The forest

I made it out of the forest, nearly 4 hours of riding. I would ride Evans later, and each time I wanted to shift to a later gear, I would tell myself, "remember Northern California," and this is what I remembered. Never have I ridden such a difficult road (in recent memory, and the idea of "recent memory" can be discussed, but why bother--according to Moraline, I'm all about wine, women, and song, so what's the fucking point of thinking about anything too deeply). Each time the road would 'end,' a new ascent would be revealed. Each time a new ascent would be revealed, I would promise my legs and neck and back that "this would be the last, just over this climb, then the trees will give way to the flattest road in Northern California." Eventually, I knew I was in a maze, trapped for my sins, the way I was wasting my life. It was as if Moraline had created a death-tree-maze and propped up signs to goad me along the way: "Lovely cycling here, please continue. For nice cycling, keep riding this way."

When I had given up all hope of my ever leaving the forest, the forest cleared, and I reached Leggett, one of many world famous drive through tree attractions in the area. Leggett had a few buildings, one of them a service station.