(Written from Barton and Vicki's beautiful house, Santa Barbara, CA)
Miles biked: 36.1 (1,706.5 overall)
Time on bike: 3 hours, 29 minutes, 54 seconds
Maximum speed: 24.2 mph
Roads taken: 101, Hollister Avenue, Los Carneros Road, bike path (through UCSB's campus and to Santa Barbara), Santa Barbara: Arroyo Road, Nueces Drive, Modoc Road, Mission Street, Castillo Street, Cabrillo Boulevard, Coast Village Road, Olive Mill Road, N. Jameson Lane ... Sheffield Drive, Ortega Hill Road, bike path, Summerland: Ortega Hill Road, Lillie Avenue ... Via Real, Toro Canyon Road/192.
Places stopped: Chase Palm Park in Santa Barbara (for a Power Bar and water), Barton and Vicki's house (for the night).
I can't lie -- today was almost all about the finish line.
That doesn't mean the riding wasn't nice. Once I got off 101 and rode for a few miles, I joined up with a bike path that I took for 7 miles.
It was easy riding, and I was treated to plenty of scenery as I passed through UCSB's campus. It is, as I was told later, a campus overflowing with cyclists.
I could have guessed that just from my morning ride. As I pedaled along the bike path, hundreds of girls rode by me on every kind of bike you can imagine. Some talked on their phones as they rode, others pedaled along with one hand.
The riding, obviously, was nothing more than a means to get to class. Finals were coming up.
I passed by one set of bike racks, outside of an academic building, where there must have been some 300 bikes locked up. Some serious bike-seat stealing could go down there (no, I'm not suggesting it, kids).
Then upon riding into Santa Barbara on relatively calm residential streets, Erica, Margot, Rusty and I got to look at beautiful, blooming purple flower trees on either side of the road. (I'm awful at identifying flowers, so help a dude out, folks.)
When we reached downtown, we were greeted with a nice stretch of beach and a pier overlooking the water. People were all about on the sunny morning -- some locals and some, clearly, tourists.
And I immediately saw what I've come to like best about the city of a little less than 100,000: The mountains that serve as a perfect backdrop to the Spanish-style homes on the hillsides. It's amazing to me how close you can be out here to both the water and mountains.
It's one of the aspects of this coast I like best.
But viewing the mountains, which range to about 3,500 feet, also reminded me of what lay ahead: a HUGE hill.
Yes, I had climbed the map's biggest hills already. And, yes, my route the rest of the way to San Diego was relatively flat.
However, my grandfather's cousin, Barton, and his wife, Vicki, had graciously invited me to stay with them for a couple nights in the area. And -- here's the bad part -- their house is a few miles inland from the ocean, and my prescribed route, and mostly uphill.
My biking friends decided to head downtown on State Street for an early lunch. I started, a minute later, to follow them, but after a few blocks I turned around. I wasn't really hungry, and all I could think about was the challenge ahead of me, probably the biggest I'd face the rest of the trip.
I had to conquer it. There was no time to waste. I was back to riding by my lonesome.
After a few miles of easy riding, I arrived at the base of Toro Canyon Road, and I began the most tortuous, grueling, sweat-causing 3 miles of this entire journey. (I know I've said that before, but you'll have to believe me this time; it really was the worst hill of the trip.)
The road was curvy and uphill the entire way. Some parts were steeper than others, all parts were difficult.
After about half a mile, I was only using my lowest two gears. I would get in the drops and zig-zag my way up while in my lowest gear, trying to focus on the music playing in my ears instead of the burning in my lags. Thankfully, I encountered only about three cars, which allowed the massive zig-zagging.
Still, I had to take not one, not two, but three breaks for water and to rest the legs. Of course, they started burning again as soon as I got back on the 520.
My destination was 949 Toro Canyon Road, and the numbers didn't go up quickly. On one side of the road, I'd see a number only to notice, a minute later, a smaller number marking a plot of land a few hundred feet up on the opposite side.
Vicki had said I might need to walk my bike up the hill. Chugging my way up it, I completely understood.
Finally, after a last break, I perspired my way into the 900s and once I saw the number on the driveway, I celebrated internally like Kevin Garnett did externally upon winning that first championship ("I'm on top of the world!!!!!!!").
Actually, I was pretty high up, as Vicki told me later. She said that I'd climbed from close to sea level to 1,250 feet. When I rode in a car up and down the hill a couple times, I realized just how ridiculous the climb had been.
Anyway, it turned out to be well worth it...
THE MYERS' HOUSE
As I soon discovered, the house in which I'd be staying for two nights is like nothing I've ever stepped foot in. It's no wonder Barton is a famous architect.
The first thing I noticed, after pushing my bike up the steep driveway, is a pool of water in front of the house. I didn't think it was anything but accumulated rain water at first, but Vicki later informed me that the top part, about 5 feet wide and 4 feet deep, is actually a lap swimming pool.
I took an incredibly refreshing dip in the pool later in the afternoon.
While I was swimming, I looked down the hill to the south and admired a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean and the hilly Channel Islands just 20-some miles off the coast. I could sit in the pool and take in that view all day.
But then I wouldn't get to see the coolest, hippest, most fire-retardant house I've ever set my eyes on. This is what Barton and Vicki call home when they're not working in L.A. during the week, and they've had it for over 11 years. I could live in it my entire life.
The outer shell is almost completely glass, but get this -- it can also be completely air. Yes, all the windows can be pulled up into the ceiling like a garage door, creating an open space (imagine eating at your dining room table outside while looking out over the ocean 1,250 feet below).
As far as protection from those deadly California fires, there are sheets of steel that can be pulled down to cover the glass exterior and thoroughly shield the house from wild flames.
Barton and Vicki are also doing their best to protect the surrounding landscape from fires by planting as many cacti as possible. The cacti also give the plot of land a western desert touch, which feels right, and the fruit trees in the hills directly above the main house and Barton's office building make the whole setup just about perfect.
Did I mention that you can see the peaks of mountains in the Los Padres National Forest looming to the north? Well, you can, and they're the ultimate backdrop to the rustic, tranquil setting.
It's going to be hard to leave this place.
Thankfully, I have a full day here Friday before continuing down the coast Saturday toward smoggy L.A.
Barton wasn't in town Thursday, but Vicki treated me to a delicious lunch, took me on a 3-mile long walk along a dog-friendly beach -- those are always the most entertaining -- and then took me out to dinner along with a friend of hers to an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Santa Barbara.
The food was absolutely delicious.
I expect to wake up Friday feeling rested, finally, and well-fed.
Then maybe I'll take a dip in the pool.
What more can a kid ask for?
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