BACK IN ACTION: Silver River

Well well well. Two whole months have passed since we've returned from West Coast Tourrible. And what a two months they've been. I've spent the past 60 days packing my house, moving my house one small truckload at a time, remodeling Travis' house, reapplying to grad school, working part time for a farmers market, and feeling generally crazy. But it's pretty much finished. The house is not only liveable, it's cute.

Also, I find out VERY SOON whether I get into the new grad program I applied to. I visited with seven professors, wrote a killer Statement of Purpose, and I meet the minimum academic requirements. So Family, Youth and Community Sciences, don't let me down!

So after all the work and stress and general awfulness of moving, I was super ready for a trip away to the river. We borrowed a canoe from Travis' friend and took off for Ocala to visit Silver River.

Silver Springs is another remnant of Florida's pre-Disney heyday. Before the Mouse moved in, Florida was covered with tourist resorts like Weeki Wachee, Wakulla Springs, and Rainbow Springs, which promised health restoring spring waters, natural beauty and exploration of the wildest state on the East coast. But Silver Springs was the first Florida tourist site, enticing visitors even before the Civil War and featuring its glass bottom boats as its main attraction. Throughout the years they added to it, building a reptile center, an amusement park, a water park and even invited a Seminole village to settle on the property.

All that's left of that hullabaloo is the glass bottom boat tours and a water park, and the water park was closed since we visited after Labor Day. Thankfully, we were left with a quiet day on the river.

This is the part where I get to thumb my nose at all my friends who have moved away to the frigid northern reaches of our country. It's November, ya'll, and this is where I live.

Another thing about where I live is we have our own whole category in the Weird News section, so actually it wasn't really that surprising when we came upon a troop of feral monkeys who were making a lot of noise jumping from tree to tree doing their monkey thing. Back in the 1930s a tour boat operator released them into the wild to add a little extra something to his Jungle Tour, and for the past 75 years they've settled down to form their own little Florida branch of the Rhesus monkey family. No big deal.

For whatever reason the State Park has banned swimming on the river because of alligators, which doesn't make sense to me because pretty much EVERY RIVER in Florida has alligators. We only saw a few on this trip and they weren't even very big, just like five feet long. It was clear and sunny and the water felt warmer than the usual 72 degrees, and really, when's the last time alligators has stopped us from swimming? Um never.

The water still looks beautiful and clear, but of course Silver River faces the same issues the rest of Florida's rivers are plagued with: overuse and pollution. Now that the head spring and river have been taken over by the state, more visitors than ever come to the park, eroding riverbanks and trampling rivergrass. Septic tanks and agricultural runoff bump up the nitrogen levels, encouraging algae growth which chokes out native plant life.

HOWEVER, I do have some good news to report, the one glimmer of hope I'm clutching onto on this day after the 2014 gubernatorial and midterm elections: Floridians passed the Florida Water and Land Conservation Initiative, which will put one third the revenue collected from real estate fees toward conservation practices.

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We may have re-elected a dead-eyed reptilian as governor, but at least the political climate here seems to be in favor of protecting the the backbone of our local economy: our natural places.

Thoughts on the Pacific Coast Bike Route

There are some things you need to ask yourself before you decide to go on tour following any of the many guides of the Pacific Coast Bike Route.

1. Do you enjoy ocean views and climate that usually hovers around 60 degrees?
2. Do you mind riding your bike for hours on end as thousands of (mostly) courteous motorists zoom by, guessing whether or not you'll have a shoulder to ride on as you snake your way up steep, cliffside switchbacks?
3. Do you prefer the convenience of following a well-traveled route that has had many guides and routes written about it, with cheap camping options every 30 miles or so?

Let's start with weather. I am forever at a climate disadvantage because I think everywhere outside of Florida is cold. I can handle some cold, but I'm usually not one to seek it out. Travis LOVES cold weather. That is the number one reason why we did this route. There was rarely any cause to sweat, and there were plenty of causes to make me want to put on some layers. And this is the ocean, so it's not a one-layer-fits-all situation. This is a put-on-jacket-take-off-jacket-put-on-arm-warmers-take-off-arm-warmers situation. The weather is bipolar. So get ready.

Now traffic. I know I've already talked about this a bunch but I couldn't really get over it. The cars didn't really stop. A lot of people live on the West Coast and many of them drive on these roads. Some of these roads shouldn't have bicycles on them at all because of dangerous, shoulderless curves, but they are the only option to continue the route. This was the major drawback for me for the Pacific Coast Route. Whatever tour we do next will be purposefully plotted out along low-traffic routes. Maybe in Canada, there are no people in Canada.

The popularity of this route makes it a very easy trip. Travis spent hours and hours mapping out our Arches to Dunes tour, but he didn't have the time for that this year. Luckily, all he had to do was download a copy of Bicycling the Pacific Coast, which outlines routes, detours, elevation, attractions, and campsites every tenth of a mile. It is extremely comprehensive, and it cuts out a lot of the work and worry of trip planning. Also, Oregon and California State Parks not only recognize that bike tourists exist, but WELCOME us with $5-6 campsites the require no reservations. Not only that, but there is usually somewhere to camp every thirty miles or so, and it's nice to know that you'll have consistent, cheap places to stay. It is my guess that the guides and the cheap camping account for this route's popularity, and it is a perfect route for a first time bike tourist.

So what are my final thoughts? I'm pretty sure that I will enjoy riding my bike for six weeks almost anywhere, and epic ocean views, West Coast culture, and beautiful weather make it even more enjoyable. BUT I think I prefer to ride in an emptier, slightly warmer place. It's amazing to know that my body can become a cycling machine when coaxed, and I am still in awe that we traveled over 1500 miles. I'm already counting down till next year's tour.

Last Day of Riding

The sun greeted us first thing in the morning at Salt Point State Park. Wait, the SUN? That's right folks, this was the first morning in memory that we woke up to sunshine instead of fog. 

Riding that morning was slow. Savoring the last day of travel meant stopping and looking. Highway 1 follows a cliff ridge in this section, and as we scaled the hills we saw a view of the glittering Pacific that stretched out for miles. 

We found a perfect hidden cove that let us accomplish one of Travis' goals of the trip: to finally swim in the Pacific. We parked our bikes on the wayside and made the trek down a steep cliff that ended in a beach that was out of sight of the cars passing by. The waves gently crashed on a sandy beach, and high rocky cliffsides closed around it like an embrace. And why just swim in the Pacific when you can skinny dip in the Pacific? Good question. 

Our hilly journey continued until we reached our turnoff to bring us into the interior, the Russian River. The river met the sea at a slow, open mouth, and seals basked on the shore by the aquamarine water. We stopped for lunch at a cafe that screamed California Stereotype: the owner was a 40 year old surfer dude with long hair who hired beautiful 22 year women exclusively. A bossanova duo played live music outside, and right beside them customers were treating themselves to chair massages. Also, the food was great. 

And then that was it. We said goodbye to the coast that has been our constant companion for the past five weeks, always at our right side as we traveled south. We turned east and traveled into the interior of Sonoma County. 

Somehow, planners of long ago had the foresight to place thousands of acres of the county in wildlife preserves and agriculture conservation, so instead of battling through homogenous suburban developments we passed through rolling hills dotted with dairy cows or carpets of vineyards. We enjoyed the novelty of biking on flat land, gently pushed by a tailwind of Ocean's Breath. Even fully loaded I can now keep a speed of 18 mph. Not bad, little legs. 

Even though I was expecting it, 68 miles rolled by and the end happened quickly. Signs of civilization became ever more present, and then we rolled into Petaluma city limits. We navigated the busy streets on bike lands (of course) and before I knew it we were knocking on Aunt Mary's door and sitting down to a lasagne dinner. Travis' aunt and her family welcomed us into their home, and I ate as much homemade food as I could stuff, and then took a real hot shower. It was my first nice shower since Oregon.

Final numbers: 1553 miles over 34 days of riding.

Last Night of Bike Tour

Let me tell you about the last night of bike tour. 

It started with dinner. We arrived at our campsite early, and with plenty of time and light we prepared the best camp meal of the tour. I would just like to reiterate that we cook with one gas burner, one pot, and one pan. Dinner was garlic mashed potatoes, steamed kale and smoked salmon. It was incredible, and just what we needed after a full day of up and down hill after hill. 

Then we headed to the coast. The ranger ladies at Salt Point State Park pointed us in the direction of tafoni formations, an Italian word that describes how the wind and water carve divots, ribs, lines, and caves in the sandstone cliffs by the ocean.

For the FIRST TIME on this whole trip, I was able to cruise the Pacific coast without being incapacitated by wind or cold. The cliffs gave way to climbable rocky formations, which disintegrated into smooth ocean stones. The waves crashed upon flat, jagged rocks in the cove, which I could jump on if I was careful. In the crags of the cove rocks were tide pools, and in the tide pools were anemones and mollusks and snails crawling around in their own transient world. 

Instead of disappearing behind a mirage of fog, the sun blazed down a path to the ocean unimpaired, like its purpose was to cast the perfect light on the rocks and cliffs, and ultimately set the sky on fire. In six weeks, this was the first unobscured sunset I watched in entirety, from magic shadow hour till it disappeared behind the horizon. The waves burst upon the rocks as the tide came in, bathing in the pink light, and the cliffs admired themselves as they blazed orange and glowed. 

I stood on the edge of the Pacific Ocean and breathed in. I have a lot of questions about what next week will bring: Will my cats remember me? Will I be able to transform Travis' bachelor pad into a livable space? Will I find a job and a living and path? But I let those things slide for a moment as I breathed and let the big orange sun slip slowly behind the horizon, waiting for the very last moment till the top of it disappeared. 

Tomorrow we ride to Petaluma, and bike tour is over.