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.