​A day of finishing things.

We woke up early with Andy (the guy who heads up the Bicycle Tourism Network for the US) and we rode to get some breakfast from a local restaurant we all enjoy, which required a few miles of backtracking.  We then made our way south and found Fred again.  We decided to bike to the border together.  First we tackled the legendary climbs at Torrey Pines and then saw the sea lions at La Jolla Cove.

We approached downtown San Diego and loaded onto a ferry to cross the bay to get to Coronado Island with our bikes.  We  got on the bikeway there and rode to the border at Tijuana.  The border fence rose before us as we arrived at the official peace park where the fence staggers I to the ocean.  The border patrol allowed us 5 minutes to go and touch the fence as well as pose for photos.  It was sobering to finish the trip (well, at least after the final 20 miles back to the car).  We bid Fred a safe return to Montreal and enjoyed some Indian food for dinner.  

One year ago one month to go we ended our trip unwillingly.  Add one week to the now a week ago and we have finished.  

​Final night of the tour.  The sunset and weather did not disappoint.

To rewind to the beginning, we began the day heading out from out loud campsite next to the train tracks but content that the sky was clear.  A boat that drifted in the night ended up washed up on our beach.  Lifeguards, police, and locals were with a tugboat trying to pull it back out to sea.  It was only supposed to be a 40 mile day, but we got lost in Camp Pendleton.  Camp Pendleton is a military base that touring cyclists are permitted to enter and cross pending notification approval of ID.  However, once in the base, we missed our turn and ended up seeking help from a marine.  12 miles off route, we hightailed it out and exited in Oceanside.

The minute we hit Oceanside, a local cyclist came over to excitedly talk to us.  He told us that Race Across America (RAAM) was preparing to leave tomorrow and that if we followed him, he would take us to see the pros.  We found the Trek Pro team.  They were psyched to see our steel-framed touring bikes and wanted a pic with us with their ultralight carbon frames.  Fucking tight.

We then made it to Carlsbad and ate at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants with Baja fish tacos.  We made it to our campsite where we met up with Fred again plus this awesome crew of other cyclists up from San Diego for a weekend touring trip.  One the guys, Andy, turned out to be a board member on the Tourism Bicycling Network nationally.  The evening ended around campfire, an epic sunset, and great conversations.  

​Gorgeous weather and waking up in the backyard of some ultra-cool Warmshowers hosts is a good way to start the day (here’s to you Steve and Linda!)  We jumped back on the bike path beachside but found ourselves moving to the interior of the city to get across both LA and Long Beach.  It was a day of 90% city and 10% beach.  The turns to get through Laguna Beach and Newport were struggles on a bike with cars zipping by.  We got a chance to bike along the LA River, with all its concrete sadness.  A pinch flat was repaired outside Dana Point where we pulled into the campground and saw the biggest waves of our whole trip.  Serious surfers and SUPers flooded the ocean for much of the evening.  We finally met some other tourists heading south as well.  We ate dinner with Fred, a cyclist from Montreal.  He’s finishing up his electric engineering degree and doing this for the summer.  To finish, I’ll say my tan lines from the SoCal sun and lack of marine layer are ridiculous.

​Long day of road beneath us.  We started early at 6:15 and caught an epic breakfast in downtown Ventura.  After, we rode through Malibu.  The waves were gorgeous aquamarine and the opulence of the houses was both breathtaking and stifling.  It made me realize how much of the coast has been lost to the churn of development; a deeper appreciation of the Lost Coast in NoCal ensued.  Hwy 1 turned out to be an adrenaline rush coming into Venice Beach where the bike lane on the highway was also used for parking, which forced us onto the road.  However, the Santa Monica Pier was pretty awesome.  Venice Beach also had a conglomerate of culture, character, style, and people which left an indelible positive impression on us.  Tonight, we camp in the backyard of Warmshowers hosts who live right up against Hermosa Beach.

​Beautiful blue skies started the day night with no marine layer.  We packed up camp and jumped on the 1/101 and made our way to Santa Barbara where…the gray marine layer returned.

We explored the wharf, went off road with our fully loaded touring bikes on some MTB trails to see seals, and then made our way to our Warmshowers host who made us a solid meal along with solid conversation.  

​With fitful sleep, we woke early.  The marine layer hung dank in the sky as we attached our panniers, downed some oatmeal, and headed east towards Santa Maria again.  After getting hit on Harris Grade Road outside Lompoc last year (and  owing to its lack of sufficient shoulder), we opted to avoid the same route and travel inland on roads with sturdy shoulders.  The 101 would be it.  However, as soon as we got going, I ripped over this little-shit metal piece and punctured my tire.  I rode all last year with not a single tire issue.  No matter – fix the flat and move.

We hit Santa Maria and took the highway.  Riding alongside epic semis and speeding cars on an open freeway is the way to  build nerves and breathe.

We rode past golden grass and green vineyards.  We flew through a couple small towns and eventually merged Witt the 1, bring us back on the official ACA route.  We also officially merged back on the ocean.  70 miles in, we got the most epic hiker biker campsite ever at El Capitan State Beach.  

​One month to go one year in the past found Janna and I a week from the end of our bike tour on the PCH.  We pushed hard and enjoyed the explorative sense.  Here, a week from the end, outside Guadalupe, CA, we were hit by a car from behind.  Shortly to cover it all, I’ll say that bikes were totaled, Janna smashed through the windshield, panniers and supplies were ripped and tossed on the road, ambulances came along with fire trucks in tow, but we came out, relatively speaking, okay.

Pestered by a glimpse of the end, it whispered away.  

But, the care and generosity offered by others to help us more than matched the shitty situation.  For this, we are grateful.  

Now, we are back.  Vowing to return and conquer the beast, we have returned.  Tomorrow we start from the exact same town and spot where we felt the slide before.  Transportation itself seemed to hold back when approaching today.  We drove to San Diego yesterday just fine.  Janna booked Amtrak with bike-carry on opportunities.  We parked our car downtown in San Diego and biked over to the Santa Fe Station.

We got there early.  However, a gas leak on the tracks forced them to shut down the rail line and refund our tickets.  Panicked that we’d end up unable to finish the tour, we scoured for options.  Amtrak offered to put our bikes under a bus and drive us – yet, I’ve read the number of stories of ruined bikes online.  Hell no.  

I jumped online.  Uber?  Nah, they won’t drive 6 hours away.  Turo?  We’d have to somehow return the car.  Being downtown in the big city, we decided to try a one way ride with a rental car from the airport.  We rode our bikes away from the tracks down some busy boulevards.  We were able to secure a minivan –> ie: Fold down the seats, stuff the bikes in the back.  We drove north to the Santa Maria airport where we pulled the bikes out and layer the tread down.  We Googled the fastest way to get to Guadalupe and started off biking down the highway from the inland to the coast.  We rode in with the sun lighting the dunes at dusk and secured our place to stay.  

Bikes are packed.  Tomorrow, I say, “Fuck you lightning, ye shall not strike twice.”  Time to tackle the grade, push on the 101, and view some sea.