[Herewith are my last journal entries, mostly verbatim instead of summarized, as I have been wont to do before.]

26 June

Back on the road again! It took two false starts, but I did 50+ miles today and climbed over 3000 feet! The worst of it was King’s Mountain Road. Much of that twisty torture was spent in bottom gear, grinding away at 3 mph or less. It literally would have been faster to walk–but probably not pushing 80 lbs. or so of trike and gear.

Drivers were uniformly courteous, even friendly. At one point I waved at a van as I was piling along some ascent, and I could see only the passenger’s hand–throwing horns. Implicit message: I rock! That’s right, I do. You betta respect.

After the hell (in effort only) of King’s Mountain, I ran into a motorcyclist who persuaded me to just take Highway 1 instead of Stage Road, as the guy in the bike shop had suggested when I was starting my day. Unfortunately the motorbike guy also held forth on the “problem” presented by Mexicans, Chinese, and other immigrants. He claimed to be a liberal at one point–I wonder how that change happens. I tried to listen for his needs, which was enough for me to keep my cool externally but not much else. [Upon reflection, that encounter was about as creepy as any I had in the whole trip.]

Tunitas Creek Drive was a whole different adventure. Bike Shop Guy had suggested it as safe, and it even looked [on the map] to be a fun descent. Motorcycle Guy didn’t like the various blind turns, which were many, but I wanted a more direct route, so off I went.

I thik BSG forgot to consider my trike’s lacking the Big Shock Absorbers [standing on the pedals]. The road surface looked like an airfield that had taken heavy bombardment. I could go fast on the seemingly random repaired stretches but soon had to hit the brakes. I poured water on them during a break–it sizzled right off, they were so hot.

Tunitas did turn tamer after a while, letting on to houses and organic farms. I slowed down and stopped for a cute cat, but it fled my weird machine.

Anyway, I got to Highway 1, now more south than I had originally planned, and struck out for Pigeon Point. BSG had warned me off part of it, concerned that the berm was inadequate for a trike. It ws fine, though. I find I need less room with the trike, as my control of the tracking is much more precise–seeing where the wheels are is much easier. I don’t feel the need for a lot of allowance for weaving, since a bump against one tire affects my course but little.

The last few miles were a bit of fatigue-torture, but eventually the lighthouse popped into view. And they had beds available!

Not only that, i had a great evening’s conversation and got to share a hot tub (against California tradition, in swim suits) with a couple of touring bikers from Berkeley: C– and S–. It was more good conversation, and a stunning view of the fog-covered ocean with the lighthouse beam playing through it.