It’s time. 2 Countries. 3 States. 1,248 Miles. I’m happy.
I knew a few days ago that San Francisco was going to be my end. When I first started this trip, I budgeted to Los Angeles… I thought. Apart from the budget, I feel like it is time for me to be done. I was never obsessed with a “finish.” I did this trip for me, because I wanted to. I thought it would be fun. I thought it would be pretty. I had the time to do this trip that I had been wanting to do for two years. It was a great opportunity to do so. So I did it.
When I look back at the planning of the trip and the anticipation of the unknowable, it was just that, I had no idea what I was getting into. I didn’t really train like most would to spend miles upon miles on a bike. I worked out everyday but just not on a bike. My butt was sore for the first few days but never really my legs. Of course there was the normal leg soreness that 60 miles a day would give you.
I had an outlined schedule but was never stuck to that. I booked it through Washington and really took my time through Oregon and then I picked it up a little more through Northern California. In Washington, it was near 70 miles. Oregon was around 55 miles and California was around 65.
During my trip, the Oregon State Parks were the best hands down. They were always clean. They were always packed. They always included incredible scenery… I was never inland for camp during my week in Oregon. That also made for some weather that I didn’t have elsewhere. Washington was always hot. Oregon was cold. Long sleeves to ride in, sometimes even my rain jacket, and tights, long socks, beanie and long sleeves to sleep in every night. Northern California was a mixture of both because I was inland for some of the time.
I learned plenty this trip. 3 weeks isn’t a terribly long time and I met others that had been on the road for much, much longer but I was met with challenges just the same. I learned some bike maintenance that I didn’t know beforehand and I learned some stuff about myself as well. There were things I thought I could handle and didn’t very well. Other things I was uneasy about but handled like a champ. Dogs are a still my number one enemy. The mountain lion I saw 200ft away was nicer than nearly every dog I encountered.
I had so many, “Oh, shit” moments in these 3 short weeks. Ones when I crossed a country’s border. When I crossed every body of water on a bike, on a boat, on a bridge. When I’d come around a bend and see two snow-capped mountains off in the distance after spending 40 minutes on a climb. When I topped off my speedometer at 44.7mph. Ones when I smelled tho ocean for the first time this trip. When I was punch-dancing my rage out in a misty, wooded glen. When I rode in the rain. When I was next to the ocean ALL day. When I looked up at night and saw billions of stars with the sound of waves crashing in the distance. When I getting brushed by old men driving way too big RVs on a tight road. When I climbed 50 minutes in my smallest gear for that 7 minute decent. When I camped for 18 nights in a single person tent. When I rode The Avenue of Giants. When I felt the earth shake. When I rode into San Francisco and across the Golden Gate Bridge.
In the end, I’m happy.