August 6, 2009. Point Arena Lighthouse to Some campground, Somewhere. 60 miles

This is where procrastination bites. Here I am, 14 months later, trying to remember what happened on this day - based on an inch by four inches worth of notes in my moleskin. As you can tell from above, I don't even know where I stopped off on this day, though I do know it was 60 miles away! No worries though, the important thing is the fact that I remember getting a calzone for dinner. My new British friends had a look of curious envy as they asked, "are those always at gas stations"?

It started off well enough, waking on a mattress for the third time in this 19 day trip. I bid adieu to the lighthouse and made my way into the next town, which according to Mapquest was Anchor Bay. Or could it be Gualala? At any rate, I stopped at a diner for breakfast after inspecting a couple bikes that had fairly heavy loads on them. What do you know, the infamous Swiss couple was getting breakfast. Likely well into their 50's, they had ridden clear from Montreal to Victoria and were on their way down to San Diego. ANYONE can do this. All you need is the gear and a little determination. They were very nice, letting me sit with them, entertaining me with their accents, and buying my breakfast.

The little town was pretty neat, huddled in a pocket, with the road going uphill on either side of town. Which has nothing to do with this paragraph. So I started to hit a low point in the trip, even though I was just 130 miles from San Francisco, my final destination. All the sudden I was super pissed at the hills I was riding. I was in switchback heaven and my attitude was awfully hellish, despite the blue sky and turquoise-blue sea. Maybe I was wiped out from the last day's riding. I got a quick lift when I ran into Andrew and Matt, a couple dudes from England. They'd been riding since the Olympic National Park, on recumbent bicycles - the same sit-down bikes that Grandpa Bradley wouldn't stop talking about the first 3 months after his stroke. The bikes were comfortable to them, but ineffective when it came to climbing hills.

I leached onto the guys, and they helped my mood out quite a bit. We hit some pretty high hills with awesome vistas... and cattle. Stopping at before said gas (petrol) station, it started to get chilly. It happens. Then we camped, like it happens. Who knows where. I pulled out my flashlight, they pulled out their torch, and I told them where they could drop their post (mail). I remember talking about alcohol. Though we didn't drink any. That's another thing I remember forgetting.