[Riding South] Stuck in San Francisco

[Eric]

New pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/e.apt.dudfield

 

I've just finished a two week stay in San Francisco. It was the height of luxury with the wonderful hospitality of my brother and his family, a well-stocked kitchen, and the endless excitement of the city. After not moving for so long, everything rusted - my joints stiffened, my muscles grew slack, and a sedentary life seemed entirely preferable to living on a bicycle.

About a month ago I left British Colombia on a private ferry to Port Angles. I spent about a week riding around the Olympic Peninsula. Highlights included sleeping at the base of the world's largest Sitka Spruce (the sign didn't mention other planets) and an attempted shortcut through an Indian reservation that ended at a collapsed bridge. The beaches here were beautiful - empty of all but sand and warped logs.

 

In Washington and Oregon I would meet up many cyclists. The first were Bert and Dana, a friendly couple in their 40s with signs proclaiming "100 miles to the Gallon of Ben and Jerrie's" and "Change your life, Ride a Bicycle". Later I would meet the self-proclaimed Hobobikers whom I had meet in northern BC and would meet again in San Francisco. I would also ride with several friendly kiwis, a bike racer who put up with my many demands to stop for pie and beer, a Kentuckian who's love of southern living was a welcome change, and an Israeli woman trained in explosives who was part hippy and part hipster.

 

I would meet several kinds animals along the way. The barking of sea lions often rose through the fog and sounded like a dog kennel. Pelicans with their unique bill, graceful flying and ability to dive bomb fish became my new favorite bird. And raccoons found it delightful to wait until late at night and then harass me. Luckily, most of the raccoons I encountered lay unmoving on the side of the road.

 

In California I wandered among the giant redwoods, stopped at an old Russian fort and generally rode much too far each day in an effort to reach San Francisco. Northern California seems a unique place - the Redwoods are presented in a atmosphere part museum and part circus, marijuana makes up 40% of the economic activity in Mendocino County, and raw food and talk of one's "energy" are very hip.

 

My introduction to San Francisco happened to be in a police car. The route I was taking turned into a three lane highway and the shoulder suddenly disappeared. As I stopped to ponder this unfortunate turn of events, a patrol car pulled up behind me. He pointed out the obvious (I could not ride further down the highway) and the unfortunate (it was illegal for me to ride back the way I had come). Faced with this dilemma, the officer offered me a ride to the Golden Gate bridge. Only one condition was attached - he would need to handcuff me. So I speed over the last few miles to San Francisco handcuffed and behind a metal screen while the policeman asked me polite questions about my trip.

 

Now I'm staying in an empty hostel overlooking the ocean and steadily regaining my motivation for another 12,000 or so miles of bicycling.

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Posted by Eric to Riding South at 9/29/2006 12:50:54 PM