Ajui! La Fronteira de Mexico

Hey Hector, don't be so fucking sensitive you big baby. You're still one of my least hated customers. And who is this Cy that has a problem with my "fuck-ness"? I thought that it was one of my more endearing qualities? Anyway, I leave for India on the 20th of July. I plan to write more as I reflect back on the last 7 weeks and finally reveal the true meaning of Simultaneously in First and Last Place. I encourage all of you to stick with me as I hone my bloggy prowess and wait for the publishing checks to roll in. Hopefully this is an entertaining site for my friends to visit and my truly authentic way of expressing angst and "fuck-ness" are received well.

So I made it into Mexico Mon. afternoon. Wow. The original plan was to cross over to make it official and then head back over to the U.S. side to wait for my friend Nevada to show up so we could take a cab into Mexico. Problems. I made it across through the main road with all of the cars but didn't see a safe road to ride on and couldn't find the way to the other side to come back through. This is where it got interesting. I tried to approach a customs officer to get directions and she immediately says "no habla english". Won't even get make a move to send me in the right direction. And how do you get a job as a customs officer w/o speaking English? I don't buy that one at all. Then I'm trying to get another officers attention, and he sees me but refuses to acknowledge me. WTF? I'm obviously trying to find a way around. So I say "fuck it" and decide to ride back the way I came. I knew that it was a bad idea but I was getting frustrated. So I start riding and all of a sudden this international alarm goes off like I'm sprinting toward the President with a curling iron and wearing a hospital gown, or, like I'm trying to cross the border the wrong way. What a sound. So I turn around and head back to face the authorities but again no one will give me the time of day. Weird. So finally Nevada came around and we spent the next three hours haggling and being hassled. Anybody want a chicklet?

DONE. WORD.

Well, that's it. 1,824 miles, 35 days of riding, 6 days off, 2 flat tires, 1 not-so-slow leak, 2 rear racks, 3 1/2 bottles of Tapatio, 4 heads of garlic, 148 hours in the saddle, 3 states, 3 countries, countless songs sang, 1 broke spoke, 3 bent chain links, 1 bent chain ring. Hissy fits and self- doubt galore with an amazing amount of elation spread throughout.

Pretty people, expensive cars and Chem-Lawns

Well it seems that it's gonna be all cities for the last couple of days. It's good news for resources like food and computer access but it's definitely gong to take more time and energy. I try to stay off of the freeway as much as possible but it means traversing these endless cities which takes all day. I'm going to try to get to San Diego by Sun. night so that I can get into Mexico by Mon. This means minimal site seeing and all day riding. I think that I'll have to average around 70 to 80 miles a day but thats alright. I have no real interest in exploring these towns. I feel completely disconnected from this bustling scene and want nothing to do with it. I'm ready to finish this. If I were to do it again or advise anyone else on it, I would say make your final destination just South of Big Sur, Like Pismo Beach, and then catch a train.

This is just a sampling of the roads in Central/ Southern Cali. The one on the right had a good shoulder but still the sound and feel of cars screaming past at 70+ m.p.h. is nerve racking after a while.

Only depend on myself

So I keep getting ridiculously bad directions. I usually rely on maps and people to get me where I'm going and it has worked very until the last few days. Yesterday when I was lost I rolled up to a gas station to ask how far I had to go until I hit Hwy. 1 and the dude told me I had to go back up Hwy. 246 about thirty miles North or else it would take me 100 miles going South. WHAT? I pulled out my map to show him how close it was and he told me it must be an old map. "I not bullshiting you man. I live here forty year". Do the roads stretch with age in California? 15 miles later I was on the 1 going South. Then at the campsite I was talking to a pretty cool guy about the ride and how far it was to Santa Barbera. He responded with a fairly accurate amount of 30 miles but then added in that it was all down hill. We were standing on the Beach. Sea Level. I pointed this out to him and he mentioned with a motion of his hand that I had to climb this first hill (that was maybe 100 ft., I probably could have thrown a rock to the top) then it was downhill. Um yeah, I'll just pedal up, put the bike on auto-pilot, and just coast the thirty miles into Santa Barbera while taking a nap. Just let gravity do all the work. Maybe he thought that everything just rolls South like it looks on a map. Well it doesn't. I thought the same thing up until a month and a half ago or else I might not have done this thing. Actually everything rolls North. At least it's felt that way at times.

Just a few more days

Today I'm in Santa Barbera and I'm taking it easy. The wind is blowing hard North bound and it's too hard to fight all day so I'm breaking it up a bit. Coffee, computers and rock n' roll. Yesterday was a hard one also. I missed my turn off and wound up heading inland. I checked my map and saw that I could either backtrack 4 miles or just keep going, catch 101 and follow it back to the coast. It was only a 10 mile detour but it was horrendous. Inland is so much hotter than the coast. I knew that it would but it turned out to be more so than I understood. Plus, there is NOTHING out there. I was afraid that I was going to run out of water and then I hit 101. I immediately noticed the signs forbidding pedestrians and bikes. I didn't have much of a choice since to backtrack would have meant 40 miles at this point so I went for it anyway. Hair raising, tense, and awful. It was a major freeway with a cracked shoulder that had weeds growing all down it. It was only 11 miles but I hit three bridges that came around corners and had no shoulder. Just white lines and a concrete barrier. This was not a place where I could take the lane. I just I had to wait for an opening and sprint. I finally made it to my dirt plot of a camp spot around six p.m.

Fat Fuck/ big peice of shit update

• So the fat bike tourer is definitely just a scam artist. He's not even a bike tourer but a homeless guy that traded his shopping cart up for a bicycle. I was sitting around camp back on the day before Big Sur when this rider from Seattle rolled up and made conversation. He started talking about how one day he met a biker who claimed to have numerous holes in his tire and had his bike bag ripped off with his money in it and now he was broke. Same exact story he told the German couple while finishing off a six pack and the same story he told the New Zealander while scamming a free tube. I don't think he ever got around to telling me about getting ripped off, probably because I was trying to ignore him. Anyway the kid offered Fat Fuck twenty bucks and when he did, Fat Fuck asked if he could make it forty and then he would mail it back to him in a few days when he got to a bank or something. OH man I was rollin'. So the kid gave him another twenty and asked for his home address. Fat Fuck wrote down that his name was Micheal and he lived in Canada. He told me that his name was Ian and he was from Australia. He definitely had an Aussie accent. The kid from Seattle also ran into him about sixty miles north of where I did and at a close campground to where the other tourers met him. He's just a guy with a bike that pushes it back and forth to different campgrounds. The kid from Seattle was noticeably offended that he was taken advantage of and it probably didn't help that I found it so funny. But what I would I would give to run into Fat Fuck again with all of the coastal riders holding spare tubes and just whipping the shit out of him.

What I'm noticing about the culture of cycling is that road bikers are dicks. They won't even look your way when you pass and wave. I suppose the reason being is that the sudden movement of a facial expression could increase their wind resistance but that still makes them dicks in ridiculous clothes. So I started playing this new game where when I see a roadie in front of me I step on the gas to smoke those fools. I imagine myself as an evil cycling wizard that steals their spirit as I pass 'em by. Shaming them by getting lapped by a kid wearing cut-off jean shorts, a studded leather belt, and carrying 60 extra pounds of gear as they lose ground while wearing the latest in skin tight, cycling-nerd gear. They look so ridiculous. It does lose it's fun when the person you lap happens to be 75 and then catches up to you for some friendly conversation about bikes. I suppose that we're all assholes sometimes.

Pee brake

I was passing through the town of Guadalupe and had to pee so I'm doing it in the Library. It's another clear day and the heat is on. I stayed in Oceano last night at a most depressing campground. $25 and no hiker/ biker spots. It was cramped with beach rednecks, loud music, and screaming kids going wild. It made me miss the days of camping amongst the Winnebago Warriors. My spot happened to be located at the intersection of the camp road right next to the dumpster. Awesome. I think that I'll get back to riding. It's so hot though that I can't even wear sunglasses 'cause it feels like they trap all off my sweat in my eye holes. I mean the sun was beating down on my baseball hat. The air was getting hot. The beer was getting flat. Looking for a girl, I ran into a guy. His name was MCA. I said Howdy. He said hi... Oh wait, that's the story of Paul Revere as told by the Beastie Boys. Whatever, I got a license to Ill.

"bronze sexy" with a hint of scab.

I traded in my 56 year old New Zealand riding buddy for a 21 year old that just started a few days ago. We met at camp and the next day rode together for about ten miles until I couldn't take it anymore and sped off. He was too slow and talked too much. Crowdin' out my solitude. We came across each other at another camp a few days later and hiked up this trail to a river, then went up the river traversing the shallow spots and rocks. It was a quiet, beautiful area. Late that day I started noticing that I had bumps and scabs on my ears. Turns out that sunscreen should be applied there too. My bad. Now I have nasty 3rd degree burns with blisters and scabs. Oh well. The rest of me is tanned to a perfect bronze sexy. My new favorite color "bronze sexy" with a hint of scab.

Still livin' the Hobo life

These pictures were taken between Monterrey Bay and Big Sur. The land is lush and alive with Redwoods and white capped waves. You have to be very alert while riding this area. The views will steal your attention so quickly and in most parts of this area there are no guard rails to keep a person from veering off the side.

San Louis Obispoe

It's Tuesday the 12th and I should hit San Diego this coming Monday. Right now I'm in San Louis Obispoe and it's beautiful out. I'm gong to spend most of the day riding around this town, taking care of errands and then head S.W. to Pismo Beach for the night. Yesterday I woke up on the North side of Big Sur and traveled across that amazing landscape with my destination being San Simeon about 70 miles away. Big Sur was incredible. The climbs were big and the descents fast with about 3,500 ft. of elevation gained and lost throughout the day. It was all so stunning that I barely felt the fatigue that I have in the past when climbing these kinds of roads. As I came into San Simeon it was only 5 p.m. and I was still feeling fresh if just a little hungry so I decide to push on another 25 miles to Morro Bay. The wind was at my back and the terrain had changed from near vertical hills to rolling pastures as I kept a pace of 20+ miles per hour. I approached Morro Bay around the 95 mile mark and since I was so close, decided to push it 'til I hit 100. 13 miles later I hit San Louis Obispoe at 8:30 with just over 107 miles for the day. Now I'm ahead of schedule and have time to thoroughly explore San Louis and Pismo Beach. The skies are blue, cloudless and I think that it's gonna be a great day.

Some people subscribe to the theory that man evolved from apes. I tend to think that we evolved from Sea Lions. Fat, Lazy, Grouchy, Loud, Sea Lions. There like dirty, wet apes with more mass. Maybe apes evolved from sea lions. Start replacing your Darwin fish magnets with Guerra sea lion ones.

CONDORS

I was rolling down Big Sur yesterday and these guys were perched on the railing next to the road. A lot of what I've seen over the last couple of weeks has been less than extraordinary because of my frame of reference. Even though I haven't actually seen the California coast or the Redwood Forest in person I do have pictures in my head from books and television that give me the impression that I've seen it before, thus diluting the experience. But walking up to these huge birds and standing five feet from their massive bodies was a much richer moment. They look monstrous and out of place anywhere but in a Fantasy/ Sci-Fi film. And again I seem to relate things only to modern media with no personal identification. I don't know what it is like to see something for the first time ever and be truly awed. Maybe in India...

the days run away

So I have about nine days left and I'm not thrilled about that. Part of me wishes that I had no other obligations and could just keep on riding. I do have some amazing things lined and I'm not regretful at all it's just that I really like this bike touring thing. The past few days have been the most incredible this whole trip. I'm having perfect weather with the wind blowing faster than ever but now it's finally at my back, pushing me along. I'm so comfortable camping that I would now prefer it to sleeping indoors. My body has ceased giving me painful commentary on it's weathered situation and the miles just fly by. This certainly will not be my last tour. But anyone is welcome to join me in the future.

The squeeze

This is Dave, the New Zealander. This hill was just absoludicrous. No shouldere for the first mile and a half and STEEP. If you don't come into the lane some these big trucks and semis will try to come through and squeeze you out.

So I came through San Francisco and all the satellite cities like Fairfax, and Sausalito yesterday to wind up at Half Moon Bay State Park. For a few days I had kept winding up at the same camp as this older guy from New Zealand. He was always gone before I even peeked my head out of the tent around eight in the morning but we seemed to be following the same book. Yesterday we decided to team up to traverse the city. It was awesome riding. We took almost all back roads and neighborhood streets. Occasionally asking for directions and constantly stopping to look at the map. It was a long, fulfilling day. We left camp close to eight in the morning and made it to the next camp 63 miles later around six P.M. We took some wrong turns and followed some bad directions and at one point found ourselves carrying our bikes up and down some stairs to get to the bike lane of the Golden Gate Bridge which in fact is not gold but more of a rusty orange or spicy pumpkin type of color. I was just stoked to be there.

Camping in a swamp

I met the biggest piece of shit the other day. This fat fuck that looked like the hybrid version of a hobbit and Sam Kineson but fatter rolled up on the campsite a few days ago. His bike was loaded to the max and I couldn't figure out how he even pushed that thing around, let alone pedal it. He seemed like a swindler and a liar. Told me his tube had nine patches on it and was worthless and wanted one of mine. WHAT? I have a spare tube because I might need it and how are you such a fat fuck anyway. I wanted to get a picture of him and his bike but i didn't want to give him the impression that we were friendly after aggressively giving him the cold shoulder all night. Turns out that another bike tourer heard the same story about the flat tire and gave him a spare just a few days earlier. What kind of scam is that anyway? What, does he sell all these begged for tubes back to bike shops along the way? He'd make more money picking up bottles and cans for recycling. What a fat fuck.

So I was thinkin'....

When they make a movie about my extraordinary life and adventures maybe Samuel L. Jackson could play me on my bike tour and when he's had enough of the weather his catch phrase could be "I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THESE MOTHERFUCKIN' WINDS ON THIS MOTHERFUCKIN PLAIN!". Can you see it? $$$$$$$

Bodega

Bodega Sand Dunes State Park. I rolled up to the hiker/ biker spot and one of my friends was still camped out there. It's nice to see familiar faces on the road. There were a couple of jokers camped out next to us though. They looked like ex-roadies for Huey Lewis or Bad Company. One had a long leather trench coat on while I was feeling fine in shorts and his buddy had the classic 80's thick and ultra black shades on. They tussled with their tent for a while and then proceeded to watch movies on a laptop while slugging beer and liquor. Weird dudes.

In California when you see a sign that says, "Danger, Sheer Cliff, Stay Back" what it really means is that Ninjas might be around.

Big Grinnin'

Yeah Ya'll. I say whatever about the other day. It took me a little while to process the bullshit but now I'm all good. I hit a store, got some fresh veggies and chicken breast and called it an early day around thirty-five miles. The Day after was awesome. A little over fifty miles to camp and it was all coastal with the wind heading my way. Just fucking beautiful. I have times when I think that bike touring is just physically strenuous and boring. Then I hit amazing sights and cute little towns and charge up hills just to cruise back down. I forget about miles and speed and pedal effortlessly while in awe of my situation and surroundings. I love my life.

So I was going to post again and be lite hearted about the whole thing with a very Easy Rider kind of attitude until I went to upload some new photos and somehow since the library two hours ago I have lost a bunch of recent photos. Pretty much a weeks worth. I have no Pictures of the Redwood Forest or even the last three days of Oregon. PISSED.

Not My Day

I'm havin' troubles today. I woke up at 8:00 so I could get to the library early enough to still make it to Bodega Bay. I got kicked off the computer after my hour but there system was so whack that I had to move to another computer then that one was super slow. It took forever to do anything. So I actually started riding at a little after one. It was windy, gloomy, and bleak. Then my chain got caught up in the rings twice. It turns out that the bottom ring is bent. Then it started raining a little.

Hobo Chili

YEAHHH... this picture was taken about ten miles from the California border by my riding buddy Richard. We stayed at this park overnight with two other bike tourers that were heading North. We gathered some wood and I made a big dinner of chicken in a red sauce with rice and beans and flour tortillas. I am becoming a very good outdoors, minimalist chef. Did you know that you could use an old shoestring in place of a bullion cube? It makes for some good Hobo chili.

After we crossed over the border we left 101 and headed inland to go deeper into the redwoods. Such an amazing place. At that point Richard and I had been riding together for four and 1/2 days but we were heading in different directions afterwords. The company was nice but my solitude was beginning to get crowded. I learned a lot from him though. Mostly that pop-tarts good. The kid was culinary maniac. This first day we rode, we both stopped at a Safeway. I got Gatorade, apples, bananas, beans, and a loaf of bread. He came out with an 8 pack of donuts and a quart of milk. Then proceeded to consume it all before getting back on his bike. Another time, a few days earlier, we stopped at a store about three miles from camp to get dinner stuff. We went halves on the food and he also bought a pint of Ben & Jerry's. I wrongly assumed that we would share it for desert until a mile down the road when i looked back to see him steering his bike with one hand and using the other to squeeze the ice cream into his mouth. The pint was finished before camp. WILD! The day after we split up I was cruising back on the 101 when I saw him sitting outside of a convenience store finishing off a whole box of macaroons. The kid was amazing.

So I'm just outside of Manchester, Ca. about 120 miles from San Francisco. My plan was to do roughly 70 mi. to get to Bodega Bay sand dunes but this library didn't open til noon. So I don't know how far I'll get. It doesn't really matter anyway. I've been having trouble finding internet access for a week now so i definitely wanted to hang out and use the computer. The next decent size town is probably San Fran. I also had issues finding a computer that would let me transfer images. When I got here I initially could upload pics but now I can't. Arghh! I' gonna move to another computer and if it doesn't work I'll just spill something on it.