Note: names and locations have been changed to protect the innocence and dignity of some individuals
The road to Dunkin felt like a road I shouldn't be on. Not like it was busy or dangerous, it was quite the opposite, nearly deserted. I rode through some nice redwood groves on the opposite side of Wiggly Worm River for a while until the road started to slope up. For 12 miles I climbed upward, winding up switchbacks on the neglected road that carried me past many dirt roads stemming off the main vein, either leading to intense inclines or declines far into the pines where I'm sure people are doing things they don't want other people to know about, hence the "No Trespassing" signs and my feeling of being where I shouldn't be. But I pedaled on, I was meeting Jim at 3:00 and I didn't want to make him wait for me. After riding up for 12 miles, the next 8 were all downhill. However, the road was so rough and curvy I had to ride my brakes the entire way into town. "Town" is a loose term. The road spat me out in front of a market with a gas station with at least a dozen hippies smoking spliffs and cigarettes, probably looking for work or waiting on a ride to the next farm or just smoking spliffs and cigarettes. I sat on the bench, away from all the hippies and waited for Jim.