Heading south down the coast, I enjoyed getting off the hectic highway in favor of more relaxing back roads toward the Salinas River Valley. This growing region offers a year round season and is rich in flavorful and affordable produce. The roadside stands were almost unbelievable in the quantity and variety of produce. Loading up my bag with local fruit and vegetables, I was shocked when the total was less than $5!
The recent storm walloped the Big Sur area with torrential downpours that led to rockslides tumbling down the precarious cliffs. Loose boulders unexpectedly greeted me around each bend and I used the ample pull-offs to allow the hurried traffic to speed past. Nearing Monterrey, a flashing sign announced "CA-1 Closed - South Big Sur". The only other way to get south from here is to head inland and up the Carmel Valley's twisty and much cooler interior roads. I pondered this sign but quickly it was behind me and I plowed on into the late afternoon with hope that maybe I could get around. The sun set somewhere to the west casting an ochre hue over the low clouds. Sea otters frolicked in the angry surf and I enjoyed the view for a moment, not entirely sure if I'd be coming back through this way with the road closed.
Bixby Canyon Bridge
The many campgrounds and high-end seaside resorts lining the road advertised camping and lodging for the weary traveler but yet I pushed on as the cover of night fell. Bands of rain blew in from the sea as I fueled up in Big Sur and plodded on southward into the darkness. It wasn't that I hadn't searched for a possible stealth camping site, just that this stretch of California is mostly private and there are very few possible locations to wild camp. Ahead, the orange flashing roadblock stopped me in my tracks. "Slide Area - Road Closed" alternated on the portable billboard where other discouraged drivers stopped and made three point turns to head back to Carmel and around. Noticing lights ahead in the woods, I waited and was surprised when a car heading northbound emerged from behind the cones and pressed on. Perhaps the road was indeed open? Deciding that I could at least find a stealth spot ahead, I went around the cones and drove 3 miles into the wet and winding darkness without passing a single vehicle or house. My handling felt unusually squishy and unresponsive but I chalked it up to a worn out front wheel bearing, besides, I had more pressing issues at hand. I began to shiver with the rain seeping into my gloves and down my helmet into my neck. A wall of white fog enshrouded the road and I crawled along at 5 mph wiping the inside of my visor and the outside of my visor to provide a small window of visibility. What the hell was I thinking riding into the darkness and danger like this? I told my Dad I wouldn't do stupid shit like this and yet here I was, a victim of my own circumstance. Would the police write me a ticket for going around a barricade? I turned around and headed back to the roadblock where a new string of drivers were negotiating the possibilities.
A man signaled for me to come over and in the halflight of headlights, scribbled on a piece of paper and held it out. Realizing he was mute, I gestured that I wasn't sure if it was open. For some reason, I told him to follow me and I set off back up the hill into the night with a late model Toyota Camry hot on my tail, some unlikely pathfinder in this world of darkness and fog. Slowly La Tortuga, climbed the canyons and weaved around boulders which had tumbled into the highway. For miles I squinted into the darkness, hampered by the glare of his headlights only feet behind me. I'd never find a stealth camping spot with a tail-end Charlie. On a long grade, I waved him past and he smiled and honked, taking the lead and quickly disappearing into the night. Not long after, I saw a closed turn off with a concrete barricade, went around it and uncovered a clearing with pine shelter from the wind and rain. It was all I needed and room to set up my new REI Quarter Dome 1 tent for the first time. As I eased into my new fabric house, I felt giddy at my comfort in this wet and cold night. Come morning, there was more rock slide to deal with but for now I was warm, safe and dry at last.
A man signaled for me to come over and in the halflight of headlights, scribbled on a piece of paper and held it out. Realizing he was mute, I gestured that I wasn't sure if it was open. For some reason, I told him to follow me and I set off back up the hill into the night with a late model Toyota Camry hot on my tail, some unlikely pathfinder in this world of darkness and fog. Slowly La Tortuga, climbed the canyons and weaved around boulders which had tumbled into the highway. For miles I squinted into the darkness, hampered by the glare of his headlights only feet behind me. I'd never find a stealth camping spot with a tail-end Charlie. On a long grade, I waved him past and he smiled and honked, taking the lead and quickly disappearing into the night. Not long after, I saw a closed turn off with a concrete barricade, went around it and uncovered a clearing with pine shelter from the wind and rain. It was all I needed and room to set up my new REI Quarter Dome 1 tent for the first time. As I eased into my new fabric house, I felt giddy at my comfort in this wet and cold night. Come morning, there was more rock slide to deal with but for now I was warm, safe and dry at last.
The sun broke through the clouds and over the 3000ft peaks of Big Sur, revealing a cool but sunny day ahead. Feeling something wrong with my rear tire, I pulled over and found a sharp point of glass impaled in the center of my tread. No wonder I was having such difficulty in traction in that dark and wet night from hell, I had a flat tire! I quickly patched it, reinflated the rear and was on my way with the shimmy and spongy feeling completely gone. Damn it feels good to fix things and be back in the twisties again. The sun shone bright on me and I set the GPS for Southern California.
 |  Glass shard = Flat Tire |
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