That little section of Forest Service road is actually in a pretty nice rural community. All the men have beards and pickup trucks, and everyone there has been seeing loaded bicylces for a very long time on that section of road.

Not that there can't be crazy people driving around that you want to avoid, but in all the years I've rode that section instead of getting blasted by big-rigs on 101 as they struggle up the Cape, I've always enjoyed the ride.

It's easy to get freaked out in places where you've never been before.

Try this on for size:

In the summer of '84 I was crossing Northern California from Arcata to Shasta, then from there over to hwy395 and eventually into in Nevada. I asked directions from a farmer, hoping he could give me a route over some mountains so I could avoid pavement. The route turned out to lead to a very old fireroad that's never used. There are two mountain passes to climb. Coasting down the extremely narrow dirt path after the second pass there was vertical cliff on one side, and vertical drop on the other. The trail was about six feet wide.

I came around a curve to face an enormous timber rattler sunning him/her self by stretching across the trail. This sucker was huge. The width of the jaws was as wide as my closed fist.

I skidded to a stop before mangling the monster in my wheels. We looked at each other for a minute or so until the creature decided to crawl off over the cliff. Whew! I thought, as I clipped into my right pedal to go on my way. Then I found out something was wrong. I looked down and my rear tire was flat. I had to tear the bags off, get out the tools and fix the flat on that narrow stretch of trail while imagining all the monster rattlers ready to surround me.

My fears were not far off - I camped that evening at Castle Crags State Park (close to Intersate 5). In the ranger's office are huge glass jars full of pickled timber rattler heads. They also had bare skulls displayed on shelves. The ranger listened to my story then confirmed my suspicion. That particular area grows the largest timber rattlers in California.

That backcountry cutoff that I used turned out to be a great ride, though. If I'd been Crocodile Dundee I'd have had a feast for dinner.

For anyone savvy, yes, I was headed to the '84 Rainbow Gathering held in the mountains east of the little town of Likely on hwy395. That was the largest gathering ever. It was historic. I hung around for half the summer helping with cleanup. Then ended up heading down the moutain into Nevada and south to Reno. Did I ever mention that I hate cities? By the way, the ride south from Cedarville to Reno is a real kick - all dry lake desert. Carry water!