Seattle to San Francisco/Space Needle to Golden Gate -- Spectacular 1725km Grand Randonee Completed!

Pre-ride meeting--my bike is featured

At the start, 5AM, Sept 8.

At the goal, 3:40AM, Sept 14.

My major cycling event target for this year was the Seattle Randonneurs’ Seattle to San Francisco 1700km event. I planned to be in the USA in late August and early/mid September for a variety of reasons, so the timing looked perfect. And I have always wanted to ride down the Pacific Coast by bicycle – a “bucket list” type wish for at least the past 20 years. 

As or more important, I wanted to complete a Grand Randonee this year, a goal that has gradually grown in importance for me over time, to the point where it was as if I was facing a looming steep, technical mountain climb. As readers of this blog may know, I typically have tried to ride at least the Audax brevet series of 200, 300, 400, and 600km rides, plus one longer ride, each year.

From 2012 until 2016, I was -- in my own head at least -- a candidate to join the group of riders whose calendar is dominated by grand randonees and who do several of these each year on different continents. I had a perfect track record for completing these events (except 2014 Hokkaido 1200, which the organizers cancelled mid-event when a typhoon closed the roads we needed to travel). But a series of circumstances reduced my cycling and my ultra-endurance cycling condition in the latter half of the decade. 

Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach OR - on Day 2

My academic job turned out to involve a fair bit of academic travel, and a not insignificant number of weekends with work commitments. Likewise, I re-started playing viola – a community orchestra and some chamber music – and that competed with cycling for my hobby-related time and energy. I lost my daily 15 km each way cycle commute when I moved into central Tokyo, and I took up swimming to replace that. Divorce, dating, and then marriage five years later involved quite a lot of focus. 

Perhaps more than anything though, the death of “Micky” Inagaki in 2017 caused me great pause. Micky was one of my inspirations for riding grand randonees. He was the head of Japan Audax. He was on 2012 Cascade 1200, 2012 Rocky Mountain 1200, 2013 London-Edinburgh-London, and 2015 Paris-Brest-Paris – pretty much all the grand randonees I did outside Japan over that period. I don’t remember if he was on 2014 or 2016 Hokkaido 1200s, or the 2016 Okayama 1200, but he was probably there. And he was a constant presence in other Japan brevets. I remember first meeting him when I did an early season Shizuoka brevet in 2011 or 2010, Micky holding forth with a group of riders at the start in Fukuroi, far more gregarious and open than anyone else. I remember him setting up a spontaneous aid station at a control point 7-11 parking lot down the hill from his place in Tateshina when cold rain started on a crazy-difficult late season 600km brevet Jerome and I joined a few years later. His death (hit by a truck, in the wee morning hours, on the South Island of New Zealand, in early 2017), affected me greatly. This, added to Matthew O’Neill’s death in California on a 1200km event a few years earlier, made me decide that these events were risky enough so that I should only do one in most years, and give up any idea of traveling the world like Micky, or non-Japanese such as Mark Thomas, Vinny Muoneke, Ricky Blacker, Hamid Akbarian, and others I met at these events. 

But doing one of these a year is not easy. There are lots of things that you pick up from doing the events frequently, and if you do a first 1200km ride in a year, then after a few weeks of recovery, the second usually will be easier, and the third even more so. And to do the first 1200 each year, you really should have multiple 600s and 400s under your belt in the few preceding months.

In 2018, I tried the Central California Coast (1000km version), the event on which Matthew was killed by a juvenile driver pulling a horse trailer in 2014. I DNF’ed at Moro Bay about 2/3 of the way through, exhausted after suffering way too many flat tires and getting disoriented (lost) in a dry riverbed where the cue sheet confused me and I lost what seemed like an hour. 

In 2019, I DNF’ed Paris-Brest-Paris more than 90% complete. I was tired and needed to sleep, and why did I need to punish my body (saddle sores etc.) further to finish? I had done it in 2015; surely I could do it again in 2023). 

Resting along the Avenue of the Giants - Day 5

Then there was the pandemic. I had not counted on the pandemic -- practically nobody had. There were no grand randonees in 2020. In 2021, I tried to ride the Okayama 1200 again – but did not train for it or take it seriously. I knew before I started that I would not get through it, and I did not. It was a nice ride as far as we went. 

In 2022, I trained seriously for the Cascade 1400, determined to get back on a routine of completing grand randonees. But I got Covid a day before the start and spent 5 days quarantined in a hotel room on Bainbridge Island. DNS. 

In 2023, I was ready to try Paris-Brest-Paris again. This time I would not give up. I needed to complete a grand randonee! In early May, I did a solo 1667km ride across Honshu on the Pelso recumbent – the physical equivalent of a grand randonee even if a different format. But … the awful heat that summer in Tokyo put my training way behind schedule, and then I had an accident a few weeks before my planned departure for PBP. The x-ray on my left wrist was negative, so I re-started training with a wrist brace and went to France. I started the event and “rode backwards” through the group over the first 400km. In the hilly stretch before Loudeac, I could not get out of the saddle or put pressure on the wrist. I needed to climb out of the saddle to relieve my butt which was getting saddle sores, but I could not. I was creeping forward and DNFed. After returning to Japan, I went back to the orthopedist and confirmed that indeed, a bone in my wrist WAS broken. The whole thing had been a fool’s errand (even if I immensely enjoyed just going to PBP and taking it in, and the trip back to Paris by train with others who DNF’ed was quite enjoyable). 

In 2024, my main goal for the spring/early summer riding season was – to finally hold a wedding, more than 4 years after Ayu and I got married. Cycling took the back seat. In Golden Week, Jerome and I tried a 1000km one-way event heading toward Tohoku past many sites that had statues of Basho, the famed Edo Period poet, but I was not trained for it, and we ended up abandoning on Day 2 and just enjoying a relaxed ride on Day 3. Okayama redux. 

So in 2025, I questioned whether I could, at age 62, still complete a grand randonee. I took training seriously for Seattle-San Francisco (as I had for Cascade 1400 three years earlier). I was done with the full 2/3/4/600km series by the first weekend in June, plus a few other longer rides. I chose events that were, with the exception of the 400k, not easy courses. This time again, the summer heat was a problem during July-August, but I spent enough time at our place in the mountains to maintain some decent level of fitness until my US trip, and I rode a couple decent morning/half-day rides in each of DC, Pittsburgh, and Portland, so that when I showed up in Seattle I felt my condition was okay, and I had a good chance of completing the event. 

More important, I used the Ti Travel Bike a lot over the weeks before and during my trip, and was able to “dial it in” and fix numerous issues with flatting tires (mostly rim tape-related), a problem with the rear hub (for which DT Swiss sent me a replacement ratchet by UPS at no cost during my trip), and also to get my handlebars and aero bar extensions to a relatively good position for the first time ever.

Inagaki-san hated it when Japanese riders went overseas to ride grand randonees and DNF'ed due to lack of preparation. A super strong rider can complete one of these events without preparation or studying the course. A weaker rider (like me, at this point given age and relative degree of training/lack of speed) needs to study the course, needs a plan, needs a backup plan for when the plan goes awry, and needs to avoid wasting time dealing with various issues that can crop up but can be minimized by thorough preparation (mechanical problems, tires, physical problems, misdirection, etc.). I studied the course, identified the towns with services and figured out the long stretches WITHOUT services so I would not get caught without food/water. I picked 3-4 possible breakfast places in Lincoln City, Oregon (Nelscott B/H Café was the actual choice when I rolled through), found the best burger joint in Waldport (Skosh). I maximized my chances in these little ways. As anyone who dealt with me in recent months can tell you, I was pretty obsessed with preparation for the event.

Burger stop in Waldport

And the early-September season for this event suggested we were highly likely to have good weather – little or no rain, and not too hot nor too cold. This relatively reliable forecast made packing and planning a lot easier. 

As a super-long (1725km) ride, there would be no interim time limits and the pace for the whole event would be 12 kph. This contrasts with a 1200km event, where there typically ARE interim limits, and the first 600km has a 15kph pace, with the remainder at 12kph. In other words, for this event if I would just spend enough time riding rather than sleeping, eating, or relaxing, and would just keep going, I could easily make it. This was a “one way” ride, which made logistics much more difficult. The event started Sept 8 at 5AM in Seattle, and finished no later than 4:50AM on Sept 14 on the Presidio side of the Golden Gate bridge. 

I was planning to meet my wife in San Francisco on Sept 16, so I needed to get there – whether I completed the ride on time or not. The area traveled was surprisingly remote, given that the last third or more traveled through the USA’s most populous state, California, and the route went largely along the coast, between major cities. There was no easy “bail out” option on the last half of the ride. And, the organizers warned us not to look to them for support. This had been designed almost as a kind of “friends and family” ride for Seattle members and other interested persons. It was not a mass event. There were no “overnight controls”. Riders needed to book their own hotels (though the organizer did at least give me hotel names where the Seattle group would stay, when I asked). Outsiders were welcome … but not widely solicited nor encouraged. 

To manage the logistics, I shipped my bike box (travel bike suitcase) with all my luggage for a month-long trip to the US inside (including a laptop and some valuables) via UPS from Seattle to a friend’s house in San Francisco. Everything I could not carry on the bike 1725kms went into the box and was handed over to UPS. (It arrived without incident). 

And I stayed with, and took advantage of the kindness of, friends in Seattle and San Francisco. In Seattle, I stayed the 2 nights before the start in the spare room of my college classmate Jan O. in her Ravenna neighborhood house, just under 10km from the Space Needle/Start. In San Francisco, I slept and recovered at the house of my law school classmate David Ly. in the spare bedroom of his Southwest San Francisco house, not far from the Presidio/Goal. Each of them had time to get a few meals together with me so we could catch up on what was going on in each other’s lives – a precious benefit of staying with them in connection with this event. My wife, Ayu, contributed greatly to the effort by sending constant “positive energy” via Whatsapp, and as important, by letting me focus on the ride even though I am sure she had a dozen urgent questions about her upcoming trip that she would have preferred to raise with me during the event. Ayu, Jan O., and David Ly. each helped me to somehow manage to do this. Next on the list would have to be Bob R., my cycling mentor, who I stayed with while in the DC area at the beginning of my US trip as I set up and tried to “dial in” the bike, including replacing too-narrow and thus dysfunctional rim tape on the rear wheel, and getting new shoes to replace my ancient, very beat-up Shimano ones. 

So in the end, how did the ride go? 

Most important, for me, I completed the ride within the rules and the time limit. Once I got with 140kms of the goal, half way through the final day, I could relax. I knew that even at my slow pace I had a couple hours extra to spare and so, absent a major mechanical or physical issue, I would get there. I did relax, take it easy, suffered a final tire puncture, and dawdled a bit getting through Marin County at night, but still finished with 70 minutes to spare. 

If you have read everything to this point, you know that finishing a grand randonee was very important to me. It opens up the prospect that I can keep doing these events – or trying to do them – over the next few years. 

Mitch Ishihara, one of the “pre-riders” for this course, told me he thought the pre-ride was “harder than” the Seattle summer gravel grinder 600k around Mt. Rainier that we both joined in 2016. I can see why that would have been the case for a pre-rider, trying to make last minute course tweaks as he rode (and going over Mt Tam at the end -- before the final course tweaks), but I don’t think I agree. That 600k course involved a massive push and plenty of stress to finish under 40 hours, and lots of riding as fast as practical on gravel on the eastern side of the Cascades. This ride was long, very very long, but it could be conquered just by staying on the bike and upright, with a not-insignificant assist from tailwinds.

Second most important – the scenery was incredible. It was lovely, spectacular, even breathtaking at times. I grew up in Oregon and know much of the coastline from Astoria to Newport … but not really points south. Of course … I wish I could have spent a full day at Cannon Beach and Ecola State Park, one of my father's favorite places, where he was still hiking at age 86, before the pandemic.

I wish I could have not just passed the entry sign for Boy Scout Camp Meriwether/Clark, where I spent a week in each of two summers of my youth, but that I could have gone back to see that camp and the wild beachfront nearby. But just going past these places brought back memories of my youth, of my family and friends from a time now distant past. 

The “Avenue of the Giants” – a ~50km stretch of road through redwood forests of Humboldt County on Day 5 south of Eureka, paralleling Route 101 – I will always remember. The ancient massive trees had a calming effect on me. These living trees were here before Columbus “discovered” America in 1492. They were here before the Magna Carta of 1215. Some date back to the times of Jesus Christ and the Roman Empire. They will be here long after I and all those I know are gone. And the forest was not just one grove – it went on, and on, and on. Other major redwood groves ...  I passed at night … more about that below in the blow-by-blow. 

On the last day, after we entered Marin County from the North on California Route 1, the road climbed high up on some grass-covered hills and dropped back down toward the ocean. From high up, I could see down the coast toward the SF Bay. The sun was shining, a tailwind was pushing me on. It was almost as if I were flying on the bicycle. I could only think of how perfect this stretch of road was on this day. I knew I would make it to the finish on time. I thought of Inagaki-san. I wanted to dedicate this ride to him – my preparation had paid off. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I let out a cry of victory – no one around to hear it – and kept going. 

Looking down the Marin County Coast toward SF Bay

Chronological Narrative (Blow by Blow) 

Day 1.  The first 125km+ out of Seattle was fine. I was with the main group of riders or even ahead of them much of the first 80km, riding at a sustainable pace and able to chat some, a familiar course that tracked 2012 Cascade 1200 and that 2016 summer gravel grinder 600k in many parts, including Enumclaw, Eatonville, and Elbe (easy to remember these three "E's" even more than a decade later). Most of the group made a rest stop for food at one point … but I could not see anything I really wanted to eat, decided not to wait for the restroom, and quickly hopped back on my bike and continued knowing I would want to stop for a sandwich an hour or more ahead at the local supermarket I remembered in Eatonville. 

First morning

First morning -- Michael A. is fully loaded.

I stayed ahead of nearly all of the group … until the short climb into Eatonville, when I went quickly “backward” through many other riders. I stopped for my deli-counter sandwich as planned. The workers were as friendly and accommodating as I had remembered. One rider from the Philippines (Don? -- or Dom -- apologies if I have got it wrong) pulled up as I was getting ready to head out. After a minute or two of riding, I saw the entire group coming back down the road toward me. Mark Thomas called out “road closed, detour” … so I turned around and was able to rejoin the group as some local Seattle riders took us on the somewhat longer route around via State Route 7. At this point, I was climbing more slowly than the others, struggling a bit in mid-day heat. I got to Elbe and pulled off at a small store for a rest, just as a bunch of other riders were heading out. I got further behind on the long, quite gradual uphill stretch ahead to the high point for the ride on Skate Creek Road, and the descent into Packwood. 

The Skate Creek Road gradual climb -- lovely.

At Packwood I saw one rider heading out, across the street from a coffee shop where I stopped. And I was passed by Don as I ate a muffin and drank an iced latte. My feet hurt by this point. The new shoes I had gotten in Washington DC that had worked fine on shorter rides did not seem to prevent pain beyond 150kms. I applied some topical pain killer – Voltaren, available over-the-counter in the US in a tube – and it worked almost immediately to stop the pain. (This strategy worked for the rest of Days 1, 2, and 3 – taking off my shoes during rests, and application of Voltaren twice a day). On Day 4, I lowered my seat slightly … and the foot pain never returned! 

In any event, the route left Packwood heading WSW on US Route 12. I was alone now, at the back of the pack, riding on the shoulder of the highway as semi-trucks and 4x4 pickup trucks and trailers roared by. There was a bit of headwind, the sun was directly in my face. The shoulder was full of crap. I got a flat tire and pulled a nasty, sharp staple out of the tire. Later I got a second flat … this one, I thought a pinch flat from going over a big, sharp pebble. But the replacement tube I put in immediately lost air. When I searched the inside of the tire casing … I found a small very sharp metal wire or shard … that I could only pull out with a needle-nose pliers. 

Sunset on US12 as traffic finally wanes

The route was nice in a few places where we got off the main road, for ~9km before Randle (km 230) and ~15km before Silver Creek (km 288), but miserable along US 12. I wanted to ask someone why a Seattle-San Francisco trip involved going SE to Packwood on the South side of Mt. Rainier and then this miserable road shoulder? Someone just wanted to make the first day 360kms? Or there is no other decent route to get to the coast? Or the Washington State coastline is not rideable for some reason?

I finally got to Saikum (km 290) where the route left US12 around 840PM, and stopped at a general store 20 minutes before its 9PM closing, last customer for the day. The main group had stopped there earlier and was now several hours ahead. 

It was a nice night for riding, on low traffic roads now, but I was tired after 300km so went slowly. I rolled in to the hotel in Kelso around 1230AM. My roommate, Michael Acosta, had arrived around 11PM, most others earlier. Breakfast was available from 6AM so I knew the group would be there, feed themselves quickly and head out. It was good to catch up with the group at the hotel, get some sleep, and be up and ready for breakfast only a few minutes after 6. 

Day 2.  The breakfast room was nearly full when I stepped in. Mark Thomas announced a 630AM start. Michael Acosta and I made it out front of the hotel at 6:33AM. Everyone in the main group had left. We rode back to the start point of Day 2 on the GPS track and went together for the first couple hours taking turns pulling. The route was to the west into a slight headwind, on the major highway along the Washington side of the Columbia River. There were several 75-100m elev. climbs at 15, 20, 25, and 35kms. On each Michael was faster than me but I caught him on the descent and flat section again. On the last, however, another late-starting rider had caught us and he and Michael went ahead.  With Michael I was going at a faster than sustainable pace, and I had real doubts about doing a second 300km+ day in a row, with 3000m+ of climbing. 

Roll on Columbia - we head for the coast

Sunflowers

I flatted yet again after the largest climb of the morning (flat #3, and spare tube #4 – I still had 3-4 more available, but at this rate I would be on patched tubes by day 4 or would need to stop by a bike shop before San Francisco). This time it really was a pinch flat from going over a rock on the shoulder. 

Too many flats at this pace

I slowed and was near a bonk before km 90, where I stopped at a gasoline station/store for a sandwich. The place was not very nice nor friendly, but at least I could sit at a table outside for a few minutes while eating the first half of the sandwich, and apply Voltaren to my feet. It was still almost 20kms to the bridge over the Columbia, much of it through a strangely empty corner of Washington State and now at the hottest part of the day, without any real marine breeze. 

The log trucks and RVs being towed were scary

The bridge to Astoria was 6 kilometers of white knuckle riding. Way too many big trucks – log carriers, and others towing trailers or RVs – and too narrow a shoulder for comfort. The last segment involved a 75m elev climb on the narrow shoulder that had not shown up on the GPS track, as the bridge’s southernmost span was high enough for ships to pass underneath. Finally off the bridge, I stopped at a food truck in Astoria for some enchiladas. (I remember lots of good lunch spots in Astoria from a trip with my mom and son back in 2012 so he could take his driver's license test that was impossible to schedule in Portland ... but the route turned the opposite direction). The meal was served with rice and beans … I ate only a little of these and headed on in heavy early afternoon Astoria-area traffic. I don’t remember much about the stretch between Astoria and Seaside, but I was getting frazzled. On the climb after Seaside, before Ecola State Park/Cannon Beach, I pulled off, leaned/sat on a guardrail, and rested. There was a woman on a touring bike with flat bars and panniers who I could see spinning up the hill toward me in a very low gear. I remounted and headed on before she got to me – too embarrassed to be passed by someone on that slower, heavier rig! 

Elk borrowing someone's front yard in Cannon Beach.

In Cannon Beach I got some more food and rested twice, once at the Mariner’s Store, and a second time at an upscale supermarket/shopping center in the southern part of the town. It was already late afternoon and would be dark in an hour or two. I had gone 165kms, but still had 135kms to go to Lincoln City. I decided to book a room at Tillamook (~55kms from southern Cannon Beach) and make that my target. If I got in early, got decent rest, then I could leave very early and eat breakfast in Lincoln City. 

And that is what I did. This adjusted/reduced target for the night boosted my spirits. Even so, it was after 930PM by the time I had checked in and was in my hotel room in Tillamook. As with the previous night, I took a bath, dozed in the bath, then moved to the bed. 

Day 3.  I was up at 345AM and on the road by 400AM. At least now I made decent time, somewhat rested and in very low traffic. It was much better to do the two ~250m elev climbs on this section after resting. We passed the entrance to Boy Scout Camp Meriwether/Clark, a place of many good memories from my youth.

The group was long, long gone by the time I pulled in to Lincoln City at 830AM. I took a good rest for breakfast and then headed on. 79km done. 238km to go to Bandon. There was a couple sitting near me who asked the server if they served hominy grits. The server had no idea what they were talking about. I helped them try to explain this regional (southern) breakfast staple. The couple waved a few times as I leapfrogged them driving south and stopping at viewpoints that morning. 

I pulled over to get some rest at an ocean wayside with some grassy areas later. An elderly woman who was sitting beside her camper van wanted to chat and offered me an apple, which I gladly accepted. She had worked for the city of Eugene (due east of here) and then in senior living/care related services, she said. She really wanted to talk but I tried as politely as possible to decline after a few minutes, and I moved to my spot to rest. 

There was a tailwind nudging me onward and the temperature was perfect, the sun out but not overly warm. Ideal. I got to Waldsport and stopped at Skosh, the burger place I had flagged on my preparation map. I sat outside and this time two retired couples traveling together sat at the table next to me. We chatted some about our respective trips. They also leap frogged me as I headed on to the south. 

Looking south toward the sand dunes

Riding behind the dunes

The gigantic sand dunes at Florence were memorable … the highway passing just behind them in places … a mountain of sand stretching as far as I could see ahead, coming up just to the edge of the roadway. The sand looked clean and pure, a lovely beige/light brown color. 

It was night as I passed through North Bend and Coos Bay. I stopped at a shop for food, knowing there were no services between here and Bandon at night. Again, another customer seemed to want to chat, but I was obviously more interested in resting and moving on. 

The main group of riders had gotten in around dinner time (this being a short 238km day for them). With my additional 80kms and late start, I arrived well after midnight. 

Day 4.  The main group headed out I believe around 3AM or a bit later. I left at 7:25AM. I needed the sleep, and was still basically on track to complete the event, and Day 4 would be another long day – 317kms. I stopped for breakfast in Port Orford at the Café 2.0, after 45 kms. It was not up to Nelscott’s standard, but I could pack half of my scrambled eggs inside toast as a sandwich and take them to eat later. The weather was lovely again, a modest tailwind. 

I did not get a flat tire, but I noticed that my rear tire was totally shredded and knew that if I did not change it, the next flat was a matter of time. The front one (the same Vittoria Corsa N.EXT clincher model but 700x30 instead of 700x28) was fine.  I had not been locking my brakes so I puzzled why the rear one had disintegrated so quickly, making me wonder if the rear might even be a counterfeit, or just bad QC?  I discarded the tire and put on my spare (Vittoria Open Pave 700x25mm – narrower than I would like but a lovely tire no longer made, this the last of my NOS).  No more rear flats. I also lowered my seat a couple mm’s, which I believe miraculously solved any foot pain issues for the rest of the trip.

North of Gold Beach, we turned off the main highway to go through the very sleepy Nesika Beach. I was on the edge of dehydration so stocked up on liquids. Although my feet bothered me on days 1-3, I should note that I had zero stomach issues the entire ride. Some of this was due to the slower, relaxed pace of most of the ride compared to shorter brevets, and some due to my strategy of eating only half portions and carrying the other half along to consumer an hour or two later. I also consumed a lot of chocolate milk and whole milk, something I don’t do riding in Japan. It seemed like a great way to get some carbs/calories, protein, nutrients, and hydration all in a form that I find easy to digest. I recall that Lael Wilcox was doing this on the Great Divide, but it has not been a regular strategy before for me. 

The only shop in Nesika Beach

The beauty goes on and on

The coastline continued to be spectacular. I was almost numb to its beauty now, after the two previous days. The route passed into California and crossed a flat area north of Crescent City. It looks somewhat agricultural, and very much “bible belt” with lots of churches. Eventually I passed a parking lot next to some kind of institutional building where people were gathering in the late Thursday afternoon/early evening. The parking lot had an inordinate number of white cars. I could see a man standing outside the door of the building, hands clasped. I thought he might be a clergyman. Then I noticed the sign “jw.org” – ahh, it was a Jehovah Witnesses temple, just like down the street from my workplace in Tokyo! That explained it. 

As I got into Crescent City proper, the mood of the place looked a bit downtrodden. A young woman zoomed out of a side street on a bicycle and barely got into the bike lane/shoulder area ahead of me. She looked very wane, her skin had a greyish tint that somehow made me wonder if she was ill, or using drugs. She was on a one-speed/fixie so I passed her and pushed on. Eventually I stopped at a Chipotle and got a huge burrito – I ate less than half and packed the rest for later.  As I left town to the south, approaching the “Redwoods Highway” section of 101, I stopped at another casual local restaurant for a large coffee. I needed the caffeine. It was getting dark, but I could not do another Tillamook early stop. I needed to push on to Eureka tonight. I chatted with the cashier. She looked at me as if I were crazy to go up that highway at night. I had gone just under 190kms, and still had 125kms or more ahead. 

Just out of Crescent City the road entered the Del Norte redwoods state park and traffic dropped to near zero. I was riding on US Route 101, but it was a low traffic road here at night. Soon I could tell I was in the mist of low clouds. It became very, very dark under the trees. In places I could sense I was climbing past a massive tree, but I could barely see the part of the base closest to the roadway. After a climb to over 400m elevation, there was a descent and a flatter stretch into Klamath. I was tired and slowing down, but what civilization there was existed on a side road, and there was nothing stirring now that it was quite late at night. 

Eventually, our route left US 101 and took a “scenic alternative”, the Newton Drury Parkway. This had zero traffic. Zero. In a few places I could see the stars above. I was fading, my average speed the slowest of any segment so far since Seattle, so I lay down off the main road on a turnout next to a guardrail and took a short nap, awakened after a few minutes by the chill night air, reinvigorated enough to continue. I repeated the nap later, and longer. After I left the Newton Drury Parkway the road was faster. I was on US 101 and headed toward the few small outposts north of Eureka – Trinidad, McKinley, Arcata. The road took a big gradual arc to the East, and traffic picked up. 

It was after 4AM now … and 101 was uncomfortable, big pickup trucks rushing to work. Fortunately we left 101 and took surface streets, with another big arc, this time to the west, then over several bridges and into downtown Eureka. I went to the end of the day’s GPS track then headed to find the hotel … as I headed up F street after 7AM … the main group of riders can down it, beginning day 5. Anyway, I got to the hotel and slept, checking out just before 11AM. 

Day 5.  Fortunately, Day 5 was only 230 kms. With an early start, it would have been an easy day with time that night for dinner, drinks, an early bedtime, and an earlier start the following day. With not enough rest and an 11AM start, it was harder. The first 20kms took mostly roads parallel to US 101. It was not particularly scenic. I stopped at a convenience style store, having missed any breakfast places in Eureka, and it felt inhospitable. No place to sit outside, plenty of glass and garbage on the ground, a very bumpy road surface. 

The next stretch was through an agricultural area. This reminded me a lot of the 2018 Central California Coast randonee through massive California agriculture. I got held up by some cows at one point. The road surfaces were bad – worn by huge trucks traveling small roads to get loads of the harvest, or moving animals around. Starting around 42kms, there were 3 “bumps” of 60-70m elevation. The first one was brutally steep. I got off and walked. There was a lady driving a car with 2 large dogs in the back who came out of a side road ahead of me. She stopped her car before entering the main road, stared at me for about 5 seconds from 50-75 meters up the road, then actually got out of her car and walked down a bit and asked “are you alright?” I reassured her that at this point, I preferred to walk up the hill but would be back on the bike soon. I explained that I was riding from Seattle to SF in 6 days, so a bit tired at this point. After that, I made it to Rio Dell and got some food and a short gasoline stand/convenience store rest. From there, after passing a big Humboldt lumber mill, we continued parallel to, and sometimes on, US 101 until km 59 for the day. 

Humboldt Redwood Co. Lumber Mill

The finished product

View from my resting bench

At that point, the route turned onto the “Avenue of the Giants”, another “scenic alternative” route. 

The next 50kms were one of the highlights of the entire trip. The trees were awe inspiring. The air was cool, the dappled sunlight was lovely. I rested by laying on a bench, flat on my back looking up at the tall trees. I could have stayed there for days. But there was not a moment to lose (to quote Captain Jack Aubry). I got a snack at Myers Flat, and more substantial food at a supermarket in Redway. 

It was dark by the time I got to Benbow (km 127 on the day). The main group was probably already in the hotel, while I still had more than 100km to go! The route was partly – mostly on US 101, and sometimes on parallel or older roads. I made what felt like pretty good time to Leggett, km 162.5, where California Route 1 (CA1) starts. 

It was a second night of climbing – this time up to a peak of 600m elev – in the dark, no traffic, through a redwood forest. This time I could see better. One car passed. I got off to rest and walked toward a turnout. An SUV with a “snorkel” air intake – a real outdoor adventure vehicle -- passed me and stopped in the (otherwise completely empty) road. The driver asked if I was okay. I thought for a millisecond about tossing the bike on top and hopping in … but waved him on and said I was fine, just resting. This was to be a night of more short catnaps. A 5-minute nap before the top of the climb. Another 10-minute one on the descent to try to stay safely on the bike rather than having my eyes close and careening into a guard rail or worse. A longer nap, with no alarm, that lasted almost 30 minutes on concrete in a turnoff from the road, blissful rest in the middle of nature, zero traffic and zero humans within miles as far as I could tell. That nap finally had me declaring myself safe to continue the descent. There was one more “bump” – a climb of 200m+ elev – then a descent down to the coastline and out of the giant trees. Whew. 

I had only ~30 kms to go to the hotel, mostly flat. I got a message from Michael Acosta that he and the group were heading out. He left the room key for me. My Wahoo GPS battery was almost empty, so with 10km left I saved the day’s ride for proof of passage, and immediately started a new one (the battery lasted to the hotel). I was at the hotel at 530AM or so. But I had 280kms and over 3400m elev still for the final day, and only 23 + hours from my arrival in Fort Bragg to complete it. I fell onto the bed without changing clothes and woke up before my planned departure time. 

Leaving Fort Bragg

Day 6.  I was on the road at 8:25AM. Still 20.5 hours. There were places to eat on the way out of town, including a gasoline stand/convenience store where I got some supplies, and a McDonalds where I got a breakfast sandwich and coffee -- my first McDonalds of the event. I divided the final 280km into 4 segments of 70km. Ideally, I wanted to know whether I could finish in time by the half-way point for the day. 

When I left the McDonalds there were 20 hours. There was a tail wind – a kamikaze – to push me onward. It took under 4 hours to get to Point Arena – just over 70kms. If I could repeat the next section in 4-4.5 hours, I would have done half in just over 8 hours and have nearly 12 hours for the second half – plenty of time to roll it home 140kms. The road was fast with the tailwind, but it was punctuated by some steep descents and sharp climbs into and out of ravines. There was one ravine with construction that was particularly nasty … a line of cars going down waiting for the one-lane signal to change, others zooming up around an extremely steep temporary curve. I walked there a bit on the steepest part of the climb and was glad that I did. I stopped for clam chowder and a to-go sandwich at a restaurant in Point Arena a few minutes later. Other riders had been there earlier, according to the hostess. I mentioned the steep construction road and she said last week someone on a Vespa had been injured going up that climb … veering onto the downhill lane and going under a truck. 

I stopped for another snack at a shop/restaurant near Fort Ross. A band had been playing in the back and was putting their gear away. Later I saw photos from other riders … who had been there when the band was setting up! I was at 140km, and was essentially on track. 

The stretch between Fort Ross and Jenner was where I really felt -- in a good way -- the impact of what I had done the past 5 days, realizing that my effort was about to pay off and I would complete the event. It was here that I thought of Inagaki-san and tears welled up. It was an incredibly beautiful place late on a sunny, breezy afternoon. Photos don't do it justice. 

I got to Bodega Bay for the sunset and another food stop at a store with a deli counter, chocolate milk, etc. From here CA1 had a lot of early evening traffic and felt as if I needed to be very careful. A deer darted across and car 50m ahead of me weaved to barely miss it. (This was, by the way, deer #100+ I had seen cross the road over the previous week – but it was the closest call I witnessed). About 13-14kms onward our route turned to the right, returning south toward the coast while most traffic continued east. 

I found myself back on a lightly travelled roadway at night. The stars were beautiful – the milky way visible, no obvious light pollution despite being just over the mountains from the northernmost part of the SF Bay area. At 210 kms I was still on track to easily finish within the time limit, but I was getting tired. I took a 10 minute catnap after nearly giving up to find anyplace safely off the road -- a real challenge in agricultural areas. I got an infection on my left arm by the end of the ride, that has cleared up gradually (and with aid of antibiotics), and I am pretty sure that the arm must have been infected from lying down here, in an area that was agricultural rather than a turnoff in a beautiful redwood forest. In any event, after the nap I made it through Point Reyes Station, which had some open restaurants and bars even later at night (on a Saturday), then just past there to Olema. Olema had one restaurant where there was a large group of young people (girls) dancing in unison to some hit song. Youth on a Saturday night. They looked as if they were having fun. … I thought about going in the restaurant to fill my water bottle, but thought better of it and started the next climb, over a bump and then down into Samuel P. Taylor Park, then continuing on through a series of NW Marin County communities that looked quite nice, even though it was now after midnight, only 35kms left to go. The climb to descend toward San Rafael and SF Bay was a bit of an anticlimax. I was up and over it before I knew it. But I was grateful the route did not go over Mount Tam!

Marin County -- where the MTB was invented

Once on the other side we passed the Marin County Museum of Mountain Biking, then onto bike lanes, bike routes, bike paths, and other bike infrastructure that, very slowly, wound its way through several communities, including San Rafael and Sausalito, to Mill Valley and eventually to the north entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. 

I would say that if you need to cross the Golden Gate Bridge by bicycle, the wee hours of morning is perhaps the best time to do it. The gate opened for me with a press of a button/buzzer. In the first few hundred meters I passed a single E-bike headed north, then no traffic the entire way. No pedestrians, and no bicycles. I pressed the south end buzzer, exited the gate at into San Francisco, and walked under the bridge to the designated finish spot, took my photos, emailed the organizer, rested for a few minutes, let my wife know I had made it, and headed to find a route into the city, grab a snack and go to David Ly.’s house for a hot shower and recovery sleep. 

My only regret for the trip is that I could not keep up with the group. It made this a solitary pilgrimage instead of a moveable party on wheels. But the pilgrimage was still awesome or, dare I write it, epic? 

The Oregon and Northern California coast, the redwoods, Florence sand dunes, and the rest of it, are national--no world--treasures. Everyone should visit these. I am very grateful to have been able to do so by bicycle.

Here is a Mark Thomas selfie of some of the main group -- hours ahead of me, their distinctive Seattle pink, orange, and blue high vis colors. This was the moving party, far ahead of my solitary pilgrimage. Of course, Mark T., Carmela, and Warren P. (who rode faster and way ahead of me on my trip to Tasmania in 2019) had just done an August "altitude training" tour in Tibet, that took them to the Tibet/China-side base camp of Everest, over 5000m elevation, among other events this summer. Michael A,, Mark and many others had been at London Edinburgh London at the beginning of August, and Don and others who did not go to Tibet had done the Hokkaido 1200. .... So what were the chances I could keep up with this crowd?

A few notes (I will add more if they come to me):

1. The drivers were remarkably courteous. I think California was the best, Washington the worst. Oregon in between. No one was rolling coal, side swiping, tossing a beer bottle onto the shoulder ahead of cyclist, etc. Everyone was courteous, even those driving big pickup trucks in Trump country. This was a far better experience than some of my other cycling trips in the western US over the past decade.

2. The road shoulders along the Oregon coast were mostly clean and smooth. The shoulders were worst in Washington (lots of crap) and a few places near cities or in agricultural areas in California. I stopped getting so many flat tires once I got out of Washington and onto the Oregon coast. In the end I did not need to use any patched tubes.

*Some of the photos are from a collective album put together by riders who did this event. My apologies for not giving individual credit to each photographer/rider.