My bike was in the shop for my first few days here. It felt so good to finally pick it up and whizz down the hill in to Arcata, its streets lined with colourful indie shops and the bay stretched out beyond.
Mum and I sat on the plaza and watched the world go by. Nowhere else but Humboldt could I imagine this mix of characters, who fit so naturally amongst the redwood trees, with the smell of grass and good coffee.
I ride home on the long flat stretch past the lumber yards and pine dust. The back road to Blue Lake passes through a small valley surrounded by redwoods.
Deer amble across the road, blue jays and swallows swoop amongst the old barns and telegraph wires. The farm gardens grow tall with hollyhocks, sunflowers and tomatoes.
It is ridiculously picturesque. And it’s the route to the nearest town. Not such a bad holiday commute.