Miles biked: 13.6 (865.9 overall)
Time on bike: 1 hour, 15 minutes, 51 seconds
Maximum speed: 28.8 mph
Roads taken: Enderts Beach Road, 101 South.
Places stopped: Redwood hostel (for the night).
I awakened Saturday morning fresh and relaxed. I knew I didn't have much biking to do. And I knew a big, diverse breakfast was just minutes away.
I was booked at the Redwood hostel -- right on 101 South and about, I thought, 8 miles away -- for the night, so I was in absolutely no hurry to get on the bike. That mindset was only reinforced by the company I still had at the campsite.
With Corby contributing Vitamin C drinks and crushed-up cookies, Joey and Anthony bringing delicious oatmeal and good-tasting coffee (yes, I actually enjoyed a cup of coffee), Shane bringing himself -- he was going to cook eggs and sausage, but his Coleman stove wigged out on him -- and I providing the bagels and cream cheese, it was a morning feast.
We sat around and ate, and drank, and chatted, and simply enjoyed a morning that got warmer as the clouds were pushed aside by a searing sun.
Then, since nobody was in a hurry -- Corby was staying at the same hostel that night, and check-in wasn't until 4. The other three guys planned on camping at the same spot for another night -- we decided to head into town in Corby's Toyota Tacoma.
Somehow -- and I still don't know how they pulled this off -- Joey and Anthony had packed a fishing pole, not to mention skateboards, in their large bags. Since they hadn't gotten a chance to use it, they figured, and we agreed, that an afternoon of fishing was in the works.
I personally don't care for fishing, but I thought it'd be entertaining to watch while lounging on some rocks and just enjoying a relatively exercise-free afternoon. So after we finally located a bait shop and Anthony bought some shrimp to use as bait, we headed out to a large outcropping of rocks by the Crescent City harbor.
Unfortunately, all Anthony caught was seaweed. And the only thing anyone considered eating that got hooked was the shrimp (that was Joey's idea, although we convinced him not to). Still, it was a relaxing afternoon, which we finished up by viewing a large group of seals/sea lions/otters laying lazily on a narrow wooden dock in the harbor.
I'm still not sure what sea animal they were, but they were definitely fat and had no interest in testing the cool waters. With the strong wind blowing in my face, I couldn't really blame them.
It was time to warm up by getting on the bike.
So after saying so long to the Philly boys, I loaded up the bike and began what my new friends had called a "mostly downhill" ride.
Well, after about 5.1 miles of riding straight uphill, with no break, and sweating through all my layers, I was pretty convinced that I had been fooled. Sure, I didn't have far to bike, but, man, was it brutal.
Of course, the scenery around me was amazing as I toiled on the narrow-shoulder road. The trees were huge, with the trunks wider than any I'd ever seen. I felt, at times, like I was under a canopy.
But my mind was more focused, unfortunately, on the continuous hill I was climbing. A couple times, a slight downhill stretch fooled me -- yep, I was Mr. Naive that day -- into thinking the uphill stretch was over. Each time, though, they quickly led to another climb.
Finally, I knew, for certain, that I was on my way down when a sign instructed cars to "Check your Brakes."
I didn't have a car, but I tested my brakes as well. And it's a good thing I did, because for 2-plus miles I cruised around curves on a road with almost no shoulder -- going downhill the entire time.
I would have enjoyed it more, especially with a nice view of the ocean, way down below, to my right, but I had to intently focus on the uneven road in front of me. And, sadly, I had to hold down the brakes almost the entire time to prevent from reaching a dangerous speed.
At one point, I let off them for about 3 seconds -- and my speed increased by about 10 mph. I probably could have gone 50-plus mph, and then sped off the cliff and fallen on a rock (or something like that).
When I finally reached the bottom of the descent, I saw a sign for the hostel and, just like that, there it was -- right on the corner of a little side road directly across from a beautiful beach. Perfect location, I thought.
And the hostel was pretty nice, too. I stayed in a co-ed dorm room consisting of about 10 beds. Downstairs, there were a kitchen, dining room and large living room full of books, games, a guitar and a gas fireplace, which helped me to always feel warm.
Saturday night, Corby and I lucked out when a group of students from a liberal arts school in Napa Valley, there with a photography class, fed us their leftover tortellini.
Then, later that night, one of the professors with the class shared stories with Corby and me, including about his time spent in Papua New Guinea -- an island, he said, where some of the natives have still never seen a white man.
Also, he said, the men whom he worked with there, helping to construct a bridge, just wore a single item of clothing (you know where).
It was one of those cool stories that you hope to hear in hostels, where people from all over the world congregate for good times.
And it was just the beginning of my stay in the area. It was time to give the bike a serious rest and enjoy Redwood Country for a few days.
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