It Gets Hillier. And Hotter. And Then Creepy.

October 2, 2014

Big Sur to Kirk Creek

This was a brutal day. Really hot, and steep climbs. And then it was a long night.

It started nicely enough. I lay in my tent for a while after waking up, listening to the kingfishers chattering as they flew along the river. It was nice and cool. I was a little nervous about heading out onto shoulderless Hwy 1 again. That nervousness annoyed me no end. I am an experienced, assertive but (mostly) smart road rider, used to traffic. Yet I was nervous about the day’s ride. Sheesh. As usually happens, though, once you’re out there in it, you just deal with it.

Within a few feet of getting back out onto Hwy 1, just after crossing the Big Sur River, the cool morning suddenly turned hot. There was a little shade here and there but the temp was warm and only got warmer. I was counting on second breakfast at Big Sur Bakery, only a mile and half away. However, that was 1.5 miles up one of the steeper and longer climbs of the tour. Breakfast was great despite the young barista, a pleasant enough chap, saying, “I understand how people get sad. I get sad sometimes myself.” I’m not sure there was any irony involved.

I thought the worst of the climbing would be over once I crested the hill at Ventana, but I was wrong. It felt like all I was doing was pedaling slowly uphill in the blazing sun, baking, no breeze except from passing cars, stopping at most any patch of shade to rest and pant for a while. Any other cyclists just kept going past me as they said hi because it was so hot everyone just wanted to get the day over with. Of course I had some fabulous downhills with lots of curves — going through Julia Pfeiffer Burns comes to mind — but they were over sooo soon.

However, however — there were minutes where there was no traffic and I could take the road, coasting, leaning back in the seat, absorbing the ocean and the mountains, feeling so happy I was doing this. You can’t take photos of that. And I couldn’t take photos of the many thumbs-up I got from passing cars, or shouts of encouragement, and toots on the horn. Everyone passed me with plenty of room, except, I’m afraid to say, the Prius drivers, who usually were closer than I liked. I developed a strategy for those times when there wasn’t a shoulder: I rode just a little to the right of center. When a car came up behind me, they saw me obstructing the road and didn’t try to squeeze by. They moved over to the left, I moved over to the right as if I was being polite, and we all prayed no one was coming round the bend. It worked a treat.

At a rest stop, I pulled out my food bag to find that those darn critters back in Big Sur had gotten to it after all. There were two holes in it, roughly corresponding to the vent holes in the food box which I supposed I must have placed the bag over. My tortillas had a small semi-circle bitten out of it, and the trail mix bag was leaking. Oh well. I just broke off the parts nearest the bitten part and learned a lesson about placement of food bags in food boxes.

All day I was seeing monarch butterflies. They must be migrating north. They helped keep me going. Do you know their story? If they can fly thousands of miles I can make it through this hot day.

Hours and hours and HOURS later I finally came upon the settlement of Lucia and Lucia Lodge. Hallelujah. This was a place where I could get out of the sun, eat and drink. Of course they didn’t have AC because they rarely need it. So I sat near an open window with a slight breeze that kept those dang little black flies away and cooled me some. I spent about an hour and half here recovering.

I was shooting for Plaskett Creek campground originally, but I knew I was done for the day, so changed my sights to the closer Limekiln State Park. Oops. Campground full. No hiker bikers so that means the campgrounds really are full. Next up is Kirk Creek, only another two miles down the road. Also full, but it has hiker bikers so we’re good. Heard this was a nice place with a cool beach even though it's dry, meaning no water but what you bring. I had provided for this eventuality by loading up with water from the Lucia store.

Consulting with another camper, I decided not to put the fly on the tent, which is almost unheard of next to the ocean. Not likely it will be dewy with these conditions. I saw a sign about raccoon problems. I guess so. Seems they knocked off the food box in my campsite and chewed the corner off the only other food box, which was in the next campsite. I decided to keep my food in my tent. Safe enough.

I made a last pilgrimage to the toilets after dark. Before heading back to my tent I stood for a few minutes taking in the stars. A young gal came up to use the facilities, and she stopped to admire the sky with me, marveling at how spectacular it was even though there was a bright half moon. Milky Way was clear as day. She loved this campground. She and her husband were here from San Francisco for just the third time but it’s now their getaway.

And so I zipped in the tent for the night, fell asleep despite the moon shining right in my face through the tent mesh. I woke up again near midnight. The moon had shifted closer to the ocean so wasn’t as bright. I could see the stars through the mesh.

And then, the brush erupted. All sorts of chirrupping, crackling, purring, thumping. I shone my light out to see what was going on and and I saw lots of eye shine. The raccoons. They were here. Invading my site. They were undeterred by my hissing and light flashing. They’d seen my kind before. It was very creepy. Since it was the middle of the night and I was by myself I of course knew for certain that this horde of raccoons would be rabid and would invade my tent for my food. Even though they soon enough moved on from my site I was on guard for a couple of hours, jumping at every little noise. It sounded like there were a lot more than what I saw around me. The hiker biker sites are carved out of grass and brush, so there was a lot of habitat for them close to the tent. I dozed now and again but another crackle or howl or thump or falling garbage can lid would wake me.

Through the mesh I watched the moon set into the ocean, a lovely orange, same color as the sun I’d watched set hours ago. Finally I said to myself, this is ridiculous. If they invade my tent I’ll wake up and deal with it. I stuffed my earbuds in and turned on my iPod. I looked up at the stars and saw Orion rising over the mountains to the east. My favorite constellation. I was guarded over now. I slept.

Breakfast view from Big Sur Bakery/Cafe.

The Big Sur Charter School did not seem to be in session.

It's chaparral. It's little cover. It's getting really hot.

Santa Lucia Ranch. More importantly, shade!

I want to be down there in the water. I want to never be out in the sun again.

I was so happy to see this, the entire settlement of Lucia. My lunch was at 3:30.

Red faced and hot. No AC but a bit of a breeze.

I'll be camping somewhere out there tonight.

Monarch of the road. Saw so many of these migrating. I found them inspiring. If they can fly thousands of miles without eating, I can make it up this (*&^%$& hill.

Kirk Creek hiker biker campsite. Before it became Night of the Living Raccoons.

Sunset into the sea from the tent. The last restful moments of the night.

Today's ride: 29 miles (47 km)
Total: 123 miles (198 km)

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