After several days of good riding conditions, our luck with the elements was about to turn. Riding out of Van Damme State Park, we could feel a cool breeze in our faces and see the clouds rolling in. Five miles into our fifty mile day, clouds turned to drizzle and drizzle turned into downpour. In turn, the road greeted us with abrupt climbs, hairpin turns, and a stiff wind right in our faces. The combination of wind and rain made for a pretty miserable ride, and we found ourselves pushing our bikes up hill after hill. About fifteen miles in, things got so bad that Alex muttered “I wish one of these truckers would just pull over and offer us a ride.”
Well, ask and you shall receive. Not ten minutes after she had said these words, and as we were pushing our bikes up yet another brutally steep hill with the rain driving into our faces, a truck pulled over and out jumped a middle aged guy with a handlebar mustache. “Do you guys need a lift up the hill?” he asked, with a hint of a smile. We didn’t hesitate for a second. Dripping wet and freezing cold, we could not believe our luck. He introduced himself as Charlie the lineman, helped us hoist our bikes onto the truck bed, and apologized that we’d have to sit with our bikes on the back. Not a problem for us, of course. We hopped on and up that hill we went. I mused whether we should ask him to take us further, and Alex immediately shot me down, saying we shouldn’t push our luck. Well, what do you know, at the top of the hill Charlie hopped out of the truck and asked how far he could take us. It turned out that he was headed through Gualala, where we planned to camp for the night – so we scored a ride THE WHOLE WAY. And saved ourselves about five hours of miserable, wet riding.

The view from Charlie’s truck bed…
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