(Written from Barton and Vicki's beautiful house, Santa Barbara, CA)
Miles biked: 80.3 (1,670.4 overall)
Time on bike: 6 hours, 53 minutes
Maximum speed: 36.7 mph
Roads taken:SR 1 South, Mesa View Drive/SR 1, SR 1/135, 135, Harris Grade Road, Lompoc: N. H Street, E. Ocean Avenue/SR 1 ... SR 1, 101.
Places stopped: Lompoc (for lunch at cheap diner), just before the SR 1-101 junction (to mildly celebrate conquering the biggest hill and prepare for the steep downhill cruise), El Capitan Beach State Park (for the night).
I have been very, very pleased with the Adventure Cycling Association maps I've used to navigate this tremendous journey down the West Coast.
But there have been a few turns the set of maps has suggested that have left me furiously scratching my head.
On Wednesday, I looked at one of the suggested turns and said, "No freakin' way, ain't happening."
It came at the beginning of what would be a long day. The map suggested about a 3-mile detour, involving four turns, to avoid a 0.8-mile stretch of SR 1.
Upon riding up to the intersection, I could tell that the part to "avoid" was nothing but a moderate hill. So while my biking companions took the detour, I hooked a right and bike-sprinted up the hill. And, of course, it wasn't bad at all.
There was a decent shoulder, and I had reached the top after about 4 minutes. Then I zoomed down to the intersection, stopped at a gas station and talked to a friendly local for about 20 minutes while waiting for Erica, Margot and Rusty.
We had a nice conversation.
From there, it was difficult for me to take my mind off the two monster challenges that loomed, literally, later in the day.
Big Hill.
And Super Big Hill.
One thing I've failed to mention in previous posts is that the past two maps I've used have detailed elevations of the route (since it's so hilly), so I've always known, roughly, what lies ahead of me. So that's how I knew about the two large hills that we'd have to climb Wednesday.
As I've gotten closer to San Diego, too, I've found that it's harder to keep my mind off a day's destination. This isn't to say that I'm no longer enjoying riding. Simply, I'm always thinking about what lies ahead.
So, naturally, my mind was on the hills as we cruised along flat roads for the first 30 or so miles.
What I did notice was a strong, strong Spanish presence. As we biked into the small town of Guadalupe, a Verizon Wireless billboard was in Spanish -- I'd never seen a national brand advertised like that -- and for every "Open" sign in a store window, there was also an "Abierto" sign.
If I ever move out here -- don't rule it out -- I'll have to sharpen up on my Spanish. It'd make things much easier (and more interesting).
Speaking of grades of difficulty, the Big Hill was one tough cookie. I knew Harris Grade Road would provide some challenges, because the map detailed several switchbacks on the country road just north of Lompoc. It lived up to the hype, that's for sure.
With a strong sun beating down on me, I pedaled hard -- in 10th or 11th gear -- around several curves, always hoping the next one would be the top of the upward maize. Finally, after 2.5 miles and with a sweaty forehead, I saw the speedy Rusty stopped ahead, which signaled to me that I'd reached the top.
One hill down, one to go.
We then cruised down into Lompoc, which proved to be a scary stretch of riding. After one intersection, I found myself coasting on a super narrow strip of pavement with cars accelerating by me on both sides -- they were merging onto the road from my right.
Thankfully, there was a break in the chaos and I was able to get to the shoulder, but riding through Lompoc -- including after a cheap lunch at a local diner -- was no breeze. There was no real downtown to speak of, and the main road was two lanes, and busy, all the way through the city of about 41,103. No, there was no bike lane, either.
I haven't biked through many non-biker towns, but Lompoc was one of them.
But we made it through and back onto SR 1, and then the anticipation reached an unbearable level. Where was Super Big Hill?
You see, according to my maps, SBH would be my last big hill of the entire trip (not including side trips off the route; see June 4 entry). So getting up it was a big deal. Everything would be a breeze after it, right?
So as I zoomed along in the afternoon sun, I kept expecting the climb to be around the next bend. But the road, instead, would descend or flatten, and I'd exhale and keep pumping the pedals.
We'd gone nearly 15 miles since the lunch break when, finally, we stopped at the side of the road and saw what had to be the SBH. I squirted some water into the mouth and started up it.
And, as it turned out, the hill was nothing to fret about.
Sure, we climbed to over 1,000 feet. But I never even had to downshift to my lowest rung of gears. I beasted my way up the gradual slope, reached the top, ate a few smashed strawberries -- Erica bought a bunch earlier in the day -- and put on some sunscreen.
There were no huge celebrations, no Tiger fist pumps.
I didn't even thoroughly enjoy the 7.5% downhill grade for the next 2 miles because I was getting smacked by a crosswind that threatened to blow me over.
I did enjoy the part after that, when we merged with 101. For a few miles, the road was bordered on both sides by steep cliffs that rose several hundred feet in the air. I felt like I was biking along I-93 in between New Hampshire's White Mountains.
The rest of the afternoon was spent on 101, but it wasn't bad because of the scenery. We had rejoined the ocean after several inland miles, and decent-sized mountains with cool-looking rocky summits stood just to the left side of the highway.
Still, I must admit that I felt a bit tired when we arrived at the El Capitan campsite and I spent another mile of riding looking for a campsite. (Although that extra mile allowed me to reach the 80-mile mark for the day.)
After a ramen noodles and Power Bar dinner, I didn't have any trouble falling asleep a tad past 9.
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