Day 23. Terminus

I woke up the next morning with sore legs and new neighbors: two homeless men had snuck into the hiker/biker section to seek refuge (obviously holding on to a smidgen of dignity rather than choosing to bed in a city alley). One was sleeping in his normal clothes on a piece of plastic – no tent, bivouac, or any form of shelter - a sheet of plastic like the kind used to cover goods during shipment. Not that anyone would want to do it, but I thought how vulnerable to attack I had been during that last night. For that, I was glad it was going to be my last day on the road.

I packed everything up as per usual except for the tarp I used to cover my bike with and left it next to the man with no shelter – not a solution to his problems but at least he would be in a better position that night.
Given that my legs were so knackered and that my rendezvous with my brother was going to be around 5 pm, I decided to take it easy and ride slower than usual. The hunt for breakfast began.

I made it to Ventura (or Bonaventura depending on how one feels like calling it) and asked a passerby for the usual recommendation. Busybees, an award winning diner style place, was literally around the corner from my informant. The waitress was very impressed with my saga and brought me a tall glass of lemonade; thank goodness for endless cups of coffee. I could have stayed there all morning, but I had to put a bullet in my insane journey.

I found myself riding through the city instead of the coast - yet again my damned Adventure Cyclist map led me astray. I eventually headed towards the coast however was unfortunate enough to find myself on the wrong side of US Navy Port Hueneme Battalion Center. The sun’s heat and glare was bouncing off the asphalt making the ride less enjoyable than usual. Nevertheless I persevered.

Once I bypassed the Naval base, I had to cross another large agricultural plain (celery and broccoli permeated in the air). In the distance AWACs were doing some routines that involved flying in large circles, disappearing and then returning flying low in a straight line over an imaginary battlefield. Clearly they were from the second Naval installation, Point Mugu. My legs relentlessly pushed themselves southbound.

I finally was back on the 1, which bordered Point Mugu and treated to several AWAC flybys and a peek into what I assumed were officers’ homes, a sort of abandoned fifties neighborhood. I passed a gate near an F-14 Tomcat mounted like a butterfly specimen above its missile arsenal. I then rode by the Seabees’ firing range (when the red flags are flying, so is the live ammunition).

Back on the coast for the final 62 kilometers - it was going to be a long afternoon. I eventually hit Malibu with its endless rolling hills and row upon row of parked cars – I was cycling between traffic and car doors, drained of energy and running on the knowledge that I had completed my trip. My lunch spot suggestion came from my brother: Malibu Country Mart. I ate an eight-dollar sandwich and watched uniformed schoolgirls driving Mercedes Benzes to get their afterschool coffees. A couple of paparazzi were following two women I couldn’t recognize; Hollywood…LA.

I mustered up the energy to proceed south – Malibu Sport Fishing Pier, Gladstone’s 4 Fish, Ferraris, swanky beach homes, Topanga Canyon, Chart House, Getty Villa and finally the sign “Los Angeles City Limit”. I stopped to take a photo, but mostly to take in the moment.

After the Bel Air Bay Club, I exited the 1 onto the beach path and met my brother. We rode the last 12 kilometers together contemplating what I had just achieved.

Thanks for following me.

Longest Day

I’ve been basing my days on campsite location - campsites with hiker/biker fees and more importantly: with showers. I was now located in a position where these kinds of sites were sparse so I had to make a tough decision: do I cycle to Gaviota State Park and then suffer a long ride to Venice tomorrow, possibly risking adding another day? Do I cycle to Santa Barbara and stay in a motel? Do cycle just beyond Santa Barbara and camp there?

The ride to Gaviota was going to be hard enough since I would have two hard climbs to reach it. I decided to hit the road in search for breakfast so I could think about it over a hot plate.

My Adventure Cyclist map took me from the beach inland towards Halcyon. So far so good, however no decent looking eateries. Eventually I got lost, but kept heading South since eventually I’d hit the 1. The ride through a series of farms and horse stables was easy and there were no cars to deal with. Eventually I hit Nipomo, which was totally off course, so I followed directions towards Guadalupe.

The road took me to a bluff overlooking a massive valley of farmland. The air was heavy with strawberry, celery and broccoli – kind of nasty but nice at the same time. I headed down onto Division Road through a series of strawberry fields and witnessed the most atrocious spectacle of human labor I had ever seen. Mexican men and women were bent over picking strawberries into a box. They would move slowly in one direction until they would stand up and sprint towards a truck. Another person would scan a tag around their necks, collect the box and hand them an empty one. The pickers would then about face and sprint back to where they left off, bend over, and commence picking again.

My hunger and frustration for having gotten lost, in addition to having to cycle 10 miles into the wind quickly dissipated as I contemplated these people’s lives.

I had huevos rancheros with hot sauce in Guadalupe whilst overlooking my map. The only decision I could make was to see how I felt once I arrived at Gaviota (but so much of me wanted to make it to Santa Barbara!).

Not long after, back on the 1 with a good tailwind, I cycled along a guy named Dave, who was with a group with car support. We talked for a long time and kept a good pace. Again the Adventure Cycling map got us lost. Instead of making it to Lompoc, we ended up further North East in Los Alamos. It wasn’t bad for me, but Dave had to cycle back South and West for over an hour and a half, and it was getting hot.

Since I was off route to Gaviota, I decided to head for Santa Barbara by way of the 154. I hit the 101 and was dismayed to read the electronic signs advising of the closure of the 154 due to the fires above Santa Barbara. I proceeded towards Los Olivos to decide whether to return down South towards Gaviota or take Refugio Road over the mountains into Capitan. The people I met in Los Olivios advised against climbing over the mountains as the road would become a steep trail – shame because I also found out I would have gone by Ronald Regan’s ranch. Had I not had bags, I would have done it…next time.

The ride from Los Olivos to Solvang and down towards the 101 was fantastic. The road dwindled to one lane, snaking into the hills very much like in Liguria. There was no escaping a climb, however this pass was much more agreeable than Refugio Road.

The downhill into Gaviota was spectacular, and so was Gaviota Beach. I would have stayed had it had any food amenities. The decision had been made: proceed to Santa Barbara.

The 101 looked very much like the 101 I knew when I lived in Los Angeles, thus made the end of my trip appear that more apparent. The feeling gave me the energy to push hard to make Santa Barbara by 5 or 6.

The fires above SB were pretty big. Smoke towered above, and ash rained down. I stopped for two slices of pizza and figured I should spend the night at a motel. My legs had had enough. I rode along the beachfront in search of a place to stay, but I kept going. South – to Carpinteria State Beach, set up camp, showered, collapsed. 120 miles.