The 4th July saw us head inland for the first time as we passed through the ancient Redwood forests of Humbolt County, California. Some of the magnificent Redwoods towering over us were over 1000 years old. The ‘Avenue of Giants’ provided so much shade we needed to use our lights despite the midday sun. This tour of the ancient forests took nearly the whole day and it was wonderful to escape the wind.
As the day came to a close we entered dairy country and the post card pretty town of Ferndale. The entire town is an historical landmark. Built from the cream of a thriving dairy industry in the 1880′s, the city scape is similar to Victoria’s gold rush towns but the houses are painted with such garish colour combinations that I’m not sure Queen Victoria would be amused.
The place to camp, we were told is the County fairground. After a quick tour of the ‘Butterfat Palaces’, we rolled down to the fairgrounds, which were to host that night’s 4th July fireworks spectacular.
The campsite was in fact fully booked. The County Dog Club had reserved the entire RV park for their annual show. We were greeted by the finest Irish Wolfhounds, Red setters, Poodles and Great Danes and told we could pitch our tent in the field over the road.
The fireworks display was something to behold! The sky was lit up all shades of red, white and blue for about 30 minutes or enough time for us to eat 4 hot dogs and 4 boxes of popcorn. Ferndale has a population of only 1300 and they were all there. Not only was the show free but the proceeds from all food and souvenir sales were to go to fund cancer care for a local child. As the show went on, our hearts went out to the dogs next door. We emerged with our ears ringing, to discover our field had become a carpark for the event. It was a tense wait before bed that night as we stood nervously and watched 500 farmers and their enormous utes churning up the dust around our little tent.
So, with the caravan park gone to the dogs, we packed up and headed for the Oregon State border.
Monthly Archive for July, 2010
Leaving San Francisco over the mighty Golden Gate bridge, we dropped into pretty Sausilito. A former fishing village about to implode from cuteness, it was a flat and easy first day of 50 miles as we passed through the city’s fringe. Our first night’s camping was icy cold, but the novelty kept us warm and we were up and out early the next day.
The next few days were a challenge. The Californian coastline is as majestic as Victoria’s Great Ocean Road, but as we have learned, everything in The USA is bigger. The view was tempered by the fiercest headwinds we had ever experienced.
We didn’t feel alone though, there were plenty of cyclists on the road they were all going the other way. We were to discover later, from Californian locals, that these were the most consistent and reliable wind patterns in the United States. Everyone we met, thought we were crazy. We dreamed of taking the train.
It wasn’t to be. The nearest trainline was at least a few days cycle inland. Not an easy way out. So on we pushed, and pushed.
The roads in California were the only thing that left us wanting. The locals call it the Californian pave. Despite its massive economy, the state of California is broke. Unable to raise taxes, they have just stopped spending. They have even threatened to close state parks to save money. As it It turned out, they are still all open and full.
This is the American summer vacation and the Americans love camping. Getting back to nature, with their double decker sized campervans, The locals take with them more creature comforts than a Harvery Norman store. Many of these RVs chugged past us on the road towing boats, quad bikes, bicycles, canoes and four wheel drives behind them.
We tried to resent them in their air conditioned comfort, as we struggled up the road. But, when we were handed a margarita by our neighbours, in the caravan park, these feelings melted. A 100 proof margarita after a 60 mile cycle is a powerful thing.
All along the coast, people were warm and generous, we have received nothing but encouragement and interest from the people we’ve met so far. In fact we are stunned by how friendly folks are here. It’s like visiting a Beckley household every day. Even truckers slow and give us a wide berth.
Our first real hill climb was the hill leading to Leggett. When the wind wasn’t blowing it was hot. After the punishing incline, we thought we’d deserved a hearty lunch. We sat down at the Leggett roadstop and ordered Mexican chili cheese fries a burger and a pizza on the side. Delicious. Big mistake. The rest of the day was painful and slow. We’d just learned the hard way to eat little and often.
To conclude this fine meal, Lauren’s tooth broke. It was five days before she could see a dentist.
At the end of this eventful day, we ached for a shower, as it turned out the local campsites were completely full. We found a spot beside a river, had a dip and slept hoping bears didn’t travel this far south.
Still alive the next day, we pushed onto to Ferndale, in time for the 4th of July celebrations.
Next: the national holiday….
Travelling with a bicycle is difficult. We thought we’d learned from previous expeditions and carefully boxed our bicycles using the expertise of no less than 4 bicycle mechanics. After the sting of excess baggage fees, we entrusted our custom built beauties to be care of Virgin Blue. We discovered in Sydney they had failed to put our bikes on the plane. We were patient, we were trusting. They promised our bikes would be delivered to our hotel the next day.
We didn’t see our bicycles for another seven.
You can imagine the tension. On the sixth day, when it was clear no authority knew where they were, we took a chance and went back out to the airport, hoping the bikes were just revolving on a carousel somewhere. This was almost the case. As it turned out he dear things had been passed on to a completely different airline- one we hadn’t flown with or even heard of. But it seemed they all knew who we were.
The seven days we did spend in San Fransisco, as a result, was a bittersweet romance. In and out of fog, San Francisco is one of he most stunning cities we have been to. We stayed in the seedy Tenderloin district, an area that feels like the set of a 1970′s cop show. If something was happening in the Tenderloin, it was happening on the street, with sirens, booze and ‘colourful characters’.
Beggars and tourists are the majority in Downtown San Fran, and we think that about 90% of the world’s iPhones and Toyota Priusses can be found in the S.F. Bay Area. The homeless compete for the same patch of sidewalk as the kids who queue for the next iPhone product …this went on for days.
Of course, if you want to get to know a place better, it’s wise to consult the locals. We took the train out of the fog to visit Audrey and Donald McDonald in Los Altos to get the good word. Having once lived in Melbourne, D & A are Vintage Dunstan family friends.Don, now well into his nineties, still volunteers at the local history society and has just been published in this regard. Over a glass of local Zinfandel (17%) and equally punchy burritos, they suggested the SF art gallery California Palace of the Legion of Honor. We took up their suggestion the next day….
A three quarter scale replica of Paris’ Palais de la Légion d’Honneur, it exists as a location for wedding photography and is home to some of the most European art either Lauren and I have ever seen in one place. Not what we expected a stones throw from the tenderloin.
As an added bonus, we were also in town for the Gay Pride Parade, a spectacle that takes over the whole city for over a week. This year was the 40th anniversary, and reportedly bigger than ever. It was encouraging to see people of all ages dressing up for the party. Every organization in California , it seemed , was represented with a float. Celebrities, sportspeople and public officials from the grassroots up all waved from convertibles for hours on end. We were greatly encouraged to see so many ‘nuclear’ families dressed and face painted for the occasion too. I reckon it would been a good day for burglars in San Francisco, everybody was down watching the festivities.
Originally we had only planned to spend three days in sf, but by the time the bikes arrived we’d run out of excuses, and rolled over that famous bridge. It was the first fog free day, and we got to see the Golden Gate in it’s entirety. We were so gobsmacked by it’s awesome presence, and with certain death on both sides, we’re lucky we made it across alive. Maybe we should have walked the bikes instead.
Next edition: Headwinds of the Californian Coast!
