First bad day ends well

Crescent City was a pretty drab place and the weather didn’t help much: a cold consistent wind coming in from the ocean brought in dull and gray clouds. I hit the road at 8 with the intent to have breakfast at a diner.

After 20 km I was still running on empty, and the only places I encountered where really not worth stopping for. I became quite miserable – to the point that I had convinced myself that I had had enough. The sign indicating 395 miles for San Francisco didn’t help either. The motel manager was right; the first 10 miles were going to be hard.

I took the usual suggested cyclist detour into a stretch of Redwood forest. It was both awe and gloom inspiring. My mood seemed to worsen, almost as if the forest was exorcising my troubles. It wasn’t the ride that was angering me.

Once out of the forest and into a sunny spell my funk lifted. My stamina however had suffered considerably probably due to my previous day’s exhort and lack of this morning’s breakfast.

I stopped at the beach just after Orick (which was the actual site of the original Indian village with the same name) for a pause to regain my mental focus. Had the energy and vibrations of the trees affected me?

I struggled on to Patrick’s Point and decided to stop, even though it was early in the day. Perhaps I needed the rest after all.

After setting up camp and a snooze, a cyclist approached the hiker/biker section of the grounds. He saw me and almost did an about turn to set up on the total opposite side of the site. Later he approached and confessed to me that he had initially thought I was a vagrant. He did have a point; ever since entering California, there was a considerable increase in the number of bums walking the 101. I do admit my beard didn’t help either.