Arcata - Mendocino: California starts getting seriously wet 14th - 16th Oct

As we arrived in Eureka, the thick fog was only just lifiting to reveal the famous Carson Mansion, an over-the-top green Victorian edifice built by a logging magnate at the end of the 19th century, which has now been converted to an exclusive gentlemen’s club. Eureka, lovely town as it is, is also noted for its white-washed history. The original settlers of the town decimated the local native Wiyot tribe (first the women and children while the men were away on a hunt), drove the only person who kicked up a fuss about it out of town two weeks later and then denied it ever happened. Luckily all is not forgotten as a mural in memory of this morbid event is available for all to see (see photoblog 14th Oct).

On a cheerier note, the sun eventually came out to warm our way out of town, although we had trouble finding a lunch spot and possibly picked the worst of the trip, next to a stop sign (before returning to the traffic-infested 101 Highway) and we later realised within a couple of hundred feet of two dead racoons and another animal which we could not identify.

Our route gradually went inland and took us through the rather (too) pretty town of Scotia, which is entirely owned by the Pacific Lumber Company. Its perfect log houses and immaculate lawns made us feel like we were cycling through a David Lynch meets Stepford Wives film - very eerie stuff. The green valleys eventually gave way to the Avenue of the Giants - another fantastic and relatively traffic-free road through a forested area of massive redwood trees. Our destination, Red Crest, welcomed us with a wee cosy cabin and an unexpected hot tub where we soothed our aching limbs.

We woke up to the pitter-patter of raindrops outside, not a welcome sound by any means. As always we left with the hope that it would eventually stop - all the rain we’d experienced so far was ephemeral and gave us the opportunity to dry out. On cycling through our second ‘drive thru’ tree at Myers Flat, the rain had dissipated although we continued to get wet as water dripped through the redwood trees. The sun finally came out at Garberville, another uninspiring town with a lovely caf where we warmed up and dried out. The terrain immediately became more challenging with endless steep uphills. Just as we thought we were arriving at our destination, Confusion Hill, we were presented with a disappearing precipitous narrow road with lorries going in both directions with no room for humble cyclists, so we waited for lighter traffic before making our way to the top and finally arriving at our mediocre but warm lodgings in the woods.

More dreaded pitter patter woke us the following mornng and before embarking on our most challenging day of cycling in California so far, we had to visit Confusion Hill: ‘Is seeing believing?’, basically a shack built at a wonky angle on the side of the hill, where water supposedly flows upwards and gravity pulls in mysterious directions. As you can see from the photos, we were mightily impressed, especially as it meant procrastinating getting up California’s biggest coastal hill (just south of Leggett on Highway 1). According to cyclists’ legend, the climb is strewn with discarded panniers and defeated cyclists. Despite the incessant rain, we made it quite comfortably the top (2,000 feet) - at least the effort warms you up! The descent provided an excellent rest for our legs, especially as the rain stopped and the sun reappeared, all just in time for lunch at the Red Grove Picnic Area. Another steep but smaller hill took us over to the coast, where we delighted in a shoreline even more rugged than that in Oregon, which meant that it was very hilly indeed. An impressive sunset welcomed our weary selves in Fort Bragg where we found another fab bargain (40 bucks for two beds and all usual comforts!), and even found the energy to enjoy some live jazz at the toasty local caf.

As the previous day was so long, we decided to have a lazy day of laundry and cycle the very short distance of 10 miles to Mendocino, a much prettier town than Fort Bragg, and much pricier too. This meant we had lots of time to explore coastal views properly from Jughandle National Reserve and a walk on the beach at Caspar in the now rare sunshine. Despite balking at the prices we landed ourselves a fantastic little room with very nice furniture, forking out 110 for lack of anywhere else cheaper, and after snapping an excellent sunset from the Mendocino headlands, enjoyed an excellent meal at the McCallum House bar before a terrifying cycle back to our room in the pitch black night.

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