Northern Coast and Coastal Ranges

The transition from one state to another once more yielded little surprise, except for casinos becoming a frequent sight in California, and I think there are more and bigger liquor stores, too - so perhaps people are having more fun here in general.  

First landscape highlights where the redwood forests with there mighty Sequoia trees as well as some scenic rock formations and lagoons along the coast. It often was tough riding up and down hills and capes and mountain passes though, as this coast has only very few flat sections. But the most annoying thing to me became the weather, being kind of coolish with cold wind most of the time and there was a lot of awful, wet fog during night and often lingering around until late afternoon in the daytime.
It was near Eureka, when finally I felt royally sick and tired of these shores and decided to turn into the Coastal Mountains to cross them for Sacramento Valley. In Blue Lake an Indian woman prophesied lots of bears and heat up there - so I happily looked forward to the torture of mountain cycling. 

Early next morning I started climbing the first pass in the same miserable fog that I wanted to get out of so desperately. The road was steep all the way up and I walked the bike for hours and kilometers, as I consider cycling at walking speed as highly unpleasant and dumb. The following speedy downhill finally brought me out of the mist and into a warm, sunny valley where also my mood brightened instantly and from where I approached the next pass with a smile on my sweaty face. It was over 900 m high Berry Pass, offering distant views over the surrounding forest and prairie-top mountains. Another exhilarating 10 km downhill flight brought me right into the centre of Willow Creek where I bought a delicious "Indian Taco" from a charming Yurok family to celebrate the day of return of true summer.

The road wound along Trinity River gorge, upstream and thus moderately ascending, but a very pleasant ride it was. There were places where you could swim in the crystal-clear water, and I did, for the first time this summer. To me, it wasn't until these days of my journey, that temperature reached truly summerly levels and, thus being an invitation for a cooling bath.
 

All that time I was riding through Shasta-Trinity National Forest, which was very different from the moisture soaked impenetrable woods of the coast: The firs disappeared and on ochre-colored rocks or golden-grassy slopes grew mostly oak trees, and pine with truly pineapple-sized seeds filled the air with the aromatic resin-scent of summer. There were willows along the river and lots of ripening blackberries everywhere. I enjoyed their fruit while my tires collected the thorns. 

And that's how I met Phil. I was pushing the bike up a steep section, the rear wheel going flat from too much blackberry, when a car pulled over and an elderly gentleman offered his assistance. So we cramped the wounded creature into the back and set of for Weaverville. I soon gratefully noticed this short 10 km lift saved me quite some sweat and strain,

climbing a fairly steep and infamous mountain pass, where the good local people had deposited water containers in intervals to support the random traveller in distress. Not that I ever would've been in need for it, (as by now I'm famous in three states and one province for two things: 1. carrying a solar panel; 2. carrying an amazing number of water bottles strapped to every free beam of my bicycle's frame), but it's nice to see people are caring and it's even nicer to see I skipped one of those bloody mountain passes...
Phil was in his late sixties and a retired cyclist himself, so we could exchange stories and he could give me some useful information of what lay ahead of me. We stopped at the Sheriff's, where his wife worked(She'd forgotten her glasses and water at home), and then he took me to a service station where we parted, and I could heal the bike's feet more conveniently. 

Near Whiskeytown(I love that name) I indulged myself in rehydration at a national park's water tap, when an intriguing party of five arrived: A young man, bearing the gentle laid-backness of the southern type accompanied by two young women - sisters by appearance - slender, pale beings wearing intellectual-looking glasses and who were surrounded by an air of mystery. With them traveled two little boys who'd caused a royal mess puking undigested blackberry pulp all over themselves and those sitting next to them. So while they were busy cleaning up I had a chat with them and it turned out they were from Eureka on the coast and headed for some small mountain town to inspect some property where they planned to start an alternative farming community.
The kids walked around and named diverse herbs growing in the vicinity and one of the young ladies gave me some of her self-created herbal tea-brew for refreshment and recharge and I became pretty much convinced they were some kind of witches, you know, that cool and sexy type you'd find in a Tarantino film...