From Salinas, via Castroville (‘The Artichoke Center of the World’ – missed opportunity here? – surely The Artichoke Heart of the World but anyway) to Santa Cruz. Six layers of clothing, woollen long johns and long sleeved top as the bottom layer and on top my raingear over the leathers, were just barely enough to keep out the freezing wind and fog. Fine breakfast at Roger’s Diner in Watsonville. Then laboriously through Santa Cruz, a city in need of a bypass.

Finally at Pescadores the fog receded and gave us 15 miles of coastline so spectacular it all but made up for the hundreds of miles of joyless Pacific coast ride before it. Curious how myths perpetuate themselves: ‘winding – but beautiful’ is what everyone says of the PCH. In reality it has plenty of curves and straightaways but it’s not all that winding (and certainly failed the beauty test this week, tho’ I’m sure it passes with flying colors at other times of year). You want winding?! Try the Italian coastline, or the middle of Sicily, or the Tizi ‘n Test over the Atlas, or… (don’t start me). Anyway we were overjoyed to ride in glorious sun above deserted beaches still far from warm, until the fog stole back as we approached San Francisco. Once in the city, wonderful heat and sunshine reigned again.

It was a thrill to reach the Golden Gate Bridge – 4700 miles into our trip – and ride beneath its vermilion arches. Instead of battling through the city to Point Richmond where my friends Matty & Molly live, we curved around to the north, coming back into the city on the formidable Richmond Bridge, four and a half miles long, and a wonder. However, California drivers continue to take the cake for sheer imperviousness to other road users. Will Oregon be any different? First I have people to see and places to go tomorrow, in the Bay Area. What I wouldn’t do for a real day’s rest. Maybe in Portland. Maybe in Idaho.