Sacramento and Joaquin Valley

And then - praised be the spirits of the ancestors - the world stretched out and flattened into what is known as Sacramento Valley, a part of the vast expanse of mostly agricultural used, rather even soil stretching from here to Bakersfield, almost a thousand kilometers to the southeast. And "here" was Redding, where I befriended the homeless, and one of them, Jerry, shared his water tap by the service station with me and I shared beer and burritos with him and we had good and merry talk.
The cashier at this service station fell in love with my accent and when I wanted to leave my change to her, she refused and told me to keep those coins, as they'll add up!
O, if my good grandmother(who knows life's hardships) could have witnessed this, she'd encouraged me to marry the girl on the spot.
But the traveler's destiny is to follow his road and soon I found myself heading south on a noisy highway under a glaring sun. A seemingly endless parade of cheep motels, auto dealers and workshops for pretty much every trade imaginable lined the curb for miles and miles until I finally got out into the country.

So the days passed, slowly merging one into another.
Cycling had turned from a challenging, emotional roller-coaster-ride into a peaceful, steady flowing river, in which I enjoyed swimming and which would distract me less from taking in the world around me.

The land changed from gentle golden hills dotted with oak trees and grazing cattle to neatly lined olive trees and orchards bearing exotic fruit I'd never seen nor tasted before.

Then saturated green rice fields stretched out to the blue silhouette of mountain ranges on the horizon, white and blue herons stalking amphibians in those fields.
The aromatic scent of hay rose from dry meadows where the freshly pressed bundles formed lines or strange geometric patterns.
Some small National Reserves gave a glimpse on what this area must have looked like before the white men came: mostly prairie-like grass and wood lands with luscious green groves along the few permanent rivers like the Sacramento.

I tried to stick to small farm or country roads, avoiding annoying traffic as much as I could and enjoying the peace and quiet out here. There was no tourist traffic whatsoever and by the curious looks I got and the rare encounters with people, out here - I figured - a guy traveling on a bicycle must be a fairly odd appearance to many, like, lets say, a total eclipse of the sun maybe...