. The fact that it was extremely foggy really added to the mystic nature of the walk. We wound are way through the streets, up some trees and through the alley way before coming across this old, spooky mansion. Apparently it was some old white guys club house.. but still terrifying. The mansion was overly decorated on every square inch. Not with pictures or paintings, but just the wood carving. The combination of the blue and white paint, the extreme detail to construction, and the ominous upward lighting from the front yard was something straight out of a Disney movie (Beauty and the Beast?). Freakin' awesome.

The statue, during the day

So, during my trip thus far I've run into many cool people, including travelers. At a coffee shop up in Crescent City, I ran into this guy who had the same exact bike I was going to buy (tan Surly LHT) decked out in touring gear. I asked him about his trip, and he had traveled from North Carolina to Seattle, and was now working his way to San Francisco. Pretty snazzy. Fast forward a day or two, and I make my way to this little awesome coffee shop in Eureka, Has Beans, as suggested by Rachel. I notice a Surly LHT sitting outside and don't think too much of it, 'til I get inside and hear "Not you again!". Sure enough, Luke (the guy I saw in Crescent City) was sitting in the corner, having a cup of coffee. Crazy. I get my muffin and coffee, and we start chatting about random stuff and our trips. We were both due in San Francisco the same day, but I've yet to meet up with him again. Either way, it's really crazy the people that you run into, and how small of a world it really is.

Since I'm being booted off the Library computer again, I'll continue later. I need a Netbook, ugh.

p.s. Rachel is awesome. :P

Blogger messed up

Erased a big chunk of that post.. CRAP! I shall fix it soon

A continuation

Next Episode: Avenue of the Giants, Beautiful 101 driving, Arcata/Eureka + Rachel, Highway 1 shenanigans + saving old people from the side of the road, Bluff camping at sundown, and arriving in San Francisco.

Leaving Crescent City, I couldn't avoid the Avenue of the Giants. Talk about a pretty ride! I really didn't take many photos, because I was having way too much fun bombing through the little windy roads amongst the humbling Redwoods. It was just a good time in and out. Hardly any cars were on the road, and the sun was shining brightly through the trees. Quality mopeding. After a few round trips I finally located the "GIANT TREE" area, where I did take people were driving past and one of the guys headed into town to call for a tow truck. It was a surreal experience, considering I had just pondered what would happen if I went off the road. Right after that, I decided it was safest to pull off the road and sleep. A few big trees and tall grass orchestrated my sleep that night... a knock-on-wood experience.

The following day was more highway 1 driving, and my god was it pretty. The sun was out, the roads were winding, the shoulders were large! ..and by large, I mean there was absolutely no shoulder, unless you consider a 300ft sheer rocky cliff that drops off about 2 ft from the edge of the road, a shoulder.

Time limits slaying me again.. much more is to be said..and I haven't even discussed San Francisco! Oi!

Golden Gate or Windy City?

So, this post is long overdue, and I may forget some stuff. Sue me.

My next stop was Coos Bay, a little port town.. just like the others. Nothing really struck me as awesome, with the exception of the cheesy name. I found a little dive bar with about 3 people aged 50 and up..hooray. New bar. Got a suggestion for this place named Bar Wench, so I went looking. After passing it about 6 times, I realized the dark little door next to the antique shop is it. Finally! Oh.. it's closed. Strike 2. I'm getting pretty tired of riding around this windy, cold city so I make one more walk to see if I hear anyone having fun. Sure enough I run into this bar full of sorta older people (but full none the less) with a bunch of goofy stuff on the wall and a Jerry Garcia look-alike serving drinks. A few cheap beers later and a conversation that evolved from bud light to existentialism, I'm smoking pot in an old previous whore house that was ripped apart and turned into an apartment right above the bar. Score! Another good night.

Gold Beach and Brookings were fairly bland.. the usual cold, windy and misty pacific coast towns. I found nothing really interesting in Brookings, so I decided to head to Crescent City and finally cross the California border. It finally took 23 years for me to make it to California.. and the first thing I run into? Produce checkpoint. Yes, a produce checkpoint. I had to wait in line so guys in orange vests could check cars to ensure no one was bringing out-of-state produce into California. Luckily the guy didn't catch the large crop of pumpkins I was hiding in my backpack.

Crescent City was interesting, in the sense of a tourist town that sort of fell on top of an old town. Lots of bikers, lots of hotels. I opted for a hotel that night 'cause it was too sketchy and uncomfortable to camp outside town. The people running the hotel were really nice, and even tried to call my room to see if I wanted to have a smoke..but instead called the room next to me.

The next day was one of the highlights of my trip: The redwood forests. After talking to some locals, I headed down this little road out of town towards the Jedediah State Redwood forest. This road went from normal, to hellacious in about 50 feet. Pavement? Gone. Huge pot holes? Check. Did I care? No. These trees were awe-inspiring. Despite the fact that my bones (and moped) were being slowly jarred out of my body, I couldn't stop oogling over the trees. They're big. Epicly big. It's really not something a photograph can portray (despite my attempts). I have a few shots with other people in the background to provide scale but that's about as close as anyone will come without standing around them.

That night, despite the no-camping signs, I found a nice little trail to hike up and camp out near. The end of the trail had a fallen young redwood, and it just so happened to fall on a hill, creating a huge and narrow bridge through the woods. It was a sketchy balance up the log, but right at the top was a perfect clearing in the ferns. Hello campsite. I fell asleep with the waterfall in the background, and the redwoods surrounding.

I'm getting a smidge hungry and tired, so I'll continue the rest of my story tomorrow.

Next Episode: Avenue of the Giants, Beautiful 101 driving, Arcata/Eureka + Rachel, Highway 1 shenanigans + saving old people from the side of the road, Bluff camping at sundown, and arriving in San Francisco.

Newport/Florence

Last night I arrived in Newport around 5:00pm. The town was interesting enough to keep my attention for the night. It had a normal modern town feel to it (typical corporate b.s.) until you got to the state park and bay front shops. The park was a dinky little area right before the large bridge..really nothing interesting except a good view of the water... and lots of wind.

Now, the bay area shops were pretty touristy, but interesting. I got a handful of photos of some of the odd things I saw. It was mostly a bunch of restaurants and gift shops placed around the existing fish factories(?). It smelled wonderful, especially around the loud ARFing sea lions. Like a beautiful spring day in a field of rotten fish corpses. Mmmmm.

The night progressed, I had some beer and peanuts then ended up in a diner at 4am, just to wake up by 6 and try to sleep at the state park. Clouds mess up traveling. Nothing else was really that interesting..except listening to some old hippies jam at a hippy restaurant, and them letting me play a soprano sax afterwards. Goofy little horn.

The drive from Newport to Florence was nothing short of fuckin' rad. 101 the whole way, winding up and down mountains, while remaining on the cliff edge the majority of the time. It was the 101 I've heard about, and couldn't wait to be on. Totally glorious (after the sun came out). I only really made one photographic expedition while carving through the cliff-side, and that was at Strawberry Hill. Not very hilly, or strawberry-y..just kind of rocky and windy. I felt like my face was going to freeze off within standing there for 10 seconds. Since I'm going to get cut off via the library timer soon, I'll just give the clifnotes version of the trip:

Wind, sand, rocks, awesome waves, sea lions, rocks and a little snake.

Time for Coos Bay...?

The past few days

So, I somehow managed to leave Portland. It was tough saying goodbye
to such a great city, and some great friends, but the journey must
continue. I made my way to Cannon Beach just after sunset (Thank you,
35 minute wait for a Voodoo Donut, delaying my Portland departure) and
found the only place that seemed to have people: a bar. A beer or so
later and a conversation about camping and baseball, and I was headed
back to a little house right on the beach. Brian housed me for the
night, and I'm very lucky for that.

The next morning, I woke up and departed. I probably made it 30 feet
before I was staring at the beauty that is Haystack rock. Dropped the
moped on the ground basically, grabbed my camera and went to work. 150
photos later, and I feel I did a good job photographing the area. The
beach was cold and windy, but really amazing. This whole shoreline is
just littered (bad word, I know) with rock formations either on the
beach, or right off the shore. If a wetsuit were in my posession, I'd
have climbed a mess of them.. but the water is freeeeezing. Maybe
later.

Fast forward a bit, and I arrived in Smuggler's Cove at Oswalt State
Park. To get to the beach, you have to hike about 2 miles through a
neat little jungle on a very maintained trail. The beach was huge and
amazing. The cove seemed to hug the water, with big cliff arms. There
were lots of people, not to my surprise. Tons of children ran around
the little feeder river, while the others stepped into wetsuits and
surfed the small yet consistant waves all along the cove. It was a
secluded water park.

I found a trail that lead to Cape Falcon, which according to the crude
line map, peaked at the top of one of the cove cliffs. Of course I had
to hike it. The trail winded slowly up the hill side, hinting at views
from time to time. Reaching the top required a scraping shuffle
through very dense, low bush. It was worth it though. Despite the
violent wind, the whole cove was visible and awe-inspiring. Photos
wouldn't have done my fear justice when stepping nearer to the edge.
The trail just sort of stopped, and with good cause: a 100ft free fall
into a jagged shore below. It was really awesome, 'til the wind
decided to use my backpack as a battering ram and almost push me over
the edge. It quickly got me in a safer place.

Tillamook was the next stop, and a longer than desired one. It
basically is an old-mentality town based around a cheese factory and
logging company. It was bad, and I got tied into hanging out with some
crazy people. All I know is, the random stick-filled field I ended up
in that night was the best sleeping arrangement.

I'm in a little coffee shop in Pacific City, OR right now, speedily
updating this before I head off again and continue to ride the coast.
Not a single beach has disappointed me (well, Ocean City, WA sucked.
Sorry!) thus far. It's wicked.

Pictures will find their way up some time soonish.