I didn't sleep much last night. I think our coffee with Piere and Page was past my 3:00pm caffeine cutoff. I tossed and turned like the slab of pork we had for dinner last week spinning on a motorized rotisserie. And my dreams were a TV controlled by an ADHD insomniac: surfing with my friend Nicki, whales breaching so close we almost become lunch and say hi to Geppetto. Houseboating on Lake Powell but it looks like we're in the Sierra. Fishing with a big bird's nest of a knot in my line. Ex-girlfriend Kendra singing in the Yukon. Move the houseboat or stay? I want to move but Vinny's friends want to stay. Driving from Pismo to Moro Bay because dad forgot his favorite blues CD. Stop at SESLOC. U-turn. Forget about the CD. Food trucks everywhere, but they're on trailers like tanks! Doritos truck driving crazy with its rear door open. Free chips! Nope. Just empty cardboard boxes. Putting my bike together behind Vinny's surf shop. He has a surf shop? Grab the wetsuits. Which one is Nicki's? Did she already grab it? I'm fishing again, but now at Nacimiento after jumping across a trench. (Why am I fishing? I hate fishing.) Walking through a Newport Beach carnival with Vince and Nicki. I think it's Newport. Looks like a circus. Why is Nicki here?
I open my eyes to see Nick is up. "What time is it?"
"6:45." Shit. I guess I'm up now. Sleeping in isn't happening. Then the music starts at 7:30. It's "Love Potion No. 9" but in Vietnamese.
Today started like most good days do: two coffee packets and two bánh mì. We have snacks so with bellies full of local fuel we jam down the hill and start the ride. We tried to dry out our wet riding gear with an improvised clothes line between the bars on the high window and the door jam. It didn't work. The humidity in the room left everything damp. Shit. No problem. We just strap the wet stuff on the outside if our bags and rewear our wet jerseys. It's a hot day so it'll dry out soon enough.
Still, my legs felt ok enough to follow Nick's pace and not fall behind. I'm feeling like normal again after that bout with food poisoning.
60 km into our ride the road splits and the hills begin. I stop at a mechanic shop and give my tire pressure a hefty boost. I'm not dealing with sloppy tires again. The hills are steep enough to get us breathing heavy, but not long enough to beat us down. Nick always pulls ahead on hills, but I catch him on the descents.
My power is shit lately. Or I'm just not as strong as Nick. My ego says I'm off my game, but that's nonsense. The hills come no matter what. Luckily were rewarded with epic views of coffee farms, lush green hills surrounding vast expanses of green rice fields, clouds off all shapes and densities sprinkled across the sky creating shadows that race across the landscape. The wind comes and goes, and when it goes the heat digs into my skin through my jersey and hinders my attempts for for deep breaths of cool oxygen.
Strangely, the ratio of up and down is just enough to keep spirits up and allow us to embrace the challenges. It's a great ride. Fulfilling. Empowering. Each hill is a victory and a new view of the gorgeous country side.
Trash levels here are way less than the previous days where we'd ride by what felt like kilometers of trash piles. Here, it's all beauty with a sprinkling of discarded Red Bulls, plastic bottles, plastic bags, and some unfortunate soul's underwear. The scenery still wins here even though it's hard to lift my gaze from the front tire on steep sections.
Locals along this route are mostly farmers and live in very rudimentary houses. Some are build from basic wood timbers and simple siding. Some are small shacks. Others though are brick with concrete and reflect the early French colonial style left by the years of occupation. At least the front facades do. The tall skinny structures leave the sides blank with a couple small windows to break up the sea of concrete. It's crazy too the change in living conditions over the course of a single day's ride. It doesn't look like communism is working well out here.
With 12km to go we arrive at a gorgeous lake with a cluster of floating homes on each side of the bridge. I desperately want to jump in, but something tells me the water may not be safe. Afer a lot of thought I settle for dipping my feet in. That was a hard, but safe decision.
102km for the day is not bad. Our initial goal was to hit our required average of 70 ish kilometers, but we were enjoying the ride and feeling pretty good. Nick spots a great nhà nghỉ when we roll into town and we call it a day. Time for a shower and dinner.
