After my cold, wet, and stressful trip to the hospital, my outlook has improved considerably. Yes, my ankles still itch pretty badly, and yes, my tent and sleeping bag are both cold and wet when I pull them out at night. However, the fact that I feel mildly confident there aren’t tiny parasitic bugs burrowing in my skin is a huge comfort. That’s not to say the foul weather hasn’t posed considerable challenges…

It had been raining consistently for a few days now. As a result, all the scrapes, scratches, cuts, and scabs I have earned along the way are soft and bleed with any accidental bumps on the bike or pedals. Also, when I pull out my tent at night, it’s cold, wet, and muddy from the night before. My sleeping bag and sleeping pad aren’t much better. Climbing into “bed” for the night feels like putting on clothes that were pulled out of the drier half way through the drying cycle. Sticky from humidity, it typically isn’t until morning that my sleeping bag feels dry from body heat. My rain gear is another story. Without any body heat to dry my jacket and pants, getting dressed in the morning is a frantic act of courage.

Having spent the last week making my way inland through the Northern California redwoods, my route turned west to return to the coast. With some good luck, the rain paused momentarily as I started my ascent over the 2,000 ft. mountain pass. With narrow roads, thick fog, and snaking turns marked with 10mph speed limit signs, the climb was slow. However, knowing that I would spend the next few miles climbing, I just dropped it into an easy gear and let it roll.

It wasn’t until I reached the top of the mountain and began my 2,000 ft. descent that I noticed my rear brake was making a bad grinding sound.  When I pulled over to inspect it, I realized there was absolutely no rubber left on my rear brake pads. With all the rain, highway riding, debris, and sand, it didn’t surprise me I hadn’t noticed it until this point. Regardless, this meant the safety of my entire descent would depend on the functionality of my front brakes. Furthermore, I’d have to rely on those front brakes until I could find a bike shop (which could be a hundred miles away for all I knew). Foolishly, I came up with two different strategies for the descent. My first strategy (and the more reasonable of the two) was to keep my top speed down by using my brakes aggressively most of the way down. That way, if the brake cable snapped, the inevitable crash would be less severe and dismounting my bike would hopefully only result in a few scrapes. The second approach was to use my brakes sparingly to save rubber, reserving braking for only the tightest of turns… Keep in mind I was functioning under considerable fatigue, malnourishment, and endorphins from the morning’s ride. That being said, I decided I’d start with option number two and try to not use my brakes very much.

The weight of my bike and a steep straightaway made my acceleration quick. I felt nervous about my decision already. In what felt like an instant, I was approaching 40mph. Due to the wind in my face, streams of tears ran out of the corners of my eyes, across my temples, and into my hair. As the road began winding I resisted the impulse to apply my brakes around the tight corners. This was clearly a bad idea, but stubbornness had a hold on me. It wasn’t until I hit a turn with a 10mph sign that I finally conceded. I found myself gripping both breaks as hard as I could while I struggled to keep from flying across the road and into the other lane. Just shy of flying off the road, I regained control. Approach number one it is.

After revising my descent technique, the rest of the ride down the hill was gorgeous. The road wound through redwoods for what felt like miles. When I finally reached the bottom, the road joined the coastline for the rest of the day’s ride. The rain began falling and I was eager to reach town to see if I could track down a bike store for some new brake pads. Luck was with me. On my way through Fort Bragg I found brake pads and a delicious double cheeseburger.

The campground that night was hilarious and pitiful. There were a number of us sharing the cycling campsite which better resembled a big puddle. It was easy to laugh at ourselves, cold, wet, stuck in the mud, and having a great time. I was wet and tired from the day’s ride and the worst of the storm was supposedly still yet to come. I climbed into my cold wet tent and began the slow process of drying out my sleeping bag with body heat.