Ken's Blog

I’d reached Kirk Creek State Park campground a little ahead of sunset. A brief stop a few miles back in Lucia, barely more than a cafe and small store, had confirmed the night’s stop. The young woman behind the counter explaining the options, a firm steer towards the hike-biker site in the park. She had a cyclist’s perspective, and I asked if she rode. No, she replied, simply that she’d gleaned a lot listening to their conversations in the shop.

I’d half expected a tortuous final steep climb to Lucia, indicated by the guide book. Instead, rounding a bend to find a small road sign bearing the village name. Pulling up by the store, stumbling across Aevind – pronounced "Avon" – fellow cyclist also planning to camp shortly. An hour or so of daylight left.

South of Monterey steady progress to Big Sur, a small collection of campgrounds, a motel and a few tourists shops and cafes strung out along the highway beneath the Redwoods. I’d stopped briefly for a cold drink, immersing myself in the shade of the trees before the long, drawn out pull south, a thousand feet or so.