The Awkward Pose

October 10, 2015 – Sunny, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 33

Miles to Date: 8,331

States to Date: 25

Every so often I have a yen to see the ocean, and I am always glad to make the trip. Santa Rosa was foggy this morning, and my warmshowers family was great fun, so I lingered awhile and indulged in my hosts’ morning habits – a wheat grass pill and green smoothie laced with ginger followed by a cabbage/sauerkraut/avocado/flax oil salad. The children gobbled it up, and I found it pretty tasty myself. Aaron rode me out of town and got me on the bike path to Sebastopol.

Sebastopol is a hippie place gone upscale. How else can you describe a town whose main supermarket is Whole Foods? I stopped by the Luther Burbank experimental farm on the outskirts of town, and stopped by a wood lathe artist’s shop participating in Sonoma County Open Arts Festival. Continuing west, the scent of the sea grew strong, as did the wind.

I stopped by Wild Flour Bakery in Freestone, after at least four people recommended it. The place was packed at 3 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, and for good reason. The cinnamon bun was a meal, and I got a loaf of fragrant bread to bring my evening’s host, who was the first person to tip me off to this wood fired gem.

Fueled by raw vegan energy and a giant baked sweet (a dietary conflict of the highest order) I began my serious climb to the coast along Bohemian Highway to Occidental. Coleman Valley Road is ten miles of cycling bliss with steep climbs, dark forests, and hairpin switchbacks that eventually lead to a broad heath of tall grass bent to the strong north wind. Jane Eyre would be at home here. I smelled the ocean for miles before I actually saw it. The road rose to false peak after false peak until, finally, the Pacific glistened before me. I descended to Highway One and had an hour to enjoy the surf crashing into Arch Rock. My host gave me a wonderful dinner and good conversation in exchange for one stipulation – no interviewing. I took a Saturday night vacation from conversing with a pad and pen in my hand.

October 9, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 35

Miles to Date: 8,298

States to Date: 25

Ah, California living. I loitered at my warmshowers host’s home until eleven. Lindy made such a wonderful breakfast, showed me terrific photos of other guests, and her dogs are so endearing. Eventually I did head out and took the scenic, though challenging, ride up Dry Creek Road and down (as in 12% grade down) Trilogy Road to the Sonoma Valley.

I am a useless person in wine country. I considered stopping at a vineyard, but just the idea of sipping wine on a hot sunny afternoon triggered a headache, so I enjoyed the scenery and cycled into Santa Rosa, which has some lovely historic homes.

My Santa Rosa hosts were quite unusual – a raw vegan family with five young children. I received a lovely gift basket of drawings from six-year-old Luna Bella and enjoyed reading to the others. After the children were in bed, Mariah, Aaron and I stayed up late discussing diet, life, and tomorrow.

October 8, 2015 – Sunny, 85 degrees

Miles Today: 71

Miles to Date: 8,263

States to Date: 25

Today was not fun. I was warned that Route 12 was terrible for cyclists. But even the naysayers didn’t offer alternatives. So, I struck out early and persevered.

The San Joaquin and Sacramento Rivers collect all the other rivers in the Central Valley and come together to form the California Delta, a low-lying marsh. It’s a beautiful stretch.

Unfortunately, traffic is heavy and the shoulders sketchy. Nice and wide for several miles, then they disintegrate to nothing. Over one four-mile stretch I actually walked my bike along the bumpy and soft edge; there was no way to ride on the paved surface. Route 12 must be notorious for traffic deaths as it’s lined with signs about driving safe. Past Rio Vista there are yellow stanchions to ensure that no one passes. That also means no one can shift over to give me space. So, I wound up riding a stretch, then pulling over to let a line of traffic pass, then riding some more. Once again, the courteous and patient truck drivers impressed me. The guys in pick-up trucks – not so much.

Finally, the road widened and I pedaled the Solano County hills. I reached Fairfield, a hot and tawny town, by noon. After a long lunch break and many missed turns, I found the bike path that parallels I-80 east from town. I spent miles along wide boulevards in the exploding exurbs of San Francisco in an appalling new development with streets named ‘Business Center Drive’ and ‘Healthcare Court’. The entire area is so spread out and separately zoned it can only be accessed by car. Do we ever learn anything?

When I reached the I-680/I-80 interchange, under construction, all signs of the bike path disintegrated. I spent half an hour seeking a safe way back onto Route 12. Finally, I just sucked it up and went on I-80 for one exit before climbing out the valley.

At the top of the rise, the road spread out, the temperature dropped fifteen degrees, and the views were spectacular. Welcome to Napa! Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I could feel bad for the people trapped in their bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I rolled into Napa and spent a lovely evening with a warmshowers host and a few of her friends. A shower, a beer, homemade bread with cheese and grilled pork tacos can make a guy forget a harrowing day.

October 7, 2015 – Sunny, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 59

Miles to Date: 8,192

States to Date: 25

It’s time to tempt fate and talk about dogs, one of a touring cyclist’s greatest fears. I have been warned time and again that the two worst places for dogs are Appalachia and the Central Valley. I have real fear of the stories I’ve heard in West Virginia and Kentucky. But I must say that, so far, dogs in the Central Valley do not live up to their reputation.

Yes, there are many. Yes, they do chase cyclists. I’ve had more dogs chase me in the past four days than during my previous 150 days of cycling. But, hey most of them are tiny and the all have their tails wagging high. These are friendly dogs. I am sure a German Shepard could decide to have my calf for lunch tomorrow, but so far, Central Valley dogs are laid-back, California creatures.

Daily variations in a place as huge as the Central Valley are subtle. Today I spent 25 miles on Jack Tone Road, a smooth strip of pavement will all sorts of harvesting taking place, all by machine.

One machine shakes the walnut trees. Another sweeps them off the ground. A third conveyor belts the harvest into hoppers. The hoppers are transported to hulling facilities where a series of belts separate debris from hulls from shells. I think the first time a human actually touches a walnut is when we consumers take one out of a bag.

I also saw machines harvesting plum tomatoes and corn. The scale of operations is immense. It also leaves waste.  So many pumpkins that didn’t meet the grade.

By the time I reached Lodi the focus shifted to wine, so tourism comes into play. Lodi is a truly quaint place with a lovely downtown, as well as a cool bike rack outside the library.

October 6, 2015 – Sunny, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 38

Miles to Date: 8,133

States to Date: 25

I spent the morning in Merced, a traditional ag town that is being transformed by the newest addition of the University of California system – CA Merced. Merced has a gorgeous courthouse, shady downtown, and I had two separate interviews at Healthy House, a non-profit that bridges Eastern and Western cultures and medicines through work with the Hmong and other immigrant communities.

Cycling makes small changes apparent. It was after two before I began pedaling to Ceres. I noticed the earth is a bit greener, the terrain a tiny bit more varied than yesterday. The canals actually have water. Hmong farmers plant a variety of crops – something rare in this monoculture world.

  
Can you guess what this dozer is piling up? Answer in a few days…

October 5, 2015 – Sunny, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 51

Miles to Date: 8,095

States to Date: 25

Today I was drenched in drought. I zig-zagged through the grid of agricultural roads laid out over the Central Valley. The land is flat, the earth is dust, the orchards grow where there is irrigation. Fields of crops that have low water allocations are ripped up to be replaced by less water intensive crops, or ones that receive a higher state allocation. Apparently, walnuts are out, almonds are in, but that seems to vary according to whom I meet.

The area is littered with signs about water; either lambasting politicians or beseeching god. No signs acknowledge any personal contributions to the problem, despite the sprinklered lawns in the foreground of the ranch houses.

The people who live here feel besieged. They provide crops for the entire country and in return we are strangling their water and ruining their way of life. As an observer from beyond, this way of life seems so unnatural, propping it up with more water will only delay the inevitable. We have created a society and economy that will be difficult to shift, but even more difficult to maintain in the future.

October 4, 2015 – Sunny, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 38

Miles to Date: 8,044

States to Date: 25

Big news in Fresno: it rained last night! The city is abuzz with the good news, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. Even a brief midnight thunderstorm is noteworthy.

I chatted with the young parishioners from St. Joachim Church who were manning the Sunday morning shift at the Planned Parenthood protest that has been going on for weeks. They were more interested in having pictures taken than discussing abortion.

Note to people seeking business opportunities: do not start an elevator repair business in Fresno. There are no multiple story buildings beyond the ten-block downtown. Even office parks are single story structures. It is the most horizontal city I have ever seen. No terrain, all low slung roofs and possibly more square feet of blacktop per person than anywhere on the face of the earth. There’s a parallel road along each major arterial street. What is that for?

 Mexican food is my favorite – I eat it everywhere I can. Today I hit the jackpot: Taqueria Carniceria El Charrito on West Ave has the best Mexican food I’ve eaten to date. It takes a tough stomach to appreciate a burrito supreme at 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning, but I was up to the task. As is always the case, price is inversely proportionate to taste. This huge burrito plus two Mexican buns (I already ate the cornbread pie before I snapped the photo) cost $6.40.

The ride to Madera through the Central Valley was easy yet fascinating. The canals, one so full of water, are empty. Beyond each irrigated trees or rape vine, the dirt is dusty sand. Grapes are laid out on south facing parchment to dry into raisins.

I stayed with a wonderful family in Madera with two engaging children. Spending time with children always reminds me of the fun I had when mine were little.

October 3, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 25

Miles to Date: 8,006

States to Date: 25

I woke this morning in a midcentury mirage. My warmshowers hosts live in an 1800 square foot ranch on an ample lot in the middle of this sprawling city. It was built in 1955, the year I was born, and has held its charms. I roused feeling light and expansive as the sectional sofa I slept upon and the fig tree beyond the patio doors. We enjoyed fresh fruit and yogurt with coffee for breakfast. The raisins were especially good – Fresno’s fame.

If the point of my trip is to observe a broad slice of American life, I can’t spend all my time in the Yosemite’s and Portland’s of the world. So, I decided to spend the day in Fresno. I began riding up and down Van Ness, Fresno’s classy residential district. Whoever decided to bring water to the desert was a lifestyle genius. It’s so pleasant to be among lush vegetation without any humidity. On a bright Saturday morning, affluent couples strolled beneath giant shade trees, next to green lawns and flowers. All so verdant, all so unsustainable.

I pedaled downtown. There are a few ornate theaters and hotel blocks from the 20’s and 30’s, but Fresno boomed during the 1950’s and 60’s, so there are blocks of over scaled government buildings sitting large courtyards surrounded by seas of parking. The only crowd was a throng of men, mostly homeless, waiting to get into the library when it opened at ten. I interviewed a Pawn Shop manager about tomorrow, and continued my tour.

After a tasty lunch in a local tacqueria, I cruised by Cal State Fresno and spent the afternoon writing in the local Mcdonald’s, which also meant talking with laborers and attorneys and mothers. McDonald’s is our collective living room.

I spent the evening with a cool couchsurfing host. Surge is the son of Mexican farm workers, a high school world history teacher in a overwhelmingly Hispanic high school, and a world traveller. He lives in the Tower neighborhood, Fresno’s hipster district. We strolled Olive Street and ate at a Mediterranean restaurant. We learned the limits of Fresno’s cool: they served falafel on tortillas.

October 2, 2015 – Sunny, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 77

Miles to Date: 7,981

States to Date: 25

Today I sing an ode to Surly, my phenomenal bicycle. I started the day in the mountains. Google suggested a route of local roads that shaved five miles, and 3,000 vertical feet, off the highway route. Ever leery of dirt roads I vetted the route with the manager of the hostel. She explained that the roads were paved but advised against them since they had no shoulder. She was right in that the roads had no shoulder, or even a yellow line. But since no cars overtook me in over 25 miles, road width was not a problem.

Unfortunately, she was incorrect about pavement. Over fifty miles on county roads, about ten miles were gravel. But Surly handled the ruts, soft patches, and skull-shattering serrations shaped by pick-ups with her usual dependability.

I discovered a new phenomenon: people living in trailers with a small utility building on their property.  Permanent pace for water and power, movable for people.

I traveled from mountains to foothills to rugged chaparral; one of the most beautiful rides of my trip. I had a good lunch break at the Raymond General Store, and then continued through ever-gentler hills, ever less vegetation. Twenty-five miles outside of Fresno I joined Highway 41, and was glad I didn’t take that busy road the entire route.

The most challenging cycling is always getting into and out of major cities, but Fresno set a new standard for confusion. When 41 turned into a freeway, I was diverted onto Business 41. A few turns, no markings, and I was heading west on Avenue 9 in the company of inpatient drivers. I about faced. A river separated me from the city. My map showed Avenue 9 crossing under the freeway where an old bridge spanned the water, but the road did not exist. Instead, there’s a new children’s hospital. At the far end of campus I spotted a bike path. I needed to get on that! Unfortunately a tall fence divided me from my desire. Eventually, I accessed the bike path by cutting through the hospital’s helipad. Against the rules, for sure; possibly against some law, but it got me onto the path, over the bridge, and into Fresno.

I saw my first olive trees, which are a beautiful silvery green. Across the road a huge development was under construction. If we don’t have enough water to grow crops, we can pave the groves.

South of the river, everything was sun and palm trees. Fresno is my first place with a Southern California vibe: wide streets, big cars, harsh sun and expansive ranch houses that march on for miles. A new variation on the American Dream, and so very appealing.

October 1, 2015 – Rain, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 46

Miles to Date: 7,904

States to Date: 25

 Yosemite Valley is perfect to see on a bicycle. After a breakfast among ‘townies’ who cobble together a living as climbing guides, I spent the morning rolling through the valley and stopping at the sights. Perspectives changed as the sky went from rain to clouds to patchy sun. I took the Valley Loop Trail to Yosemite Falls, El Capitan, and Bridal Veil Falls.

Solid clouds formed to the east, so I decided pedal through them before they entered the park. Eight miles of steep downgrade in heavy, windless rain. More water splashed off the rocky cliffs than I saw at the signature falls. At the 8% grades, I stiff legged by right heel on the pavement through streams washing across the pavement. I pulled into El Portal Market to dry off. Their coffee stilled my shakes; their chicken salad filled my belly. Other folks stopped by to chat and recounted that our rain was snow, stranding travelers, on Tioga Pass. With my usual luck, I managed to cross the Sierras one day ahead of winter.

By three the weather cleared and I continued on to Midpines where I had a tent cabin reserved at Yosemite Bug Hostel, a very hospitable place with cozy cabins, great showers and tasty coconut squash soup to kick off a delicious dinner.

The north wall of the canyon.

Along the Yosemite Loop Trail

El Capitan’s long face.

Looking north up the valley floor

El Capitan through trees. / Bridal Veil Falls

Beyond the park, heading towards Midpines

The oldest rocks in the Yosemite Valley