Day 49 (June 7): Leo Carrillo State Beach, CA-Los Angeles, CA -- 32.9 miles biked

(Written from Tim and Sherry's house in West Los Angeles)

Miles biked: 32.9 (1,794.8 overall)

Time on bike: 2 hours, 33 minutes, 11 seconds

Maximum speed: 31.8 mph

Roads taken: SR 1, Santa Monica bike path, Ocean Avenue, Ocean Park Boulevard/Gateway Boulevard, Pico Boulevard, Camden Avenue.

Places stopped: Santa Monica bike path (to kick it for a minute and text google to find out if Federer won his 14th grand slam), Tim and Sherry's house (for the night).

I've concluded that I'm very good at underestimating how far I can go on a bike in a certain amount of time.

For instance, on Saturday I told Tim, whom I'd be staying with for three nights in L.A., that I'd probably get to his and his wife Sherry's place in West Los Angeles around 12 Sunday afternoon.

Forget the fact that I planned on getting up early and had an estimated 30 to 40 miles of mostly flat riding to do. I never expect to get somewhere quickly on the 520.

So when I arrived at their house a tad past 10, after 32.9 quick miles, it was, naturally, a surprise to them. Thankfully, they're great, accommodating hosts and let me in the door.

(And the rest of my visit, so far, has been blessed with kind hospitality, entertaining conversation and, of course, a comfortable bed.)

As for the ride into L.A., it was actually hillier than I expected. Going through the coast town of Malibu, I climbed quite a few hills. No, they were nothing like the hills I went up in the northern and central parts of the state, but they still offered a good workout.

I enjoyed most of the ride because I got an early start and beat the L.A. heat. I executed my earliest wake-up time of the trip -- I've never used an alarm; just awakened on my own -- by getting up around 5:47 a.m.

It's incredible how early it gets light here. When I emerged from my tent, it looked like it'd been light for nearly an hour (maybe I'll have to test that during my final night of camping). Whatever the case, I had no problems adjusting to the early morning and preparing for my ride.

After a cup of tea and some oatmeal, I was ready to go reach another big city.

Riding through Malibu was nice, except for all the cars that lined the side of SR 1. I had to constantly look out for opening doors, as some early morning surfers were preparing to hit the waves.

Once I got through Malibu, it was less than 10 miles before the traffic increased and I knew I was nearing the city. Apparently, Santa Monica used to be its own city, but now it's part of the L.A. sprawl. This was proven when I noticed the Los Angeles city limit sign before seeing the Santa Monica pier.

Thankfully, I was able to get off SR 1 and onto a beach-side bike path just as the traffic was getting heavy and the bike lane becoming the width of a pencil. I knew, then, that I was in the city.

The Santa Monica beach is nice -- just a long stretch of sand, featuring several volleyball nets and, of course, broken up by the pier and its cornucopia of mini roller coasters, games and stands selling overpriced junk food

I enjoyed riding roughly 100 yards from the water, passing all kinds of bikers, rollerbladers, runners, walkers, you name it. The path was supposed to be "bikers only," but what could I expect? This was L.A.

Eventually, with the help of a nice girl at a hotel, I found the street that Tim had described as the most safe to bike on and get to his house, Ocean Park Boulevard. While there wasn't a designated bike lane, there was some room to ride and the traffic wasn't too bad on a Sunday morning.

After a few miles on that, followed by a very brief stretch on busy Pico Boulevard, I arrived at my destination, ready to ditch the bike and kick it in the city of stars for a few days.

L.A. DAY 1
My plan for Sunday afternoon was to get down by the Staples Center prior to Game 2 of the NBA Finals and observe the scene. And, of course, I'd be accepting any free tickets (shockingly, I didn't get lucky in this respect).

One of the interesting things I noticed on the two-bus ride downtown, which took over an hour, was that I was the lone white person on either bus. I didn't feel uncomfortable, but instead enjoyed being the super minority for once.

(It would be the same on most of my other bus rides in the city -- and there were many.)

The bus rides also gave me an idea of just how huge L.A. is. My route was all on one street, Pico Boulevard, but we must have gone some 200 blocks before getting downtown to the central part of the city.

Walking L.A., like I walked a solid portion of San Fran, is not an option. This is especially the case because of how spread out everything worth seeing is.

There's the beach and pier in Santa Monica. There's UCLA in Westwood. There's Hollywood north and east of there. And there's downtown, and the Staples Center and Dodger Stadium, even farther East.

I bought an L.A. map, and it doesn't even show Anaheim and Pasadena -- that's how spread out the metropolis is.

Anyway, I made it to the Staples Center about 40 minutes before the 5 p.m. tipoff and wandered around. Obviously, there were thousands of yellow- and gold-clad Lakers fans milling about, but the atmosphere didn't seem too much different from that before a regular-season or early round game in the playoffs.

Of course, the hundreds of T.V. cameras and sets gave away the occasion, but there was no craziness. Maybe the Sunday afternoon sun and heat had mellowed people, or maybe they were saving their voices for the game.

I did, however, find the pregame spot to be -- outside of the VIP entrance. I walked upon a throng of onlookers who were, apparently, intrigued about the possibility of seeing a famous actor or musicians pull up to the entrance.

And, sure enough, a few minutes later I heard a few screams and shouts, turned to my right and there, stepping out of a black SUV with tinted windows, was the one and only Diddy, the famous rapper/producer/actor/man of many talents.

I decided to blend in and snap a few pictures as Diddy, decked out in spiffy sunglasses, waved to the crowd and headed straight for the front of the line. I guess some folks around here have privileges.

Among the other celebs I saw during my brief stay along VIP lines: soon-to-be high NBA draft picks Tyreke Evans and James Harden and actress Bridget Marquardt from the "Girl Next Door." (No, I didn't know that last one off hand; I was tipped off by one of the many knowledgeable picture-takers.)

So that was fun...

Then the game started, and I found out that finding a cool place to watch the Lakers downtown is quite the challenge.

There were a few fancy restaurants and the absolutely mobbed ESPN Zone -- which is overrated, anyway. Finally, about midway through the first quarter, I settled on an overpriced joint a few blocks from the arena.

I watched the first half there, but never felt any kind of NBA Finals atmosphere and didn't enjoy the $5.50 Miller Lite.

So I checked out at the half and decided to head back up Pico for the second half. Well, I quickly discovered, surprise, that not everyone in this kind of big city cares about the Lakers. As I walked through a predominately Mexican neighborhood, I didn't see one restaurant that had the game on, didn't notice one person with a jersey.

I realized that I'd have a hard time finding a cool place to watch the game, so I hopped on a bus heading back toward Tim and Sherry's with the hope of catching the conclusion at a neighborhood bar.

Luckily, there weren't many people on the last of the four buses I took during the day, and I made it to a nice spot just a block from my temporary residence for the game's final 5 dramatic minutes plus overtime.

There were several Lakers fans watching there, but the celebrating still seemed tame to me. I don't know -- maybe they're saving their rowdiest cheers for the night when the championship is clinched.

Or maybe the Lakers winning simply isn't all that important to the majority of L.A. citizens.

As an outsider, I can only guess.

I went to bed fairly early Sunday, wondering how many buses I'd take during my first full day in the gigantic city.

Day 48 (June 6): Santa Barbara, CA-Leo Carrillo State Beach, CA -- 55.4 miles biked

(Written from Tim and Sherry's house, West Los Angeles)

Miles biked: 55.4 (1,761.9 overall)

Time on bike: 3 hours, 57 minutes, 10 seconds

Maximum speed: 29.5 mph

Roads taken: Toro Canyon Road, Via Real, Santa Ynez Avenue, Carpinteria Avenue, US 101, SR 1, bike path, Ventura: Omar Raines Oceanfront bike path, Pierpoint Boulevard, Peninsula Street, Seahorse Avenue, Oyster Street ... Harbor Boulevard, Channel Islands Boulevard, Oxnard: Ventura Road ... Port Hueneme: Port Hueneme Road ... Navalair/Frontage Road, SR 1.

Places stopped: Ventura boardwalk (for a Power Bar/blood-red orange lunch and break), Point Mugu (for a snack and to admire the ocean view and the cliffs on the left side of SR 1), Leo Carrillo State Beach (to camp for the night).

It's a good thing my brakes were working Saturday morning, because they got their biggest test going down Toro Canyon Road from Barton and Vicki's house that sits some 1,250 feet above sea level.

After bidding Barton and Vicki goodbye, thanking them and discussing the possiblility of meeting up again during the week in L.A. -- where they work -- I got on the 520 just before noon and started down the hill that had nearly caused me to quit biking two days earlier.

I love going down hills as much as the next guy, but not all hills are fun to descend, and you can put the Toro Canyon beast in that category. For 2.8 miles, I didn't let go of the brakes for more than about 2 seconds lest I reach a ridiculous speed, hit a bump and go flying 43 feet in the air.

My hands were sweating by the time I reached the bottom of the hill and I had to dismount to regroup before continuing my trip south.

That was the only real drama of the day.

It was my flattest day of riding to date, which made the 55.4 miles seem like 20 miles. I wasn't pushing that hard, and I still made it to the hiker/biker campsite closest to L.A., Leo Carrillo State Beach, in less than 4 hours of biking time.

The riding was easy, but it wasn't boring. Even the 6 miles along US 101 -- I'm pretty sure I'm finally done with my major-highway riding; SR 1 doesn't quite count in that category -- was scenic, as the ocean stretched out to my right and small mountains stood in the not-so-far distance to the north and east.

It became even better once I got through the nothing-special towns of Ventura and Oxnard and merged onto the Pacific Coast Highway. As I passed Point Mugu, peaks higher than 1,000 rose steeply right on the edge of the highway. Yes, if I were a rock climber, I could have parked at a wayside and started climbing.

Not only that, but the ocean, and some decent-sized waves, was just 30 feet or so below the road on my right. I stopped on the side of the road about three times to snap pictures.

When I reached the state beach around 4:30 p.m., I really didn't want to call it a day. But I had no other plausible options. There were no more hiker/biker sites before Santa Monica, and I definitely wanted to camp a night before smelling the fumes of the city.

So I sadly got off the bike and spent most of the evening on the sandy beach, watching a large group of talented surfers take rolling waves to shore.

I got in the sleeping bag before 9, thinking about getting up at a very early hour and coasting into L.A. before the oppressive heat hit.

A COUPLE NOTES
1. I can't thank Barton and Vicki enough for welcoming me into their house and being extremely hospitable for nearly two days. It was an incredibly fun and relaxing time in the beautiful Santa Barbara hills.

2. I decided on Saturday, somewhat out of convenience and somewhat out of dedication, that I won't swim in the Pacific until I reach my final destination of San Diego. It will make running into the water -- which, hopefully, will be an accomodating temperature -- for that first time all the more intoxicating.

Day 47 (June 5): Santa Barbara, CA -- 0 miles biked

(Written from Barton and Vicki's beautiful house, Santa Barbara, CA)

Miles biked: 0 ( 1,706.5 overall )

I woke up Friday morning to the pattering of rain on top of my sleeping quarters for the first time in over three weeks...

And I was perfectly OK with it.

That's because, of course, I was under an actual roof. Instead of having to step out of a soaking tent into a rainy morning, my only duty was to walk outside, for about 26 seconds, and move the 520 under the side of Barton and Vicki's house.

And then I crept back into my super comfy bed and fell back asleep.

Oh, the luxurious life. For a day, at least, I lived it in Santa Barbara. Among the highlights:

1. Vicki prepared a delicious breakfast for me made up of eggs, English muffins, bacon, cantaloupe, blueberries and tea.

2. I relaxed during the morning, reading the New York Times and browsing an assortment of magazines while reclining in extremely comfortable chairs while watching the rain hit the pool outside.

3. Around noon, the sky cleared and Vicki and I headed out to meet Carol, who roomed with my aunt Sallie at Brown and knew the Myers as well. We met Carol and her husband, Ken, at a world-famous Mexican restaurant called La Super Rich close to downtown.

From the look of the place, you'd never guess it's world-renowned and is a common place for celebrities to eat at. It's a one-story building with a green-tile roof on the corner of an uninspiring neighborhood. But when I saw the line snaking out the entrance door, I knew it was legitimate.

As Ken described, the food served was southern Mexican as opposed to the northern Mexican burritos I'd experienced farther north in spots such as San Fran and San Jose. Carol and Ken, regulars at the place, ordered us a bunch of plates -- enchiladas, tostadas, chicken, beef, guacamole, mild and hot salsa, etc... -- and we sat down in a crowded outdoor dining room to eat.

I felt like I was in a greenhouse as I sipped a delicious rice drink called Horchata. The food was just as good, not to mention diverse, and I left the place after taking a few pictures to commemorate my visit.

After that, Vicki took me downtown to State Street and we walked around for a little bit. I admired the Spanish-style buildings with their tile roofs as Vicki told me how part of the main downtown area had been rebuilt, in a style similar to its original form, after a deadly 1925 fire.

The buildings and the backdrop of 4,000-foot mountains combine to make Santa Barbara quite the appealing small city on a hill (and I didn't even mention the ocean).

4. In the afternoon, after a much-needed nap, I woke up and was treated to another absolutely delicious, filling meal prepared by Vicki -- steak, peas, salad, corn, white and red wine, and ice cream and berries for dessert. Not only was the food good, but I got to share the meal with Barton, who was back from a work trip.

We talked a lot about the Lloyd and Myers family histories, attempted to put together family trees -- I had a hard time remembering some of the names -- and chatted about sports and architecture well into the evening. Barton is a famous architect, so it was neat just listening to any stories or opinions he had because I knew he was making perfect sense.

It was a great-tasting, relaxing, informative night that I capped off by looking out over the ocean toward an almost-full moon. Oh, and the oil rigs out on the water provided a little light as well.

This setting is perfect, really. It'll be hard to leave when I get back on the bike.

Day 46 (June 4): El Capitan Beach State Park, CA-Santa Barbara, CA -- 36.1 miles biked

(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?

Day 45 (June 3): Oceano, CA-El Capitan Beach State Park, CA -- 80.3 miles bikes

(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.

Day 44 (June 2): San Simeon Village, CA-Oceano, CA -- 57.3 miles biked

(Written from Barton and Vicki's beautiful house, Santa Barbara, CA)

Miles biked: 57.3 (1,590.1 overall)

Time on bike: 5 hours, 5 minutes, 46 seconds

Maximum speed: 38.7 mph

Roads taken: SR 1 South, Ocean Avenue, SR 1, Morro Bay: Main Street ... South Bay Boulevard, Turri Road, Los Osos Valley Road, Foothill Road, San Luis Obispo: N. Chorro Street, Broad Street ... Price Canyon Road, Pismo Beach: Price Street, Stimson Avenue, Dolliver Street/SR 1 ... SR 1.

Places stopped: Morro Bay (for lunch at Mexican joint; I just had a Power Bar), bushes just north of San Luis Obispo (yes, I failed to unclip fast enough and fell into the bushes, as did Erica, who ended up beside me), Pismo Beach State Park (for the night).

This was one of those days that will be forgotten, but not because it wasn't enjoyable.

It was, simply, uneventful.

And easy. Very easy.

After taking on a handful of huge hills, not to mention 94.9 miles, the previous day, it was extremely nice to have an easy day on the bike.

Yet still rack up the miles.

The terrain was mostly flat, the wind was at our backs, and threatening clouds didn't burst open and pour on us. Instead, the weather was just about perfect. It was mild, as I rode the whole day with my long-sleeved Lakes of the Clouds shirt.

We would have gone farther than Oceano, but there weren't any campsites within some 30 to 40 miles of riding -- and getting there actually would have involved some climbing.

So Erica, Margot, Rusty and I pulled into Pismo Beach State Park around 3, ready to call it a day and do some serious relaxing.

The only problem I had with the day was the ridiculous price of campsites. Neither of the state parks in the area offered hiker/biker sites anymore, so we had to pay for a regular site -- which, really, is no better than a H/B site.

And, all of a sudden, campsites in this part of California are a ridiculous $25. They're no different from sites in the northern part of the state -- or Oregon or Washington, for that matter -- but they're extra expensive. We're talking about a small plot of land with a picnic table and a fire ring.

So that didn't make me happy.

Thankfully, I had three companions with whom to split the price. So, yes, the wallet survived.

It did much better than survive later that night when the parents, who are driving the coast as their kids bike it, treated me to a second straight dinner -- this time Little Caesars pizza, bradsticks and salad (by the way, Little Caesars has to be the best budget/tasting pizza out there; I'm not just saying that because I worked there for two months after high school).

I was very, very thankful for getting two quality dinners in a row and being able to keep my ramen noodles tucked away in one of my small panniers.

It was another night of good company, another enjoyable day.

Despite the ludicrous campsite price (and, no, it wasn't even on the beach).

Day 43 (June 1): Carmel, CA-San Simeon Village, CA -- 94.9 miles biked

(Written from Barton and Vicki's beautiful house, Santa Barbara, CA)

Miles biked: 94.9 (1,532.8 overall)

Time on bike: 7 hours, 35 minutes, 20 seconds

Maximum speed: 35.4 mph

Roads taken: SR 1 South.

Places stopped: On the shoulder of SR 1 several times (to take breathtaking pictures), Lucia restaurant (to eat lunch with my new biking companions), north of San Simeon (to view dozens of entertaining seals), San Simeon State Park (for the night).

I was scared Monday morning.

The climb had been built up, hyped up, made to seem like the hill that would finally finish me off, end my journey south.

OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a tad, but Toad sure did a good job of scaring me as I prepared to get back on the bike and pedal 25 miles to Big Sur (and then beyond, I hoped).

As it turned out, the climb was the best part of my trip -- and I've been on the bike for quite a while now.

It wasn't easy, but it wasn't exactly as steep as Toad made it seem, either. And the views were so breathtaking, I wasn't even thinking about the hills I was climbing.

As I biked up gradual grades, the ocean was just to my right. And in front of me, I could clearly see a mile of SR 1 twisting its way on top of the craggy cliffs. The sky was clear and the views, both in front of me and behind me, unbelievable.

Apparently, I wasn't the only person who thought that, because I actually kept pace with a pair of driving tourists for about 3 miles of mostly uphill riding. Every time I came to a turnout, they'd be out of their car taking pictures.

Yeah, it was that amazing. And the scenery wouldn't go away all day.

In the afternoon, I found some companions to enjoy it with.

I hadn't biked with anyone the entire trip. I'd seen other bikers at campsites, but schedules had never synced up. So I'd biked alone, counting on the scenery -- and, at times, my iPod -- for entertainment.

But a few miles south of Big Sur -- after getting another delicious Big Sur bar -- I ran into a trio of cyclists who were on their way from San Francisco to San Diego. After brief introductions, I asked if I could ride along with them, and they were happy to oblige.

So I began riding with Erica, Margot and Rusty, three siblings out on an adventure together. And immediately, I found that the trip was more enjoyable. I went at a slower pace, expanded a little less energy, chatted at times with my companions when cars weren't passing -- and the miles flew by.

The riding wasn't a breeze, either. Right around Gorda, we had a pair of large climbs that were more difficult than the over-hyped Big Sur climb. The second one, especially, was tough because it was a switchback. After a nice, long downhill, we sharply turned a corner and had to begin climbing.

That wasn't much fun. But once we reached the top of the hill, it was all downhill and flat riding the rest of the afternoon. And I hardly even noticed how many miles I was logging ... 70 ... 80 ... 85.

I was feeling good, especially as the road became flat.

We stopped in the late afternoon to view a group of entertaining seals on a beach. They were hilarious to watch, as some of them flipped sand on themselves -- to stay warm? -- and others spooned with each other (or whatever that is in seal speak).

After getting back on the bike, it was just a few more easy miles to the hiker/biker campsite, which cost a trip-low $2.

When my companions' parents took me out for a delicious Mexican dinner to cap off the night, I could officially call the day one of my best of the trip (on and off the bike).

And as I crept into my tent satiated and content, I felt good physically.

And I was excited about riding with my new group again the next day.