Riding out of Monterey and past Big Sur yesterday was a hell of a 68 mile haul. Definitely one of the most challenging rides yet second to only the Lost Coast. The hills weren’t quite as steep, but I rode the distance of both LC days combined. The headwinds were also just kicking me in the teeth. I was shocked by how heavy the car traffic was even with the road closure up ahead. It wasn’t until about 15 or so miles out from the slide when the traffic trickled down. Conveniently there is a USFS campground with hiker/biker sites just a few miles north of the roadblock. When I was checking in I spoke to the park ranger about my trip and she asked where I was headed in the morning. After speaking for a bit I reluctantly confirmed her suspicion that I was planning on traversing the slide. Thankfully that went over well as I was mostly just told to be careful.
For the first time in awhile I set an alarm to wake up to - 3:00AM. I packed up the bike and was off riding in the chilly dark. It was only a few miles from the campground so I arrived at the road block by 4am. Making sure to turn out my headlamp and rear blinker so that none of Gorda’s 200 residents saw me I proceeded to walk around the gate. I knew from here that the actual rockslide was a mile away. I rode half of the way there to make sure I couldn’t be seen from town and then stopped at a vista point as I wanted the first hint of daylight before continuing to, and then walking over, whatever was ahead. Standing around in the dark on a closed road for close to an hour was somehow both serene and creepy at the same time. It was just me, the plants, and the ocean.
I’d hoped that I was going to be able to roll the bike over the slide with all the gear still attached. When I got to the slide that idea was abruptly dismissed. It was bad, maybe not worse than I imagined in terms of danger, but the chunks of rock were substantial in size. I made the first trip over while carrying both panniers and my handlebar bag. Then went back and hoisted the bike onto my shoulder. In all it was about 200 feet of rough rock with some sections being 6 feet wide with a death drop on one side. I told myself that if I began to trip I’d drop my body to the ground instead of trying to regain balance. It was about 5:15 by the time I was loading the gear back up on the other side and the sun was nearly up. The next gate was only half a mile from here after which bikes, but no cars, were technically permitted. I crossed it and felt a huge surge of relief as plausible deniability of ever being on the closed portion sank in. A hundred feet later I passed a construction trailer with lights on and people inside. I think they saw me, but it wasn’t their place to give a shit.
The next 10 miles was still blocked off to vehicles, so aside from the construction crew headed into work I had the road all to myself. I rolled over a sharp rock that burst my rear tire and tube I guess because the day wasn’t difficult enough as it was. 60 miles later I made it to a state park in Morro Bay. California has been absolutely wicked compared to Washington and Oregon. This state don’t play, at least on the coast. The tour would have been incomplete in my mind without both the Lost Coast & Big Sur so I’m glad I got to do them.
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