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Lost Coast Century Ride, II

November 28, 2009 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Bike

Weather: 30 and sunny -->55 and WINDY

Comments:
Up at 0545 or so. Slept great in the Rodeway Inn. The conditions were much better: cool, but CALM. Packed up and hit up the BW for breakfast, then on to Ferndale.

The prep went faster this time since I'd done most of it on Friday. I was on the bike between 700 and 730, with the sun just peeking over the foothills to the east.

The first 15 to 20 miles went great, with a modest tailwind pushing me through the farm fields east of Ferndale. The skies were crystal clear, temps cool, and roads quiet. I scaled up and down the few rollers with ease and before I knew it, I was cruising into Rio Dell.

Across the Eel River is another little town: Scotia. I bypassed it last time in favor of hopping on the highway, but this time I rolled through town, curious to check out what sources call "the last company town". In short, Scotia was created and -- to this day, while it lasts -- continues to be a town run by a logging company. You literally must be an employee of the company in order to be able to live there! Fascinating... However, tough financial times closed the mill, so they're poised to "open up" the town to...well, capitalism, I suppose. The little town resembles a restored "frontier town", akin to buildings you might see in a national park or other protected area: antiquated yet pristinely maintained.

Through Scotia, I hopped onto US101 for a few miles, then onto Ave of the Giants, about a quarter way done. The Ave went by fast and pretty easy. It cooled off beneath the giant trees, and -- as would be the theme of the day -- would struggle a bit to maintain a steady core temp, despite the "nice" weather.

Before I realized it, it was "go time": Mattole Road. The first 5-10 miles or so service the Humboldt Redwoods State Park before climbing up the mountain pass to Panther Gap.

After a few miles of pothole dodging, I reached my first break spot, along the Bull Creek, just before starting the climb. Had a nice snack, then it was time to climb!

Over the next 5-6 miles -- and nearly an hour of riding -- the Mattole would climb over 2500' feet. Like in March, it was slow-going, and seemingly never-ending. Despite having lighter tires than the first time -- and having "marathon fitness" -- it seemed tougher. That may have been due to the long trail run, or it could be that my bike is in rough shape and in dire need of a tune-up. Either way, I was crawling up the pass, no different than six months ago.

The never-ending climb DID end and was followed by a long, winding, and rough descent into Honeydew -- just over the midway point of the ride.

It was at this point in March that the weather turned poor, but today it was perfect: clear skies and sun! I rolled up to the general store and dismounted. After the long descent, I was a bit chilly, so I removed a few layers and threw on a dry jacket.

The store -- basically the "hub" of Honeydew and its surrounding farm/ranch residents -- was bustling with people. I snacked on some of my own fuel along with a bag of chips from the store. No coffee this time around: I didn't want to overcaffienate.

By the time I was ready to ride again, I was damn near shivering. Not cool. It was odd, especially since it was near 60 and pure sun. So I quickly changed, got on the bike, and within a mile or two had the core temp back to normal.

The next bike segment, a gentle roller along the Mattole River valley, was night-and-day (or more accurately "sun-and-rain") different than the first go: clear and warm. However, I became increasingly aware of the wind, which felt to be out of the NNW. I didn't feet it much within the protected canyons of the Mattole, but I feared what it may be like once I reached "The Lost Coast". Moreover, my legs were NOT feeling great: feeling the duel effect of the 60+ miles and the 10+ mile trail run just two days earlier...which began to loom even "dumber" as the ride progressed.

I rolled into Petrolia -- California's first "oil town" and the Last Stop before the coast -- before 2PM. The idea was to take a lunch break and rest up before the last, grueling 30 miles. At the Petrolia Country Store, I had a sandwich packed in from the night before, some more chips (salt!), and a 12oz Mountain Dew -- from which I hoped to get a "pop" experienced on our Miss River ride in those last 20 miles.

While resting, the wind went from "Eh" to "Eek": it was a strong wind, even in the little valley in which Petrolia sat. This was NOT good. Mounting the bike, I could only hope it'd be "different" once I reached the coast.

The ride up and out of Petrolia to the coast went fine -- a couple medium climbs but otherwise enjoyable. And before I knew it, I saw the Pacific -- The Lost Coast! What a terrific sight, especially under clear and sunny skies. I paused to snap a couple pics (and drop a deuce just off the road), then descended to coast side.

Cruising along the coast, I took in the views unobscured by rain and fog. And, because of the wind, I had a lot more time to do so. At this point in March, despite the poor conditions, I was presented with a 15-20 mph tailwind. Today? The exact opposite. As such, instead of cruising effort-let-lessly along the beach at 25mph, I was grinding along at 11mph, trying not to labor.

I stopped for a couple quick pics, but otherwise kept grinding, hoping to get a little respite at THE WALL before having to climb it.

But even there, before that 1000'+ high precipice, I felt it. I sat along a guardrail, trying my best to soak in the beauty and solitude of Cape Mendocino, the westernmost point on the lower 48. But it was tough to do so, with that WALL creeping over my shoulder.

So, without a coast hike, I got on the saddle and began climbing: slow switchbacking up the 18% grade. It was tough and I felt the wind a bit, though, it's hard to believe that, when biking at 4-5MPH, that the wind could be much of a role.

I stopped once again halfway up to snap a couple pics, then STRUGGLED the rest of the way up, over some crappy road surface and dodging a few vehicles along the way. After about a half hour of shit, I summited the initial climb and descended into Capetown, feeling seemingly good.

Capetown is neither a cape nor a town: instead a collection of maybe 4 buildings (3 of them barns) in a valley between two mammoth climbs, with "just" 15 miles separating me from Ferndale, victory, and a cold double IPA. But in defense of that victory -- along with more 15%+ grade -- was now a wall of wind.

And what a difference it made. I began the climb up Mattole out of Capetown, only to have to stop and rest at the first switchback. I downed a Clif Shot in desperation, but little came from it. I strapped in again and mashed the pedals 'til the next switchback, where I was forced to stop again.

The afternoon sun, whose warm rays had balanced the ferocity of the wind, suddenly disappeared, replaced by wall of ominous gray as the afternoon threatened evening. With no shelter from any mountainous walls, it was blasting straight in my face, a howling taunt as if it were saying, "Ha! Let's see you cut through this!"

Before I realized it, I was walking the bike -- part exhaustion, part desperation, knowing that with each passing second afternoon was turning to evening, and with each idle moment more heat was being lost.

I clipped in one more time, this time pedaling straight uphill into a 20mph wind. A truck with a trailer passed on my left and I thought, "Man, it'd be nice to hitch a ride...". Five minutes later, that thought became, "I NEED to catch a ride."

I walked the steel horse up the mountain, very near my low-point of the March ride, when a SUV passed. I waved. The woman inside, waved back. I waved A LOT MORE, and she slowed and rolled the window.

"Can I get a ride to Ferndale?"

And just like that, the ride was over. She pulled off the narrow road at a dirt driveway ahead -- the place I stopped for a last fuel in the March ride -- and I loaded the Lightning Sport into the back of her Tahoe and hopped in the passenger seat.

Five years ago I wouldn't have done that, but I'm no longer that shy or that stupid. I cherished the break from the wind, the heated leather seats, and the pleasant conversation as we cruised along the rough and winding road, with the wind howling outside.

The woman -- whose name now escapes me -- lives on ranch property in Honeydew -- and was crusing into Ferndale to shop (really the only place close to get anything). We chatted and I found out that she used to live in Merrill, WI. Small world.

As we cruised along, I surveyed the roadway: it would've only gotten worse. Awful road surface, narrow, winding and hilly.

Before long, we were descending the hills and into Ferndale. She pulled into the USBank parking lot to the Celica, waiting patiently for my return. I offered her some gas money, or a beer but she refused. I thanked her profusely and like that, I was "done".

There was a certain feeling of disappointment, but what trumped that was a feeling of humbling acceptance, knowing that sometimes -- most times -- you cannot beat Mother Nature.

And with that, I loaded the bike onto the car, threw on some clothes, and ambled across the street for a cold one. I went across the street to a different tavern, where I enjoyed a Mad River Pale Ale. It hit the spot, but definitely not the same as after the March ride. It it was savored, nonetheless.

Post ride: chow at Tony's in Arcata, then the long drive back to the hostel. Good, dry weather this time, which was well appreciated!