Big Foot's Cage!

WILLOW CREEK to SAN FRANCISCO (Amy) -- We woke up filled with joy that this was the day that we were going to get to go home. We would finally be free from the elements and the threat of uncomfortable camping and everything else that is bad about bicycle touring.

Not only would we be home, but we both were still on vacation for another ten or so days, and we could do whatever we wanted. Maybe even make a whole new vacation plan.

We had two options for the drive home. Frank and Christine told us the best thing to do was to just go back the way we came and get on the 5. OK, but those were some hard won miles that we would be backtracking, and that would just be too depressing. So we decided to cut over to Eureka and head south on the 101. We thought it might take slightly longer, but the milage was about the same and the scenery would be nice and different.

We should be home in 4 hours.

We stuffed all our wet and dirty belongings into our bike bags and threw the bikes in the back of the U-Haul. Again, we felt like huge losers but we were SO happy.

We set off in the early morning rain, not even bothering to have breakfast, which is quite rare. I took a lot of pictures out the window, because from within the comfort of our U-Haul we had to admit that the mountains were beautiful and the now extremely high Trinity River was striking.

We had a great time listening to the radio, even in the mountains the oldies station and the classic rock station came in well. Turns out Ryan knows kind of a lot about Black Sabbath.

Life doesn't seem so bad...

We got to Eureka and decided not to stop for breakfast yet. Maybe it was shortly after Eureka that we saw a Caltrans sign that said the 101 was closed south of Garberville. For those of you not familiar with California, the 101 is a huge freeway and is never closed, so we continued.

Many years ago, on a very ill-fated road trip with my friend Amanda, we went through the town of Ferndale, and I remember it being cool. So I insisted that we have breakfast there. You have to go over a very rickety bridge and then drive for seven miles to get there, and Ryan was super cranky about that. And upon arrival, it turns out that Ferndale is not actually cool, I don’t know why I was impressed by it before, and there were certainly no breakfast deals to be found. Ryan wanted to get home BAD, and he commented extensively on this fruitless detour.

Back on the main highway, we stopped for gas. The U-Haul ate an astounding 49 dollars worth of fuel.

Also around this time, we saw another sign about the 101 being closed, but figured that if it really was closed, it would certainly be reopened by the time we got south of Garberville.

The Road is Closed?

I was complaining about being hungry, and we agreed to stop for food in Garberville. We went to a nice café and had a very solid meal, but we kind of didn’t like that town because, well, it was full of hippies. We were also ill at ease because we had no lock for our U-Haul. Ryan is pretty hyper about security issues.

South of Garberville, the 101 winds through redwood forests and becomes a pretty small highway. So we could at least conceptualize that perhaps one direction of traffic would be delayed for repairs. But we were confident that we would be able to get through, we just might have to wait 15 minutes or something.

I began doubting this when we were driving through a little area with redwood gift shops and a gas station. There were many big rigs idling on the sides of the road. Waiting, we assumed.

Do we really have to backtrack 260 miles?!?!?

We continued on to the bitter end. The highway became big again, and we thought this was a good sign even though we were the only ones on it. Finally the road was just blocked, we had to exit. There was a group of Caltrans workers telling all the exceptionally stubborn drivers like ourselves that they had to turn back, that there had been a massive landslide the night before because of all the rain, and that they were trying to clear it but the constant rain just kept making it worse. They didn’t think it would be cleared that night.

How would we get home though? Could we take the 33 or one of the other smaller highways that go over the mountains and into the Central Valley. “No.” said the very patient Caltrans worker. Those passes would be snowed in. The best route, he said, would be to go up to Eureka, and cut over to the 5 on the 299. Well that was familiar to us at least, since it was where we had started from that morning, six hours before.

Our ride home...

This was very difficult information to digest. We went back and joined the big rigs at the redwood gift shops. We had some warm beverages and consulted the owner of the gift shop. He said we better either drive up to Eureka or go get a room for the night in Garberville, because rooms would soon be scarce. He was a pretty nice guy, but I could tell he was Christian. Because of this I tried to shut Ryan up when he started pacing around and cursing. We eventually sat outside for a long time. I bought a postcard. Then we sat in the U-Haul and tried to play it cool like the big rig drivers.

But really we were going crazy. We couldn’t decide what to do. We couldn’t just drive back to Eureka because the U-Haul was only allowed to go the mileage necessary to get back to San Francisco. If we went over it would be really expensive, but it might also be expensive to stay in Garberville, which we already knew would be unpleasant. And above all, we just wanted to go home.

We started fighting about who would call U-Haul and ask them how much it would cost to put extra miles on the thing. This took at least an hour. I finally gave in and called, Ryan is so phone phobic. I told U-Haul about the natural disaster and they told me there would be no charge, simple as that.

So we felt extra stupid for looking at redwood burl clocks for three hours. We proceeded north. We thought maybe we should just wait it out, but we could no longer handle inaction. So we went. Seeing all the same sites we had just driven past made Ryan furious and he was saying crazy things.

I should add that Ryan doesn’t really like driving, but he had to do all the driving because my license was expired.

Let's see if they reopen the road soon.

I wanted snacks in Eureka but Ryan wouldn’t stop. I would say, “Turn right!” and he would say, “I can’t! You have to tell me earlier!”

Finally we went to a yuppie health food store in Arcata and bought potato chips, which pacified Ryan.

Heading over the darkening mountains was depressing, especially as we approached the Bigfoot Motel. A safe haven yes, but also a vortex of shattered hopes.

We got to the Central Valley and finally felt safe. Interstate 5 is truly never closed. There is no force of nature that could close the 5. We refueled and I drove, promising not to get us pulled over.

Seems like we've been here before...

We were really both in a foul mood by then. The only thing that could cheer us up was an exceptionally good song on the radio and also listening to the Caltrans radio station. It gave continuous reports on the 101 closure. We felt less stupid for knowing that it continued to be closed late into the night and we had made the right decision not to wait.

The rain was letting up a tiny bit when there was an emergency alert on the radio. You know, when the radio makes that noise and it’s almost always a test. Well it wasn’t a test. It said there was a funnel cloud near Colusa and people should take shelter, preferably in basements. Funnel clouds are tornados and we were passing Colusa and needless to say we did not have access to a basement.

We just kept driving and never saw that funnel cloud. I was personally laughing, cackling, at the weather.

Amy, I hate you!

It was midnight when we finally got home. We first went to Ryan’s house where I ran up to his apartment to pee. We had stopped at a rest stop an hour before but of course the bathrooms were locked. I noted that Ryan’s sweetie was waiting for him, thus his extra frustration at not getting home in a timely manner. I said hi and waited in the U-haul for Ryan. And waited. He took forever to come back out and drive me home. I was already pissed because he insisted that I drop off my stuff at home and then go return the U-haul with him. He, I felt, just wanted us both to suffer. Finally he came out after I had rung his buzzer several times.

At the U-haul place, we took our unloaded bikes out and went home. We parted on very bad terms. Ryan said something like, “Maybe I will like you again later.” I felt the same way so I just gave him an icy stare. I jumped out of the U-Haul, re-injuring my gimpy ankle, and rode off.