Sausalito to Montara
Couch city is the best. I mean, I really like barn owls but prefer not to worry if I’m on their appetizer menu. I awake rested and ready to conquer another day. Oh and did I mention the view? Lights twinkle across the bay. As daylight emerges, the fog shows itself. But the sun powers through every now and then and the bay looks like glitter has been scattered everywhere.
Cycle tourists from central BC Canada, Chris and Heather treat me to pizza breakfast (corn tortilla, cheese, pepperoni). Deep gratitude. Disk brakes squeling, I drop back down to the main road. And yes, time to climb. The wind is fierce. As I climb to the Golden Gate Bridge, it stops me in my tracks. There is this moment that seems to drift into eternity where I go nowhere, and the wind holds my pedals in place. And then I move forward and there is a woman across the road. Her words are carried away by the wind. And then I hear, “You’re very strong.” This sends power through my body, tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. Thank you. I approach THE bridge and take the required tourist photos. I take my time getting across. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
I get lost in San Francisco, but not really lost. I know the city enough not to freak out. But I’m certainly not on the adventure cyclist route anymore. I climb through a golf course right next to the ocean. The Golden Gate is to my back and yet still shining boldly in the fog. I finally make it to Golden Gate Park but the climb has left me sweaty and now I’m cold. The wind continues to rip and my mind starts to tell me that I can’t make it. I scan the horizon for a coffee shop. Anywhere that I can go and warm up. Java Beach catches my eye and I’m there. I don’t even care that one lady working there is totally rude to me. I get coffee and cookies. I scarf down some of my own food too. I research how to get to Montara via public transportation.
Now warm, I dig deep within. I can do this. I can make it. It’s only 18 more miles. Yes! Yes! Yes! I push through the wind, up the long and steep hill to Daly City. And when I can’t fight the wind anymore, I walk the last half mile. And then fly down. Public transportion? No. I can do this. I climb up and over to Pacifica. Ok, only 7 more miles. I start the death climb out of Pacifica. Steep and often no shoulder. I put my life in the hands of the passing motorists. By some miracle I make it to the top, crawling at 2mph. Then there’s the tunnel. Newly renovated so that I don’t have to fight the crazy cars. Thank you. Montara is on the horizon. Success. Home.