After a year-long night in the tent, I had a lovely morning at Coyote Ranch. I visited the different settlements and chatted and had multiple coffees. One of the sheep acquiesced to some petting. Now I want pet sheep. Did you know they enjoy eating mistletoe?
Riding away from the ranch, the scenery was spectacular. My phone camera just doesn’t do it justice. I kept my eyes on the sky in case any California Condors were out. Sierra de San Pedro Martir is one of the places where the birds were reintroduced after they nearly went extinct. I saw hawks and falcons and vultures. I interrupted a secret meeting of ravens in a high pasture land.
Along the way, I passed by Meling Ranch in its pretty little valley. Then came the climb up old Jeep roads, plenty of pushing. I stopped to open a wire gate. As I was closing it, a chunky splinter jammed into my finger. Hurt like hell but didn’t bleed. I was following bike tracks and in my imagination, there were three separate tires. One regular bike and one unicycle. The regular appearance of footprints next to those tire tracks made me feel better about my own cycling abilities.
I tried staying on my bike, maybe practicing my new scary mountain biking skills. I bounced down one rocky cliff and came down hard on my seat, managed to really nail myself in the butt. Ow! That happens? An hour later I did it again. Thank goodness for padded bike shorts. I think they kept the seat tip from getting further up there. Yay, mountain biking.
About an hour before sunset, the cold started to set in like an alarm clock. I was still bouncing over impossible rocks, trying to rush out of the mountains. At least I was on regular dirt roads by the time it got dark enough to require a headlamp. Around 6pm I made it to the highway. I talked to some ladies waiting to cross the road. They told me there was an RV park but it was miles up the highway. Instead I pulled into the courtyard of a hotel and checked in. Jaws was on tv and it was hysterical and slightly offensive like many movies of a certain age. Why does that crazy drunk captain break the radio? Of course he gets eaten by the shark!
For dinner I ate a huge pile of rice and broccoli at the Chinese place next door. Then I found a cafe with really nice hot chocolate.
Spinstera 
Before he got old and crotchety I had a huge crush on Robert Shaw, the sea captain who got eaten by the shark. In my mundane life here in Marysville I have committed to no adventures this year and instead will pursue house projects that have been crying for attention. It is only a few days into 2019 and that familiar itch is trying to find it’s way out. It does not help to read of your adventures and waiting for each installment is painful!
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