San Simeon to Long Beach!

San Simeon to Oceano State Park: 55 miles

The next day when I woke up the morning light made the whole campground glow.  We made breakfast and got moving quickly, eager to stop for coffee in Cambria.  The ranger never did stop by to give me that five bucks. 

When we got to Cambria, we all took a little time to charge our phones and my mom called me.  It surprised me, since she hadn't called the whole time I was away.  I told her I was in Cambria and she lit up.  She and my dad had gone there frequently, when they first fell in love.  They had taken me on my first camping trip to San Simeon.  I was only a baby.  They tried to put me to bed, but I kept opening up the tent to look at the stars.  I saw something up there, and tried to explain to them in baby gibberish.  They'd close the tent, only for me to open it up again and point, stare and babble in wonder.   

Not much has changed.  It made me smile. 

Dustin was having a rough day.  His body wasn't in top form, and he was getting really tired, unlike I had seen him the rest of the trip. We stopped in Cayucos for lunch.  We were too early for pizza and settled for bagels.   Then, Chad and Colin passed us again.  It was really nice to see them.  Colin was having more difficulty with the ride, so I gave him some of the energy goo's that Toren had left for us.  They were planning taking it easy and camping in Morro Bay to take a rest day the next day. 

Six miles further, we made it to Morro Bay.  Toren had ridden so far the day before! 

Morale was a bit low, and everyone seemed to be having one of those days, when Dustin just came out and said, "You know what guys?  I'm feeling a little down today... I'm missing my male companionship..."  The way he said it was so earnest and made us all smile. 

Shortly after we got to Pismo Beach.  I decided to stop at a California Welcome Center to work on the blog, while Sarah and Dustin got a drink, and I planned on meeting them at the campsite afterwards.  It made it easier to have something to keep me alone and busy.

Oceano State Campground was a little difficult to find, and it kind of a weird area.  Sarah had gotten there first and informed me that they didn't allow hiker-bikers, but had let them slide, since there were only two of them, and that I should try the same thing.  

I walked up to the ranger kiosk, and picked up a ticket-envelope and started reading the no hiker-biker signs and looked at the map to find the campsite Sarah and Dustin were at.  The ranger drove up in his truck, "Can I help you?"  

"Hi, I've had a pretty long day, and I noticed you didn't allow any hiker-bikers."  

He was really nice, his name was Junior.  "Oh, it's okay, I'll let you slide, there is another couple, they seem really nice.  Maybe they'll let you camp with them?  If not here's all the available sites, and I'll let you camp in any of these for the hiker-biker price." He looked over and pointed.  "Oh! wait!  I think that might be them over there!"

Sarah and Dustin had ridden out to meet me in case I had gotten lost.

"I guess I'll go over and introduce myself."  I rode over to them, "Why, hello new friends!  Are you the cyclists over at site 62?  This nice gentleman just told me that I might be able to camp with you."  

They caught on.  "Oh sure!"  We smiled big as we introduced ourselves, and I went back to the ranger, after they announced that they were just heading into town for a drink and would be happy to meet me back at the site.  I said, "They do seem really nice!  I'm glad that worked out."  

I started setting up my stuff, and Sarah and Dustin came back pretty quickly with a bottle of whiskey for themselves and surprised me with an ice cream cookie sandwich.  It was such a nice gesture it made me want to cry.  So easy to cry all over this trip.  I must be leaking.  

We laughed about the fake introductions and had burritos for dinner.  We finally opened up and started talking about what had happened the day before with Toren.  Everything had happened so fast.  All the same what if's came up, mostly centered around us not being able to help, or Toren not being able to reach out to us to help.  

Teamwork. Problem solving.  That's what this whole thing has really been about.  When my tires totally deteriorated, we all worked together and combined all our resources, the spare tubes, the duct tape, anything we needed to to get me to the bike shop in Newport.  The same thing with Tyler's bottom bracket, and his tire.  And Sarah's knees.  We had all been vulnerable in front of each other, and had no choice but to work together.  

And then I thought about it, and the first thing that was even communicated to Toren, when I would call him early in the trip was how bummed out I was because I was slowing everyone down, and not letting them go at the pace that they wanted to.  And when he joined us, the first thing I told him was that Sarah wanted to try out riding in pairs so we wouldn't drag each other down.  Then when his bike did have problems, we were lucky enough to be able to get him a ride to a bike shop each time. Which, on the one hand was good because it kept him off his bike in a dangerous situation, but on the other hand, he didn't get the team problem solving experience that we all went through earlier in the trip, since it wasn't necessary.  So, of course, it made sense for him to not want to burden anyone, and keep his difficulties to himself.  

That and the mechanic at the bike shop pretty much told him that the bike was death on wheels...  That may have had something to do with it, too.  I felt bad, regardless. 

But of course, what really mattered was that he was safe.  And we were safe.  Nobody got hurt.  And actually, nobody had gotten hurt the whole journey.  I looked back and started to count our blessings.  We had gotten to every destination well before sundown, we had eaten well, we had problem solved well together, we had had perfect weather the entire journey, and we were all still friends.  Not too bad.  

Dustin said, "It's okay,  we started this journey as three and we'll end as three.  It's all come full circle."

Sarah had another thing she wanted to bring up.  We were ahead of schedule, and she had a pretty expensive car repair that had come up.  Back home, a friend was borrowing her car, and the battery caught on fire, catching other components on fire.  When she got home, it was going to be over nine hundred dollars.  The only thing that was keeping us was my show in Santa Barbara.  Even the show wasn't for sure, because the venue had changed owners.  Sarah and Dustin and everyone had made a lot of compromises for me, so the least I could do was to make a compromise for Sarah.  I decided to go ahead and cancel the show.  We could just go home.  

I made it a point that we should try to fully enjoy the rest of the trip.  We still had over two hundred miles left.  Let's have a rest day, and really indulge our senses.  If we see a river or the ocean and want to jump in, let's jump in.  

We took a walk to the dunes and watched the sunset, and felt really good about the rest of the journey.  Dustin decided to sleep outside under the stars.  

Oceano State Park to Solvang: 66 miles

Sarah woke up Dustin the next morning and asked him how he slept.  

"It was great!  I could flop around like a mermaid!"

We started the day off lighthearted and went back and forth over what our game plan would be for the day.  Would we take the coast or the Santa Ynez Valley?  Would we camp in Lompoc or get a motel in Solvang?  

We opted for Solvang.  After sleeping on her poncho for 5 weeks, she was ready for a bed.  And Solvang is where my parents met and fell in love, and where I was born.  And it's cute.  And the UC Davis crew were stopping there and had already found an affordable motel. 

We stopped at a cute/weird/amazing 50's roadside cafe made from old train cars.  It made me think of my dad, and I had to succumb to the urge to dive in.  Had to!  We had already eaten breakfast, but the pancakes smelled so good, we all decided to split a breakfast combo while we listened to music from the 50's.  

We hopped back on the road.  It was a very windy day, but it was in our favor.  We breezed inland and took an alternate route to Lompoc. Cyclists had been through before.  Someone had spray painted notes for us on the asphalt.  

"This way! Watch out for cars!"

The tailwind pushed us so fast, that we missed our turn, not thinking it had come yet, and had to turn around and face the 19 mph wind head on.  Lucky for us, the strawberries smelled just as good the second time.  The Harris Grade road took us over a 700 ft climb.  All along it was littered with cold stone bowls, and fast-food cups, and I couldn't help but wonder where they had come from.  Everything seems so far by bicycle, and we hadn't gone through a town in forever!  Lompoc must be on the other side of this hill, I thought.  It was steep, and at the top, the same cyclist had left another note for us:

"It's all downhill from here!"  And it was. 

The wind was no joke in Lompoc.  19 mph with 35mph gusts.  Any harder, and I don't think it would have been safe to ride.  Or maybe it wasn't safe to ride.  We stopped at a grocery store to pick up stuff for a snack, and a woman walked out of the store, was hit by the wind and reacted, shocked, "Oh my goodness!" paused for a second and laughed to herself..."Well... that's Lompoc!"

20 more miles to Solvang.  I started out kind of tired, and was just over it.  There was a jacuzzi at the hotel.  And danishes.  And a bed.  I took the Sarah method of dealing with the stress of riding and decided to just power through it.  I bombed the next hill, and with the tailwind, Dustin clocked me at over 40mph!  Faster then the gusts of wind! 

That we rode the twenty miles in only an hour!  Thank you, wind.  Or maybe it was our tiger calves.   We made it to the hotel with the glorious jacuzzi, had a nice dinner and fell asleep pretty fast.   

Solvang to Cachuma Lake: 12 miles

The next day was our rest day.  We didn't want to spend money on the motel two nights in a row, so we decided to ride 12 miles to Cachuma Lake to camp.  We slept in, got out of bed for the all you can eat free, continental breakfast, which was local danishes, and went back to bed.  Then we got up, hit the jacuzzi and ate more danishes.  What a dream!

After we checked out, we passed the theater where my parents met and fell in love.  And we stopped in a vintage store that has a ton of old music boxes and player pianos and music machines.

The ride to Cachuma was okay.  We rode through the golden hills spotted with dark green oak trees of the Santa Ynez.  We saw herds of deer resting in the shadows on those big oak trees, as we huffed and puffed up a few hills.  Traffic picked up and we were thankful to get to the lake.

We had been really excited to spend our rest day swimming in the lake, exploring the campground, and getting some laundry done.

The ranger was very short with us.  He was the first ranger to ask for our driver's license, and pointed his finger, calling us "you," instead of sir, ma'am, miss, or the name that was on the ID cards we had handed him.  It was really off putting.

The campsite was really barren looking grassland, with lots of parking lots, clearly meant more for boaters.  The laundry room was closed for maintenance, and we weren't allowed to swim in the lake.

We asked several people about the lake.  First we assumed it was because there were so many boats, but usually there would be a section of lake marked off to swim in, if that was the case.  Then, one of the people running the kayaks, told us that it was Santa Barbara's drinking water.  In which case, why would they let boats drip motor oil all throughout it?  Then, later on, we talked to the UC Davis doctors, and Dan told us that they had had that amoeba scare in that lake: the same one that had been eating people's brains, and scaring people off from the neti pot.  Who knows?

The wind was fierce that afternoon and the whole campground was mostly just dirt and grass, and stubborn birds bent on stealing cheetohs.  About a week back, my dad had sent me a three page text warning about rattlesnakes.  It worked, and a little nervous, I watched the ground carefully, noting all the holes burrowed as I walked around.  I ended up spending most of the afternoon staying in the tent working on music.  I missed everybody at home and was looking forward to things like waking up with my dog whining to jump on my bed, and practicing piano in my pajamas, and wandering around 4th street, running into familiar faces.

I rewrote Ghost Riders in the sky:

An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day, 
a PCH, he rested as he went along his way, 
when all at once a mighty herd of cyclists he saw, 
tearing up a mountainside, and up a cloudy draw, 

Their calves were still on fire, and their thighs were made of steel, 
Their helmets, black and shiny, and their hot breath he could feel, 
A bolt of fear cut through him, as they thundered through the sky, 
They all start to ring their be-ellls.... As they ride on through  they cry, 


Yippee-yi-yo..... yippee yi yay.... 
ghost cyclists in the sky... 


There were three really nice things about the campground, though.  First, the man who ran the kayaks, let us ride around for free for a little while, since the weather was so windy, and business was slow, and we had ridden so far.  It was really nice to get a little wet and use some different muscles.  Second, the general store was awesome.  It was well stocked, and more affordable than any other general store we had been to.

And third, always the sunset.

Cachuma Lake to Carpinteria: 30 miles


Heading out of the Santa Ynez Valley, Sarah had wished that she had taken pictures the day before.  The golden hills had made her think of her mom.  Her mother had been so taken by them, that when she took a beginning photography class, had walked out into hills like those, and ended up getting a tick.  Now the oak trees were getting more clustered together, and Sarah thought that it would have been neat to get a photo of something that her mother had been so inspired by.

We rode over San Marcos Pass, which was a 2,275 ft. climb back to the coast.  That was about 300 ft higher than Leggit Hill, which the tour book had said was the tallest (it probably hadn't taken into account the alternate route).  It was a little grueling, but at the right pace, it wasn't so bad.  We got to the top and looked out at Santa Barbara below.  It was a stunning view.  Once we got through Santa Barbara, we'd ride a little further South, and Toren planned to meet us and camp with us for a night at Carpinteria State Park.  It may be kind of cheesy, but it was a comforting thought all the way up the hill to know that he would be at the end of it. 

I did really well on that decent.  Dustin went ahead, and Sarah stayed behind to take it at a slower pace.  She had been getting more wary of going down hills as the trip wore on, and preferred to take them nice and slow.  We rolled down the turns of the hill, picking up momentum, and I just enjoyed the moment.  I kept the bike steady, and didn't go too fast, and felt the sunshine on my skin, and I didn't feel the urge to cry, or my breath fall off rhythm, or my stomach turn with dread as it had before.  I was really proud when I got to the bottom.

We stopped at the Natural Cafe in Santa Barbara for lunch.  It was the first healthy restaurant that had inspired Sarah when she started getting into nutrition and fitness.  They had affordable prices, and a great menu, with smoothies, and lots of vegetarian options.

We got to Carpinteria next, and it felt like Summer.  The whole campground was beyond full.  They started dividing up the group campsites.  The UC Davis crew had gotten there earlier, and had to wait in line to try to get a site by lottery.  We had a third of the group campsite called "Plover."  The campground wasn't very big, but every inch of it was swarming with tents, RVs, kids on bikes, laundry lines, umbrellas and barbecues.

We got to the site that Dan had reserved and it was empty.  As soon as we rolled in, Toren arrived, too. He had brought talapia, pasta salad, lemonade, trail mix, cliff bars, and all kinds of stuff to feed us and restock us for the last two days of our journey.  So thoughtful!

We decided to wait to set up our tents until Dan and the rest joined us, and went to the beach.  The simple pleasure of sitting in the sun is so rewarding.  I think I can understand why women in earlier generations would sit out and bake their skin into leather.  Sarah and I inched into the water, and Toren ran up and dove right in.

While we were sunbathing, we noticed Dan playing fisbee with Rebecca and Juan.  We walked back to the campsite, and Juan's parents had driven all the way from Lancaster to celebrate and barbecue for everyone.  His mother had made a whole tray of flan, and she glowed when she talked about her son.  Both of his parents were so proud, and excited to let us join in on the fun.

There was so much food.  Everything Toren had brought, along with the chicken, salmon burgers and everything that Juan's parents brought made for such feast!

Chad texted us and told us that Colin had quit and was going to be picked up the next day.  He was going to try to find a way to meet us the next night at Leo Carrillo so we could all ride into Long Beach together.

The sky went from blue to rose to purple, and we started a fire.  I got out the guitar, and Dan and I took turns playing Iron and Wine songs.  Toren was pretty quiet.  It wasn't the same coming to meet us in a car than it would have been to ride in with us.  He shared his night vision goggles and made everyone laugh.  I gave him a good back scratch and he said he was happy he had come.  

Carpinteria to Leo Carrillo State Park: 40 miles


The next morning Toren offered to lighten our loads and to take anything in his car that we didn't need for the last night and meet us back in Long Beach.  We loaded him up with our rain gear, dirty laundry, cooking gear and my guitar.  I figured not having it for one night would be okay.  That way Dustin wouldn't have to carry it the last two days of our trip.  Riding with less weight was great.   We were all super thankful.

As we rode South we started noticing signs for the AIDS Lifecycle ride.  Lots of yellow and orange arrows and tips, guided us on a safe route through Ventura.  The sky was overcast again.  PCH had a really wide shoulder and a bike lane, so the ride along this section felt very safe.

We passed resting spots for the AIDS ride, as well as their campground in Ventura.  My boss, Kim, was doing the AIDS ride, and it felt really special to know that we were both on our epic journeys, and about to ride down the same road in the same day.  The next day the AIDS ride would end in Santa Monica, and we would end in Long Beach.  What a neat coincidence!

In Ventura, we stopped at an In-N-Out (we ate out a lot more our last few days), and ran into some members of Team Long Beach from the AIDS ride who had gotten injured and rode ahead.  One of them even knew Kim!

The three of us sat at our table and talked about the trip.  Dustin said, "You know...  I'm really glad we met those kids from UC Davis.  It's been really fun to have them around.  Things might have gotten a little boring if it had just been the three of us for the last week."

The sun came out, and we rode through an industrial area, and then some farmland, and saw some Orleib panniers in the distance.  We rode a little closer and noticed it was Adam and Jane, the couple from Brooklyn on the tandem!  We caught up and rang our bells.  It was a really happy reunion.  "Where've you been?!" "We missed you!" "How was the ride?"  "What happened"  There was so much to talk about!  They had planned to ride to Malibu, but instead opted to ride with us and camp with us at Leo Carrillo on our last night.

When we got to Leo Carrillo, the campsite was full, again!  We couldn't book a campsite for everybody, and went with hiker-biker, even though the tour book warned about theft and transients from Carpinteria South.  Welcome back to Southern California.  We told the ranger that we were expecting some more cyclists, and she told us that there were only four hiker biker sites, and that technically, she wouldn't be able to allow it, but since we were going to get along would let it slide.  We had been under the impression that state parks weren't allowed to turn hiker-bikers away, and were very surprised.

Jane and Adam had fallen behind us to stop at a bar, and I texted them to come quick, so they could secure a spot.  We also gave word to the UC Davis crew.

We started setting up camp, and Chad rolled in through the path in the trees with his bright orange vest!   The rangers had tried to turn him away, but he had to mention us all by our names and insist that we would let him camp with us.  Just before he rolled up to the kiosk, they had turned away a 72 year-old cyclist.  How could they turn away an old man!  Adam and Jane knew the cyclist, because they had met him over the past few days, and Adam and Chad took off on their bikes to try to catch him.  It was unsuccessful and we all felt bad for him.  Adam said that he had been having a rough day and missed his wife.

Juan's parents did it again.  They had driven all the way back to Lancaster, got more food, and drove out to Leo Carrillo to barbecue again down by the beach in one of the day use areas.  We took a trail to go meet them.  There was a couple getting married down at the beach next to us.  Everyone was barefoot.  Everyone from the east coast got to see dolphins for the first time.  We feasted again, and had a cheap radio playing Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.  We all got a group photo before Juan's Parents left.

When we walked back to the campground, we stopped for a moment to look at the ocean.  Sarah pointed out a piece of land in the distance that may have been Palos Verdes.  I knew we were close to home, and had been pretty relaxed and just going through the rides the past few days, but at that moment it really hit me.  We had ridden almost 1500 miles, and we were almost home.  There was familiar land within our eyesight, and the city we lived in the and the people we loved were just over the hill.  My whole insides felt like the soft pink evening light that was washing over the landscape.  I wished Toren could have been there to see that moment.  But everything was as it was, and as it should be.  Some moments are only yours and yours alone.  If you stop and get the urge to re-direct the scenes in your life, you could miss them altogether.  

When we got back to the campsite, Dustin and Chad decided they wanted to start the fire by rubbing two sticks together.  I smiled and left them to it, and walked to the bathroom to charge up my phone.

As I walked through the campground, I really watched everyone in the campground.  Families settling into their camp chairs to eat their dinner by twilight.  A motorcycle biker with a fleet of pink tents.  A girl learning how to ride a bike.  So many kids on bikes.  Teenagers walking around and gossiping.  Radios.  People driving slowly in their cars trying to find their sites.  Watching these people made me feel nostalgic, it made me think of being a kid in a campsite with my own family.  We had spent the past 5 weeks on the road, in our close knit group, dealing with fears and our stressors, and laughing at our inside jokes.  I had sung songs to myself up and down mountains, and now we were back at home, in Southern California, away from the idealism of the road and just another group of summer campers, and it was absolutely lovely.

When I got back, they had abandoned the sticks and started a fire the normal way. We gathered around the last campfire, and remembered moments of the journey.  It was such a happy night.  We talked about the little old man that had picked up his broken frame at the airport in Seattle, Tyler and tin can, different people we had met, our dreams of the future and how proud we were of each other.  I looked around at all these glowing faces around me, and felt such love within me.  I had learned so much from each of them, and we had been so silly together, and had been so vulnerable together.

Sarah and Dustin decided to sleep outside under the stars.  I told Chad, I was such a scaredy cat I couldn't sleep outside after seeing a guy walk by with a snake earlier.

Chad put his sleeping bag in his hammock and said, "You know what, Aly?  You're not a scaredy cat.  You've made it and there were moments when I wasn't sure if you were going to finish and you've done really well, and I'm really proud of you."

Leo Carrillo State Park to Long Beach: 65 miles

I woke up at 6:30am to one of the RV campers pumping top 40 jams.  It was just silly.  I got up, and one of the homeless men that had camped next to us was collecting bottles and cans.

We decided to get breakfast in Malibu and took off on empty stomachs.  There were several rolling hills, and we began to ride with the riders from the AIDS Lifecycle ride.  They came in all shapes and sizes.  I have a big respect for those riders.  Going on a big adventure AND making a difference.  "On your left!"  They all passed us with ease without any weight on their bikes.  Sometimes we would ride next to each other and chat, and the AIDS cyclists would get annoyed and yell at us for not riding in a straight line.  At first it was off-putting, but they were right.  This was PCH in SoCal... not some empty mountain road.  I looked for Kim, but didn't see her.  I knew the chances were slim.  There were thousands of cyclists in that ride.

Malibu was a few miles further than we had expected, and we were famished by the time we found a place to eat.  I had the best breakfast burrito I had ever eaten at a place called Lily's cafe.

When we got to Santa Monica, we took the beach bike path, and the Lifecyclists turned inland to get to their finish line.  This was a whole new kind of defensive cycling.  On the beach path there were people stumbling around on beach cruisers, skaters, kids falling off their bikes, pedestrians... so many people!  The beach was crowded with swimmers and volleyball players.  It was kind of stressful, but after Venice we turned back onto the road.  The areas we road through were getting more and more familiar and it felt weird to be so close to home.

We rode through Redondo Beach, and over the hill to Palos Verdes.  Everything had come full circle.  We passed the spots where I had gotten flat tires when Tyler and I had gone on our training ride.  We passed the spot where I had stopped with Sarah when we had gone on our other training ride.  No more training.  Now it was the end.  Even though we had been over so many hills, being so close to home made me really tired.  My legs struggled over the hills, and I fell far behind.  I started playing my same old mind games, and stopped for a little while to collect my senses.  Shortly after, everyone was waiting for me.  The final stretch.

We made our way out of Palos Verdes, and I got caught at a red light behind the others.  then a police man rode his motorcycle into the middle of the street, and started directing traffic.  It was a funeral procession.  Whoever it was had a lot of people who cared about him or her.  The procession kept coming, and then the policeman smiled at me and waved at the cars as he rode away.  Beginnings and endings and life keeps going.

We got onto Anaheim, for our last ghetto stretch into Long Beach.  We rode through Terminal Island, and past the strip club on Alameda, and over the LA River, and it's homeless camps.  We rode by my old street in downtown Long Beach.  That was it.  We were home, it was Saturday and everything in Long Beach was business as usual.

I had sent out a text message to some friends that we would roll into Viento y Agua, but I didn't think anybody was actually going to meet us and it made more sense to stop at Sarah's house first.  Toren and Bob were waiting on the front porch for us.  Bob had been trying to find out where we were going to be all day!  Sarah and Dustin had picked up a 12-pack, and started cracking some open on the front porch.  Just another day at Sarah's house. It was a beautiful day to be sitting in the sunshine with friends, but something about being home made me sad.  Maybe I was in my post-cycling haze, but it seemed so anti-climactic to end the such a feat with a beer on the porch.

My parents texted me that they were waiting at Viento y Agua, and Toren offered to drive as many as would fit in his car over there.  Viento always feels like home.  My parents came out and greeted me with hugs and well wishes.  We took a group photo, and told them our stories.  Everyone was so happy to see us.

The next few days it took some time to adjust to being at home.  I came home and was really overwhelmed with my stuff, after living so minimally for over a month.  I want to get rid of half of it.
Then I had trouble sleeping, I had nightmares every night for a few days, and woke up hungry in the middle of the night and with sore legs.  I wanted to see and reconnect with everyone, but I also just wanted to be alone and clean my house.  The second or third day, I bought a new planner, and made a big list of things I want to accomplish.  There was still lots to do.

It's easy to feel kind of empty after making a big accomplishment.  It's easy to dismiss it and get ready to move onto what's next.  I'm a process person I love working up to something, but once it's over, I don't quite know what to do with myself.  We've done something here.  We rode 1447 miles, and felt every inch of Pacific Coast and I played a tour.

Writing this blog has helped.  While we're riding, we're going, we're blowing through every landscape, challenge and experience.  Taking the time to stop and write about it has made me remember and take note, and feel out the lessons I've learned, instead of just letting them flow like water under the bridge.

This was an experience that has carved out a new path for the blood in my veins.  I can't say that I'm a new person, but I have grown into a stronger person.  I feel so thankful to have shared the journey with Sarah, Dustin, Toren, Chad and Tyler and friends that we stayed with or met along the way, and to have had the support from the people back home to make it possible.

Thank you,
Alyssandra

San Francisco to San Simeon!

San Francisco to Costonoa KOA: 55 miles

First day of the new chapter in this adventure.  Toren and I met Sarah and Dustin at the Daly City Bart Station.  I wanted to get an early start to prove that I could be an early riser, but I read that bicycles weren't allowed on the trains before 9am.  Then, we hopped on a train headed in the wrong direction!  We when we finally arrived at Daly, it made me really happy to see Sarah and Dustin.  Having a rest day from each other had been great for the morale.  They had spent their entire day eating burritos and watching the nature channel on television.  Awesome.   

Typical of the bay, the marine layer had settled in and it was an overcast day.  We got a little turned around but made our way back to the ocean.  Getting back to the ocean, even after being away from it for just a day or two, was always really rewarding.  Riding up to the hush of it, the cool of it, the bigness of it... it grounds me.

On our way out of San Francisco, we rode through a road called the Devil's Slide.  Eek.  So many of these awful roads are called Devil's this or Devil's that.  It had almost no shoulder, and since we had left late, it was a high-traffic time of day.  Once we started on one of the inclines, I told everybody to go ahead and ride ahead of me.  It was a very nerve-wrecking ride with tight curves, and lots of cars and trucks passing us.  There was some construction, which also always makes me nervous.  We passed, Sean, our friend from Bodega who was cycling with his surfboard when we got to the top of the hill. 

It's that moment at the top of the hill where my nerves really get me.  I drink some water, and shove some food in my mouth and get flashes of riding down some of those first twisted and winding roads in Oregon, when I  had been the most scared and had my panic attacks.  Toren told me to go first, and he would follow behind me, even though I told him I would probably stop if I got too scared.  We took it slow.  The ocean was cold and reflecting the grey in the sky.  The road was full of pot holes.  I stayed as far to the right as I could, and around one turn, I rode around pothole next to the railing, only to ride into a crack that I hadn't seen.  The groove was deep enough, that I couldn't ride out of it, and the weight of my bike threw me off balance.  I veered into the road, and nearly fell.  I was lucky, and the car behind me slowed and didn't hit me.  It happened fast, and I was back on the side of the road, rolling down the hill in seconds.  It was a good save, but after a few minutes, unease grew within me.  My breath lost it's rhythm and the muscles in my stomach tightened. So, I stopped when there was a safe spot.  Toren stopped and waited with me while I cried.  I hadn't had anyone with me when I started to have a panic attack yet, and it was weird for me.  Having him there made me want to get it over with and get moving.  He told me it was a great save, and that I reacted quick, and that it probably felt like I was further into the lane than I really was.  That made me feel a better, but later on, he told me that it had actually been really gnarly and kind of scary.  A little further, Sarah and Dustin waited for us, and Sarah had had the same experience I did.  We were both pretty thankful to be alive. 

We had lunch in Half-Moon Bay.  The clouds burned off, and it was another beautiful day.  Everyone felt pretty good, so we decided to push ourselves a little further to a KOA by Pescadero.  We passed Pescardero, and there was no KOA.  There was an error in the listing and it was actually much further.  We passed a hostel in a lighthouse.  It was $20 a night, and had a hot tub that was outside on a cliff overlooking the ocean.  Sarah and I were tempted and totally into it, but boys vetoed it and wanted to head a little further to the KOA, which would be a little cheaper, we were guessing about $50 for a site.    

We rode through lovely seaside farms, and about 10 miles later, arrived at the Costonoa KOA.  KOA's are the McDonald's of the camping industry.  They're well-manicured, and cater more to families doing RV camping.  This one had a lodge and a restaurant and saunas, as well.  We rode up to the information kiosk, and the Host greeted us and offered to give us a ride around the property on his golf cart.  Primitive Sites, which were just a patch of grass, were listed as about $30, and a regular site with a parking space, picnic table and electrical hook up was a little over $50.  We were fine with the primitive, but the host wanted to charge us per couple, which would have been about $60!  Might as well have stayed at the hostel… $50 was less than $60, so we went ahead and got the regular site.  Then, the host proceeded to casually mention that there was a restaurant that we could eat at about 10 times.

Once we set up camp, we walked down to the general store, which had closed an hour early, so we couldn't do any grocery shopping, which was a big let down.  

At least they had a sauna.  

We all changed and went into the sauna by our site and it was broken.  We tried a second and a third sauna, which were also broken.  Of course. 

They had a little trail that led out to the ocean, so I decided to take a little walk.  The sun was just about to set.  I crossed PCH, and there was a sign at the trailhead that you couldn't gather any artifacts, because they were excavating the site.  That was exciting for me.  I pictured myself as an old native american woman, as I walked the trail through the mustard flowers and yellow lupine.  The grass was very tall and dry and the smell was soothing.  I climbed over a sand dune and was face to face with the great ocean.  The marine layer had moved in again, so the sunset was more of a little glow along the horizon, which silhouetted the lighthouse in the distance.  There were dark jagged rocks that the water crashed into.  I sat and listened to the ocean and thought about the day, the journey, the fear, and my friends.  This crashing ocean is so big, so old and so constant.  Who am I and what am I trying to do?  When I started getting ideas for this adventure, I wanted a story to tell.  I wanted a challenge, and a music-tour-by-bicycle sounded like a fun, quirky challenge.  It made sense.  Now, staring out at this cold sunset, I felt very small.  Facing so many fears day after day had stripped me of the punchline.  The music part of the adventure, had ended up as more of a bit of cheese at the end of the maze.  It was comforting to be able to play my guitar at night, but each day was a new challenge.  But there was so much more to learn and take home, this way.  It got a little darker and a little colder, and I became overwhelmed with love and pride for myself and my friends and what we had overcome and accomplished.  We were over two thirds of the way home, all by the power of our own legs and hearts of gold.  

I walked back up the trail, which was longer than I had remembered it being when I walked in, and stopped at the stables (yes, the KOA had stables).  In the evening light, the dirt looked grey, and so did the trees, and the horses.  They had two layers of fences, to keep people from approaching or feeding them.  They looked stagnant and pretty miserable.  I watched them try to interact with each other, each one trying to maintain it's own space, and walking away from the others as they were approached.  I hope I never end up like that. 

When I got back to the campsite, Dustin had started a fire, and was using a stick to made a tuna melt.  Toren and I made some mashed potatoes.  We all sat around the fire and began asking questions, like "What's your favorite movie" and "What would you do if you had a whole year with no obligations, and money was no object?" and "What's your favorite memory with your mother?" 

Costonoa KOA to Marina: 65 miles

I learned a little something from Toren and Sarah.  That night, and the night before, he filled up everybody's water bottles ahead of time, and he also put the tent bag inside the tent.  Little things that would be time-savers add up.  Prepping stuff ahead of time!  What a concept!  I remembered that in the weeks before, Sarah had kind of prepped stuff beforehand, too.  I organized my panniers as much as I could the night before, and got my riding clothes ready, and put my mat bag and my sleeping bag-bag in the tent, too (usually I'd leave those out near my bike or on the table).  So, from then on, in the mornings, I could just get dressed, and roll up my bag and mat in the tent.  Major time savers!  We were actually up and ready before Dustin and Sarah.  It's silly to be proud of, but I felt really great, since I had been lagging so much the whole trip. 

Since we left early, we got to Santa Cruz early.  I had made another mistake in the itinerary, only this time it was in our favor.  I had accidentally added about 50 miles between San Francisco and Marina, so we gained a whole day!  Instead of camping again, we would be at my aunt's house that evening.  

When we got to Santa Cruz, we stopped at a bike shop to put air in our tires.  We were a little confused about directions, and this guy in a red jacket and pink bandana rolls up to the shop and asks if we need any help.  He introduced himself as Nick and offered to guide us through the city and get us where we needed to go.  It was a huge help!  I gave him a cd. 

Shortly after we left Nick, we were going down a small hill, and heard a huge pop!  I looked back, and it was Toren's tire.  He had not only gotten a flat, but the tube had blown out, and popped the tire right off the rim! We set the bike on the side, and Dustin got out his tools.  As soon as we got the tire off, the other tube popped and blew the tire off the the rim, too!  Eek.  We all worked together to get the tires changed by the side of the road- and then I looked back, and saw a cyclist come over the hill in a bright orange construction vest… It was Chad!  

What are the chances?  He had left ahead of us and stayed with a friend in Half-moon bay and then in Santa Cruz and gotten a late start.  He help us out, and we rode together to the next bike shop.  We suspected that Toren may have over-inflated his tires.  So he got some new tubes, and under inflated them a little just to be sure.  We stopped for lunch afterwards, and Chad rode ahead, we'd meet up with him at Kirk Creek Campground in Big Sur in a few days. 

We rode onward, south of Santa Cruz and about 10 miles in, we heard another loud pop!  Toren's tire had blown out again.  This was a little concerning, not knowing what was causing it.  We had checked the tires for any thorns or rocks, we had under inflated the new tubes, but only by a little.  We thought Marina was about 25 miles further, and didn't know how safe it would be to keep riding the bike, or how much we wanted to invest in new tubes, if we didn't know what was causing the blow-outs, so I gave my aunt a call and she was happy to come pick Toren up.  I didn't know if her car had enough space for more than one bike, so we had to leave Toren to wait for her, and ride the next few miles without him.  

The next section of road turned from the ocean into farmland, and we rode through miles and miles of strawberry fields and produce stands.  Almost immediately, Sarah had brake issues.  We changed her pads and as we got back on the road, the ride ended up being 10 miles further than we thought with a strong headwind.  Sarah got really tired, and suspected her brake pad of rubbing again, and had a really hard time.  She was really just pretty tired.  

When we arrived at my aunt's house, Toren was right outside waiting for us.  He was happy to see us but seemed a little unsure of things after going to the bike shop.  While he had been waiting for my aunt, he had what she would call a Zen Moment. 

He had been sitting at the bus stop and was festering in his own frustration.  Recognizing his impending negativity, he started to take some deep breaths and tried to calm down.  He noticed a cat traipsing along a wall across the street.  His perception of the day changed as he relayed that this was the moment he was placed in.  There was no greater place to be then in that present moment.  All his needs were met, the sun was shining, birds were chirping and his problems were trivial in regard to the magnitude of a personal existence balanced with the natural world that surrounds us at all time.  He fell into a peaceful meditation and time quickly passed.  The change in attitude had turned the whole situation around, and made for a wonderful experience meeting my Aunt Gloria.

I began to wish I had had some sort of moment like that of my own in the earlier weeks of the tour.  Even though it was tough, I feel like most of my struggles were my own mind-games, and I think I could have done much better if I had only had a better attitude or perspective. 

Toren took his bike to the shop, and they pretty much didn't have very much advice to give except that his rims had tiny holes in them and weren't meant for a tire pressure above 80, and the gator skin tires he had put on them were meant for a tire pressure of 105, so the extra pressure was pushing the tube through the tiny holes, and pinching them, resulting in the blowouts.  He told Toren to fix the problem by putting electrical tape over the holes.  Such a do-it-yourself solution was definitely affordable, but not very comforting. 

After such a crazy day, we had a simple dinner, watched a movie called "Grizzly" ate some M&M cookies and went to bed, thankful to have a rest day the next day to ease our legs and fix Toren's bike. 

The next day, Toren spent the first part of the day taping up his rim, and he and Dustin rode around the hills and bike trails and put stress on the bike to test it out.  Sarah and I went to the grocery store and picked up all kinds of fruits, nuts, vegetables and a canary melon to make a really nice and fresh lunch.  After eating oatmeal and canned camping food and peanut butter sandwiches and focusing so much on carb intake for so long, we were both craving something really fresh!  I just wanted to eat a bunch of green stuff.  Sarah even made a home-made dressing out of honey and yogurt.  Pretty amazing stuff.  

Toren's bike passed all the tests, and I played a show that night in Santa Cruz.  Gloria let us borrow her car, so we could get there early for soundcheck.  It was interesting driving over the roads we had just ridden over, and doing it so much faster.  Being in a car after you've been riding so long, it makes you think of all of the roads differently, especially the hills. 

I played my show at a venue called the Backstage Lounge.  It's a small swanky venue attached to the Rio theater.  I opened for Del Rey, an amazing woman who totally rips at her steel resonator guitar and ukulele.  She plays in the old time- Mississippi John Hurt style, which is very close to my heart and makes me super happy.

The show felt great.  It was one of my best performances the whole tour! 

Here's a video of one of my songs (on the thumbnail it looks sideways, but once you play it, it will be right side up)

And here's a video of Del Rey. 

Marina to Pfeiffer State Park: 42 miles

After Marina, we were headed into Big Sur.  Gloria got up early and made us all fresh scones for breakfast, and I chopped up the rest of the canary melon.  I ate too much and ended up with a very upset stomach as soon as I got on my bike.  The gas sitting in my stomach was painful, but I felt if I could just burp a little, it would subside.  It was a pretty miserable way to start the day.  We road through the bike path in Fort Ord, an abandoned military fort that  had been given to the state full of sand dunes and trails.  I fell behind Sarah and Dustin.  Toren stayed with me and was really encouraging and upbeat.  "Why don't you just throw up?  Get those acids out of your system."  It was a little embarrassing, but I stopped and did and felt so much better.  He joked and said that I had "mama birded by the side of the road".  Gross but totally hilarious.  

When we caught up to the other two, I still didn't feel like myself and we stopped for coffee.  Then, I started my period.  Of course.  Right before we go through Big Sur, the area everybody at home had been warning me that most about, that I'd been psyching myself out about and I'd be bleeding through the whole thing.  

Once we got riding after the break, I started feeling a little better.  Sometimes, I guess you just need to keep pushing yourself through it.  Keep going, and you'll get there.  We rode through Carmel-By-The-Sea, where trees have the right of way and Doris Day holds afternoon tea for dogs.  We rode through Monterey and I thought of John Steinbeck and how different it must have been back then.  

We got over a big hill, stopped at Point Lobos for lunch and a walk and got into the really gorgeous seaside landscape south of Monterey.  I got a second wind and started getting in a good rhythm, and passed up the others.  The hills weren't too big, and I finally had a grasp on switching gears, and using the momentum going down one hill, to take you up into the next.  

Toren was riding with Sarah, watching me ride ahead and said, "I wish I just got MY period!"  Sarah laughed so hard, she almost fell off her bike. 

We entered the more mountainous side of Big Sur, and there was a layer of fog when we got to the first bridge.  It was big and old and beautiful.  I thought of the moment in Kerouac's Big Sur, when he crosses a bridge by the darkness of night, only to realize by the light of the next morning how high and treacherous the road really was.  The water was deep turquoise with dangerous waves.  We all felt really good. 

We got to Andrew Molera State Park, and the clouds had burnt off and it was a beautiful day.  We had a tailwind and decided to go further to Pfeiffer State Park, which wasn't very much further.  The next section of riding was a breeze, and we quickly arrived at the general store in the city of Big Sur.  

Sarah and Dustin rode into the parking lot.  I looked back, but Toren wasn't behind me.  I stood on the side of the road and looked and waited to see him in his bright yellow jacket coming around the corner and he didn't come.  Five minutes passed, then ten.  I started to worry, and Dustin rode back to look for him.  Sarah and I waited by our bikes and hoped for the best, saying things like "He probably got a flat tire, or jumped a chain, or needed to shed a layer."  

An ambulance wailed down the road.  

I checked my cell phone and Toren had sent me a message that said "On my way."  My whole body relaxed a few minutes later when he and Dustin rode into the parking lot to meet us.  Toren had jumped a chain, and it had gotten stuck, but he fixed it right before Dustin had arrived.  It was a proud moment, because he had needed Dustin's help for all the other stuff that had gone wrong with his bike.  

We shopped for the stuff for hobo stew and got to Pfeiffer early enough to take a nice walk.  Back in the redwoods with a forest floor full of clover.  

That night I started feeling uneasy about the next part of the ride.  We sat around the campfire and Sarah talked about her own fears.  "I've never had any interest whatsoever in this next segment of the ride.  I've looked at cyclists as I've driven through and thought they were CRAZY."  My fear grew, but had to try to let it subside.  Tomorrow is tomorrow, today is today.  When we went to bed, there was a loud group of cyclists talking around a campfire next to my tent.  They were telling horror stories of the road.  Trucks, wind, motorcycles, blowouts, everything.  I almost got out of my tent to tell them they were going to give me nightmares, but asked Toren to play some music off of his iPhone, instead.  

Pfeiffer State Park to Kirk Creek State Park: 35 miles

Tomorrow came, and my fear hadn't subsided.  We got up early and packed up quick, ready to get it over with.  We had one of the biggest climbs in Big Sur right away.  The morning light was glorious, highlighting the hills and trees.  The climb wasn't so bad.  Since it was early, there wasn't very much traffic on the road.  I noticed someone had taken a marker and written "You're it." on a sign for us to see.  The road twisted around the mountain like a ribbon, but the shoulder was wider than I had expected.  The inclines and descents weren't as steep as I had feared.  There was a little fog in some patches and it felt like riding on clouds.  I began to take some of the turns with more confidence.  At one point, when I stopped to catch my breath, Toren stopped behind me, and said, "I just got front row seat to watch you bomb that hill and let the momentum carry you up the next side.  You're doing great!" 

The four of us stopped at a great view to take some pictures.  Then I realized, I was actually having a ton of fun.  We hadn't needed to separate and use separate maps and meet up at the campground.  I was getting stronger, and Sarah was relaxing and we were all having a really nice ride together.  We were laughing and joking.  We'd fall into pairs for a little while, but we'd always catch back up and ride together again.  

The section of Big Sur that I had been the most terrified of ended up being one of the most enjoyable rides of the whole journey.  I would do it again.  

I also recently found out that they had been doing a lot of construction in Big Sur and widening the shoulder to make it safer for travelers of all sorts.  It certainly paid off, because I felt totally safe the entire time.  

Toren was very encouraging, but he started becoming more quiet on the rides.  I would ask him how he was, and he would only respond, "I'm well."  It was kind of concerning, but I assumed he was just in his own flow of thoughts and not feeling very talkative.  

We arrived at the Kirk Creek Campground at noon.  Dustin and Toren rode around the campground, but didn't see Chad or his bike anywhere.  The campground was full.  We went to the hiker biker section, and met a group of young doctors who had just graduated med school at UC Davis and were doing a ride together down the coast before they each started their residencies.  They had met Chad at the campground in Monterey.  Dan, one of the doctors said, "He left us a note in our raccoon box!  He's camping two miles back up at Limekiln!"

We all sunbathed for a while and laughed at each other's tan lines, and then Toren and I took a short hike down to the beach.  The whole trail was grown over with all kinds of plants.  I can't tell the difference between blackberries and poison oak, so pretty much tip-toed my way through everything.  When we got down to the beach, it was very rocky, cold, and too dangerous to swim in, but it was beautiful.   

We almost didn't know what to do with so much free time.  We had never gotten to a campsite so early.  It was so nice to have so much downtime just to sit and stare at the ocean.  We decided to hop back on our bikes and ride back to find Chad at Limekiln.  

It's stupid how light and easy our bikes felt without all the weight of our gear.  We flew all the way there.  Limekiln is a pretty small campground, so finding their site was easy.  We recognized Chad's bike and hammock, but no one was there.  We left a note and decided to hike to Limekiln Falls.  

The trees at limekiln were recovering from a fire that had done some damage a few years ago.  Redwoods are so resilient.  It was a lovely walk, but we missed the waterfall and ended up at the lime kilns instead, which were huge and interesting to look at.  By the time we returned to the campsite, Chad and his friends were back.  It was a great reunion, Chad and his friends had tons of food to share.  Our friend Colin, was camping with them too, and had brought his bike and gotten gear to do the rest of the ride with Chad.  He's a bigger guy, with some backpacking experience but not as much cycling experience aside from riding around at home.  He was a little nervous but excited for the challenge.  We all had tons of advice for him.  

We didn't stay for dinner, because Dustin had a friend, Bradley, who had driven from Paso Robles to meet us at Kirk Creek and camp.  Since the campground was full, he parked the car down the road and walked his stuff to the hiker biker area.  Bradley and his girlfriend were super nice and brought tons of food to share and stuff for s'more's.   Bradley and Dustin hadn't seen each other for years, so it was exciting to see the two reunite and catch up.  Bradley brought his mandolin, so we combined firewood with the UC Davis kids and all hung out together and made some music.  Dan, from UC Davis, had also brought a hammock, and set it up on the cliff overlooking the ocean.  

It was such an unexpectedly wonderful campsite.  I had really enjoyed camping in the redwoods, but camping in the grass on cliffs overlooking the ocean, was like sitting front row for the greatest movie ever… nature.  It was a full moon that night, and as the fire died down, the moonlight washed over everything, with a sparkle here and there from someone walking with a headlamp or a flashlight.  Stunning. 

We went to bed, and I had the hardest time ever falling asleep.   At first, it was really nice, the sounds of the ocean filled the soundscape as I curled up in my sleeping bag.  Then, Sarah started snoring in the tent next to us.  When, I got used to her rhythm, Dustin and Bradley walked back to the campsite after finishing off a bottle of wine on a moonlit walk to the ocean, and were boisterous and chatting up a storm.  It was loving and all in good spirits, but goodness it was loud.  I asked them to talk a little quieter, and soon they went to bed.  I started to rest again, and then Bradley tried to convince his girlfriend that they were going to pack up and drive to a cabin in the middle of the night.  He was drunk and stubborn, but she calmed him down.  I finally started to drift to sleep, and I heard the rustling of plastic outside.  I hoped Bradley wasn't packing up in his condition, and realized it was raccoons!  Toren chased them off, but soon they came back.  They got into Sarah and Dustin's panniers, but Toren chased them off again and secured everyone's belongings and put the food into the raccoon box.  Another Raccoon War!  This time, I think we won.

Kirk Creek State Mark to San Simeon State Park: 40 miles

Toren and I woke up early again the next morning.  "Should we let them sleep in a little, since they had so much to drink?" I said.  He replied, "No way!  We don't want to be riding late on the roads when they're busy!"  He got out his iPhone, turned up the volume and played a funk version of Also Sprach Zarathustra, (that song in 2001: a Space Oddesey), by Deodato.  It was a pretty perfect way to start the day.  

Everyone said their goodbyes, and we made plans to meet up with the UC Davis crew at the next campground, San Simeon.  It was a very foggy morning, and we had a few good climbs ahead of us.  With the fog, it seemed like some of the climbs could just go on forever.  As we rode, we sang and started rewriting "My Favorite Things" to pertain to our trip.  Dustin's got a hidden talent and a knack for lyrics. 

Fixing flat tires with duct tape and money, 

Eating goo packets and drinking raw honey, 

wondering if Glen will come down to Long Beach, 

These are a few of my favorite things!

Putting Chamois Butter onto our butt holes, 

retelling the same lame joke that's one month old, 

inventing foods like hobo raman stew, 

These are some things touring cyclists do! 

When the chain jumps, when the tire blows, missing Tyler and Chad, 

I just simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad!

Sleeping two hours fighting off the raccoons, 

getting free henna, pretending they're tattoos, 

riding through forest, mountains and dunes, 

These are some things touring cyclists do! 

Eating cliff bars on the side of the highway, 

Having to buy bandaids at the next Rite Aid, 

Cleaning in rivers and peeing on trees, 

These are a few of my favorite things! 

When we got to the top, Toren had broken six spokes on his bike.  The reason he had been so quiet the day before was that he felt his bike getting more rickety underneath him as he rode.  We stopped and tried to work together to fix it, but we only had four replacement spokes.  His bike also had a metal piece we couldn't figure out how to remove.  We weren't even all the way through Big Sur, and the next bike shop was another 40 or 50 miles away in Morro Bay.  Dustin tinkered with it for a while and gave up.  We didn't have any cell phone reception to look up any videos or references or make any phone calls, and it was a Sunday so many places would probably be closed.  We took all the weight off of his bike and redistributed it.  Then, we debated over whether he should walk the bike two miles downhill to the next town, or risk riding it.  He chose to ride it, and Dustin confirmed that it would probably hold up.  It all made me super nervous.  There still wasn't very much traffic on the road, but I pictured the worst.  

We started riding, it was still pretty overcast, and before we got very far, two of Chad's friends who had been camping with him, pulled over because they had gotten a little carsick.  Sarah and Dustin had already caught them, and told them our situation.  Since they were already riding South, they offered to take Toren and his bike to the nearest bike shop.  

It was hard to separate again.  What would happen?  Would they be able to fix his bike?  Would it be expensive?  Would he get frustrated?  Would he stay in Morro Bay or would we ride farther to meet him or would he find a way to meet back up with us in San Simeon?  So many worries, but I was so thankful that he would at least be safe.  We had had so many close calls earlier in the trip, and pushed some of our bikes (ahem… tin can!) farther than they should have gone.  It was comforting to know that he would at least get one step closer to a solution without putting himself in unnecessary danger.  

The next section of the ride was bittersweet.  We got into Gorda and stopped for lunch.  I got yelled at by a store-owner for charging my phone outside next to his soda machine.  He accused me of unplugging his machine, which I hadn't, and made me cry.  Sarah hid a flower under one of my bungees. 

We left the last twisty turn of Big Sur, and into the rolling dry hills of San Simeon.  A whole new kind of beautiful, and I pictured Toren seeing it through a car window, and wished that he was there with us.  

We arrived at the Elephant Seal Viewing Area above San Simeon, and I had cell phone reception again, and called Toren at the bike shop.  He was pretty short in his conversation.  He found a bike shop that was open, and the owner was pretty eccentric.  He planned on getting the spokes replaced and then riding back to meet us in San Simeon.  The whole 25 miles.  

We arrived at San Simeon and it was a dry, empty campground.  There  was a huge wall of plants by our site that could have been either blackberries or poison oak.  

Isn't that always it?  What's in front of me? Blackberries or Poison Oak?  Is this situation good or bad?  Will it get under my skin or give me sustenance?  I get so scared of new situations, I just want to walk away without finding out what's really there. 

I couldn't stop worrying, and just started finding stuff to keep myself busy.  I paid the ranger for our hiker biker sites.  I rode into Cambria with Dan and Rebecca to get groceries.  I got tofu to go with dinner, and hummus and pita bread to snack on, since I knew Toren would like it.  Toren texted me that he was on his way, and then about half an hour later, I got a missed call from him.  I called him back but he didn't answer, and I started to worry more. 

On the ride back to camp, I got to know Dan and Rebecca, who had done volunteer work in third world countries and were coming to terms with their dreams and ambitions as doctors, and trying to find a way to be a positive influence in the world.  This made my worries feel pretty insignificant.  We were on a bike tour that would be over in a week, and had accomplished a whole hell of a lot.  No matter what happened with Toren and his bike, everything would be okay.  

Toren got to the campground about an hour later.  I came back from taking a shower and he was there.  Something was up.  "The bad news is that my dad is going to pick me up.  The good news is that the ranger is going to come down and give you your five bucks back."  That was it.  He wasn't even going to camp with us another night.  He gave up.  My eyes started to water and we took a walk.  

The bike mechanic had taken a closer look at the bike and found so many things wrong with it, and told him that he had no business taking it through Big Sur and was pretty much lucky to be alive.  He had talked to his dad in Marina, when he had started having problems, and his dad had told him that he could come to the rescue, but only until Sunday, when he would have to return to work.  It was Sunday, his bike was in terrible condition, and he had to make that quick decision.  The afternoon was lending itself to evening, so his dad was already on the way.  

I couldn't stop crying.  I would have pitched in for a whole new wheel.  My dad or one of our friends would have come to the rescue later in the week.  We could have met him in Morro Bay and waited a day to get a second opinion from another mechanic.  So many could haves, but it was already done.  

He had had a terrible time riding back, knowing the news he was bringing with him.  He broke a spoke five miles in, which is when he had called me.  He told me he had felt his bike deteriorating the whole ride through Big Sur, but didn't want to bother anyone or hold anyone back, and had decided to try to push through it.  

I wasn't mad, I was just sad, and felt helpless. I wanted to fix things, but there wasn't anything I could do.  I wished that I had waited with him in Marina for my Aunt, or been able to communicate with him better while he was in Morro Bay instead of letting my fear and worry freeze me up like a deer.  He worried that it would upset me so much after he left that I would lose my new-found confidence.  I worried that he would go home and feel bad or like a failure for having to leave early.  

When the tears were cried and the hugs were hugged and the words were said, we all ate dinner together.  Chad and Colin had caught up with us, and Colin was having a hard time.  He was having a lot of the same problems that I had had when I started, and I tried to tell him how I had felt, and how I had gotten over it and come to terms with myself as a rider, and how it was okay to take breaks and ride at your own pace.  The sun set and we lit a fire, and kept checking our phones for the time.  

The moon was a little less than full now, and Toren and I walked his bike up the hill to the ranger kiosk, where his dad would meet us.  He had brought a book of Allen Ginsberg poems, so we took turns reading to each other until his dad arrived. 

That's my predicament, folks. 

Mike was warm and loving.  Earlier when we had been riding, I had asked Toren what his favorite memory with his dad was.  One of them was driving home from Mt. Whitney in the middle of the night, to avoid staying at a hotel.  Toren had fallen asleep and when he woke up, his dad was driving fast, with all the windows down, and the music cranked up, drumming on the steering wheel and singing at the top of his lungs.  "That's it.  That's my dad."  He had thought to himself, and was really proud.  His dad looked over at him, and knew exactly what he was thinking and smiled.  

Now about to do another midnight journey together, his dad still knew.  He gave me a big hug and I told him he was amazing and thanked him for driving all this way to pick up his son.  He looked at me tenderly and told me he was really proud of me.  I could have cried again.

I got back to the campsite and everyone was still around the fire.  "How did it go?"  "It went.  It's done."  I quietly watched the embers glow as one by one everyone went to bed.  I walked to the bathroom and noticed that the moonlight was washing over the whole campground in the most beautiful way.  A chorus of frogs sang, and I went to bed with my head downhill and didn't bother to turn myself around.