Part 12: Ocean, Sky, Freedom: West Coast Bicycle Adventure—Canada to Mexico—Unique Moments in Our Lives

By Frosty Wooldridge

Part 12: Leggett Hill, Coney Island Rollercoaster, deep woods, crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean

“Adventure creates unique “moments” for your heart, mind and body.   You never forget the time when you slogged through a downpour along Oregon’s coast.  You remember that tornado funnel as you pedaled across Oklahoma.  That special campfire under 14,000 foot peaks in Colorado stands out with shooting stars placing an exclamation point on your day. You remember that trip across Death Valley where you drank four gallons in one day, but never peed once.  That night of slumber beneath the 2,500-year-old Redwood giants touched your spirit beyond your imagination.  That night in the Sierras where Canadian geese dropped out of the sky for a final landing pad on the glass-still lake before you.  Other ducks created V-wakes trailing behind them while diving ducks created circles.  With that magical scene, your campfire’s embers enchanted you.  While those moments abound on a bicycle adventure, the new day beckons you onward, not to tarry with yesterday—and, for you, another possibility for a unique ‘moment’ that will live in your body, mind and heart for the rest of your life.”  FHW, Golden, CO, West Coast Ride

(The simplest events bring the biggest smile to your face while on bicycle tour.  So often, our silent mode of travel surprises wild critters out doing their own thing. Wonderful!)

We ate breakfast with a melancholy mood from the knowledge that our time in the “Avenue of the Giants” slipped past with the coming of the day. 

“I could ride through these trees every day for the rest of my life and still love every second of it,” said Daniel.

“I’ve ridden through them a dozen times in my life,” I said. 

“It’s sad to leave, yet it’s great to know they keep growing and thriving in the world no matter what humanity does to itself.”

“This is truly a remarkable kingdom of trees,” said Sandi.  “I’ve got to come back again.”

We passed out of the park around noon. The road continued through small towns like Miranda, Redway, Garberville, Piercy and ended up at Standish-Hickey State Park. 

Hot showers work wonders on a man’s and woman’s soul!  We basked in three minutes of steaming, liquid joy. Ah, to be clean!  Refreshed!

As we cooked dinner, three other cyclists stopped in for the night.    One guy pedaled a light framed road bike.  He said he saw me earlier in the day and didn’t like my heavy rig. 

He noted, “You’re too heavy, too much weight, dude.”

I said, “Everybody’s got to follow their own style. Why two different rims?”

“Oh, my 32 spoke rim collapsed on me,” he said.  “But it’s still better than riding a heavy mountain bike.”

“Have at it,” I said.  “You’ve got to make yourself happy!”

I quickly noticed all three dudes delighted in their alternative universe from smoking doobies.

(Sea birds fly everywhere along the Pacific Ocean coast line.)

Next morning, we cooked breakfast, packed and hit the road by 9:00 a.m.  We quickly reached Leggett where we began a 2,500-foot climb into deep woods.  The road snaked up through hundreds of curves in the next 10 miles of climbing.  For two hours we climbed in Granny gear at 6 to 8 percent grade.  We averaged four miles per hour. 

Not hard, relatively speaking, because of our physically tuned legs, but steady pedal work.  We listened for cars coming up the hill behind us to make sure we didn’t get caught in compromising situations with no place to pull out.  Nothing worse than riding around a blind curve with another car or truck coming behind and one in front.  If they pass at your location, it’s a distressing situation.

For one thing, pedaling through dense wilderness like that, you develop a rhythm.  Time ceases to make a difference.  You don’t think about the top until you get to the top.  Unlike high multi-switchback mountain passes where you can see the top, in the woods, it’s all-immediate.

Late in the morning, we reached the top.  Daniel waited for us.  I know he would rather go faster, but he likes Sandi’s and my company. He’s been riding alone for over two months.  I know the feeling, so, he gives up a little time for fellowship with a couple old enough to be his parents, and actually, I’m old enough to be his grandfather.  It’s funny, because I don’t feel any age on my bicycle while on tour. I feel like a kid.

(Eating dinner with new friends at a www.warmshowers.org stop along Route 101. That’s Frosty, Daniel, Jack, Scott and Sandi.)

At the top, we guzzled water from our bottles.  We pulled on our nylon jackets. In seconds, we raced down a 10-mile Coney Island rollercoaster—Wild Mouse ride with thrills and chills.  Green trees, golden underbrush and fresh pavement with a double yellow line—made for one heck of a “yahoo” ride down that hill.  Just thrilling!  Exhilarating!  Fun! Fun! Fun!

At the bottom, the road inclined into another 1,000 foot climb through deep woods.  We felt so energized that we didn’t feel the “hardship” of the long pull upward. Relatively quickly, we once again descended into another wild ride to the ocean.

Without notice, we coasted up to a big curve with nothing but sky ahead of us. Within seconds, we pulled the bikes over to see the eternal waves crashing on the rocks 300 feet below us.

“Wow,” said Sandi.  “That was the greatest bicycle ride of my life.  More fun than Disney World!”

“I never expected such a curvy road,” said Daniel.  “That was a lot of fun.”

In front of us, black volcanic islands dotted the ocean near the shore.  Sea birds flew everywhere around the rocks.  Waves crashed on the beaches and turned the water white where they crashed on the islands.  Fresh Pacific Ocean air blew into our lungs like an energy bolt.

(Beach combers dot the West Coast with their footprints in the sand while their dogs run wild for the pure joy of being free.)

“You can’t help but realize how infinitely tiny each of us is in contrast to this planet,” said Daniel, a biologist.  “Just looking out at this ocean makes me realize how infinitesimally small anyone of us is when looking at the universe.”

“Kind of blows me away, too,” I said. “There’s no way to figure out the universe, so we just have to reckon how to navigate our time on this planet for lives.  Past that, it’s pot luck and one big mystery.”

“The key,” said Sandi.  “Let’s enjoy it while we’ve got it in our hands.”

(Bicycling Route 101, West Coast Ride, Sandi along the wide Pacific Ocean.)

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Frosty Wooldridge
Golden, CO

Population-Immigration-Environmental specialist: speaker at colleges, civic clubs, high schools and conferences

Www.HowToLiveALifeOfAdventure.com

Www.frostywooldridge.com

Six continent world bicycle traveler

Speaker/writer/adventurer

Adventure book: How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World

Latest book:  How to Deal with 21st Century American Women: Co-creating a successful relationship

Frosty Wooldridge, six continent world bicycle traveler, Canada to Mexico summer 2014, 2,200 miles, 100,000 vertical feet of climbing: