Part 14: Ocean, Sky, Freedom: West Coast Bicycle Adventure—Canada to Mexico—Golden Gate Bridge

By Frosty Wooldridge

Part 14: Elephant seals, drought, Stinson Beach, San Francisco, Golden Gate Bridge, Tony Bennet

“Pedaling up a mountain: sweat, sweat, sweat! Muscle and blood!  Gumption and determination! It takes a certain gut level “never say die” attitude when cycling up a massif.  For certain, no one else will pedal for you.  Granny gear allows you to “spin” fast, but go slowly.  Your mind evolves into a mental tenacity with one purpose—to reach the top.  That’s why less than a billionth of a percent of humans tour the world on bicycle.  But for you who ride, you know the incredible mental, physical and spiritual renaissance your body, mind and spirit experience beyond the normal day of life lived by most human beings.  My bet; you wouldn’t trade it for a Rolls Royce.”  FHW, West Coast Tour

(Daniel Loeffler framed by his bike frame as he stands on the beach of the Pacific Ocean.)

Up in the morning to more wind, cold and fog.  I see why northern California lacks a lot of population growth.

We pedaled to Pt. Reyes where we saw a large Elephant seal colony. We hunted them to near extinction back in the 1800s, but they recovered from a tiny group of 150 to 150,000 in 2014.  They remain on the “Endangered Species” list.”

Ironically, on average, 250 species suffer extinction in the 48 contiguous states of America annually. Most suffer extinction before officials place them on the Endangered Species list. All of it caused by human encroachment on animal habitat, toxic poisons and disruption of the food chain.

From Pt. Reyes, we pedaled south through long up and down canyons lined with eucalyptus trees.  The road incessantly climbed and dropped through farm fields, chickens and cows grazing on brown, dead grass.

California faces horrific drought. I am amazed the trees don’t start dying. To think that California expects to add  20 million people within 30 years.  At that point, their water shortages won’t find a solution.  I witnessed the same problems in my world travels in Asia, Mexico and South America. Humans stretch Nature to the limit, then exceed its carrying capacity—then wonder why they die because they can’t feed and water themselves.

We pedaled along the beach to enjoy seagulls, ducks and cormorants.  We entered the tiny surfing town of Stinson Beach.  I noticed the road entered the town, but immediately climbed a 2,500-foot mountain.

“Looks like we pay a price before dinner tonight,” said Daniel.

“We have to do it,” said Sandi, “if we expect to reach our Warmshowers host before nightfall.”

“Let’s do it,” I said.

We climbed 1,000 feet over multiple switchbacks until we dove back down 1,000 feet to ride by John Muir Woods.  Again, the road began another climb of 2,500 feet.

“Holy catfish,” I said.

“What does that mean?” asked Daniel.

“Exasperation,” I replied. “That’s a hell of a climb at the end of a long day.”

“We must do it,” Daniel said.

I slipped my feet into the pedals, leaned forward and began to sweat.  The road climbed up to the sky. Hundreds of cars passed us.  We rolled at 4 mph for the next hour with some 12 percent grades that tested every muscle in our bodies.

(Daniel and Sandi taking a break above the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean. Breathtaking views await anyone traveling Route 101 along the West Coast.)

Pedaling up a mountain: sweat, sweat, sweat! Muscle and blood!  Blood and muscle! Gumption and determination! It takes a certain gut level “never say die” kind of attitude when cycling up a massif.  For certain, no one else will pedal for you.  Granny gear allows you to “spin” fast, but go slowly.  Your mind evolves into a mental tenacity with one purpose—to reach the top.  That’s why less than a millionth of a percent of humans tour the world on bicycle.  But for you who ride, you know the incredible mental, physical and spiritual renaissance your body, mind and spirit experience beyond the normal day of life lived by most human beings.  My bet; you wouldn’t trade it for a ride in a Rolls Royce.

At the top, excitement grabbed us.  Only 30 minutes to Doug’s house, hot shower and vegetarian meal by a vegetarian chef in Sausalito right next to the Golden Gate Bridge.

We flew down the side of the mountain, but suddenly, Daniel pulled over half way down.

“I am nearly out of brakes,” he said.

I checked. “Dude, you are totally out of brakes. Let’s adjust them before you kill yourself.”

Daniel hadn’t checked his brakes and he could have paid for his mistake with his life.  I am amazed he stopped the bike.  His levers plunged to a stop on the handlebars.

I adjusted front and back brakes to give him plenty of braking power.  I cleaned his rims of oil to give a better grip. One back brake pad wouldn’t snap back from the rim.  I couldn’t figure out the problem.

“Man, you gotta’ use a cloth to clean your rims every day so your brake pads can grip to stop you,” I said.  “We need to stop by a bike shop in the morning to check your brakes.”

“Thanks,” he said.  “I won’t forget that lesson.”

We rolled into Sausalito along a river. Soon, we reached the main drag of town where million dollar sailboats floated in their slips. One boat resembled the Taj Mahal.  That’s what you can do when you enjoy a lot of time and money.

“I am starved,” said Sandi.

“Me too,” said Daniel.

We proceeded along the heavy thoroughfare to reach Turney Street where Doug Hennington greeted us with open arms.  He rode across America coast to coast and Canada to Mexico.  He also organized day rides to Stimson Beach and back. 

Amazingly, we discovered that we both graduated from Michigan State University.  Wow! Who woulda’ thunk it?

Doug created an amazing salad, veggie lasagna and cheesecake dessert smothered in strawberry sauce.  He followed it with chocolate cookies and homemade sorbet.

“You folks want to see the sunset over Golden Gate Bridge?” said Doug.

“You bet,” Daniel said.

Doug drove us up to a big lookout point overlooking the entire San Francisco Bay along with the Golden Gate Bridge.  As the sun settled into the Pacific Ocean, the lights of the bridge twinkled and the entire bay lit up with boats, skyscrapers and moving cars over the Golden Gate and Bay Bridge.

(Golden Gate Bridge at sunset over the San Francisco Bay. Stunning combination of lights, water and sky.)

“Boy, this is some sight,” Daniel said.

In the morning, we bid adieu to Doug with tremendous thanks for his hospitality.  I am always thankful for the kindness of strangers.

On that day, Sandi took a flight back to Denver to take care of family health matters.  She covered 1,000 miles, tons of adventures and talked with hundreds of people along the way.  As she jumped into the taxi, I felt a twinge of sorrow over losing my lady.

“You take care,” I said.  “I love you.”

In a minute, she vanished into the traffic.

“Let’s get into San Francisco,” I said.  “The Golden Gate Bridge awaits you.”

“I’m excited about pedaling over such an historic bridge,” said Daniel.

We checked into a bicycle shop along the strip to see what we could see with Daniel’s brakes. I felt he needed an extra pair of eyes.  At the shop, the mechanic took one look to see a clip that pulled the brakes back off the rim—totally not adjusted into place.  He snapped it back onto a hook and the brakes operated correctly on the back wheel. 

“Now, you’ve got two good brakes,” I said.

We pedaled up the hill to the Golden Gate Bridge viewing stand.  From the North side, we looked down on the cars crossing and people walking on the sides.  It’s an amazing piece of engineering for 1937.

• 83,000 tons of concrete
• 80,000 miles of cables, equates to 3 times around the Earth at the equator
• 16 years to build

We snapped pictures, talked to dozens of tourists and finally, pedaled our bikes across the bridge.  On my I-pod, Tony Bennett sang, “I’m going home to the city by the bay, I left my heart in San Francisco, high on a hill, it calls to me, to be where little cable cars, climb halfway to the stars, the morning fog may chill the air, I don’t care, my love waits there in San Francisco, above the blue and windy sea…when I come home to you San Francisco, your golden sun will shine for me.”

(Constant wildlife greeted us around every corner of the road along the West Coast.)

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