It was a good trip to the 31st State.

I admit that I am generally more interested in pedal driven travel, but I recently returned from a week on the road and had a great time. I also recently bought a truck (98′ Tacoma) and this was the first time in about years that I had the means to strike out on a road trip with a loose schedule. I was aiming for LA for my mom’s 60th birthday and then the Oregon coast for two nights of camping with my wife Misia, and some friends. The nine day trip was packed with plenty of highway miles, city traffic, and rad trails.

Day One

I set out early Sunday morning after stocking up on some last minute supplies at the shop and then at the market. Traveling with a cooler was a smart move and I stocked it full of sandwich materials and Rainier. This would end up being my longest day mileage wise, and wan’t extremely exciting. That is until I crossed the Bay Bridge into San Francisco. The city was magnificent in the evening light and fog. I made my way up the hill to my friend Nick’s place where he and his folks were to put me up for the night.

After unpacking the truck, Nick and I walked down to the Mission for burritos and beer. A bit later we finished our night high atop Bernal Hill, taking in the lights of the city. It was a short visit, but brought the promise of more rad times in the city on future visits.

Day Two

Another long day on the road down the 101 awaited me. But first I was treated to one of Phil’s famous fried egg sandwiches. Nick’s dad has a reputation for making the best breakfast sandwiches for travelers, and he backs it up with style. With a full belly and a mug of coffee I powered to Santa Barbara and met up with Jim at Cranky’s Bikes. It was his birthday, so I presented him with a cap from Double Darn and picked up some trail info. Being on State St, his shop was bustling with people so our visit was brief, but rewarding.

Jim pointed me towards Romero Canyon which offered a quick loop up a fire road and down a technical canyon filled with bolders and tight lines. I had a great time while the bell on my seatpost clanged away. I saw a few hikers, but had the trail mostly to myself.

I arrived in Arcadia and checked into my place around 8. After settling in, I pedaled around the park across the street and munched up on some food at the local In n Out. As I stood there waiting for my order while leaning against by bike, I watched the teenagers awkwardly hanging out. I am pretty sure I was just as awkward when I was their age.

Day Three

One of the nice things about working as a web developer (regular job) is that I can do it pretty much anywhere. I woke up early and caught up on some work before heading downtown to grab a sandwich at my favorite place, Philippe’s. I have been going there since I was a kid and it is truly one of the only places I know of that hasn’t lost it’s magic over time. The customer base is as diverse as LA gets with police, business men, homeless guys, large families, and punks all lining up behind the counter.

On my way back to my hotel I stopped by Golden Saddle and checked out their great space. Before I moved to the Northwest I spent a fair amount of time in this neighborhood and it was great to see their shop. It’s much larger inside than I expected, with the floor and walls filled with bikes and merchandise. After a quick chat I snapped a photo of their sign and hit the road.

Later that night I celebrated my mom’s birthday with my dad and grandmother. It was a great night of catching up after a year apart and I had a wonderful time. My dad grilled up some salmon and we had a nice bottle of wine I brought down from Montinore. Good stuff.

After returning to the hotel I planned my adventure for the next day. Things always look so much easier on paper.

Day Four

I woke up late. This day was getting off on the wrong foot right away.

I had been smart enough to switch my tires the night before (thanks dad) and pack my bag, so grabbing a sandwich and beer for lunch didn’t take long. I was out the door by 9 and headed straight up the hill. I rode to Sierra Madre and forgot how close everything in the area is. I hooked up with the Altadena Crest Trail a bit later and found it to be more of a tractored “road” on the side of the mountain. It wasn’t rideable in spots thanks to the deep sand, but the experience of being above the houses on the hill was unique.

This trail finally spit me out just east of Lake Ave where I hooked up with the Rubio Canyon Trail. Things were starting to feel good as I approached the first real climb of the day. From where I stood at the bottom of the Mt. Lowe trail I felt like getting to Mt. Wilson would be no problem. It was only 5,600 feet up right?

Early into the climb I passed a trail rerouting that I did when I was 15. The switchbacks we removed are no longer visible and the reroute is in excellent shape. This trail gets quite a bit of traffic and it was a great feeling to see that it had weathered so well.

I continued climbing up the mountain. I was feeling pretty good. And then I almost fell off the mountain. I clipped an overhanging rock as the trail narrowed around a corner. As the bars twisted, I looked at the rocks about 50ft below and somehow managed to twist my foot under my bike, pinning myself to the ledge. I cautiously picked myself up, moved up the trail and collapsed for a few seconds. Eventually I picked myself up and kept going up.

A couple of miles and a thousand feet later I was running out of water. I pulled over to fix a flat in the Mt. Lowe Trail Camp. It was obvious from the get-go that this place hadn’t seen water in an extremely long time. A while later I realized I was inadvertently pushing my bike up the Mt. Lowe Trail, which is usually shuttled – the other direction.

The heat of the day, the pitch of the trail, and the tread ended up wasting the rest of my water. I could see the saddle of another trail below and behind me, but couldn’t give up on the goal of the day; Mt. Wilson taunted me across the valley as my cramps overtook me and I laid in the trail wondering what to do.

I cracked the beer I brought with me, ate a bunch of salt pills and trudged on. After a while longer I found the fire road and passed through a tunnel to meet up with a magical stretch of pavement. I climbed to Mt. Wilson and ate my hot sandwich and drank almost all of their water.

Being about 3 hours behind schedule I opted to find the fastest way down to Chantry Flats. The Mt. Wilson Trail seemed like the best option, and ended up being great after I passed the first 100 feet or so of washed out trail.

The descent to Chantry was as rewarding as any descent I have ever had. Rock gardens, loose switchbacks, stream crossings, and views of a hazy Arcadia were welcome changes to my day. I finally arrived at the bottom and climbed out of the park as a couple groups of teenagers cheered me on after asking where I had ridden from. I think the kids are going to be ok.

After a shower back at my place I spent another nice night with my folks before passing out and sleeping like a rock. Even the memory of almost dying and cramping out on a mountain couldn’t keep me awake.

Day Five

The alarm went off at 6 and I groaned. The idea of a five hour drive to Oakland wasn’t quite exciting, but it went by fast enough and I arrived in the early afternoon at my friend Steve’s house. After a few high fives we found a beer store and then put our feet up on the porch and talked about art and other high brow things.

A short while later we made our way to some (new to me) friends for goat leg tacos and tequila. Oakland is alright. Like really great, but you’re not trying to let on because look what happened to Portland.

Day Six

Another early morning greeted me with a hangover, but this time it came with a tall guy in his pajamas who made me a sandwich and offered me an enormous cup of coffee. After breakfast, Steve showed me a fun loop through the local parks of Oakland. We took some pictures, he picked up a large amount of dog crap in plastic bags, and stocked his secret beer log among the riding.

Eventually it was time to hit the road again. I aimed the truck at the 101 and headed to Tolkan Campground. Situated in the Lost Coast, the campground was empty and slightly damp after an afternoon rain. I made my bed in the back of the truck, and checked out the new terrain park that sits on the east side of the campground. Sleep came easy before the sky was dark.

Day Seven

Waking up at 6 again was easy this time. The Paradise Royale Trail – 14 miles of modern cross country fun. And it was all mine.

The grades and flow of the trail were excellent and I enjoyed every minute of my ride. Climbs were treated with fun obstacles and wide switchbacks. The ridges were rocky and technical. The hill sides featured large burms and small pumps and booters. There are two stream crossing over Bear Creek which is a thriving salmon spawning habitat. It is easily crossed by carrying your bike over the larger rocks in the creek.

I am confident that the location of this trail keeps it from getting blown out. I didn’t see a soul on the trail or when I got back to the campground and packed up. Although it was only 9:30.

The road north from Tolkan was rough. My truck had a great time rallying in 4wd as we climbed and descended the countless hills that stood between us and Honeydew. I stopped to get a soda and chatted up an old timer who told me to head toward the coast for better views. I took his advice and spent the next hour or so seeing an amazing bit of country I had never seen. I popped out at the ocean at Mattole Beach and took in the view.

I finally popped out on 101 and headed straight for Oregon. I aimed to camp at the Oregon Dunes before meeting up with Misia the next day. The drive seemed to go by quickly thanks to the constantly changing terrain as I moved up the coast.

Along the way I found a fish market in Coos Bay. I picked up some butter clams and then hit a grocery store a bit farther up the road. When I hit camp, I made a small fire and then chopped some garlic and sliced open the clams. A few minutes over the fire, and these delicious mollusks were a nice dinner.

Day Eight

In the morning I drove to Cape Lookout for two more nights of camping. We hiked. We body surfed. We ate too many oysters. We played bocce on the beach. It was the best way to integrate back into real life, if you can call living in Portland life.

It’s good to be home

It’s been a long time since I road tripped like that for over a week. The driving got a bit old at times, but the smaller roads and towns really made up for those times.

I met some nice folks, explored some beautiful and rugged terrain, was humbled by the mountains, and caught up with family. And I would do it again tomorrow if I had the chance.