California Day 2

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I was awakened suddenly by the scream of James Brown screaming I feel good! God bless the fancy phone alarm. It was 6 am. I couldn’t remember when it happened but I finally fell asleep and dreamt about packing up all my belongings on my bike. I turned off the screaming alarm and sat up. I found myself on Erik Mathy’s couch in a living room full of Salsa Fargos. It was a surreal life I found myself in that morning. Soon I heard Erik moving around in the room above me. Things were about to get started.

I’d like to say I was confident about my packing method, but I wasn’t. I spent some time rummaging through the immense handlebar bag on my Fargo, but I wasn’t able to bring myself to remove anything. I accepted my packing fate. Never riding the Fargo loaded up, I would find out how it felt on a trip into the mountains in a few short hours. I don’t recommend doing that. 

That morning as Erik started cooking eggs, I got the immense pleasure of meeting a guy named Poll and his dog. He is a no-nonsense kind of a guy, that lives an adventurous life and doesn’t have time for BS. Hearing the profanities and stories come out of his mouth in a British accent, I liked him immediately.  He’s done cross country tours on a motorcycle, surfs and doesn’t have a traditional job. He has quite the sense of humor and is a guy you want on your side in a brawl. Here he is inspecting the welds on Meiser’s Ti Fargo before we started loading them up.

We loaded up the bikes on Mathy’s SUV. As I struggled with getting mine strapped onto the roof, Poll chuckled and said,

“Not very mechanical are you?”

“Wow, you figured that out already?” I asked.

He chuckled again. “I had that clamp figured out from here.”

I just laughed and said something about being able to take pretty pictures and create a nice magazine layout. But no, I am not mechanically minded. But I am stubborn and hate to give up, so I try to learn as I go.

We ate, packed everything up and hit the road. We picked up the Salsa boys at the San Francisco airport. I have never been to San Francisco. Paul made a joke about me probably liking the sinful homosexual city. Ha ha, funny man. The laughter helped though, as I was nervous about this four day ride through the mountains I was about to embark upon.

We picked up Jason and Joe and headed to our destination. The drive was killer. We drove through beautiful mountainous areas. I admired the mountains and kept seeing trails, steep trails cut into the sides of mountains. The time spent in the car, just gave me time to get more and more nervous about this trip. I needed to get on my bike and start pedaling. That always makes everything better. I think we drove for an hour or so. That time spent in the car was horrible and long. We finally made it to our destination, Greenfield, California. It was inland and at the base of mountains.

We stopped to get some food and fill up with water. I attempted to go to the bathroom, but when I travel I get a bit stopped up and it was not a good showing. That was just what I needed before a four day tour through the mountains, bowel issues.

We pulled over at a park, got our bikes off the car and loaded them up. As Poll gave me mine, he said,

“This ought to be good,” with his British accent and a chuckle. I think I amused him.

And then I tried to figure out how the bags went on my bike. The handlebar bag was confusing and I had to give up and ask for help. Humbling experiences are good for the soul. I look forward to being the experienced one and taking a newbie on a bike packing tour. I will look much more confident. Much like Meiser as he packed up his bike. Look at him, he’s like seven feet tall. His saddle blocks my view. Can little people even ride bikes well? What the hell am I doing? My mind was dizzy with questions and reasons to leave in the car with Poll instead of heading into the mountains with three experienced cyclists.

I looked to the direction that we would be headed. Holy crap. I was excited by the beauty and scared by it all at once. Here is a view from the park with the telephoto extended a bit.

Poll took pictures with all of our cameras before we left. I so love this picture and wish we could see what everyone is thinking. I said it in an earlier post, but just look at the four of us. Two giddy with anticipation, one as confident as those mountains, and the little one, well let’s just say it’s a good thing I was stopped up.

FINALLY, we got on the bikes and started pedaling. I immediately felt better and was absorbed into the beauty of the landscape all around me. From the first pedal stroke to the last, the whole ride was surrounded, encompassed in the natural beauty that is California.

We were riding through California farmland. We started on pavement and at some point got off the beaten path and headed into the moutains. So far, so good. I wondered how “bad” the climbs would soon get. I wondered where we were going to ride. Soon, I just quit worrying and focused on the beauty of the ride, the feeling of friendship and keeping the pedals turning. It was amazing. Off we went.

We had mountains surrounding us, but it took a little while to actually hit any memorable climbs. We had cattle running in front of us. It reminded me of riding through the Flint Hills. There was something comforting about that. The road was still paved, but that would soon end and we would hit our first climb, over a fence that is. We climbed many a fence on this trip. Meiser seemed confident about where we were headed, so if he wasn’t, he definitely had me fooled. I didn’t really care. I just followed and left the directions to him. Not only am I not mechanical, I have very little sense of direction. It was such a beautiful ride, I really didn’t care much about being lost. To Meiser’s credit though, he is one hell of a route creator, finder, editor, and anything else that comes with making, finding and changing a route. Parts of the route amazed me. I couldn’t believe the roads were on any map, let alone his GPS. I will follow him anytime, except in race conditions that is.

We would see lots of different roads on this trip, but so far the roads were similar to Kansas gravel, just sandier and smoother. I couldn’t get enough of the trees. The shade was nice and the scenery was gorgeous.

And then it began. We were jumping fences and entering areas that were marked with no trespassing signs. Meiser didn’t seem to mind, so I tried not to either. These were supposed to be public fire roads, we rode on and figured we would deal with people as we saw them. We had the smooth talker Erik Mathy with us, so we’d be just fine if we came upon some California hillbillies. How bad could they be in California anyway?

We did start climbing at some point. And then we saw our first impressive rock formation.

A look to the left and behind. It was beautiful in every direction.

We started climbing. I have never really climbed before. There are no mountains in Kansas. There are rolling hills. There are steep hills. But every climb is over soon and you are usually greeted by a fast little downhill. I was in the mountains. I would climb. I would shift down to easier gears. I would use gears that in fact have never been used or have rarely been used on the Fargo. After a period of climbing, I was told to look behind me to see from where I had just came. I got the picture above and the one below too.

After much climbing, we jumped another fence and were in a ranch of some sort. It was all going pretty well. I fell behind a bit on some of the climbs, but not too far back. I was in the drops, cranking as hard as I could. I was feeling good. There air was clean and the temperature was quite mild.

We passed this water hole. The water looked very clean, but I wasn’t about to fill up with it. As I shot this image, I was frustrated with the lack of wideness and macro ability of the point and shoot I brought with me.

Another vista after a good climb. And below, more climbs ahead.

The rolling hills of California.

I am not too upset with the images I captured on this trip, being that I took more while pedaling then while off the bike. The lack of pixel detail and amount of noise, gives many of them a painterly feel. I actually got ahead of the group and set the Fargo down for a shot. Those water bottles on the front fork are amazingly stable and easy to grab too. I am thinking the Fargo will have a permanent frame bag and cages on the fork.

Anf then it began. Hike a bike time. Basically, in case you don’t know, this is when you can no longer pedal and have to push the bike to go forward. Notice Meiser isn’t in the above picture. His seven foot legs never stopped pedaling. Well, once he pushed, “too make us feel better.”

We climbed quite a bit. I found myself in the drops maintaining a hard, slow pedal stroke in first gear, slowly making it up climbs. I would rather keep pedaling than push the bike. I hate pushing the bike. Seeing Meiser up ahead slowly creeping uphill, meant I would soon be pushing, although I made it up a few climbs that surprised me, and soon the fellas were calling me the “goat” for my extreme climbing ability. Whatever, I think they were making fun as they were already at the top watching me climb when the “goat” name came up. Although a bit slower, I did pretty well that first day in the mountains. I thought I’d be OK, as long as I kept putting the calories in to keep me going.

Come to find out, the “goat” is the Adventure Monkey’s nasty little friend that comes out when the monkey is too spent to keep going. He doesn’t have a cute smile and actually isn’t very nice, but he can climb and get the monkey out of a bind. Looks like he may even get a spot in the magazine…

Check out this mountain road:

We had some pretty mean downhills too. Now in Kansas, I fly down the downhills, screaming over the gravel as fast as I can. You can see for miles, and the curves, if there are any, are not severe, so flying downhill at 30 mph is no big deal. It’s a different story in the mountains. The roads disappear around the curves and the big rocks, grooves and other obstacles cause you to have to slow down to make the curves and stay on the path. Oh yeah, and taking the corners too fast will mean certain death as you fly not only off the road but also off a cliff. I soon got the hang of riding the brakes down long descents, but I was worried about eating away my brake pads. I have never used them like that.  I hate to admit it, but I realized after a minor wreck, that if I didn’t ride the brakes, I could easily get going 80 mph. I got off the seat, transferring  my weight to the back of my bike and rode  the brakes.

Suddenly, we got off moutain roads and hit some smooth gravel. I was thankful. I could use a quick break.

We were headed towards a military base. Before we got onto those military roads, we passed this cool looking mission.

My classic Fargo fits the mission look quite well

The old and new Fargos hanging at the California Mission

Jason capturing a great image with his sweet, supersmall camera.

We filled up with water from a hose at the mission and rode away, headed towards the military base. I hoped the water was clean.

Lone California tree

Jason climbing into the sunset

We were soon surrounded by beautiful rolling hills

If you look closely, you can see Jason up there snapping pictures with no hands on the bike. He is quite skilled at that. I am not. Let’s recap, not very mechanical, not good with directions and not very good balance. Hopefully I serve as good company.

We rode through the training grounds of the military base as the shadows got longer and longer. That area was surreal, very beautiful and with training facilities to train people to kill the enemy. Many of the makeshift buildings had mosque minarets on them. You could tell this place was used to train soldiers before they left for the Muslim world. We saw many caution signs stating live fire was present, but the grounds were dead as we rode through them. It was just weird.

Yep, the beautiful landscape was dotted with training buildings AND tanks.

The roads through the base were pretty flat with some rolling hills. We made great time and the miles flew by.

Suddenly we came across a huge rock formation lit by the setting sun. I think we all were taken aback by the beauty.

It was hard to stop shooting pictures of this. If we had time, I know Jason and I would have shot it until sundown.

And then there were the tarantulas. Everywhere. This guy told us it was tarantula mating season and that’s why they were out. Something to dream about later I suppose. At least Mathy and I were sleeping in bivy’s. Jason sleeps out in the open on a sleeping pad and Joe is under a tarp. I would be zipping up the bivy to get to sleep for sure.

Then we entered mountain roads again and came upon this amazing bridge.

All the steeds lined up on the old bridge.

Wow, I loved the looks of this old bridge, no longer worthy of cars, just bikes.

We spoke of how nice it would be to pitch tents down below on the sandbar. Joe’s talk of Mountain lions, waterhole and food made it desirable to keep moving as it got dark.

One last shot as we rode away

And then the sun went down. We climbed and we climbed.

I’ll be honest, I was tired. I fell behind. I put on my leg warmers and long sleeve jersey. I  turned on my lights and attached the Coleman light to my helmet and even turned on my blinky light on the back. Certainly I would see no cars, but I was a little uneasy and the safe feeling of a red blinky light on my rear made me feel a little better somehow. I hoped to see no mountain lions, bears, or anything else that would look in my direction and think, “that little guy looks tasty.”  

I would lose the guys as they went around the curves. I just kept pedaling and hoped we would find a campsite soon.

 

We were about to climb another fence, but Meiser decided it was time to make camp. It was cold and dark and I had never set up the bivy, or any bivy before. I would have to set it up for the first time in the dark. I kept the light on my helmet and looked for tarantulas, mountain lions, or anything else scary.

Jason helped me set up my bivy. The ground was dry and hard. Putting the little stakes in the ground proved difficult. As I struggled getting the bivy set up, changing my clothes, blowing up my sleeping pad, unrolling the sleeping bag and arranging things as to not let little creatures climb inside anything, Joe was already cooking something on his stove with his tarp set up. You could tell he was a natural at this. The Tour Divide race had served him well. He was a master and I was but a learner. I think he seemed so confident because he was truly enjoying himself. With us slowpokes, the ride had been complete leisure for him thus far, and setting up camp made him look like a kid playing with his favorite Tonka trucks (back when they were cool and indestructible). As I fumbled with setting things up, he methodically set up camp with ease and was heating up food in no time.

I grabbed a handful of trail mix. Anything tasted good. We sat around together for a little while before deciding it was time to crash out. Without a word we unanimously decided to turn in and try to get to sleep.

That’s when I heard it.

Snoring. At least it would keep away the mountain lions.

That was an incredible day. I wondered what tomorrow would bring.

Feed Your Monkey!
Eric