As I started making my way into the familiar territory of the Bay Area, it was easy to get focused on returning home. While the obstacles of the road have their charms, the idea of modern luxury seemed overwhelming. Not long from now I’ll no longer have to deconstruct and construct my home at the start and end of each day. I’ll no longer have to ration clean underwear on quests for a laundromat. In a few days I’ll be trading in my damp sleeping bag for a dry, cozy bed. I’ll forget the struggle of maintaining a relationship through the sporadic reception of a cell phone. However, before I climb off the bike and pack my soaked stinky shoes away, I still have a few hundred miles to ride.

Despite having spent time exploring the coast of the bay area, being on my bike made the area seem exotic. With small rolling hills and tight turns tucking in and out of coastal coves, the ride felt exhilarating and agile compared to the monotony of some of the longer, flatter stretches. To add to the drama, big cumulus clouds marched in from the Pacific Ocean’s horizon sporadically showering the coast. The clouds would lift just long enough for a rainbow or sunset to manifest, and then start showering again.

With the thought of home weighing heavy on my mind, I decided to speed up my return and increase my daily mileage. I figured I’d start with a 110-mile ride and see what happened…

While I managed to find some new brake pads, the saga of failing bike gear continued. I neglected to check the tread on my tire until it was too late. Typical of the Road Gods, the day I intended to ride 110 miles, I got a flat tire in the first 30 minutes of riding. My rear tire looked bad. Balding, held together but multiple dollar-bill-patches, and without a spare, I began to realize there was a good chance I’d end up hitchhiking my way to camp tonight. I should have replaced this tire weeks ago and now I’m staring at an inch gash that is bursting outwards from lack of structural integrity. For the rest of the day’s ride, every steep turn felt like a game of Russian roulette for fear that my trusty dollar bill patch would give way to the pressure of what was surely more than 250 pounds.

Considering the circumstances, after riding 80 miles without a single bike shop, I began considering the day a success. Fueled by endorphins and various candy/sports bars, I found myself climbing a narrow road through cattle lands overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I could see Bodega Bay, which meant camp was an estimated 15 miles away. I was going to make it! Or was I? Just as I began to balloon with confidence, I felt the discouraging feeling of my rear tire slipping sideways. Without any tread left, a small piece of glass had gone right through the tire and punctured the inner tube. When I pulled the tube out, it looked like a ragged, soggy dog-toy that had been left outside for too long. After patching the hole, the valve stem disintegrated and fell off in my attempt to inflate the tire. I had one spare tube left, a ragged tire, and 15 miles to go. Hope seemed silly, but silly was just what I aimed to be.

The sun was getting low but I was too tired to care. Something funny had happened in the process of all the stress, fatigue, and accomplishment of my trip. I was indifferent if I ended up hiding in the bushes, sleeping on a bench, or if I made it to camp. Clearly I had preferences, but a patch of dirt to sleep in is basically as good as the next. I absently replaced the tube and wondered how far it would take me. Fifteen miles? Ten miles? Two miles? Stiff from the days ride, I climbed back on the bike to find out.

As I raced the setting sun to camp, it felt good to accomplish the simple goals of the day. Despite two flat tires, 110 miles of riding, and multiple rain showers, I made it to camp safely. Word in camp was that tomorrow would be sunny and dry. I looked forward to my tent and cloths drying. I ate anything and everything I had in my bag and fell asleep to the sound of the ocean crashing out in the dense fog. With the end so near, it was easy to see that this would be a trip I’d remember for the rest of my life.