The ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles took seven days in all. Today - Sunday - we're enjoying a day off and then we'll ride two more days to reach San Diego and the Mexico border.
In brief:
Day 4 - Cambria to Pismo Beach, 52 miles.
Day 5 - Pismo Beach to Lompoc, plus side trip into wine country, 57 miles.
Day 6 - Lompoc to Carpenteria, 75 miles.
Day 7 - Carpenteria to Los Angeles, 90 miles (I biked only the first 29).
Day 4 was the easiest but for me the least interesting. The day began auspiciously: it was the first morning of sunshine, the coastal fog having dispersed before we started riding. But an hour later, while riding on a quiet stretch of Route 1 through rolling hills between Cambria and Cayucos, the fog rolled in once again - first appearing over the high ridge to the wwest separating the road from the ocean, then blowing across the road in wisps, and soon enshrouding the whole area, the temperature dropping about 15 degrees. In Cayucos we warmed ourselves with coffee and pastries, and we stopped again for more coffee in Morro Bay, where Morro Rock, an offshore landmark sitting in Morro Bay Harbor, called "the Gibraltar of the Pacific," was invisible in the fog.
From Morro Bay, our route took us inland and the sun broke out as we neared San Luis Obispo, where we said goodbye to Steve's friends Louis and Lenny. We spent a long time in town, home of Cal Poly (California Polytechnical State University), first having lunch (the town is renowned for its barbeque) and then walking through the downtown area. Steve Rubenstein, our ride director, has a love of quirky Americana, so on this day Tour de Rubenstein included a stop at Bubblegum Alley, which I could have skipped: it's a narrow alley the walls of which are coated in thousands upon thousands of used wads of gum - multicolored but revolting. More interesting to me was our stop at the Madonna Inn, a "resort" hotel-restaurant outside of town that is a monument of kitsch, with its Swiss chalet-style exterior and 109 rooms, all individually named with different motifs. Created by eccentric owner Alex Madonna, it is arguably most famous for the urinals in the two men's rooms below the main floor - one featuring a wagon wheel that pours water into the trough and the other a stone waterfall. But I was more taken by the dining room with its pink floral motif. Finally riding again, we were on a frontage road along the freeway for the ten miles that led us to Pisno Beach, where once again the coastal fog clouded over the sunshine. In all we rode 52 unremarkable miles. The most interesting and most scenic part of the day for me was our after-dinner tour of Pismo Beach itself, where we strolled on the pier and watched the surfers - and some seals - while the sun made a brief appearance just as it set.
Sunset - Pismo Beach
Days 5 & 6 featured much better riding.
On Day 5 - Thursday - we rode from Pismo Beach to Lompoc, a modest town (pop. 40,000) on the western edge of the Santa Ynez Valley. Our route took us more inland and again we escaped the coastal fog, climbing a bit past the town of Oceano and then descending into a broad, flat valley filled with agricultural fields. Again we saw workers picking ripe strawberries, the smell of which was richly sweet; and other fields were growing broccoli, lettuce, and celery. In Guadalupe we stopped for coffee, and at a roadside stand near Orcutt, selling only the local strawberries, we gobbled up a pint of them; they were the best I've ever tasted.
Roadside strawberry stand in Los Alamos Valley
We then had one major climb for the day: aided by a tailwind, we tackled Harris Grade Road, which switched back up a mountain range and then dropped us into Lompoc. It was only 1:30 p.m. and we'd ridden less than 50 miles; our rooms at the Holiday Inn weren't ready yet, and the weather was spectacular, sunny and breezy. I wanted to keep riding, and so Carol, Alice, and I decided to bike another ten miles, one-way to the Sanford winery, where Steve agreed to pick us up in the van. The ride was terrific - due east on Santa Rosa Road, which had virtually no traffic and took us into the Santa Rosa Hills wine-making region noted for its chardonnays and pinot noirs. Vineyards sprawled up the hills, and in the valley were also fields of ripe artichokes and shady walnut groves.
Walnut grove on Santa Rosa Road
Sanford Winery - Santa Rosa Road
I enjoyed that ride so much that for day 6 I decided to take an alternate road inland to Santa Barbara insteaad of staying along the coast. Steve agreed to go with me, so we set off together, riding again on Santa Rosa Road, this time all the way to Buellton, the town which was the home base for Miles and Jack, the two characters in the movie Sideways during their wine-tasting vacation. In Buellton we passed by the motel Miles and Jack stayed at and one of the restuarants they frequented, as well as Pea Soup Andersen's, another kitschy stop on the Tour de Rubenstein, featuring all-you-can-eat split pea soup for $8.95; and then we stopped again for coffee and Danish pastry a few miles later in the tourist-trap town of Solvang. The architecture of the entire town resembles a European village, but it seems to be falling on hard times: a gift shop in the shape of a windmill was for lease. And there was also a store called "As Seen on TV" specializing in TV commercial and infomercial products: in addition to "The Clapper" there was also "The Deluxe Clapper," and my favorite was "Tater Mitts," quick-peeling potato gloves for $18.95.
The problem after Solvang was the traffic volume on the road. There was a wide shoulder at first, but a few miles after we turned onto Route 154 toward Santa Barbara, the shoulder virtually diappeared, becoming only a foot wide in parts, and traffic zoomed past us in a steady, buzing stream, the speed limit posted at 65 miles per hour. Meanwhile we were climbing into the Santa Ynez Mountains, rising from 500 feet in Solvang to 2225 feet at San Marcos Pass. What saved us was an orange sign announcing "Bike Detour": there was construction near the top of the pass, so we were directed onto an alternate route that Steve and I otherwise wouldn't have known about. It turned out to be fantastic - Stagecoach Road, the route of the Wells Fargo stagecoach from 1860-1900.
View from near top of San Marcos Pass
The road was shady and untrafficked, winding us up the mountainside and leading us to the Cold Spring Tavern, an old way station established in 1865 that is still in operation, its wooden structure intact, serving upscale meals to adventurous Santa Barbarans. It served as a nice break for us; the climb over the pass was hot, and the descent into Santa Barbara was speedy and treacherous, as we were back on the main road, which turned into a freeway. We then wound our way through some attractive neighborhoods in the foothills, working our way downtown to the waterfront, where we rejoined the coastal route the others had taken. Steve and I missed the parade the others saw kicking off Santa Barbara's yearly Old Spanish Days Fiesta, featuring a lot of mariachi music. But we did stop at the Santa Barbara Polo and Racquet Club, the third-oldest polo facility in the United States, where we watched a few minutes of a polo match in action, before riding the final miles to Carpinteria.
On Day 7, I rode only to Ventura, needing to take a turn driving the van, which I hadn't done since day 1, leaving San Francisco. The morning ride was lovely despite sections on or fronting the freeway. The weather was comfortably cool, foggy all day but warmer than it had been farther north, and the route became enjoyable once we reached Ventura, on the bike path along the ocean and then palm-lined streets leading to San Buenadventura Beach. While driving I stopped twice to jump in the ocean and body surf.
Quiet street in Ventura, CA
Stopping for a swim on Route 1 north of Malibu
I would have rather been riding, but it was a nice change. The route ran on Route, the Pacific Highway, and was flat until Malibu, where the traffic grew heavy. Cars were parked along the beaches, adding an additional hazard, as in addition to the traffic, riders had to watch out for car doors swinging open. We all rendezvoused at the Third Avenue Promenade in Santa Monica. Steve then led the riders on a circuitous route to his mother, Florence's house in Beverlywood while I got additional exercise by going for an hour-long run from the Santa Monica pier south to Venice pier and back. I've never been to Los Angeles - before this trip I'd never been south of San Francisco in California - so the run was also a really interesting sight-seeing experience, touring the funky-hip neighborhood along the ocean front, far nicer and posher than Coney Island.
