Let's talk hills. I left off yesterday with a bit of a cliffhanger (for profound want of a better word.) When I started out for camp, I was immediately met with a seriously steep hill. In under two miles, I ascended over 500'. I feel like my strava feed is the only thing that can accurately represent just how steep that hill was... (this is a chart of my elevation / distance):
Sure, I had some rolling hills, but at the end of the day, the last thing you want to see is a gigantic wall between you and sleep. Thankfully, my bike has a decent granny gear. I managed to spin to the top without incident. Others, I heard, wound up walking the whole thing. #humblebrag
At the top, I was greeted by a few familiar faces, and a few new ones. The Germans from town showed up, as did the Brazilian couple I met on the road. The women riding the entire coast (from Canada to Mexico) appeared a few hours later. We sat around the table and joked around for a few hours before night fell. The others got a kick out of my sleeping situation. I guess they haven't done a lot of backpacking? I hereby present Camp Breckling (everything from the tree-forward):
I usually prefer to just sleep under the stars, but I grew tired of dealing with mice in my sleeping bag / shoes / face, so I use the netting. A few mentioned that they would feel too cramped. I thought so too, at first, but when you're inside, you barely notice it. I was fast asleep by 10-ish.
I was up with the sun, and down the hill in no-time. I popped into this little coffee shop called "Plume" while I waited for the laundromat to open. While enjoying my coffee, I was given a brief introduction to the Monterey homeless scene. This gentleman walks around downtown with a cup of coffee on his head. That's cool, I guess.
I did a load of laundry, and started up the CA 63. Remember that hill I was talking about earlier? That hill happened again. By the time I made it to the Trader Joes on my way to Carmel, I had to have climbed at least 500'. An old lady seemed amused by my effort, to whom I cracked: "Man... this is a lovely city you've got here."
"Yes, thank you!"
"Could use a bigger hill, though."
"Hahaha!"
I may have exaggerated the number of "ha's" in that last quote. My memory of the situation is fuzzy.
The food in Big Sur is rumored to be obnoxiously expensive. I stocked up at TJ's and made my way out of town. Almost on cue, the clouds rolled in and dumped some heavy ... heavy drizzle on me. I struggle to call it actual "rain" ... but it was enough to cause me to pull off the road.
My jacket was pretty drenched, but I was fine otherwise. I kept on trucking, leapfrogging RVs and family sedans. This one Korean family pulled over at Bixby bridge with me. Their little son (5 or 6 years) hopped up on my bike while I wasn't looking. At first I thought "what the fuck, kid?" but he was just curious. The father was almost as half-mad as I was. The look of releif on his face was palpable when I nodded "it's alright, man" toward him.
I was leap-frogging a few groups of people all the way through the Bixby bridge area. One family was having fun with it. Every time they'd pass me, they'd honk and wave. By the fourth time they passed me, their teenaged son was hanging out the back window of the car giving me the rock horns: \m/ --a kid after my own heart. If this blog ever finds you, family from Vermont, may all your kids graduate college.
I decided to bust out the gopro a few times, since the scenery was so nice. I took a few time-lapse photo sets and videos. They probably look like hammered butthole, but we'll see.
I didn't have signal for most of the day, but I knew there was a restaurant / bar at the end of the line. I think it's called the "River Inn." Mike from Night 2 told me about it. The beer is reasonable, and the wifi is free, so that's nice. It's about two miles away from the camp site, allegedly.
Hopefully, the drizzly weather is over. I don't feel like sleeping in a tarp taco. I'm also not looking forward to cleaning all of the road crud from my chain / frame. C'est la vie.
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