THURSDAY 14 APRIL 2016
BIG SUR TO BIG SUR
1120 - 1130
1.32km (0.8 miles)
Av. Speed: 9.9 km/h (6.1mph)
Max. Speed 21.2 km/h (13.2 mph)
Time on Bike: 8m 01s
Probably the shortest transit day on record, I was actually out the gates of Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park this morning when I stopped and looked around me.
It was bright and sunny enough but as I glanced to the right and saw people taking advantage of the forest trails deep into the ancient redwoods surrounding the lodge and campgrounds at Big Sur, I thought "What the fuck am I doing this for??"
I could also still feel PLENTY of lactic acid coursing through my lower limbs after the monster effort of the previous 24 hours and apart from which, I'd actually already paid up for 2 nights when I staggered into the park after dark, just over 12 hours earlier.
So I simply turned around and went back in.
Sure, it was a bit a pain in the arse having to pull my rig apart and set up camp again, but it ended up being the best thing to do.
It was just a little surprising that my trip computer actually registered me burning 10 calories riding to the gate and back again....
Wednesday 13 April 2016 is the day I am sure I will look back upon later in this trip and decide that this was the threshold moment.
I don't believe it was ever going to break me, but I also don't believe I could have pushed myself much further.
It was certainly a good opportunity to work out what I was capable of.
In terms of distance, 110 km/nearly 70 miles is no big deal. I've regularly put in longer days than this as a matter of course.
As far as "degree of difficulty" is concerned, well then this one was right up there.
I'm generally a pretty harsh marker and I will happily claim that to drag myself and my heavily loaded machine across this challenging but stunning terrain for over 12 hours with a cold, gusting headwind for the later stages was no mean effort.
I've had it said to me more than once along the way by certain American people that what I'm doing is pretty "badass."
One gentlemen I stopped and yelled across the passing traffic to on Wednesday during my state of pending exhaustion, said these exact words to me.
"Yeh, well it feels pretty badass right now," was near to my response at the time.
The final 10 -15 miles were easily the toughest mentally as I started to push beyond what I thought my limits were and continued to encounter some particularly gnarly grades and failing light in the final 90 minutes.
Every time I stopped to confirm direction and distance with someone, it seemed to be forever another "2 miles", which is pretty easy to contemplate when you're cruising along in a motor vehicle.
I have not been ashamed to get off and push at different stages and there was plenty of that on Wednesday.
In fact, I threw my first real tantrum on this tour as the grade pushed continually upwards from the Big Sur Inn for a mile or two or three before (not surprisingly) presenting another "2 miles" down the other side and into the darkness.
I'd be pretty sure the time was just beyond 8.30 pm when I finally set down at the campsite and collapsed in a heap.
Some local lads who were clearly on a bicycling "booze cruise" of the area, apologised to me for having their shit spread out all over the place as I sat at the provided bench and started to shovel my accumulated road food down at a reasonable clip.
"Frankly gentlemen, I'm too tired to care. Don't worry about it."
DAY 12
FRIDAY 15 APRIL 2016
BIG SUR TO MONTEREY
0830 - 1615
69.13 km (42.96 miles)
Av. Speed: 12.7 km/h (7.9 mph)
Max. Speed 53.9 km/h (33.5 mph)
Time on Bike: 5h 26m 15s
I took full advantage of the rest day in Big Sur.
Once my tent was re-pitched, I set out with a day pack and took a wander up to Pfeiffer Falls and the "Valley View" lookout.
Whilst neither the falls or lookout were anything to start drooling over, it was just nice to go for a walk into the beautiful redwood forest and also to give my leg muscles a little bit of different information to what I had been overloading them with in recent days.
I could literally feel the lactic acid diffusing by the minute as I trudged uphill for the the first section to the Falls.
Things felt even better as I made my way back down about 90 minutes later and by then I knew I'd made the right decision.
The remainder of the afternoon was quite restful until the cold northerly wind started to really penetrate the campsite beyond 4 pm and I was out of there.
I was aware of available wi-fi up at the lodge so this is where I headed for.
Despite my willingness to pay for the privilege, the lady at front-of-house redirected me towards a nearby establishment called "Fernwood", a nice little pub within walking distance where I could get some beer, pizza and free wi-fi using the password "icecream", she told me.
This sounded plenty good enough for me as I had pretty well determined that any longer spent around Big Sur Lodge was going to start affecting my cash budget to the negative.....
SLAYING THE 1000-HEADED BEAST
Day 12 was going to get me to Monterey and complete the Big Sur section of coastline.
I was looking forward to getting to Monterey for a number of reasons, least of which was to feel a real sense of achievement at having ridden this magnificent but demanding coastline end to end.
Wednesday had "broken its back" to be sure, but I needed to knock it on the head now, once and for all.
The cold, gusting nor-westerly was persisting and making life just that bit more interesting.
I knew it was unlikely that the serious hills would recommence within the first hour or so, which did at least give me some time to punch out some "warm-up" miles during the first part of the morning.
Soon enough as the hills started rolling out before me, I was back into "Sherpa-Cycle" mode however, even I surprised myself at how fresh I was feeling after the day of rest.
My legs were entirely untroubled across the majority of it, and even my breathing and the all-important psyche was dealing with everything so much better.
The wind throughout the morning was easily the worst of it as I reached the famous Bixby Bridge within 3 hours.
I took time to pause here for some photos and gaze back at the epic descent I had just taken down to the bridge crossing, re-assessing with a fellow cyclist at how treacherous the wind had made things coming down the hill.
With the extra weight of the rig and the wind effectively "bouncing" off the cliff faces to the right, I was nearly blown over more than once and was not in the least bit sorry to have ridden the brakes most of the way down.
By the time I started seeing the signs for Carmel, I knew I had nearly made it.
Crossing the bridge over Malpaso Canyon in the Carmel Highlands, I silently doffed my helmet to its most famous resident, Mr Clint Eastwood and continued climbing up and over the hill.
It was not far past this at all when out of the blue, I copped my first real mouthful of abuse from a passing motorist in nearly 700 km of riding.
This young hothead was not likely someone who Mr Eastwood would have taken too kindly too I suspect - I didn't take too kindly to him myself, yelling back at him to "Fuck Off" and proceeding.
Funny how he didn't motion to continue this one.
Within the hour, I found my way through to Carmel-by-the-Sea which is possibly one of the most upmarket locations anywhere in California and gave myself up as temporarily lost once again, despite having visited here previously in 2004.
With fresh directions and a dodgy map from the local visitor center, I picked up 17-Mile-Drive which was theoretically meant to take me through to Monterey.
Which it eventually did, by way of a cold, blustering wind which by now was right in my face and several wrong turns, courtesy of my dodgy map.
When I did finally make landfall at the Vets Memorial campground in Monterey just after 4 pm, it did seem like I'd been on the road a whole lot longer than I should have been, after leaving Big Sur at around 8.30 am.
Better late than never, I guess.
I could also still feel PLENTY of lactic acid coursing through my lower limbs after the monster effort of the previous 24 hours and apart from which, I'd actually already paid up for 2 nights when I staggered into the park after dark, just over 12 hours earlier.
So I simply turned around and went back in.
Sure, it was a bit a pain in the arse having to pull my rig apart and set up camp again, but it ended up being the best thing to do.
It was just a little surprising that my trip computer actually registered me burning 10 calories riding to the gate and back again....
Wednesday 13 April 2016 is the day I am sure I will look back upon later in this trip and decide that this was the threshold moment.
I don't believe it was ever going to break me, but I also don't believe I could have pushed myself much further.
It was certainly a good opportunity to work out what I was capable of.
In terms of distance, 110 km/nearly 70 miles is no big deal. I've regularly put in longer days than this as a matter of course.
As far as "degree of difficulty" is concerned, well then this one was right up there.
I'm generally a pretty harsh marker and I will happily claim that to drag myself and my heavily loaded machine across this challenging but stunning terrain for over 12 hours with a cold, gusting headwind for the later stages was no mean effort.
I've had it said to me more than once along the way by certain American people that what I'm doing is pretty "badass."
One gentlemen I stopped and yelled across the passing traffic to on Wednesday during my state of pending exhaustion, said these exact words to me.
"Yeh, well it feels pretty badass right now," was near to my response at the time.
The final 10 -15 miles were easily the toughest mentally as I started to push beyond what I thought my limits were and continued to encounter some particularly gnarly grades and failing light in the final 90 minutes.
Every time I stopped to confirm direction and distance with someone, it seemed to be forever another "2 miles", which is pretty easy to contemplate when you're cruising along in a motor vehicle.
I have not been ashamed to get off and push at different stages and there was plenty of that on Wednesday.
In fact, I threw my first real tantrum on this tour as the grade pushed continually upwards from the Big Sur Inn for a mile or two or three before (not surprisingly) presenting another "2 miles" down the other side and into the darkness.
I'd be pretty sure the time was just beyond 8.30 pm when I finally set down at the campsite and collapsed in a heap.
Some local lads who were clearly on a bicycling "booze cruise" of the area, apologised to me for having their shit spread out all over the place as I sat at the provided bench and started to shovel my accumulated road food down at a reasonable clip.
"Frankly gentlemen, I'm too tired to care. Don't worry about it."
DAY 12
FRIDAY 15 APRIL 2016
BIG SUR TO MONTEREY
0830 - 1615
69.13 km (42.96 miles)
Av. Speed: 12.7 km/h (7.9 mph)
Max. Speed 53.9 km/h (33.5 mph)
Time on Bike: 5h 26m 15s
 |
| CAMPING IN AMONGST THE REDWOODS, PFEIFFER BIG SUR STATE PARK |
Once my tent was re-pitched, I set out with a day pack and took a wander up to Pfeiffer Falls and the "Valley View" lookout.
Whilst neither the falls or lookout were anything to start drooling over, it was just nice to go for a walk into the beautiful redwood forest and also to give my leg muscles a little bit of different information to what I had been overloading them with in recent days.
I could literally feel the lactic acid diffusing by the minute as I trudged uphill for the the first section to the Falls.
Things felt even better as I made my way back down about 90 minutes later and by then I knew I'd made the right decision.
The remainder of the afternoon was quite restful until the cold northerly wind started to really penetrate the campsite beyond 4 pm and I was out of there.
I was aware of available wi-fi up at the lodge so this is where I headed for.
Despite my willingness to pay for the privilege, the lady at front-of-house redirected me towards a nearby establishment called "Fernwood", a nice little pub within walking distance where I could get some beer, pizza and free wi-fi using the password "icecream", she told me.
This sounded plenty good enough for me as I had pretty well determined that any longer spent around Big Sur Lodge was going to start affecting my cash budget to the negative.....
 |
| TUCKER TIME @ FERNWOOD, BIG SUR |
Day 12 was going to get me to Monterey and complete the Big Sur section of coastline.
I was looking forward to getting to Monterey for a number of reasons, least of which was to feel a real sense of achievement at having ridden this magnificent but demanding coastline end to end.
Wednesday had "broken its back" to be sure, but I needed to knock it on the head now, once and for all.
The cold, gusting nor-westerly was persisting and making life just that bit more interesting.
I knew it was unlikely that the serious hills would recommence within the first hour or so, which did at least give me some time to punch out some "warm-up" miles during the first part of the morning.
Soon enough as the hills started rolling out before me, I was back into "Sherpa-Cycle" mode however, even I surprised myself at how fresh I was feeling after the day of rest.
My legs were entirely untroubled across the majority of it, and even my breathing and the all-important psyche was dealing with everything so much better.
The wind throughout the morning was easily the worst of it as I reached the famous Bixby Bridge within 3 hours.
I took time to pause here for some photos and gaze back at the epic descent I had just taken down to the bridge crossing, re-assessing with a fellow cyclist at how treacherous the wind had made things coming down the hill.
With the extra weight of the rig and the wind effectively "bouncing" off the cliff faces to the right, I was nearly blown over more than once and was not in the least bit sorry to have ridden the brakes most of the way down.
 |
THE BIXBY BRIDGE |
 |
SOME SELFIES ALONG THE WAY... |
Crossing the bridge over Malpaso Canyon in the Carmel Highlands, I silently doffed my helmet to its most famous resident, Mr Clint Eastwood and continued climbing up and over the hill.
It was not far past this at all when out of the blue, I copped my first real mouthful of abuse from a passing motorist in nearly 700 km of riding.
This young hothead was not likely someone who Mr Eastwood would have taken too kindly too I suspect - I didn't take too kindly to him myself, yelling back at him to "Fuck Off" and proceeding.
Funny how he didn't motion to continue this one.
Within the hour, I found my way through to Carmel-by-the-Sea which is possibly one of the most upmarket locations anywhere in California and gave myself up as temporarily lost once again, despite having visited here previously in 2004.
With fresh directions and a dodgy map from the local visitor center, I picked up 17-Mile-Drive which was theoretically meant to take me through to Monterey.
Which it eventually did, by way of a cold, blustering wind which by now was right in my face and several wrong turns, courtesy of my dodgy map.
When I did finally make landfall at the Vets Memorial campground in Monterey just after 4 pm, it did seem like I'd been on the road a whole lot longer than I should have been, after leaving Big Sur at around 8.30 am.
Better late than never, I guess.
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