SEA - SFO 1700k

On November 11, 2024, I got an email from Mark Thomas and the SIR crew. It read as follows: “SIR plans to “host” a point-to-point brevet from the Space Needle to the Golden Gate Bridge. After a jog into the Cascade Mountains, the route (currently under development) will make its way to the Astoria bridge and then pretty much follow the coast from there. In true “audacious” spirit, the ride will be completely unsupported”. No support, no drop bags, no food provided, no lodging provided, no assistance with bike!”

Yes, sir, this was my kind of ride. This would eventually be labeled, SEA – SFO 1700k.

As time passed, I kept telling myself I needed to start making plans for the ride. I should study the route, check out lodging, food availability, etc. However, I did not do any of that. I had spent most of the time planning for the Hoodoo 500.  Hoodoo was only two weeks prior to SEA – SFO and it was important I find a way for my body to not self-destruct at altitude. At the time, I thought to myself, I will just start planning for SEA – SFO after Hoodoo. Did I do that? NO! Of course not.

Returning from Hoodoo 500 my nethers were in a real bad way. If you must know what happened, you are welcome to read my race report. Don’t judge! There was massive scabbing and peeling, among other things. Luckily, it seemed that everything was resolved, healed, and baby soft smooth, days prior to SEA – SFO. At least I thought so.

It was the day! Monday, September 8, 2025, 05:00 standing under the Space Needle. However, I was standing there with only Phil, and I believe, Owen. Strange, where is everyone else? Turns out we were on the wrong side of the base of the Space Needle. We meandered to the other side to see everyone else.

Though I saw all their faces the night before at the pre-ride meeting, it was great to see all of them again! It was an even greater feeling rolling out with everyone winding our way through Downtown on Second Avenue. However, I did not have a great deal of excitement. It was a Monday, and though dark, it was commuter hours, and it is the Western Washington Puget Sound region. On any other day, you would only find me riding on these streets in the cover of darkness, preferably between 23:00 and 07:00 during the weekend. 

The group stuck together for many miles. During this time, it was fun talking story with different people. However, the more I spoke with others, the more I started questioning my logic to not plan a damn thing. Many would ask questions such as, “where are you staying?” or “what is your plan at the controls?” I would answer that I did not have lodging yet, and honestly, I was not sure what cities were the controls after the first one in Kelso/Longview. I would mention that I would figure it out when I got to end of each Ride with GPS day. Maybe I will continue riding or find a place to eat and stay. It would all depend on how I felt. After mentioning this to others, their reactions were never super supportive but instead, concerning.

After some time passed I would end up in a small group of men that consisted of Owen, Russell, Bill, Grant, and Ian (plus one, but I forgot). I swear, riding with Ian, lord. Holly, why do you have so many water bottles? Holly, why do you have a musette full on your back, what could you possibly have in there? Holly, why do you have winter gloves hanging off your handlebars, in what situation would you need big winter ski gloves, it is summer? Holly, why do you have so many jackets on? But all is forgiven since he gave me a short-lived nickname while riding together of “Mono Kidney”. Also, can’t forget, Smiley McDropHammer. Ya, I love nicknames.

The small group I was in was several miles ahead of the main group. This was good as we ran into an unexpected road closure about three miles out of Eatonville. That encounter was a strange one. I followed two of the gentlemen in the group that had gone past the road closure signs to see about asking any workers about the detour. We obviously missed the signs. However, just as one of the gents approached one of the workers, someone who must have been the foreman raised his voice and started yelling. Knowing no questions would be allowed, we turned around to the road closure sign. To our surprise we saw the others in our small group, but one looked in a bad way! Oh no! It was Owen. He was bleeding from his face and of course the bending parts of his limbs. I asked Owen, “What the heck happened?” It appears that when looking down at his GPS unit, he ran directly into the road closure sign! One of the other riders had given him first aid items, thank goodness. 

I sent texts to Mark and a couple of others about the closure. As I descended back into Eatonville, I received a text back from Mark of the proper detour. I hopped on the detour route and saw the bright pink kits of the main group! Cheehoo! I was alone at this point and weaved my way through the group and thanked Mark as I passed. As I kept riding, I saw G (the man!), Ian, and another rando (sadly I do not remember his name, only that he had an awesome jersey). I would hang out with these three fellas for a little while, until they stopped at a local market to wait for the others. I was not sure if I wanted to hang around or just keep riding. Then, Ian and G said, “You should keep riding.” They know I love to ride solo. They also said it would be good too, as I can run into any more unexpected road closure first. I laughed and went on my way.

Prior to Packwood would be an amazing ride. I do not know the name of the area, but it is closed during winters. However, during summers, it is AMAZING. The winding road was quiet and surrounded by forest! However, that would all change when taking a right at Hwy 12 in Packwood. Hwy 12 was awful. I can’t even start to describe the shitty conditions of the shoulder and hostility of cars and trucks (drivers) screaming by on the other side of the rumble strip! I will leave it there. 

While on Hwy 12 I saw a rest stop. It would be a perfect time to fill my water bottles. I pulled into the rest stop and headed straight for the water fountain. Sadly, the fountain did not work. Someone suggested I fill up my bottles in the bathroom sink. It should be potable water. I proceeded to the lady’s restroom and held my bottle under the sink only for the slowest, smallest, and most pathetic stream of water to trickle into my bottle. All the while, the sink was shaking, and you could hear pipes clanking behind the wall. It took FOREVER! Leaving the rest stop I would be passed by two fellas I was riding with earlier, Bill and Grant. However, they are very strong and to try to stay with them would not be a good idea. I watched as they rode off into the sunset. 

Getting closer to the first control in Kelso I was feeling gross. I tried not to think about the water I drank from the restroom at the rest stop. I was worried it might not have been potable after all. As I approached Kelso, I decided I would stop there for the night. When crossing the bridge into Kelso/Longview, I pulled over at the first gas station and got dinner for the night, snacks for the following day, and replenished my bottles. I then pulled up my app that shows all the local hotels and what they had available. I saw plenty of rooms at several different places but chose the least expensive. I ended up at the Quality Inn about two miles south.  While there, I washed my kit and draped each piece over the AC unit. I had one jersey, one wind breaker, and one reflective vest that I would always wear. I packed one extra pair of shorts, an extra sports bra, and a puffy jacket. I thought I could switch the shorts each day, but one did not have side pockets and I found that very inconvenient, thus, I would stick with the original ones (I did, four out of the five days). and just pray they got dry each night. Huge shout out to Rose for handing out socks at the pre-ride meeting the night before, or I would not have any!

Day one was a respectable 226ish miles.

The following morning, I woke up at 01:00. I made a cup of coffee, played a couple word games and started studying the day’s route. It looked like the next stop was Lincoln City, OR. A decent leg, around 187 miles.

I was very excited for the ride, however, wished I started earlier as I would have loved to get to the Astoria bridge just as the sun was rising. The only other time I rode this way was in 2023 during the Craters 1200k. That was on a weekend and the most wonderful experience as I felt like I had the whole road to myself. It was quiet, dark, and peaceful. This time around on a weekday, it was very different. The sheer number of trucks, mostly logging trucks, was nuts. I am guessing they like to get on the road early too.

Leaving Kelso/Longview, we would follow Hwy 4 west along the Columbia River before connecting onto Hwy 401 then 101 and heading south into Oregon.

The night before, I noticed my bottom feeling some kind of way. As mentioned previously, my nethers were in a bad way after Hoodoo 500 and though they had healed just before SEA – SFO, the skin was still so soft and did not have enough time to acclimate to iron butt status. Heading west on Hwy 4, I stopped several times to adjust my saddle. Eventually I found the perfect angle and increased the setback a bit more than usual. I was not worried about stopping so much, I knew without adjusting, there was no way I would make it five more days.

The Astoria bridge is amazing. Though, this time around, there were more dead birds, more traffic, and a funky smell. When looking east, you can see the beauty of the Columbia River as it heads inland, when looking west, you can see the vast mouth of the river knowing its next stop is the Pacific Ocean. However, when looking south, you see a wall! The Astoria Bridge has a crazy climb about two thirds of the way across. Then, you get a screaming descent into Astoria. 

When landing in Astoria it was absolute CHAOS! The only memory of Astoria I have is this grey, foggy, sleepy town. A hidden gem on the coast where you can walk around town with slippers on and a cup of coffee. But that was at 05:00 on a Saturday’s morning nearing the tail end of the Pandemic. Oh, hell no. This city was just like all the other medium size cities in the PNW. Rush hour traffic, school zones, merging, honking, kids, trucks, kids, exhaust, and a bite size tolerance for bike riders attempting to take the second exit of literally the biggest round-about that exists.  After finally escaping the rush hour shenanigans I thought it would be nice to stop at an espresso stand. Sit and have some breakfast. However, the only espresso stand I found was a drive through only! Literally, no car, no coffee.

After Astoria the ride was very enjoyable. The scenery is indescribable. Everything was green and lush. Reaching the coast again, you go through Seaside. It is a similar feeling to riding on Greenwood Ave in Seattle. Then about six miles south of Seaside is Cannon Beach. Talk about sleepy towns where you can walk around in slippers sipping coffee. I only know about Cannon Beach because of my mom. It is her go to place where she can recharge. Off the coast of Cannon Beach is a piece of earth named Haystack Rock. It is known for its Puffins. I think I may have taken pictures of that rock from everywhere.

Oregon is by far one of my favorite places to ride, especially along the coast. But you best not be in a hurry, because the urge to stop and take endless photos and videos is strong. On my way to Lincoln City, I stopped at Starbucks just outside of Tillamook. No matter where I ride my bike or travel, Starbucks is my favorite fast-food joint. It’s just a little piece of home for me. It is familiar and consistent. If given the chance, I will stop there. Many randos like to stop and drink beers, nope not this rando. GIVE ME COFFEE! I snagged myself a grande soy latte, two pastries, fresh water, and some juice for the road.

Again, I had not planned nor studied the route and when leaving Starbucks, I was under the assumption that I was continuing along Hwy 101. Nope I was guided by the beep beep of my Garmin to head west on Hwy 131, straight into the wind. 

Holy crap, I was not prepared for the climbs that were coming. They were not mountains by any means but Jesus they were steep! I recently made the switch on my 1x from a 40T chainring to a 38T, but really, I could go for a 34T. One climb was reduced to one lane with flaggers on each end. It only took one look from the flagger watching me approach. I saw him get on his walkie talky, switch the sign from stop to slow and say to me, “Ya, just stay in the closed lane on the right and avoid the oncoming traffic when passing the landscaping equipment.” “Yes, sir, will do, thank you.” But I think all he heard was “I’m dying now I’m dead.” Approaching the top of the climb and the end of the work zone, the flagger on the end was cheering me on. “Almost there!” “Just a few more yards to go!” Then when reaching the top, he wished me safe travels. Holy mackerel, that descent felt so good.

Eventually getting back on Hwy 101, Lincoln City was not far. When landing, I put my foot down on the curb that happened to be in front of Domino’s Pizza! I pulled out my phone and brought up my hotel app and BAM! There just happened to be one more room available at the Comfort Inn just at the bottom of the hill, on route. I booked it and headed that way.

When I arrived in my room, I was so excited! I had lots of time to order food, shower, and hand wash my kit! I got Domino’s app and ordered a medium veggie pizza with super light to no cheese, a soda, and breadsticks! Oh, two spicy buffalo dipping sauces. I thought I had the perfect plan. After ordering food, I hopped in the shower and washed my kit at the same time. I rolled my kit up in a towel and stood on it. I decided to rewash my sports bra and chamois from the previous night too, as they did not dry fully and were stuck in my saddle bag all day. While standing on my wet kit, I looked at my pizza tracker. OH SHIT! They are on their way and only 1 minute away! How were they so fast? How was I so slow? I had nothing else I could put on except a puffy coat! But I was still wet from the shower. If you’ve never tried putting on an unlined puffy coat while wet, I challenge you. Lord, please let the delivery person be a female, please. Knock knock, nope, it was a dude. I cracked the door open with only a towel on and promptly apologized for my appearance. However, the pizza guy was very understanding. It seemed I was not his first customer to answer the door half naked. He kept his body partially turned away while effortlessly handing me my items! It was great! Thank you, Lincoln City Domino’s delivery guy!

The following morning, I woke up at 01:00. I made a cup of coffee, played a couple word games and started studying the day’s route. It looked like the next stop was Bandon, OR. It was a short leg. Only 147ish miles.

Leaving Lincoln City around 01:45 and traversing the cliffs of the Oregon Coast might be my absolute favorite part of this brevet. The streets were empty, the skies were clear, the air was humid and smelt like the salt water of the ocean. The moonlight reflected off the water and acted like a dim lamp lighting the cliffsides and beach just enough to be seen by the naked eye. It was so quiet you could hear every wave. The peace would only be interrupted for a moment when a semi-truck would pass. The air was so clear, you would not even have to look up to see what kind of haul the truck had. You could smell the damp freshly cut timber of a logging truck, well after they passed.

As the sun would rise, so would the noise. With daylight came trucks and all other vehicles. The safety and serenity of darkness gave way to a less free feeling.

Though this leg of the brevet had my absolute favorite part, it also had one of my least favorites. I would not be sad if I never saw Coos Bay, or its shitty roads, ever again.

I would reach Bandon OR very early, around noon. Thus, I decided to wander around a bit. I stopped at the Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge. I read all the information posted on the migration of the birds of the mudflats. I took tons of pictures and sat down to eat a snack. As I sat there eating, I heard loud music approaching. It was Creedence Clearwater Revival and then, Jimi Hendrix! All the sudden two men on very large fat tire e-bikes rolled up and parked in the same decked area I was eating. The bikes were custom painted with American Flags and a deep blue background. The two men hopped off their bikes and proceeded to talk to me. I was taken aback! One of them asked what country I was from and where I was born. WTF?

I asked that man the same question, but with sass! He laughed and chilled out. Their names were Bob and Otto, a couple of local pensioners. One mentioned he saw me riding on Hwy 101 earlier that morning. He thought I must be staying at hotels since I was packed so light. He stated they see tons of people bikepacking and touring in the area. I was still not super comfortable conversing with the two men as they would bring up politics and mentioned how conservative they were and how red Oregon was, unlike where I came from. However, as the conversation went on, I would divert many topics. Eventually it was all about bikes and Bandon. We started talking about our different bike setups, and parts. I even got to see one of their rocks they had just collected and were taking to get polished. Turns out they had lived on Camano Island many years ago; thus, we were able to discuss different bike routes we both knew. After some time talking story with Otto and Bob, they asked me if I would mind if they could light up (smoke weed). I found familiarity in them I had seen somewhere else. I asked if they were brothers. They perked up and said, “Yes, we are!” Those two cats reminded me of my own father and his brother. The music, the interactions, the mannerisms, body language, jokes, and the back n forth. Oh, and the smoking! Those two guys were harmless. I relaxed and started asking about Bandon. Both had many suggestions, such as where to eat, what to see, places to stay and places I should avoid. They even gave me heads up on hairy parts of the coast that I should keep watch for, if I ride in the dark. 

Though we parted ways and I continued into the old town of Bandon, I would see them several times riding through town. It was funny to look up and wave, “Howzit Otto and Bob”

I really wanted to hit up the local bakery, but they were closed. However, I did spot a candy shop! I leaned my bike against the window outside and proceeded inside. OH MY GOD. This candy shop had a retro theme to it. It was all about gummies, Big Hunks, Chick-O-Sticks, Rockey Road, Oh Henry and more. The Music Boxes, and everything that looked straight from a 1950s diner. I grabbed a couple pounds of peach gummies, Chick-O-Sticks, and Rockey Roads. All for tomorrow’s long leg. I ended up stopping at the Bandon Brewery for food. Typically, Breweries are my least favorite place to eat and hang out, but the vibe there was great! I got a hummus platter, bacon free chowder, and a sandwich and fries (that was for tomorrow). As I sat at a table outside, many other patrons and passers-by would ask about my travels. I loved it!

I was having so much fun; I sent pictures to Rose (the most badass ride organizer and rando admin EVER!)! To my surprise she would come by to say hello! What a fabulous day. It was such a joy to see Rose and chat it up for a bit. 

Just before Rose said hello, I had booked a place only about half a mile away called the Lamplighter Inn by Vacasa. It was unique as it was way cheaper than any other hotel in the area, but it was also a “no attendant on site” hotel. The booking process was done all via an app, even identity verification. The door would unlock at check-in time after the app sent me the code to get inside. 

Just as I had done the night prior, I washed myself and my kit in one seamless action. However, there was no AC unit, but there was a very large fan. I proceeded to hang all my kit in front of the fan. Funny, that fan got everything way drier than any AC unit. It also provided great air flow in the room! Before hitting the sack, I partitioned all my new candies and food for best access for tomorrow’s leg. My two winter lobster gloves on my handlebars would become grab bags for my candy bars and gummies! The jersey pockets were full of real food; thus, the last bag of gummies would have to go into the hurt locker. If you do not know what the hurt locker is, ask Bob Brudvik.

When thinking back about how early I got to Bandon and how many tourist activities I did, a part of me wishes I would have pushed on to another town. But the other part of me is happy with the time I got to spend there. I also feel lucky to have had so many positive interactions with so many strangers. 

The following morning, I woke up at 00:00. I made a cup of coffee, played a couple word games and started studying the day’s route. It looked like the next stop was Eureka, CA. It was going to be a long leg, close to 200 miles.

Leaving Bandon was freaking awesome. In the night, it was just fun rollers on Beach Loop Road before connecting back on Hwy 101. There was some overnight road work happening with flaggers wearing reflective gear that would make any rando look underprepared. There is fun comradery that happens in the overnight hours. I can’t explain it, but there seems to be unspoken respect for one another as we have a shared experience of either having to be up at that hour or wanting to be. The flaggers and road workers gave the kindest greetings and wished me safe travels. For us, it is not odd to say good morning to one another at 01:00. However, this joyful feeling would not last, but I did not know that. At that moment, I was feeling awesome.

Back on Hwy 101 was just as beautiful as it had been the previous mornings. The ocean to my right, the smells of salt water, the sound of waves, and everything lit by the moonlight. A wicked fog had rolled in, it was chilly, and me and bike were getting soaked. A turn came up faster than I was expecting on Old Coast Road, and I had to hit the brakes as the road split, and I was about to end up between them. However, with my rotors getting wet, it was so loud! SKREEEEEEEEEEECCHHHHH. Oh my, I hope no one was trying to sleep.  

Old Coast Road was very cool. It reminded me of all the horror movies I have seen that take place on the beach. The sandy dunes with long grass, the little rock formations, graffiti, and evidence of campers. Sadly, though, the road was very rough and there were many potholes. Just as a little steep puncher approached, I stood up. BAM! I hit a pothole straight on while standing up and my knee went the wrong direction! The pain was instant and shot up my body like lightning! Holy carnation, I had to sit back down and shift to the easiest gear, quickly.

I could not stand or put any power down on my left knee. The pain was sharp and fast. I could only soft pedal and had to stay in the saddle. This was not good. As a smaller rider, I am always out of the saddle. Also, my nethers were still healing and they periodically needed a breather, too. 

In Gold Beach I put on my puffy jacket and did a few stretches. To me it felt like rain and looked like rain, but others are telling me it was just thick fog. Either way, it was messing up my glasses, and I was soaked. Things started getting a bit hairy from there, traversing several climbs and the corresponding descents. At that point it was straight up raining, and I had to take off my glasses for the descents. I could not see, and the road was slick! There was no shoulder, and the semi-trucks were freaking moving! It was a stressful situation. At this point it was about 06:30 and I was stress eating Chick-O-Sticks and Rocky Roads!  I stopped for a moment when it appeared climbing and descending stopped. Where I stopped was perfect, it was gorgeous, but eerie at the same time. 

It was not long until I went through Brookings and then found myself in California! I was in California! Of course I had to stop to take a picture, then promptly sent it to my sister and mom.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping to stay on Hwy 101 after entering California. It was smooth and familiar. The road we followed when entering the Golden State were, well, they sucked. The chip seal, the poor conditions, no shoulder, traffic, including farming equipment. I keep having to remind myself, I was out there on a weekday when everyone is going to work and/or dropping their children off at school. I am so whiny, my apologies!

Without putting any power down using my left leg and not standing out the saddle, I was rolling at a snail’s pace. Any time I thought I could chance standing or really pushing the pedal, I got reminded why I couldn’t. I seriously thought I would have to end my adventure here. I was ready to call Rose and let her know that something was wrong with my knee and I could not continue. But before I did any of that, I stopped at a Starbucks in Cresent City.  I thought a nice hot soy latte and maybe a delicious pastry would solve all my problems. That and a bit of fussing with my cleat. The vibe at the Cresent City Starbucks was not like what I am used to up here in the PNW. It was far less chill, it was not laid back, and there was no laughter or chatter. No one yelled “Welcome In” every time someone came in the door. The tension in the air was oddly thick. It was so strange.

I left Starbucks trying to stay positive. I would continue to soft pedal my way along Redwood Hwy (101). I got nervous as I knew there was a large climb coming. Then, out of the blue, about one kilometer from the base of the climb, my knee stopped hurting. It just stopped. To be sure, I stood up and really put down some power. HOLY MACKEREL! NO PAIN. I did it again. And again. Out of the blue, I had no more pain in my knee. The sheer amount of joy and relief is indescribable. I started climbing up Redwood Hwy like nobody’s business! However, it was reduced to one lane, thus, I had to stop and wait. Until the flagger waved me up to front and said, “You may go, just stay to the right and watch for oncoming traffic.” Yes, sir! Back to climbing, it felt so good. What felt even better was the exhilarating descent that came after. For the most part I had the road all to myself, until the next block of cars was released. However, even then, the cars would be going so slow because there were so many. It felt like I was commuting to university downtown again. I was like water, moving amongst the cars. Then, at the very bottom, I was rewarded with the most glorious view of the sea. I screamed at the road workers on the shoulder, “IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL!”. Next stop, Redwood State Park!

Riding among the giants was so cool. It felt like a fairytale. I thought I might be in FernGully! Those trees had to have been several trees that grew together at some point. It was unreal. I shot some fun videos. It was also fun to see all the other tourists and their families having such a magical time.

Going through the Klamath area was fun. Again, there was a lot of road work, and workers were comical. They did not want me to have to wait when the road was reduced to one lane, and they did not want to have to wait for me. They would wave me to front and guide me to follow some opposite shoulder. One flagger yelled as I passed, “WHERE YOU HEADED?”

I yelled back, “Eureka!”

Then he yelled, “OH DANG, I LIVE IN BERRY GLEN!”

I just shook my head and laughed as I rode off.

Present me did not know it at the time, but future me would be having a conversation with a Humboldt County Sheriff about how dangerous Hwy 101 was for bike riders. However, in retrospect, I get it. The following miles were on Hwy 101 towards Eureka, holy crap; they were sense heightening AF! The speed that the cars exit and enter the highway … MY GOD! 

But it was B. E. A. U. T. I. F. U. L!

Made it to Eureka safe and sound. Next, find a hotel. I ended up at the Clarion Inn right on 4^th, just after the bridge. When checking-in, the two workers at the desk were so interested in my travels. They had so many questions! I loved it. However, most of the questions related to me as a single female out there alone on a bike riding at all hours and on all roads. I was honest about some of the troubles I ran into, but I also emphasize that I felt very safe and never felt like my life was in danger (well, maybe except for when I was asked what country I was from and where I was born). 

When reaching down to grab my identification, I noticed my toothbrush was gone! Jesus! I lost another toothbrush. I lost one prior to Panguitch on Hoodoo 500 and now I seem to have lost another one on my way to Eureka. I asked if they might have one, I could purchase? They had better! They had free toothbrushes! One of the workers handed me three and two travel sized toothpastes! SCORE! After using them, I totally get now why she gave me three. They are meant to be disposable, but I am still using one of them as I write this report.

My stay at the Clarion Inn in Eureka was hilarious. But better stories to be told in person. After washing my kit, eating, and preparing my food for the next day. I got on my phone to sneak a peek at the next leg. Next control was Fort Bragg. I was not keen on spending more money on a hotel to nap for a few hours and wash my kit using whatever shampoo is plastered on the side of the wall. I just wanted to get to San Francisco and wanted to ride through the night.

I texted my sister that I was considering riding through.

She asked, “How are you feeling?”

I responded, “I was feeling alright, but maybe not 310 miles alright!” I let her know that I would make a game time call. I had no accommodation booked so I was not tied to any plans.

I noticed the next leg was only about 143 miles but had significant climbing for that distance. Well, at least to me. I was going to gamble and only fill two of my bottles and drink the extra drinks that were going to go in my jersey, that night.

My alarm was set to go off much later than usual since I was unsure if I was riding through or not. I wanted to get a bit more sleep. However, the ruckus outside my door was terrible. Screaming children, barking dogs, arguing, slamming doors, loud laughter, and noises I could not name. I ended up waking up many times and after the fourth or fifth time, around midnight, I gave up.

I officially got up at midnight thirty, 00:30. Made a cup of coffee, played some word games, and scoped out any amenities after Fort Bragg, just in case I needed to bail out. There were not many.

Each day before heading out the door, I would look at the Spot Walla tracker to see if anyone else might be out there riding. I kept seeing Charlie. He was always about 20-30 miles south of the control cities. I was not sure if that is where he stayed or if he was out riding already. I had hoped, at least once, we might cross paths or end up riding in the same spot in the same direction at the same time. I have met Charlie only once in Texas for the Quick n Dirty 1200k. I did not get to talk with him much there. But, based on his Strava posts and the amount he rides I bet he has some good stories to tell! However, he rides fast, and I think the stories would best be heard when not moving.

Leaving Eureka was crazy! We start out on a shared trail. For me this was awful. I have the worst luck with unfamiliar trails. Anytime I am in Issaquah or Redmond WA or anything east, I get so lost and end up doing circles. Also, if I hear my Garmin say one more time, “Enter Sidewalk Trail” I am going to lose it!

After surviving the paved trails, I would be taken through some gnarly farming roads. I mean these roads were annihilated from what must be semi-trucks, farming tractors, large equipment, and maybe animals … I don’t know. But, during this section, I was super happy I had the Crux equipped with larger tires.

After leaving the flat of the farming area it seemed the roads started to go up heading towards Rio Dell and Hwy 101. There were a few small climbs but fun and fast descents that followed. However, about a mile or two NW of Rio Dell, I was descending and noticed headlights ahead. But they looked strange, almost like they were blinking. It seemed they were behind trees or maybe bushes. It was around 02:00 and extremely dark. I thought maybe there was a bit of a curve in the road. OH SHIT! NOPE! There was a fallen tree blocking the road just at the bottom of the hill! I hit the brakes so fast and stopped about 5 feet in front of the tree. I looked up and the tree had taken out a power pole! There were power lines just above my head. I did a quick assessment of the tree and saw the top of it was to my left and with the power lines to the right, it would be the only way to crawl through.  There was no going under or over this tree. The only way to the other side was through it! I picked up my bike and put my head down. I used my right arm to block branches. I was getting close lined by branches, branches were getting stuck in my spokes, helmet, and chain, it was a mess. I attempted to use the vehicle’s headlights that were on the other side, as guidance.

Emerging from the tree I realized the vehicle was a Police SUV! The headlights were alternating brightness back n forth. Also, there was a third light. A spotlight! As I emerged the spotlight was put directly on me, being blinded when looking up, I fell over to my left, right on top of my bike! As I stood up and brushed myself off, I hear a young male voice, “hello.”

I followed the voice, stepping over a power line and ducking under the rest. I responded, “hello” (this might not be the right time for a howzit). As I approached, I can see this was a Humboldt County Sheriff. Damn he looked young!

“So, uh…you just out for a ride.” he asked.

I responded with a bit of giddiness, “no. I am headed to San Francisco.”

“Oh, wow that is a way away”.

“Not too far, only 310 miles, I am hoping to get there by Saturday afternoon.” I said with an, as a matter of fact.

“Did you mean to come this way?” “Did you want to be in Fernbridge?”

In my head, I was like, wtf is Fernbirdge, but instead responded with, “no sir, this is the route, and it appears we are trying to avoid 101.”

He sounded relieved and said, “Oh, that is great, I cannot urge bike riders enough to please avoid the highway, it is so dangerous.”

I mentioned that I would have to get on the highway eventually.

And he responded with, “Please try to continue to avoid it.”

He seemed surprised when I told him I came from Eureka. That I would be riding through to San Francisco and might stop for another sleep on the way. But I was not sure.

“Oh, I definitely think you will need to stop to sleep!”

He shined his flashlight down a bit on my reflective vest and ask, “Are you from Seattle?”

“YES!” I responded with joy. “I left Seattle Monday morning.”

“OH WOW!” 

Then, from on the other side of his vehicle I heard another man, “Tell me more!” I looked over with super squinty eyeballs and saw another gentleman. He was leaning over the hood of the vehicle with his arms crossed and his chin resting on his forearms.

“Oh my, I did not see you there.” I said with surprise.

With confidence he responded with, “There are two more of us just over there.” pointing at the fallen tree.

I looked over and made a sound instead of saying words, “OH WHAAAA?” “Really?”

“NO!” he laughed!

Well, RUDE

We continued to talk about my travels, and I mentioned how I did not expect that tree to be there. The officers responded with, “Neither did we!”

I asked the officer if he could shine his flashlight on my bike. I mentioned that I fell over and wanted to be sure all my lights were attached.

He responded with concern, “You fell over?”

“Yes, just as I was crawling out from under that tree.” 

“Ha, oh, ya, we saw that.”, he smirked.

With both the Sheriff and his Deputy giving me mad kudos and wishing me safe travels, I mounted my bike (almost falling over, AGAIN) and went on my way. Lord

When reaching Rio Dell I attempted to email admin, Rose and some of the other riders to warn them of the fallen tree and power line. However, I had no service. That email would not be sent until way after sunrise. But it appears they must have had the road cleared, I did not hear story of anyone else running into a fallen tree.

After Rio Dell, I would ride the Avenue of the Giants. I loved this road. It was perfect. At least on a Friday morning at about 04:00, it was perfect. My light reflected off the street and illuminated the giants around me. It was majestic. However, I could not help but giggle every time I saw a sign for a “Drive Through Tree”. Say what now?

While riding amongst the giants I noticed I could hear my tire on the pavement. A similar sound when riding under some deciduous trees that have left a sticky residue on the street they tower over. But that was out of place for where I was. I thought I had best take a look. BOO! My front tire had gone flat. In the dark I walked my bike to the side of the road. There is no shoulder but there was a flat area full of dirt and organic matter from the forest.

I took my headlight off my handlebars and put it in my mouth. I removed my front wheel, grabbed my tools from my top tube bag and one of my three spare tubes.

Leaving the tire on the rim, I removed the damaged tube and ran my fingers along the underside of the tire looking for anything sharp. YOWCH! Found it. The only way I can describe it is a broken finishing nail. A thin one. It was lodged in my tire in such a way that I could not use my fingers to remove it. I did not have pliers or tweezers. I knew what I had to do. I was going to have to use my teeth!

I took my headlight out of my mouth (now completely covered in saliva) and set it on the forest floor. I brought the wheel up to my face and started to run my mouth along the tire using my tongue to feel for the nail. FOUND IT! Using my front teeth, I got ahold of the nail and started pulling.

At that moment I saw a semi-truck approaching. I could hear it slow down a bit. As the headlights hit me, I looked up. All the while, with the wheel in my mouth. Looking like a dog thrashing around a new chew toy. I heard the semi-truck hit the gas! I can only imagine what I looked like. Whatever it was, that truck driver did not want anything to do with it.

Note to self. If you put a saliva covered headlight in the forest floor while changing a flat, be sure to wipe off the light before putting it back into your mouth! BLAH!

With the nail removed and a new tube in. I took the damaged tube and carried it over my shoulders like a sash for the rest of the ride. 

Heading back to the coast was interesting. Some old roads that were very rough but offered amazing scenery. When reaching California Hwy 1, I was glad I went extra light for the leg. I was glad I brought my puffy coat, too. That descent was freaking cold!

When reaching the coast again, I was taken aback by its beauty, I had to stop. I could not believe what I was looking at. It was breathtaking. Little did I know that would be one of the last times I would feel like that along Cali 1.

Super thirsty I stopped at a corner store just past some major road work. I asked the man behind the counter if I could drink the items while waiting in line. As he was making a sandwich for one of the road workers he laughed and said, “Oh yes, please … we just charge all the bike riders by weight before they leave.”

There was tons of road work on California Highway 1. Many areas were reduced to one lane. Luckily, there were buttons for pedestrians and bike riders to push that would trigger the light and allow for extra time. However, I found that many drivers were not too keen on me skirting along the fog line in these areas to reach those buttons. They acted the same way drivers do waiting in line for the Mukilteo/Clinton Ferry. They felt like I was “cutting”. I found it very odd. There was always plenty of room in these one-lane areas for drivers to pass a bike rider. 

The vibe in this part of California felt off for me. I could not put my finger on it. Following the ocean south was more of the same. Traversing cliffsides. Single lanes. Up, then down. Whipping turns, plenty of places with lots of momentum, and so much ocean.

I made it to Fort Bragg around noon. Entering Fort Bragg I was worried about flats. The shoulders appeared to be where the city pushes all the glass, garbage, and debris.

The drivers were impatient, and the air was filled with exhaust. This was not the town my mom described. However, the stories told were more than 20 years old. I stopped at the gas station on the other side of the bridge that led into the city. It was connected to a falafel joint. It smelt amazing! I bought a great deal of supplies there. I tried to patch my damaged tube while there, too. I sat in the sunshine in the corner of the parking lot for about an hour. It was official. I was going to ride through. I made sure to eat plenty while there.

I loaded the last leg on my Garmin. About 174 miles, destination, the far side of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sadly, I did not pay any attention to the total ascent. I stupidly thought it would be easy sailing along the coast. IDIOT!  

As the hours ticked away, I was getting excited for nightfall. The car culture along this part of the coast was not something I was accustomed to. It was nonstop cars. They drove fast and carefree winding along the cliffside. It felt like I was in the middle of a car commercial.

It was easy to stop and take breaks. Every so often there would be areas for “Coastal Access”. There were small parking lots with trails leading directly to the coast. There were many places to sit and clean bathrooms.

As the sun set, I texted my mom and sister that I would not be texting anymore. Not until I reach San Franscisco. Traversing the cliffside in the dark had me feeling very uneasy. Climbing the sharp punchy climbs was okay, it was descending them that made me nervous. In many cases there were no barriers, railing or guards. It was just you and the cliff’s edge. I tried not to look down. Drivers were inconsiderate with their brights and passed hastily with oncoming traffic. They not only passed me without care, but they would pass other drivers in the same manner.

To my surprise, the car traffic did not die down with the sunsetting. It got worse! I have only seen this when there were big events downtown, such as football games, soccer matches, concerts, and more. But here, on the coast, I had no idea what was going on. I also had no idea where they all came from or where they were going. I was completely unfamiliar with the area. I assumed they all came from San Fran.

The ride became very tense. It was completely dark. I was getting blinded by the continuous flow of oncoming traffic. Young people were yelling at me out the passenger side of cars, “GO HOME!” People were not kind. It was late and the traffic did not stop. There were groups of cars parked in pullouts along the coast. People were drinking, smoking, and obviously having a good time. They were racing each other on the highway, revving their engines and blasting music. The music was brief as it passed, but much appreciated.

At around 11pm, as the highway headed east it was lit up brightly with headlights. However, I noticed a junction approaching and not one driver was going south. They all kept heading east. That’s also where all the oncoming cars came from. I had no idea at the time what the nearest city was to the east, but it must be big. Turning right continuing along California Hwy 1, I was finally in familiar territory, figuratively. I had no idea where I was, but finally, it was dark, quiet, and peaceful. I was all alone. It stayed that way for pretty much the rest of the ride. My only company, thankfully, random deer as they appeared to bounce across the road. They looked so silly. They just bounced using only their ankles. Their legs really did not move.

Riding along the bay was enjoyable. It was dark but it looked like small fishing towns. Unfortunately, my headspace was still leaning on the negative side. I was really left vexed from how tense the ride was prior to the junction. Thus, when turning onto San-Francis Drake Blvd I felt annoyed. I thought to myself, why not continue along 1 or hop on 101? Maybe bike riders are prohibited? Maybe it is not safe? Maybe this is a more enjoyable route.  I really have no justification for why I did not enjoy that part of the leg.

Reaching what appeared to be the suburbs prior to the Golden Gate Bridge it was somewhere around 01:30 – 02:00. I am not sure if the townspeople of Marin or Sausalito know, but their streets, sidewalks, driveways, and yards are completely taken over by the local deer population in the middle of the night. In addition, I had no idea that deer were so stupid. They see a car or a bike rider coming, and instead of staying put or turning around to run, they do a little shuffle. Then start bouncing across the street. Careful to be sure to cross directly in front of the danger. Dang it, deer!

Finally, I can see the Golden Gate Bridge. However, I felt like I was still so far away. I snapped a photo. I sent the photo to my mom and sister telling them I still had to get to the other side.

After a bit of climbing and going in circles, I made it to the Golden Gate Bridge! I read the instructions for bike riders. I hit a large reddish button and was scared half to death after a loud BBUUZZZZZZZZZZ. The gate was opened for me to enter. I started to cross the bridge. It was amazing. It was also very cold and windy. I felt lucky to have crossed the bridge when I did. I was literally the only person on it. I would not realize how crazy the bridge was until I rode during the day the following Sunday on my way to Amtrak at Emeryville.

I reached the opposite side of the bridge at 03:11 Saturday, September 13. I continued to take a video for Rose to let her know I made it. 

My timing was not best for finding accommodation. However, I already knew where I wanted to stay and headed that way. I did not use my app as it would only show availability for later that night after 4pm.

I headed to the Comfort Inn just off Hwy 101 on Van Ness Ave. When I got there the door was locked, as expected. I went to use the speaker, but the gentleman at the front desk unlocked the door for me. I am puny and that door was heavy! As I tried to pull myself and my bike through the door, I was pushed over. I look up and said, “Dang that door is heavy!” The man had no reaction. He just looked at me. Oh, my goodness, I can only imagine what he was thinking. I walked over to the front desk and asked, “Are there any rooms available, right now through Sunday afternoon?” While he was checking to see availability, I told him that I came from Eureka and got a bit caught out. 

He seemed shocked and asked, “You came from Eureka?”

“Yes, but I started my journey in Seattle on Monday.”

Though very professional, he loosened up a bit and said, “Ya, we do not unlock our door at this time and do not let people in, but you looked like you may have come far.”

At least now I knew what I looked like. It was confirmed when looking in the mirror when finally entering my room. Rough.

“Yes, we have a room available. Check out will be Sunday at noon, but I will put down 12:30 for you…so you can sleep more.” “Will that work for you?”

“OH MY GOD, YES! Thank you!” I took my key and headed to my room. I washed up and took a power nap. I did not want to miss breakfast. Breakfast was 06:30. It might have been the best breakfast I’ve ever had.

Walking around San Francisco later that day and riding to the train station the following Sunday made me realize how small the Pacific Northwest (PNW) really is. At least its cities. I am not sure I will ever complain about busy bridges or shared trails, again. But I’m still going to avoid them during the day when I can!

On the Amtrak train heading back to Seattle, I was so happy to see Michael and Owen when sitting down to eat. I loved hearing about their rides. I also loved that I could make them laugh with stories of my own. Cheers, fellas.

Above photo credit; Michael Acosta.