San Francisco – Half Moon Bay – Santa Cruz – Monterey
After cycling from Vancouver to Portland in May of 2018, and from Portland to San Francisco the year before that, the decision on where to bike from and to in the summer of 2019 was an easy one to make: from San Francisco to San Diego, thereby finishing off the Pacific Coast route of the US.
Whilst that decision was easy, and planning the route straightforward, doing it proved to be very hard indeed. (SPOILER) This was because 6 days into the trip I crashed my bike into the roadside in Big Sur, fracturing two ribs and forcing us to call it a day in the sunny central coast town of San Luis Obispo where we paid United Airlines several hundred dollars to take us back to Vancouver less than a week after we left it and approximately 300 miles short of San Diego.)
On the upside, SFO to SLO would have a nice ring to it. After two hours spent assembling bikes in the airport and an evening spent in Ubers taking us from Fishermans Wharf to REI, the Mission, and back, we slept in $50 bunkbeds eager to get rolling the following morning.
We woke to gloomy skies which turned to rain by the time we’d returned from Safeway to stock up on food for the next few days and had the bikes loaded. On reflection, I think we both felt a sense of dread set in then. The rain started then it didn’t stop for until the next morning. Inbetween we cycled 30 horrible, strange, yet magnificent miles. After navigating around the Bay and crossing Golden Gate Park we stopped at Andytown in Ocean Beach. Maybe 10 miles had passed, it felt like 30. The rain was constant and any hope of remaining dry had quickly been forgotten. Inside we attempted to get dry and get warm. I got at least one refill on my coffee. We searched for motels. Then we booked one. The decision was quick and I remember it felt good. Every time the rain slowed and the sky brightened I felt a tinge if regret that we wouldn’t be spending the night in tents, since that was the idea of these trips. But then it got heavy again and I knew it was the right decision.
Navigating on bike in the rain, taking photos, or generally just having a nice time, is a challenge. Stopping at a sporting goods store somewhere in the suburbs had helped – I was woefully unprepared for the amount of rain we’d seen, so purchased gloves and an oversize rain jacket which I buried myself inside as we continued. After clearing the suburbs things became easier, though not faster, but we met with the sea and pushed on slowly towards Pacifica then up the Devils Slide, which would be a sketchy ride at the best of times, in the rain it felt like a death wish. Thankfully at the top we could pull off on to the Devils Slide Trail – and old section of Highway 1 which hugged the coast and helped us avoid taking the newer tunnel through the mountainside.
I remember we rounded the mountain then were pounded with waves of rain, what felt like hail, and wind. All we could do was laugh hysterically.
Rejoining the road it was one last drawn out push to Americas Best Value Inn in Half Moon Bay. It wasn’t the kind of motel you’d typically look forward to arriving at, but for us it was the promised land. Inside our two bed room on the ground floor we spread our possessions across each and every surface of the room, hoping by morning things would be dry and normal again. It was wishful thinking. Taking a short walk down the highway we found food and beer and forgot about bikes. Later, back in our room, informercials lulled us off to sleep.
Day 1, by the numbers:
Morning in Half Moon Bay was promising – blue skies. We left Americas Best Value Inn, thankful for the shelter and quasi-continental breakfast it provided. We picked up a trail which took us away from the highway and around some pleasant paths close to the state park. The ground was still marshy from yesterdays downpour. Back on the open road it felt like we’d hit a bit of a rhythm which we’d been unable to find the day before. The highway welcomed us with a wide shoulder often flanked by wild flowers and horizonless views. Some people even waved at us.
Feeling the sun on our backs was transformative. It even got a bit too hot. We stopped at a roadside cafe for ice coffees and basked in the heat.
Traversing busy Santa Cruz was less enjoyable. Crossing highways we sopped at a bike shop for Lee to get some better pedals fitted, and pulled into a strip mall liquor as the clouds we’d been dodging broke into rain.
Our stop for the night – New Brighton State Beach – wasn’t far away so we pressed on through the outskirts of the city as things became greener again.
The campsite had a slightly overgrown feel, but we made ourselves at home with the first fire and outdoor beers of the ride. The sea was nearby and it felt good to be falling asleep outside instead of in front of a wall mounted flat screen set to the home shopping channel like last night.
Day 2, by the numbers:
The campsite felt like a more welcoming place in the morning, the sun reaching through the trees and giving us a little warmth and light to linger in before setting off.
Exiting the park we headed down Seacliff State Beach and made coffee on weathered picnic benches facing the seawall.
After breakfast here we kept the beach to our right as we set out for the day, aiming for Monterey. After some time by the sea and up through the suburbs we emerged in flat farmland which provided the backdrop to the late morning and early afternoon.
The roads appeared to see more tractors than bikes and were covered it mud and potholes, but they were quiet and it was plain sailing.
We came to Moss Landing, a tiny speck of a town nestled between a power plant and the artichoke fields and had an excellent lunch at Haute Enchilada Cafe – a Mexican restaurant surrounded by a bright pink picket fence. It was an odd spot but a welcome break from the heat and dusty agricultural setting.
It was some time around here that a Google Streetview car drove past us. I pinned the location in the map and have been checking every few months to see if there’s an update with the two of us in the frame. So far at least, there isn’t:
After the farms and fields faded behind us, we found ourselves on a series of quiet roads then a long stretch of cycle paths which took us almost all the way there – the conditions were near perfect, allowing us to roll on through sand dunes and blue skies for many miles before deciding where to stay for the night.
Somewhere along the way we found a REI and bought more dry bags. Around this time I got in touch with my friend Vala who had been driving up the coast with her sister over the last week.
Amazingly we would be hitting Monterey at the same time. So Lee and I decided to go with a motel again again, allowing us to all head out for drinks and food in the evening. The only camping option was Monterey Veterans Memorial Park which we’d heard mixed things about, so it wasn’t a huge sacrifice, and some company would do us good.
We took the bikes up to our second floor room. Put on our normal people clothes and wandered out into the world.
Day 3, by the numbers: