Bike California, Day 4: Gualala to Healdsburg

Office/breakfast room at the Surf Inn. Grando is packed and ready to roll.

Perfect breakfast view

The fourth day of my tour: From my cue sheet I knew that again there would be tough climbing ahead, as well as the first unpaved section of my tour. This would also be the last day on the coast, and so I made sure to make good use of my ocean-view hotel before getting on the road. The Surf Inn served breakfast, freshly prepared by the owners. I had a nice bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit. Once again I was the only person sitting outside, taking in the view of the Gualala River estuary and the ocean in the morning sun.

Photos can never capture the steepness of a road...

Rolling, winding road in the soft morning light

Once on the road, the route started with a leg breaker right away: Getting out of Gualala on Pacific Woods Road was straight up. According to Strava, the climb averages 8%, with ramp as steep as 20%. Fortunately the climb was not too long and eventually gave way to a beautifully rolling road. Soon it was time to get off the main route and turn inland. Fish Rock Road started with a screaming descent on rough pavement. I was quite concerned about my rims overheating and decided to stop twice on the way down, just to be safe.

Once at the bottom, the pavement came to an end and the "rough road" climb began. As promised on the cue sheet, Fish Rock Road was a formidable challenge. The steep uphill on gravel pushed both my tires' traction and my muscles' strength to (and occasionally beyond) their limit. Adding to the challenge, the road also had a very pronounced crown. At my low speed and the heavy load all in the front, it was difficult to stay on a straight line and not get pulled toward the edges of the road. I generally don't like walking my bike—not so much a matter of pride but more so because I find walking a bike uncomfortable. So it is telling that several times I had to push up a particularly steep section, or at least stop for a while and let my heart slow down.

Fish Rock Road also was also the most remote-feeling section of my tour. Cars were few and far between, as were other signs of civilization. Once up on the ridge, great vistas popped up between the trees. In the far distance, snow-capped mountains appeared (sadly, my camera's autofocus failed to capture them).

Pavement...

..and gravel sections taking turns

The first part of the way down was not exactly easy either. Sizable rocks were strewn across the gravel road and I took it very slowly to avoid pinch flats. Even then, the bumps were enough to dislodge my third water bottle somewhere along the way. That was not good, as I had consumed much of my two other bottles already, and resupply was nowhere in sight. But there wasn't much to be done about it, and so I pushed on. The road condition improved as I went along, alternating between pavement and gravel sections. After riding through a Redwood nature reserve I eventually reached a main highway.

Here I had to make a decision: Turn left and continue north on the Orr Springs route, or turn right and start making my way back toward San Francisco. Overall my progress had been on the slower side, and for the northern alternative I also didn't have a good plan for where to stay for the night. There were some campgrounds on the map, but I had doubts whether they would be open. Going further north would likely also lead me toward colder temperatures. All in all, going south, toward wine country, sounded like the better option, and that's what I did. Healdsburg was a little under forty miles from here. Still a good ways, but I figured at least it would be relatively flat and a net downhill.

Riding on Highway 128 appeared sketchy at first. While making up my dehydrated mind which way to go, I saw two logging trucks blowing by on the windy, often shoulderless road. The fact that there were signs about it being a "safety corridor" did not further my confidence either. In the end it wasn't too bad. Car and truck traffic were relatively light, and there were enough spots to pull over for a few seconds when I noticed a truck approaching. And it was nice to be back on relatively flat pavement.

I was delighted to see a sign for the "Yorkville Market" after only five miles. In typical California fashion, even a tiny village of 317 people had a market serving gourmet foods and a halfway decent espresso. I took my time to consume espresso, Gatorade, Pepsi, and a bunch of water, which definitely restored some of my physical and mental condition.

...will have a village of 317 have a fancy general store.

Caffeine, sugar, electrolytes

The remainder of the way to Healdsburg was nicer than expected. After some more up and down on winding route 128, I reached the Russian River Valley in Cloverdale, and from there on, it was all flat. With Highway 101 channeling all the through traffic, the parallel route that I was one was mostly devoid of cars and quite scenic. Vineyards all around, trees lining the road, mountains in the distance.

Mount St. Helena behind the Russian River Valley's vineyards

Several years ago the SO and I had been in Healdsburg for a friend's wedding. I had some fond memories of that trip: We rode a tandem together for the first time, and we had good beers at Bear Republic Brewing. In the evening I had the opportunity to relive some of those experiences: The bike shop where we had rented the tandem was right on the way between my motel and the brew pub, where I was headed to for dinner. Unfortunately the food menu at Bear Republic isn't vegan friendly. Between that and probably still being severely dehydrated and generally out of it, instead of eating I consumed several beers in not much time. This didn't help with my indecision, but eventually I managed to leave the pub and pick up food from a Thai restaurant. I didn't hold back with my ordering, but nonetheless on the way home I suddenly started worrying whether I had really acquired enough food—and I stopped at a McDonald's to supplement my dinner with fries. Yeah, I know...

I ended the day exhausted, happy, with a full stomach, and a resolution to take it real easy tomorrow.

Freshly paved path in Healdsburg

In promptu celebration in Healdburg's town square

Bear Republic Brewing

Bike California, Day 3: Bodega Dunes to Gualala

[Back to day 2]

In the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of rain falling on my tent. A quick check to make sure all zippers were closed and my shoes were under the vestibule, and I went back to sleep. When I got up just before sunrise, all traces of the night's rain had already disappeared. The sky was all blue and I took in the warming rays. Today would be a climbing day. Gualala was the only logical destination for the day.

While packing up, a RV camping neighbor came visit. He was visibly cold, despite his down vest, and clearly projected his own temperature perception on me, offering me a can of heated Starbucks Coffee. I much appreciated the gesture and gave the usual, "Well, I live in Wisconsin, so..." response.

My new REI tent passed the rain test

Unfortunately the coffee had dairy in it and I left it in the food box at the campsite for the next bike tourist. My own plan for getting coffee was to return the coffee shop in Duncan Mills, where I had also stopped yesterday—about an hour from the campground. I discovered a nice unpaved trail that connected the campground access road and the tiny village of Salmon Creek, cutting out one or two miles of highway riding.

But traffic was light anyway, and in this stretch the highway follows the beautiful coastline closely, making the ride pure joy. Instead of yesterday's dramatic clouds and strong wind, I had clear skies and soft morning light, transforming the landscape.

Again I crossed the mouth of the Russian River and followed Highway 116 upriver into Duncan Mills. After the coffee break, it was time to leave the Russian River valley toward Cazadero.

Russian River

I was mentally prepared for the climbing to start right away, but things started out mellow. The road to Cazadero follows Austin Creek, with Cazadero Highway on one side of the river, Austin Creek Road on the other. I took Austin Creek Road, which was amazing, with tall trees, the rushing river, and interesting residences lining the road. The only traffic I encountered were a road crew fixing yet another mud slide.

Dozens of totem poles on someone's property

Austin Creek

Switching to the other side of Austin Creek, onto Cazadero Highway

Soon I would arrive in Cazadero. My familiarity with Cazadero was limited to knowing that it is the name of SOMA's Cazadero tires. In addition to that, it is a little former logging town, with its highlight being the historic general store. The store is over 100 years old, and inside and out it still seems to have many of its original elements.

Soon after leaving Cazadero, the climbing began in earnest. King Ridge Road made the limitations of my gearing obvious quickly. With a low gear of 34/30, getting up the hills was a slog. My everyday bike has a fixed gear drivetrain, which provided me with the necessary strength to power up the hill at very low cadence. But this style of climbing is hard. In Wisconsin, I'm able to get away with it because the climbs are rarely longer than a mile or maybe two. But here the climb just kept going, the grade often going above 10%. And of course I had all my camping gear on the bike. The upside was that I had plenty of incentive to stop and take pictures of the amazing landscape around me.

High above the creek

More slides, taking my tires to the limits of traction

Up and up and up

While I encountered very little traffic, the area never felt particularly remote. Residences and farms would appear regularly, and I even saw a USPS delivery van huff up the steep inclines. Occasionally I also encountered what looked the road graffiti common in European bike racing, making me wonder if this road featured in any races. I later found out that King Ridge Road is part of the course for  Levi Leipheimer's Gran Fondos.

After much more climbing, I finally reached the actual ridge. I was pretty spent at that point, but the open vistas in all directions made the exhaustion easy to forget.

I stopped to sit down and eat something under a big, gnarled tree. Unfortunately, being up on the ridge meant that the cold wind from the ocean made things quite chilly, despite the sun. And my level of exhaustion probably didn't help keeping me warm. So I got going again rather quickly, most of the climbing now behind me. I passed the T-intersection of King Ridge, Hauser Bridge, and Tin Barn roads. Turning onto Hauser Bridge would have led me toward Salt Point State Park, my stretch goal for yesterday's ride. Let's just say I was very glad that I hadn't attempted to reach that goal yesterday.

Instead, I continued on Tin Barn Road. Another very scenic road, with my only complaint being the frequent cattle grates that made the downhill less enjoyable than it should have been. One curious sight were the long stretches of barbed wire fencing, with nothing but forest seemingly on the other side. My initial hypothesis was weed farm. What it actually was only became clear once I reached this gate:

Out here in the middle of nowhere is the enormous Odiyan Retreat, a 1000-acre Buddhist retreat. None of it is visible from the road, but the website and aerial imagery look very impressive:

Image: Google Maps

A little further on I reached Stewarts Point Rancheria, a little village of the Kashia Band of Pomo Indians. Turning onto Sakggs Point Road toward the ocean, things started looking really remote. In a deep valley of Redwood trees, the steep road was barely wide enough for two cars (not that I encountered many...). Even though riding down here required a lot of attention and hand strength for keeping my speed in check, I was very happy not to be going the other direction.

Without much transition, Skaggs Spring Road eventually brought me back to coast. I was definitely feeling symptoms of bonking, probably because the chilly winds had prevented me from stopping much. The sight of Stewarts Point Store, therefore, made me very happy.

My wholesome meal consisted of buckwheat noodle salad, a Pepsi, and a can of Torpedo--my go-to beer on this trip. Gualala was now in reach, just a little over 10 miles up the coast. While the food and drink had reinvigorated me, I was very happy not having to deal with more hills. What I did have to deal with, though, was a headwind. But again, the scenery helped, a lot. The highway hugs the coast, leading through “The Sea Ranch,” an expansive vacation/residential community with a distinctive architecture and design. The Wikipedia article about its history and design makes for an interesting read. Would vacation here, for sure.

While Gualala has camping options, I was ready for sleeping in a real bed. I aimed for what I assumed to be the cheapest motel, the Surf Inn. At this time of year, getting a room was no problem. While my room was simple, the location was amazing, overlooking the mouth of the Gualala River and the ocean. Just in time for sunset I walked to a nearby grocery store to gather dinner supplies.

I went a bit overboard. Turns out an avocado, hummus, a can of chili, a loaf of bread, and a 20oz bottle of strong IPA is a little much even for me, even after a hard day in the saddle.