unintentional drifter: SDOT FINALE: Pismo Beach ->Ventura

Last day on the road!

Saturday March 21st, 2015

Gaviota State Park/Beach Campground

Well, 75.8 miles later, I made it! I departed from Pismo Beach State Beach campground this morning and rode a few miles to Grover Beach, where I dropped some mail at the post office and swung by Trinity Cycles. It was a half hour before they were meant to open, but the worker let me borrow their floor pump anyway (looks like the new tube in my rear tire is holding steady now. Good.)

I blinked, and ten miles had gone by. At 25 miles, I decided to stop for early lunch in Santa Maria, knowing that it was going to be my biggest mileage day and that the extra energy would be helpful getting up and over the Gaviota Pass. Los Comadres had an array of El Salvadorian food, and the pupusas, plantains and tamales were unlike anything I'd eaten the week prior. The staff let me bring my whole bike + gear into the restaurant too, which was such a wonderful surprise!

Maybe it was the whole basket of chips, or the amazingly spicy salsa, the fried plantains, certainly not the sheer volume of food (sarcasm)...but my body was not happy that I tried exerting myself after eating that meal. And it wasn't a vague tisk-tisk sort of discomfort. The sharpness of the indigestion felt like chest pains as I rode past little league games heading out of Santa Maria.

On top of the indigestion, I hit every single red light possible for a five mile stretch. I'm not exaggerating. And while I had nowhere to be at any certain time, I found it challenging to shake the annoyance of heartburn and sucking in car exhaust. It's also not really that fun to start and stop a whole lot with a fully loaded bike. This was another moment where I am grateful to have been a solo traveler, as I was a Grade A Grumpy Bear.

This self-absorption distracted me to the point where I was on the 101 South almost to Los Alamos before I realized that I was not headed through Lompoc, as I expected. It's totally fine, since the Los Altos route is recommended for people who are willing to go a little farther to avoid some climbing, but still. That's like, a 20-mile digestion temper tantrum.

I stopped at the little tourist town and pounded a water bottle full of soda water (only 25 cents from the gas station fountain drink area!) and ate some electrolyte chews (invented for disciplined athletes who wish they were just eating fruit snacks). This spun my mood 180 degrees for the positive, and I rode fifteen miles to Buellton back on the happy train.

When I got to this cute little town I stopped at a gas station/convenience store since I figured this would be the final chance to pick up a treat for the campground tonight. I chatted with the employee about the road race he saw whiz by ~6:30am, and I realized that's the group I probably saw riding the opposite direction Los Berros Road earlier in the day. If they rode a route similar to what I rode today, those cyclists were about 45 miles into their race when we crossed paths much, much earlier in the day. That makes me appreciate their smiles, waves and overall friendly demeanor toward me even more! Road cycling is such a different sport than touring--I was happy to have an experience like that with the roadies that was counter to their typical stigma.

After Buellton I ended up riding a significant chunk of freeway shoulder, which was a little unexpected. I mean, had I read my route instead of daydreaming six hours straight I probably wouldn't have been surprised. So, while it's not an ideal situation to have semis whizzing by at 70mph, I got my head in the game and rode my bike on the freeway [shoulder]. If you ever see a weirdo like me riding on your next freeway journey, know that no, we're not lost, and don't worry-- we're going to get off the highway as soon as humanly possible.

DEAD BUTTERFLIES AND OTHER ROAD DISCOVERIES

If I have one morbid regret on this trip, it's continuing past the catalogue of butterflies I saw on the side of the high-speed areas, especially near Santa Cruz, San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara. I saw some gorgeous specimens and thought about it after I saw one after another on this section of highway.

I also kept seeing this one piece of anonymous car refuse that became a fixation for the second half of my ride today.

I'm a little lacking in nouns and adjectives to describe this whositawhatsit, but by the time I saw the tenth one on these unidentified car thingies on the side of the road, I committed to stopping for a photo. I knew I could send the picture to Ryan Hasty and he'd be able to tell me what it was, almost certainly. So of course, I didn't see anymore. I realize this is a boring anecdote with no photo or physical description to offer. And for this I apologize. I'm mostly recording this to remind myself to keep looking for them and snap a photo next time.

GAVIOTA PASS

So, in case you're curious to know, I pulled my signature Roth Fatigue move and insisted on taking a break when I was 98% of the way to my destination. As it turns out, I was 2/3 of the way up the hill when I stopped to refuel for the remaining 5 minutes of climbing I had to do. Consider this a proper shout out to gears, and how much I like them. I was just about to meet a dude who rode the SF -> LA route with a buddy who did the whole thing on his BMX bike. No gratsie!

For the record, Justin Limberty wins the award for most ridiculous Instagram hashtags and comments. I read this one on the side of the highway and laughed OUT LOUD. I hope it made one of the semi drivers crawling up the hill laugh to see me blurt out in exclamation.

When I got my act together I finished the climb and felt very well hydrated for the beautiful 3-mile descent to Gaviota State Beach.

GAVIOTA STATE BEACH "HOSPITALITY"

Tonight I once again arrived to camp by myself, wearing a dress, riding a bicycle. Usually this campground is only open to hiker/bikers until Memorial Day, but the well broke at El Capitan State Beach so everyone with reservations there got dispersed between here and Refugio State Park. That's just fine by me--the hike and bike site still had space. But that meant that across the path was a huge camp of boy scouts and their troop leaders. It reminded me of the shanty town that used to pop up in Lower Camp during staff training at High Trails.

A man who looked like the real-life version of Rick Moranis's character Wayne Szalinski from Honey I Shrunk the Kids asked me where I rode from earlier in the day. I told him I started at Pismo Beach, and then when I stopped to breathe and then continue to say I was going to go setup camp, he interrupted and told me about the three times he'd ridden down from SF to LA. He loves his carbon bike, he's never taken the coastal route, only rode down near the I-5 [why?!?] and hopes to ride again to do the ride through Big Sur. I nodded, made eye contact with the 18 year old that looked embarrassed enough that I figured he was Wayne Szalinski's son, then excused myself when I saw the sign for the hike and bike site.

Some of the other boy scout troop leaders stopped by the site to check out the hammock setup, to ask about the bike, the route, and to invite me to share some of their leftover food. At this point Rick Moranis was back over too and said, "Oh, well. I didn't want to invite you over since I didn't want you to think that I thought you needed any help." It was very socially awkward, and so I changed the subject. He's right though--I hate when people think I need help. One gold star for Wayne Szalinski.

I took my mac and cheese over to eat at the boy scout campsite the other adults I'd yet to meet enjoyed asking about my travels. I told them all about Jennie, and James, and Larry and Barbara-- Annie and Anna, and Mary Ellen's whole family. And we talked about adventure and community, how important it is to open yourself up to the opportunities that present themselves to you while traveling. They were so nice in listening, and they asked how I'd feel about doing an impromptu presentation to the scouts about my trek. When said Yes, I think it kind of freaked them out. We just ate a bar of chocolate instead, and then I went back to my site to write this.

Monday March 21st, 2015

Futon in Karis's Living Room

Ventura, CA

Well, I made it to Ventura! I packed up on Sunday morning and said goodbye to the Boy Scout Dad who reminded me so much of Rick Moranis. He was impressed by my ability to endure the intense winds overnight in my hammock. Then I let Scott, another camper I met later yesterday evening, take Stranger Danger (he gave me his 2002 Jeep Cherokee and some kayaks, it seemed a fair trade), and I drove an hour to Ventura. The end!

Well not quite; we traded back.

Since this is the only bike I own, I forget that most people don't know that this sort of bike exists. Which seems so silly to me since this thing is sturdy enough to go on fire roads if I need it to, built to go long distances with weight and functional as a city bike (even though it's on the heavy side). Plus, it has about half a million gears, so you can climb almost anything with average fitness. I want to scream from the mountain tops how much I love having one bike for mostly everything, even if that drives people crazy.

Anyway. I rolled into Santa Barbara and went to the Three Pickles Deli for lunch. Corazon tacos had taken over the kitchen (thanks for the amazing recommendation Scott!) and I sat inside and enjoyed some of the most beautiful fish tacos I've ever eaten. I kept a visual lock on the bike from inside the deli but rushed the lunch process a bit, eager to get back to the bike. I worried about repeating my indigestion fail from the day before, and instead now had that nagging feeling of still being hungry despite having just eaten delicious artisanal food. (#firstworldproblem)

Mentally, I think this was the trickiest day for me. I attribute so much of my happiness to being in the moment on this trip, and I was starting to think about being in Ventura, being finished with the trip and getting caught up on work. I listened to a podcast through my phone speaker to try and pull me back to the moment, and it worked okay.

Finally I got to Ventura county line and soon after got on the beautiful new three-mile bike path corridor that separates cyclists from the vehicular traffic right along the coast. After about a mile and a half I heard from over my right shoulder,

MA'AM. DISMOUNT YOUR BIKE.

Uh oh. That sounds like a... (looking behind me)

MA'AM, WALK YOUR BIKE OVER TO THE PATROL VEHICLE PLEASE.

I'll withhold the details since I'm actively contesting my citation, but failing to stop and walk my bike across the intersection resulted in a $240 ticket. Gross! I was/am salty about this for many reasons, but mostly I was feeling a sense of injustice for the totally irrational reason that this shouldn't happen 15 miles away from finishing my 450 mile trek.

A very nice cyclist who happened to get a warning at that same intersection caught up to me a little later apologizing for my rough luck getting a full ticket. He recommended reaching out to the Channel Island Bicycle Club since they collaborate with CalTrans. This picked my spirits up a little, which was a very lovely way to remember that this is one small bummer among an amazing trip. It's not worth letting it ruin everything. Thank you Ernesto for taking the time to pick up my spirits!

I also very much appreciated the hospitality of Rob Perks of Ocean Air Cycles. He hosted me for a tour of his new space in Ventura, sold me some delicious coffee and gave some really solid advice regarding contacting the Channel Island Bicycle Club, of which he is a member. I'm so excited for him and his family to be showcasing their entrepreneurial energy in the neighborhood. Thank you for your encouraging words--as the first familiar face I got to see on this journey, was really helpful to hear your take on the situation.

SO A WOMAN RIDES INTO A GROCERY STORE, AND...
At this point, Karis checked to see when I'd be arriving and I let her know I was making a frozen yogurt stop before riding to her house. She asked if I wanted a ride from the grocery store to her casa, and I hesitated about 45 seconds before feeling absolutely solid accepting her offer. I get it. I can ride my bike. And I'd ridden those three miles between her house and the store the visit prior...so I don't feel like I'm missing out on any scenery.

At that point I took the grocery store security guard up on his kind offer to park my bike inside the store entrance while I bought my frozen dairy offering for the Taylors, learning from Rob that Ventura has a pretty rotten reputation for bicycle theft. Two minutes later, with froyo in hand, I met a dear friend and her PT Cruiser outside with just time to make home for lasagna dinner.

Tour, el fin.

THE SHORT STORY: