Adventure Patrol

Join Audrey, a former cowgirl, geologist, and lifelong nature nut as she roams the world with boots, binoculars, and bicycles. As a freelance travel writer, Audrey loves to share her outdoor adventures in big cities, tiny towns, and way out in the middle of nowhere. 

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A few years ago, in mid-August, four friends and I set off down the beach from the mouth of the Mattole River. This short hike into the Northern California coastal wilderness offers plenty of stunning scenery, wildlife watching, and no crowds. Renown for its deep sand, disappearing trails, steep climbs, and isolation, the Lost Coast would not seem a likely choice for a lazy weekend. If you pack light, though, and bring some good hearty food, and don't hike too far, the Lost Coast makes a great trip, even for first time backpackers. 

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Pedaling around Civic Center Plaza, a carousel of exotic creatures rises and falls with the landscape. Reggae and rock music blares from speakers bungied onto rear racks. Bike bells ring, car horns complain, and onlookers hoot and holler and wave as over a thousand cyclists pass by. I turn into the plaza and stop to get a better look: there’s a guy in pink bikini bottoms, a guy with a long brown braid sticking straight out, a musical fish bike with cds for scales, and a lot of Pippi Longstocking socks. I’m in the middle of a Dr. Seuss bike parade. Its rush hour on the last Friday of the month in San Francisco, and this is Critical Mass.

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More than 8,000 cyclists from all over the world were lining up for the annual El Tour de Tucson. By 5:30 am, pro racers, amateur racers, wannabe racers, bike clubbers, and families stood chatting, stretching, taking pictures, and drinking coffee. Some of us would finish in just over four hours. Some would finish in twelve. And some of us would bonk. Learn More

The station in Fort Bragg is crowded with excited families, couples, a Boy Scout troop, and gangs of friends. As we climb aboard the Skunk Train, I take a window seat in one of the restored passenger cars. We’re on our way up the Noyo River, and deep into the redwoods.

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