unintentional drifter: Stranger Danger on Tour (SDOT): SF -> Santa Cruz

Saturday March 14th, 2015

Pi Day (3.1415...)

Half Moon Bay, CA

I'm on tour!

I guess what that means is I am planning to ride my bike from Daly City BART to Ventura California vaguely following the California coast. ~400 miles +/-. I've probably done 70% of the research pre-internet cycling tourists would have done, but I've read two books published in pre-internet times about bike touring, so maybe that counts for something?

More on the irony of my trusty steed's name later. For now, the weather is sunny and in the low 70's, Stranger Danger is running smoothly, and my carefree trust in Google Maps has already treated me to one scenic detour away from the coast and up the San Pedro Trail. Pavement crumbled into an open, dirt path, which narrowed into 12% single track. Nope! No thanks! Found a sun hat though, so the extra climb en route to Devil's Slide appears worth it.

Back on course to Half Moon Bay State park, I bypassed the closed pedestrian path to ford the river only to find a "Campground Closed" sign. Turns out the campground opens April 1st.

Mallory and Bryan are bringing a crew down to meet for dinner though, so one more push of the bike through ye' old stream crossing, a soggy foot and a few miles later all is well. I've got options in this town, and besides, that's why this lady practiced her stealth camping game earlier in the month.

Sunday March 15th, 2015

New Brighton State Beach

Capitola, CA (outside of Santa Cruz)

There's this hunter/gatherer instinct that has come alive since moving to the Bay Area. I am so good at foraging for street treasures and urban produce that I'm a little concerned about the finite capacity of my panniers on this trip.

For example, yesterday when I took that wrong turn up in the hills I found a sun hat. It's compact, useful, fits nicely, so I snatched it. Today, I found a gel pen at the foot of the picnic bench where I consumed an entire loaf of artichoke and garlic bread. I snatched it too. And when I went to survey the food boxes at New Brighton State Beach I scored a pair of bike socks and had to hold myself back from trying on the perfectly good running shoes left for dead (no one was at the campsite--I wasn't just stealing people's stuff.) And after the sunset hike on the beach when there were two really cute shirts still over by the showers I followed my foraging instincts and now have almost a whole new outfit if I find a pair of pants somewhere too.

Today was pretty much perfect. I set my alarm to wake up at

6:30am to get the heck out of dodge (i.e. the Half Moon Bay RV Park) since they wanted $50 (!!!) for a tent camping site. Um, no. Sorry team. And that was after two very realistic stress dreams with varied campground employees approaching me for payment. I'm an anxious criminal.

I caught a squeak of sunrise colors in the sky and turned down the next available beach access road to sit on the bluffs and make my breakfast. Toby of Samuel P. Taylor State Park & Blue Heron Bikes talked me into bringing my stove setup, so I made some coffee and enjoyed some granola as locals walked their dogs on the beach.

The Google Maps took me down Stage Road through Pescadero (reverse of what I'd ridden a few years back with the crew). It was a whole new beast with this weight, but Judge John Hodgman made me laugh out loud like a weirdo while riding like, 4mph up this hill.

In the stupor of my gluten high I bypassed my right turn out of town and meandered past a goat dairy and started climbing toward YMCA Camp Loma Mar before realizing I should have turned after 0.4 of a mile. So I turned around. Who knows how far I went out of the way. I'd be such a frustrating riding partner to anyone with a sense of direction, focused itinerary or well-developed quad strength. But guess who's riding solo? This lady! I think I give myself infinite grace when my fitness level and distracted decision making only affects me.

I would like to take this opportunity to formally apologize to my pelvis, specifically my sit bones. The terror they endured today does not bode well for this trip. If it's possible to sack up sit bones, please do. For both of our sake. The amount of unnecessary standing, awkward leaning to one side and even some strange slouching in an attempt at feigning comfort was yet another embarrassment avoided by riding solo. I've never been so happy to step down at red lights and at the same time so horrified to hit that pothole riding through Santa Cruz neighborhoods.

Fast forward through Santa Cruz to Capitola and that chocolate malt I slammed before arriving at New Brighton State Beach. It's a great recovery drink, right?

I made buddies with the kiosk workers at the state park check-in station and barely got to setting up my hammock when a lonely RV owner came over to confess that he'd just seen Wild and wanted to know if the paper I was tearing up and throwing into the fire ring was a page from my diary.

<<insert face palm here>>

The paper I was ripping up was the Half Moon Bay RV Park payment info, which I'd filled out so as to appear to have good intentions of paying if I had been properly approached by employees early morning.

I walked down to the beach for sunset and appreciated the comfortable seat of the cool sand and listened to the waves crash as the sun dipped below the horizon. I tried using the metal hand rail coming back up the steps from the beach as a foam roller substitute to massage the tightness from my IT band. Mixed success. Add it to the photo album of weird moments on this trip. Why not.

A Canadian cycling duo just rolled in to camp and seem to be taking the same route down the coast as me. More on them later, but they seem to be my people, especially given that James just took Jennie on a tour of the Edible Schoolyard two days ago. And now, we rest. Tomorrow, to Monterey!

THE SHORT STORY