break down of our journey since leaving Chico,CA:
<b>Day 3</b>
Left Chico and proceeded up route 32 which os more or less uphill for
about 60 miles. Slept outside the boundries of a gated community.
<b>Day 4</b>
Woke up and had to ask for water from somewhere inside the gated
community. A nice women gave us some extra water bottles and sent us
off. After a hard day of slowly going up hill we soaked our bones in
Deer creek, the water was extremeley cold and the most refreshing thing
I've felt in some time. We eneded up camping at a place called the
potato patch. We met a rather scragly looking man named steve and his
daughter, leigh anne. She was packing a fat bowl while talking to me so
I was hesitant to think he was her dad, guess I should not make
assumptions. There we had our first home cooked meal, angel hair pasta,
which we ate with our bare hands. This also marked the first day we had
a shower, actually it was more sitting under a faucet, we dubbed the act
"making love to the spigot". It wasn't pretty.
<b>Day 5</b>
After leaving the campsite site it was more up hill until we hit the
deer creek falls which was this cool little water fall area, complete
with scuba divers. We eventually made it to Lassen but by that time my
legs were tired of the punishment I put them through. We ended up
sleeping on the ground behind a bathroom. It was actually kind of nice
minus the sewage smell. The day was all aches and pains though, before
hitting the hay Marc and I went hiking on a trail called Bumpass hell
which brought us down into part of a volcano where sulfer escaped from
the earth in the form of stinky steam. I was so thirsty I tried drinking
a tiny bit of the water. Bad move on my part.
<b>Day 6</b>
When we awoke we found out we only about a half mile from the summit of
the rd, which is where you can hike to the highest point in the park,
Lassesn Peak, which we did. They even had snow there, which got Marc all
fired up since he was in the south during winter time. Here at the base
was this wierd guy with a tiny dog asking us about all of our
electronics, making us feel a little uneasy in regards to the safety of
our belongings. After the hike it was down hill for about 15 miles,
which was very refreshing. We ending up camping at Manzita lake a the
very edge of the park. Two very nice women let us borrow their cooking
gear and we made a dish I refer to as egg slop surprise.
<b>Day 7</b>
This was an off day. We ate ice cream and took a short hike around the
lake, nothing too painful. I discovered a new author named Wallace
Stegner(sp?), who I will have to read more of once I get a little
private time. The nice women also gave us some leftover beans and rice,
which made for an awesome dinner. We also had our first hot shower of
the tour, though it was only three minutes. A good day all around.
<b>Day 8</b>
We tried to leave the park in a rush but didn't make it seeing as we
were stopped by a park ranger and given tickets for only paying about
five percent of the camp fee. Like I said kids, crime doesn't pay! After
that hold up it was a downhill ride all the way to Redding which was
roughly 50 miles. This felt like the hottest day yet, probably because
we cam out of the mountains. In Redding we bought groceries and a few
supplies and hit up a bike shop looking for new tires. No luck for me,
although we did meet Ron, the most bad ass bike dude I ever met. Dude
was wearing a fanny pack, cut off sweat pants and a motorcyclist's skull
cap. Awesome. He told us where we could camp along Whiskytown lake. The
trip there was kinda cool, lots of old saloon type bulding made of wood
and old brick, very photographic. I even saw a couple taking wedding
photos in the ruins of an old building. When we got to the lake we took
a quick swim and went to sleep.
<b>Day 9</b>
We got off to our earliest start from whisky town and rode all the way
to Weaverville, a quaint little logging town which I recommend if you
ever want to get away for a week and just chill out. To avoid the
hottest part of the day we saw the simpsons movie in this tiny little
theatre. Check it out if you haven't, it's worth it. From there we
journied on and even passed this hippie festival called tribal stomp. We
asked if there was anything we could do to get in for free but it would
have required too much of a run around so we kept riding until we hit a
camp site, which we paid for this time.
<b>Day 10</b>
This day went off pretty well until I realized I lost part od my
derailur so I couldn't change gears, after about an hour we fixed the
problem and rode to Willow Creek in search of a man named steve who we
could talk to about a road we needed to take. We didn't find him, but
did run into his son, who helped run an eatery called Cinnabar Sam's. He
told us it might be back to take the long way round, but that would have
added way too many miles. Willow Creek is also a part of Bigfoot County
so the town was decorated with several variations of Bigfoot. After
leaving town we rode though the Hoopa Valley indian reservation which
was kind of depressing. The roads were littered with lots of garbage,
broken liquor bottles, run down mobile homes and other things pointed to
signs of blight. There was even an old fashioned camp meeting revival
complete with tent on someone's front yard. I would have liked to see it
just to see what kind of stuff they were preaching. We slept by the
river side.
<b>Day 11</b>
We woke up later than we wanted to, thinking it was earlier due to large
patches of fog blotting out the sun. After leaving the reservation we
made our way to bald hills rd., which we had questions about. Everyone
we asked seemed to say a different story. It wasn't even close to being
paved. We eneded up pushing our bikes six miles uphill before a guy on a
dirt bike stopped with a flat tire. We helped him a little bit before
his friends picked him up. He said he'd give us a ride when he came back
in a few hours, and as he got into the car we noticed he was carrying a
gun. Marc thought it was real but judging by its design I'm pretty sure
it was just an airsoft. Still creepy none the less. After about another
hour a young man in a giant red truck pulled up. This was Evan. He
offered us a ride and we ended up visitng all of the Redwoods with him.
He was Alabama raised living in Montana, on his way home after working
at a religious camp in Cali. We ended up going elk spotting, bouldering
and swimming in the pacific ocean with him. He had a lot to say about
his faith which made Marc very uneasy/annoyed. I was just glad he
believed in something. We all camped not too far from the ocean.
<b>Day 12</b>
We all spent the day at the beach, just relaxing a buch. We met another
guy named Adam and his dog, Maude. Later we ate in crescent City, a
beach town on the coast of nothern alifornia. It was a really refreshing
day. We drove into Oregon with Evan and camped out off the road.
<b>Day 13</b>
Evan brought us all the way to Crater lake before we said out goodbyes,
he was good company despite being somewhat preachy. I felt Marc had
enough of all his wisdom and Jesus music by the way he rushed getting
everything off the truck. From there we saw the lake which was easily
one of the most beautiful things I ever saw. The water was probably the
bluest I've ever seen. A plaque I read told me it had something to do
with the way the water reflected color. After that we went down to the
docks and jumped off twenty foot cliffs in near freezing water. Yes we
jumped into a volcano. We did some hiking too. We didn't make it all the
way around because my front tire is nearly trashed and were in a slight
rush to get me a new one. the current one has ben dubbed "frakenwheel"
due to its mangled appearance. We slept behind some trees in the back of
a gas station.
<b>Day 14</b>
Today has been a solid biking day heading towards Bend, which we should
reach by dark. Right now Marc and I are sitting in the library in
Lapine,OR waiting out the hottest part of the day.
Hope to write more a little sooner, sorry for the lack of updates, we've
been living the life. Pictues and maybe even some videos to come, once
we hit Portland.
--Scott E. Blozie
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