The last, last hurrah: San Simeon to Los Angeles

Coming into Morro Bay

Ban and Mark doing a little offroading to avoid freeway roadworks.

After a massive day yesterday we were once again up and away in good time, heading south in search of breakfast, even though we had already had one. There was a reasonably sized town a few miles down the road and we were keen on a decent coffee, and after receiving a recommendation from a local tradesman we found what can only be described as a breakfast nirvana. Such a wealth of options. We spent too much time there before remembering that we had a plane to catch and a bike to get us there and this was no time to be smelling the roses.

On the quiet roads past Morro Bay

The plan was to head to Morro Bay for lunch but with the sun beaming down and the wind at our backs we decided to carry on to San Louis Obispo, a university town about 20 miles further. After riding alongside the coast for the first part of the day we took the scenic route inland through some bone-dry farmland, so different from the fog covered country of a few days ago.

Mark and Chip freewheelin' into San Louis Obispo.

After a bit of fluffing around deciding where to eat (and when someone mistook us for homeless people and told us "don't you folk hang around these parts") we settled down to some Greek food and watched the locals set up for the Farmers Market happening on the street that night. We had left all four bikes outside on the footpath unlocked but nobody seemed to mind.

The day had got away on us a bit (as it so often seemed to) as we cycled on past some wineries back to the coast and its campgrounds. There was a large number of campgrounds and RV parks in this area and with the State campground full we wheeled back to another campground that seemed to be entirely full of RVs - our first trailer park! Ben got a flat tyre just as we were registering and our lonely little hiker/biker spot was right at the back, between the highway and railway line. It was a long walk but we got to have a good look at other folk camping there which was a cultural experience in itself. By the time we had mucked around setting up camp all the food outlets had closed with only a convenience store open across the road selling frozen burritos and assorted junk food. We ate junk food, fired the burritos for breakfast and lived to fight another day.

Our neighbours at the trailer park.
They arrived in the night after we had gone to sleep and proceeded to wake the dead. 

Leaving town the next morning was a stop-start affair as everyone stopped to take photos, buy fruit, check the map, disagree, have a drink, chat with other cyclists, etc. A ill-informed change of direction for a believed "short cut" resulted in a short but very, very steep uphill that no one needed first thing in the morning. It was so steep there was a significant amount of embarrassing pushing. Things picked up as we headed inland seriously for the first time on this leg. We noticed a change in farming, but also the strong Mexican presence in the small towns that we passed. This area felt more conservative than many of the coastal cities we had seen, perhaps due to the airforce base nearby. We stopped for a break outside the "Living Water Church" in Guadalupe where Mark delighted in adding some of his own "living water" to the mix. We carried on up over one of the last major hills in the ride before pulling into Lompoc in the mid afternoon to end a early day. After a satisfying Texan Cattle lunch we parted from Mark and Chip as they were going to stay in a motel and us two high rollers were going back to the campground. We agreed to meet again in the morning. After pitching the tent we biked back into town to enjoy the town fair which is held weekly where we eat redneck bbq, strawberries and cream and considered joining the Republican Party before chickening out. We were tucked up in bed by 9pm.

A sign in the camp at Lompoc.
Oh. My. God.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny as we packed up camp. We spoke to the ranger on the way out, it turns out he visited New Zealand as a student in the 1980s and was a big fan of the country - he wished us all the best and gave us some pointers to stay safe on the road, including to watch out for illegal immigrants as they are the worst drivers (in our experience white middle aged guys in pickups were much worse). Everyone in Lompoc was exceptionally friendly to us. Leaving Lompoc involved a 2 hour uphill climb before a fast downhill back to the coast along the 101. We sometimes rode on the freeway through here, all perfectly legal. We stopped for a snack at El Capitan beach before carrying on into Santa Barbara. We took the scenic route towards town that got too scenic and ended up in a sand dune, where a nice family guided us back to the relative safety of a carpark. Once reconnected to the bike path we met a pair of local cyclists who were interested in our trip, the offered to show us to a good local Mexican place. It turns out that he had cycled in the bicentennial ride in 1976, the second cyclist we met who had done this - California is full of awesome cyclists! Not only did they lead us to what was a truly amazing Mexican place, they then gave us some money to pay for it! How awesome is that? Their kindness totally eclpised homeless comment of the day before and confirmed that most Americans are the nicest people ever. After lunch/dinner we visited the Santa Barbara Mission, biked through downtown with Anna pointed out what houses she liked (all of them, it seemed) before spending the night in another socially isolated hiker biker site in Carpentieria State Beach.

The mission at Santa Barbara

Santa Barbara beach.

It was really beginning to feel more like Southern California the next day, with sun, light winds and water that looked warm enough to swim in. We mostly followed the coast into Ventura where we tried our first proper cajun food - yum- before carrying off down the coast on a variety of busy and not so busy roads. Later in the afternoon we bumped into some other cyclists Chip and Mark had ridden with before San Francisco who recommended a fruit stand about 10 miles further. With thoughts of food always at the forefront of our minds we stocked up for the nights dinner at the supermarket before going to town at this fruit stand. We brought two huge punnets of strawberries that Ben strapped onto the front of his bike. Across the road we saw readylawn being grown, another first. With only 10 miles to go we passed another military base complete with  weapons showcase before a few miles of oceanside riding into a great wooded campsite across the road from an actual beach that you could swim in. We went over and soaked up some rays while Mark braved the icy waters. The evening rounded out with a monster food-fest cooked by Ben and Mark, complete with dessert. There was easily enough food for eight people, but we fought through to finish it off. A great end to our last night camping in our whole trip!

Just out of Ventura

So this is where they keep all the weapons of mass destruction...

Our final ever camp was quite nice. Chip pitched his tent (centre) directly over a large low hanging branch, which he banged his head on every time he got in or out. It was a little bit funny.

After 10 months of camping, it was nice to see we still couldn't put up the tent properly.

The beach across from camp. The water looks warmer than it is, but that didn't stop Mark.

A huge pickup in the campground/parking lot

Mark on the way into Malibu.

A little puncture repair amongst giant trucks..

Ben on the Santa Monica boardwalk, with the pier on the right.

Our final day biking was thankfully easy, with a straight run along the coast on the edge of a moderately busy road. We enjoyed gawping at the homes of the stars as we rode through Malibu, stopping in the town centre for a nice lunch. From there it was a simple amble into Santa Monica in northern LA, where we parted ways with Chip and Mark as we had to pick up Annas engagement ring from the store near there. The other guys were staying in Venice Beach, a bit further down the boardwalk. It was sad to say goodbye as we had a great time riding with them but they were on a mission to get to the border in two days, and we had a plane to catch!

Big Sur: Our Last Hurrah (part 2)

We rode most of this stretch with Mark and Chip, who wrote a much more detailed blog than us. You can find it here.

Our sudden jump back into cycling during the previous 3 days had left us knackered and slightly behind where we thought we would be by this stage. Whilst not yet really worried about our progress we were aware that things had to keep moving, but also not really knowing exactly how far we still had to go, what hills lay ahead, and when push came to shove, what exact day we were flying back to NZ.

Perhaps we had be a bit too relaxed with our planning...no map, no idea how much further we had to cycle, not even sure what day we were flying home, and hazy memories about what today's date was. Especially as we were internet-less and had no way of finding out. Oh well.

Scenic Monterey in the morning, just before starting the 17 Mile Drive.
We saw otters in the harbour!

So it was a bit comforting when the biking section of the campground began to fill up with other cyclists that we knew left Santa Cruz the same day as us: clearly today had been tougher than expected for everyone. Mark and Chip turned up in the evening having spent the afternoon at the famous aquarium in town and we swapped notes on the miserable headwind section into town and our plans for tomorrow. We decided to start the day with a 10 mile detour through downtown Monterey, along the famous "17 mile drive" past the coastal mansions and a series of very well maintained golf courses, including the famous Pebble Beach Course. The weather was calm but cool and the road mostly flat so it made for pleasant riding, with a couple of large groups on cycling tours of the neighbourhood. It was embarrassing when one of the groups (comprised mostly of middle aged women) began to overtake us on one of the hills. We were also struck down by another rim puncture in this detour, which took much longer than anticipated. By the time we stopped for a coffee break in wealthy Carmel (who counts Clint Eastwood as resident and one-time mayor) it was almost 11am and we had really only advanced about 1 mile south. Time to get moving!

An embarrassing puncture on 17 Mile Drive.
There was a 50:50 spilt between cold stares and friendly chat from the locals.

Pebble Beach Golf Course, as seen from peeking through the hedge.

Starting along the Big Sur coast.

Lucky for us a strong tail wind was building and progress was swift as we entered Big Sur, a famously scenic stretch of coast south of Carmel. We lunched at the spectacular Brixley Bridge and stopped every 5 minutes for photos for the rest of the afternoon.

The scenery was sensational all day. We were so glad that we were on our bikes and could pretty much stop wherever we wanted. There were large numbers of tourists in cars, pulling into the scenic lookouts was traffic carnage.

Lunch.
If only the quality of our sandwiches had matched the quality of the view.

The highlight of the day.

The fog pulling back over the ocean.

Chip and Ben in a map conference.

Riding into camp.

Camping in baby Redwoods.

Later in the day we caught up with Chip and Mark, who hadn't taken the long route that morning and we rode together into the township of Pheiffer Big Sur. Chips' knee was giving him some trouble and with a state park nestled amongst a redwood forest just down the road we decided to call it a day. The campsite was amazing with our tent surrounded by forest on all sides and it quickly filled up with a variety of hikers and cyclists coming from both directions. Mark and Chip had brought enough chicken to feed an army and kindly offered to share in what became a camping pot-luck dinner. With some donated firewood we got the campfire going and had a great night talking to a German couple who had cycled from Europe to India and then up through Central America for over a year, and an American couple who had walked here from the Mexican border - hard core! There were also two French girls cycling down the coast who were doing much to prove cycle touring could be very civilised and glamorous, plus us four. Anyone looking would have described it as a bona-fide party, abet one that finished at 11pm as everyone was very sleepy from all their super-exercising.

The worst way to start the day - uphill, cold.

Sometimes the fog lifted long enough to see the view.

A waterfall that falls straight onto the beach!

Another bridge.

We stopped here for a drink, until we saw this sign.
Does the dog have a gun?

Another great view from the road.

The fog was thick and cold the next morning as we set off straight uphill from the campground entrance. Hardly an ideal warmup, we ground up and up for the best part of half an hour before we reached the coast again and things leveled out. The views were probably great but the fog was so thick we couldn't see anything. After a couple of hours we ran into Chip and Mark again, followed by the two French girls from camp last night, and John who we camped with in Santa Cruz. After a quick round of hellos and John giving us some more local advice on the road ahead (spot on, as always) we were off, continuing our "up-the-hill, down-the-hill" ride of the morning. We finally made it out the final end of Big Sur and stopped for lunch at a local cafe, but not to go in rather look like weirdos eating our packed lunch in the carpark. It was about 1pm and we had already had a tough morning but were facing a big decision: to stop nearby at the closer campground or "risk it all" and carry on to the further campground another 30 miles away. John had suggested we carry on as there would be strong tail winds once we got over the last hill (a total killer). In a reckless rush of blood to the head we decided to carry on, which initially looked like a bad move when at 5pm the road was still winding up and up the side of the hill, and the winds were picking up to match, with 30 miles to go.

The elephant seals.

But once we reached the top of the last hill things changed and our pace more than doubled, with no one pedalling at all for two whole hours. We zoomed past Hearst Castle and just managed to brake in time to detour to an elephant seal colony. There was a whole bunch of them on the beach lolling around making their weird sounds. From there we zoomed into camp to the usual worst place in the facility, in this case right next to the highway. It was a massive day - almost 7pm when we pulled in and after last nights party we were all pretty much stonkered..

San Francisco to Santa Cruz: Our last hurrah (part one)

Ben in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

The final (and much anticipated) leg of our trip involved cycling down the Californian coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles. This involved a big jump over all of Central America which we reluctantly decided to save for another trip as we were both eager to get a taste of the USA and cycle some of the Pacific Coast Route, which is meant to be one the best rides in the world.

San Francisco sure was hilly, but the views were worth it - Alcatraz from a typical street.

After a hugely stressful period of transit out of Colombia and into the USA which we detailed in an earlier post we were relieved to arrive in San Francisco with the bikes safely in one piece and find somewhere to stay relatively easily as we hadn't booked anything or even brought a map or guidebook. We didn't need one as it turns out, as San Francisco is awesome in every direction. Such a big change in scenery immediately recharged our enthusiasm for being tourists, which had waned towards the end of South America - we didn't take a single photo in four days in Bogota which was pretty terrible. We spent the first day just walking around sightseeing and our second riding our bikes over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausilito and Marin County. The ride was only 50kms but it took us ages due to constant photo stops, then we got lost in Marin County trying to find the Redwood forest nearby. But then it was our own fault as we didn't take any maps. We stopped in for lunch at a cafe and then made a long overdue visit to a bike shop where Ben brought a new magnet for his speedo (lost 6 months ago) and an excellent cycling map of the greater San Francisco Area which held us in good stead until Santa Cruz. The USA Adventure Cycling Association publishes fantastic touring maps covering the whole country especially for cyclists that include camping areas and food places, but we couldn't get them as they have to be posted and we haven't had a mailbox for ages now. Our local map was better than any map we had ever cycled with before so we were confident that we'd be able to muddle through without too much trouble.

Riding on the bridge.

Our "muddle through" style came to the fore the following day when it came to leave San Francisco. After another great bagel in Chinatown (of all places) we headed off on a non-obvious route, through Haight Ashbury and the Golden Gate park, instead of the flat and well-marked trail around the bay. The hills were occasionally steep but the morning was brisk so it was okay and there was a alot of left-right-wait-no-maybe straight-no-left navigation. We stopped a few times for pictures and Anna looked around the De Young Museum on the way through. The wind on the coast side was fierce and progress was slow into Daly City. Fortunately there was a big mall/food court on the side of the road where we could shelter from the wind in KFC and stock up on some food in an Asian supermarket. Ben went in to brave is first American supermarket while Anna waited outside digging through her panniers for all her cold weather cycling gear that we thought we'd never need again. Once layered up the cycling improved and we carried on down the highway without too many problems. There was only one narrow stretch of road up over a hill that reminded us of some NZ roads, but we just plodded through it and the cars were generally aware and considerate. We pulled in that evening at the campground in Half Moon Bay, and upmarket seaside town about 60kms south of San Francisco. It was much, much colder than we had anticipated - we thought California was the home of Baywatch! This was more like Patagonia and down jackets and wollen hats had to be pulled out in the evening and morning. There was quite a few other cyclists in the "Hike and Bike" section which was something we hadn't seen since Patagonia and Ben spoke to Mark and Chip, our neighbours and on/off cycling buddies for the rest of the trip.

Typical seaside view south of San Francisco. It was chilly!

The next morning was freezing! We ate our porridge as fast as we could and set off bundled up like Antartic explorers. After making a hash of following the bike route out of town we eventually rejoined the main road and ran into Chip and Mark who wisely had eaten breakfast in a nice warn cafe in town. We cycled together at quite clip thanks to the tailwind, passing an old lighthouse, windsurfer people in the ocean and numerous cyclists out for their Sunday ride. At least two recomended the artichoke bread in a nearby town but it was at least 5 miles out of our way which was a bit too far just for bread. We ended up getting another bakery recomendation for a town that was bang on route, but a little further away. With the tailwind it was pretty easily reached and we tucked into some great sandwiches at about 1pm, a mere 2 hours after our porridge wore off. We had no one to blame but ourselves for making such a beginner mistake of not bringing snacks.

A cute lighthouse just off the main road

Ben and Chip watching the local 'dudes in action near Santa Cruz

An emergency fruit stop on the way to Santa Cruz.
Who can turn down cheap stone fruit?

After lunch the great cycling continued until Santa Cruz where we detoured from the signposted route to take the bike path along the coast, which was fantastic. We saw natural bridges, heaps of surfers out enjoying great waves and big crowds out on the beach watching them. We resisted temptation to ride the wooden rollercoaster in the boardwalk downtown but carried on around the bays to another beachside campground just south of the city. After consulting with the girl on the gate who assured us that there was some food outlets "just down the road" we were disappointed to find, 4 miles later, that they weren't as close as she seemed to think. Clearly not a cyclist. After over 100kms that day we weren't too impressed but settled town to our first tacos in North America with Chip and Mark before a quick supermarket shop on the way back. After our biggest day riding in umm, 6 weeks (gulp) we were dog tired and worried about our legs seizing up, but we were out to everything the moment our head hit our blowup pillows, not even hearing the racoons having some sort of party outside the tent.

Coastal Santa Cruz

Ben looking out over the Santa Cruz boardwalk. 

Mark and Chip were up early again to go and buy their breakfast so we ate our porridge with John, a local cyclist who had been biking up and down the coast all summer. He gave us some helpful tips on the road ahead including a potential headwind today (ugh) and that leaving Santa Cruz was pretty tricky with a roundabout route to avoid the freeway taking us out into the middle of nowhere for about an hour, which was correct. We went out past huge strawberry fields being harvested by Latino works. It looked like backbreaking work, but the whole area smelt like ripe strawberries which was amazing and made us hungry, we stopped and pigged out at the first farm stand we came across. Things were going well and it seemed like we would be in Monterey by lunchtime and maybe we could push further. We were so confident that we took a detour to see Castroville, artichoke capital of the world, even though neither of us have ever tried an artichoke. From Castroville the wind hit us head on, reducing our speed significantly but soon enough we were on a bike lane that took us right into town and we even got an escort from a local rider who rode across America in 1976 and said he often helped cyclists into town as a way of paying forward all the kindness people showed him during his trip - what a nice guy! He gave us a great commentary on the towns history and local personalities and showed us right to the campground, where we had decided to stay as the afternoon was getting on.

The campground was in the middle of town but up a massive hill which wasn't that much fun with sore legs from the day before. We pitched the tent and walked back to town as Anna refused to ride the bike another inch that day. We walked down and had some great burgers at a local place before stocking up properly at Trader Joes, our new favourite supermarket IN THE WHOLE WORLD. It would be a few days before we would be in a big town again.