Entering Northern California brings you straight out into Redwood land.
The massive beasts of trees that grow upward of 115 metres tall and 8 metres in diameter are perfectly placed to block the sun as you climb hill after hill.
I've found over the trip I'm not someone who will stand at the top of a hill admiring a view and as I don't do much else apart from cycle some people have wondered what I get out of my trip.
I fully admit I'm not a sightseer (as Tom, who I'd stayed with in Seattle put it, "I've never met a cyclist who was"), I rarely visit museums (the last was the Peace Park in Hiroshima in June) and I am someone who has trouble sitting still for more than 5 minutes - so as some people have pointed out I often miss things that others cite as the reason for their travel.
However aside from the main thing I travel for (people) the other great joy I get out of this is when I get not just a great view, the type that looks good in a photo, but when I have a whole ever-changing backdrop of beauty, with new sights every second of the ride.
I love the feeling of whizzing through great scenery.
Others stand around and stare, but for me, there is nothing better than flying through, the fresh air in your lungs, knowing you are in an area of true natural beauty.
From experience I have learned taking pictures is pointless, as no matter how good the photographer, a picture cannot convey the feeling of being there.
Case in point - a bad photo that doesn't grasp the feeling of being there. My literary and photographic skills are not up to the task of describing the feeling of cycling through so instead I recommend everyone to go there and ride the route themselves!
And so there we were - still 4 of us riding - myself, David, Nick and Alex, all headed to Arcata. Unfortunately David had to leave us there as he was on a timetable, but in the day off we took to get Alex's bike fixed, Nick, being the bright spark he is, managed to find a blog about Humboldt Counties so called 'Lost Coast' and the mythical Usal Road.
What is officially known as the Pacific Coast Highway switches between roads 1 and 101, which interchange to whichever is closest to the coast at the time.
However, sometimes this comes in land and the Lost Coast route was the road closest to the sea - which is where we wanted to be.
The road goes up and down (we're talking 7-10 km each time) and the mythical Usal Road is the final leg, a 25 mile dirt road ride through painstaking terrain.
What you should also know about Humboldt County, and in particularly this area, is that this is where pretty much all of Californias Marijuana is grown.
Whilst I never got into pot as a teenager/student as much as others did my views on it are fairly liberal: I struggle to understand how people can drink alcohol but then become sanctimonious towards others who choose to smoke and for the record, I would also legalise it as with my Criminology background I know a) that the British police don't care about it and b) if it's legal, it can be taxed, so the current situation we have in Britain at the moment which is a waste of everyones time would be over.
But before I climb to high on my soapbox, let me stop digressing and get back to Humboldt County.
The choice was stick to the 101 highway as it snakes through tedious inland flats, or head to the Lost Coast, and spend 3 days trying to do a mere 110 miles.
Once again, it wasn't a choice and the next day we set off, arriving at the turnoff shortly after midday. After a few miles we were wondering what all the fuss was about as the road was in good condition and fairly flat, but our opinion soon changed as we took a side road out of Ferndale, a town straight out of a 1920's Americana style movie set, and were staring at a 9% climb up to 2,000 feet.
Not only the climbs, but the descents were electryfying and the following 24 hours were spent on beautiful deserted road, our only company being cows, who probably will never know that the real estate they live on is worth more than anything I'll ever be able to afford!
Above: Nick on the summit after the first climb on the Lost Coast. Below: Me on the descent of said climb.
The following afternoon we finally got to the first village on the route - Honeydew. These places are as isolated as you're going to get in California and we knew that this village represented the entry to forest where the marijuana growing was taking place.
We weren't sure what to expect as we entered, but what we got was hilarious - just 30 miles from the highway, which leads to the bigger cities, the day to day life people have to lead, the normality of it all - is Honeydew, a small village, where not just a few, but every single person we met was stoned.
The aroma firmly in the air we walked into the village store for a loaf of bread and a box of wine (travelling with Nick and Alex has been a joy simply for the number of $10 5 litre boxes of wine we seem to get through).
'Oh man, I just passed you guys, you're on the bikes right, that's so cool, awesome man'
'Yeah man, awesome'
'Yeah, you guys are cra-zy' with a higher pitch for the 'zy'.
2 men and a lady, a lot of long hair and a lack of shaving (including the lady in this) met us and for the next 20 minutes we enjoyed speaking with the three people we'd just met, who told us about where we were going and drifted in and out of the conversation as they randomly forgot that they were talking to us.
'Hey, are you guys alright for pot?' asked one of them just as we were getting ready to leave.
'Yeah, we're ok for that, thanks'
'Ah man, you guys can't go out there without pot, you've got 3 days in front of you and that road where you're heading, man, that's a bad one'.
I loved the sincerity in his voice that this was actually what we need to get through this.
'We appreciate it but we're good thanks'
And as we looked away he trotted off to his truck, rumaged around, came back and threw a large ammount of freshly cut marijuana on the table.
'F*ck it man, it's f*cking Honeydew' he said, slapping his fists on the table, before getting back in his truck and driving off without another word.
We looked at each other, laughed and for the rest of the time with Nick and Alex whenever there was silence, nothing to say, a lull in conversation, 'Fuck it man, it's fucking Honeydew' would become the catchphrase.
The road took us on a large climb out of Honeydew and the next morning it was time for the bit we'd really been waiting for, Usal Road.
25 miles long, up and down, not just unpaved but ungravelled, this was a dirt road and nothing else - the microclimate in this area also means that constant rain leaves the path wet with sticky mud.
As we went to enter, someone driving past stopped to talk to us at the junction to ask if we needed directions. His laugh as we told him where we going was reassuring that we wanted to go this way, and when we asked him how long it would take to ride this 25 mile stretch we were told simply 'I don't know about riding, but in a truck it's a 2 hour drive'.
Above: One of the many Usal Road hazards. Below: Enjoying myself of the descent.
And so how long does it take to ride 25 mile long mud road which has a consistent 6% gradient going either up or down and that stinks of Marijuana the whole time?
The answer is 6 hours.
There are times you wonder how fit you are from cycle touring, and then there are days like these where you find out.
We stumbled into Fort Bragg in the dark for a meal and the next day carried on south.
Alex and Nick had been with me for the best part of three weeks, however Alex had to get back to Tacoma to see his girlfriend (they had previously broken up because they weren't spending enough time together, he'd gone to see her, they'd worked it out and he'd then gone on a month long cycle tour - hero!) and Nick had to get to Oregon to see his family for Thanksgiving.
In the meantime, I had to get to Vallejo to see Becky, a girl who had lived next door to me in University Halls back in Kingston.
And as such it was time to say goodbye to some of the best company I've had on the trip, 2 great guys who I'm sure I'll see again someday and who will be missed for the remaining ride.
I spent 2 nights in Vallejo, before heading to San Francisco. I had to be in Los Angeles to meet family and friends the following weekend so had no time to spare and couldn't hang around, however this need for constant motion co-incided with the second leg of Ireland vs France. Trying my luck, passing through San Rafael at the time the second half was due to kick off I was lucky to come across an Irish Bar - the only sports bar in town I was told - and finding the football too tempting to miss I went in.
What did I find in an Irish Sports bar at the time of the countries most important match in 7 years? A Landlord too damn tight to pay the pay-per-view, so instead a crowd of 40 Paddies sat around watching the ticker on ESPN Score Centre (think Sky Sports News), whilst Portugal vs Bosnia played on the big screen.
I didn't bother to hang around but it's hard not to laugh at the obscure scenario of 40 men sat around watching a ticker that would have read 'Goal: France 1 (Gallas) ROI 1' when Henry handballed France to the world cup, and the crowd only knowing that France had scored, none of them knowing the injustice of the situation.
But what this did mean was that, with no time to rest over the next week and no spare time, I would arrive in San Francisco in the dark.
As you cross the Golden Gate Bridge you can feel a special vibe coming from the City, however at this time I had no time to get sucked in and I flew straight out the other side.
Still beautiful at night
With the days getting shorter and shorter as the time nears winter solstace the next few days were riding all day, every day and with 4 days left and 400 kilometres to go I arrived at Cambria, the place I had spent my summer to stay the night with Beth and George at the farm.
It was good to see them and as happy as I was I was also exhausted and realised I wasn't going to make the next 4 days.
Instead, on Tuesday I will get the train to Los Angeles to see my friends and family for 2 and a half weeks - and I can't lie - I'm looking forward to this!
