You'll notice I've lumped 3 days into one. Three muddy, miserable days.
I had hoped to make up some miles in California, but a giant mountain covered in giant trees appeared out of nowhere and slowed my progress. Tuesday afternoon was when the rain started. The forest and the rain made the road too dark to see, and the road's shoulder ended so giant semis were passing me with inches to spare. A motel appeared through the trees. I decided to stop and get a room. I was clearly the only one there. There was no phone service and no internet. I asked the white-haired clerk at the front desk if I might be able to order some food and she just laughed at me.
I've seen Psycho, so I know what happens at deserted motels in the middle of nowhere. I put a chair in front of the door, and I didn't linger in the shower. It was nice to have a room though. I was able to wash my clothes in the sink and spread my wet things over every surface to dry.
On Wednesday, the rain cleared up in the morning. I stopped at the first gas station I came to to eat. The cashier asked if I was cycling by myself. "Aren't you afraid?" She scolded. "You should be careful."
I wondered if she would have said it if I were a male cyclist. So many people along my ride said similar things, and it rubbed me the wrong way. I'm not a child who is going to accept candy from strangers. I'm also not a precious vessel that exists to provide a womb for the next generation. I don't need to be protected. I understand the risks and I knowingly accept them. Why do you take it upon yourself to warn me of dangers? Are you trying to get me to doubt myself? Would you prefer it if I had stayed home? Do you think women shouldn't have adventures, shouldn't risk our lives, shouldn't ride bikes, shouldn't travel, shouldn't meet new and interesting people?
If you want to give me advice about safety, I have some words for you. Get the #@$! out of my way.
Wednesday didn't stay clear for long. Once again, I didn't make my goal distance because I was wet and miserable and shivering. I camped at a nearly deserted campsite and the rain pounded on my tent roof all night. In the morning it had pooled on the floor and my things were damp.
On Thursday, the rain never let up. I had just reached highway one around 6pm when the fog rolled in so thick I couldn't see car headlights 50 feet in front of me. My phone told me that there was nothing - no campsites, towns, or gas stations - for at least 20 miles. I wasn't sure what to do. The road followed a steep series of switchbacks and there wasn't a flat place to put my tent. Finally, I found a turn-off that had space large enough to camp.
Whenever I bush camp by myself, there are a couple of movies that I wish I had never seen. Deliverance is one. The Blair Witch Project is up there also. In fact, in the tree above my tent there was a bit of rope draped in the branches that reminded me of the witchy tree things in that movie. All night I listened to the cars passing on the road next to me and the sound of rain on my tent as I shivered in my wet sleeping bag.