Leggett to Fort Bragg

There had been whispers from all departments about the Leggett hill. It's an ass kicker, they say. A real doozy. I had become weak sitting around Arcata for the past month, out of shape and soft around the edges. I feared the great mount would humble me.

But no. It was a large hill, yes. Steep at times, seemingly endless. But so what? The great metaphor of bicycle touring vs life itself was already dawning upon me. Once you come to terms with the fact the there will be hellish hills and there will be blissful rides down, everything else is just spinning peddles. I could go forever. I saw the chorizo burrito I had for breakfast burning in my stomach like a candle. Keep breathing, some water, yell something for effect, and keep on spinning peddles. There is no arrival. Only this moment, both suffering and ecstatic. Keep on spinning peddles.

Eventually a sliver of ocean became visible through the trees and then there is was, the ocean, churning foam and the sand making sizzling sounds as water retreated back to the sea. Everything felt surreal, the epitome of itself, a simulation.

MacKerricher state park lies a few miles north of Fort Bragg on the coastal highway 1. I ate a can of beans for dinner and we had a few beers talking to Brad, who had been camped in the Hike and Bike for a few days. He was old, missing most his teeth, surly, and bizarre, but with an unlikely humanitarian edge. Brad looked like an absolute bum. His shirt said "Best Wrestler in Arizona" but claimed to live in Catalina for three seasons of the year. In the winter he takes the ferry into LA and starts walking north. Sometime he ends up in Canada, other times settles down right here in Mendocino County. He knew every camp spot, legal or not, on the Pacific.

Brad has had five wives in his lifetime, all of them crazy, some of them with papers, paid one penny in alimony one time because thats how much he told the judge she was worth to him, hates his daughter, doesn't speak to his son, yet is the founder of a homeless program in Fort Bragg which feeds and shelters transients in churches over the cold winter months. The program has a strict no drinking or drugs policy which Brad summarized thusly:

"Hell, I'd turn my own wife away if she'd been drinking. And you can bet she has!"

A craggy grin and a hoarse laugh.

written by

chaddeal on October 22, 2009 from Fort Bragg, United States

from the travel blog: The CaliforniaX 9000 Autumnal Bicycle Bonanza

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