The Awkward Pose

October 30, 2015 – Sun, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 51

Miles to Date: 9,226

States to Date: 25

Hard to imagine a better start to a day than waking with the California sun streaming through the window of a hillside home with a great view. I said goodbye to my excellent hosts Diane and Alan and headed over a short pass to Hollywood. The Hollywood Bowl, Sidewalk of Stars, Graumen’s Chinese Theater. It’s so easy to see sites on a bike, especially before most people in LA are even up for the day.

I wove through west LA to Venice Boulevard; six lanes (plus a bike path!) straight to the beach, then wound along the famous beach path through Santa Monica to the Getty Villa. Riding my bicycle dampens my interest in opulence, but the Getty Villa is pretty fabulous. The recreated Roman villa is stunning. Boston-based architect Machado and Silvetti’s extensive ancillary structures are also very good. The architectural tour guide made illustrative connections between opulent, status-conscience first century Rome and opulent, status-conscience twenty-first century California. I am not a connoisseur of early art, so didn’t spend too much time amidst the marbles, bronzes, and ceramics. But, the vistas are breathtaking, the proportions satisfying, and the terrazzo and tile floors are the most spectacular I’ve ever seen.

It took awhile to get out of there. (The Getty shuttle system is a mess. Why don’t they put in a sidewalk and let people who walk, ride bike sand come by bus walk the sort distance up the hill? LA car snobbery at its peak.) I had a 3 p.m. interview on Wilshire, so couldn’t loiter on the beach. The ride back into town was worth it because Lisa Arungua of the LA Public Health Department was one of the most interesting people I’ve talked with to date. We could have talked for hours, but I had to bow out at 5 p.m. because I needed to get to Culver City before dark. As serendipity would have it, I passed one of Lisa’s public service billboards on my way.

I try not to ride at night, but in LA I need to be doubly careful. LA’s reputation as a bad cycling town is fully deserved. Within my first 24 hours here no fewer than six cars pulled U-turns and come close to me at the curb. They look for other cars, but not for bicycles.

Then there are the parked cars. Most streets allow parallel parking. What’s unusual in LA is how many people park and then remain in the driver’s seat. Don’t ask me what they’re doing there. Maybe they live in them. As a cyclist I have to monitor moving cars on my left and potential doors opening on my right. When fully one-third of the parked cars have people in them, doors open into the bike lane all the time.

Finally, there are very few bike lanes compared to other cities. Cars – fancy ones with loud engines and expensive finishes – have no time for the likes of me. As I result, I was pretty happy that I had to traverse Venice Blvd three times today. It has by far the best bike lane I’ve seen in this city.

October 29, 2015 – Sun, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 46

Miles to Date: 9,175

States to Date: 25

The Ronald Reagan Library is the first Presidential Library I have visited on my trip, and it’s inspired me to pedal to more. So-called Presidential Libraries are a modern invention. Part library, mostly museum, and total spin, every president of my lifetime is enshrined in a monument of his greatness. The Ronald Reagan Library conformed to my expectations in many respects. It’s a reproduction California Mission structure on a gorgeous site. The docents I met were all middle-aged, tan, well coiffed Californians; Reagan’s most popular demographic. But I was surprised at the size and diversity of the visitors. The place was packed on an October Thursday morning with a broader array of diversity than I expected. In the 35 years since he was elected our country’s politics have shifted so far right, that Reagan is now a centrist, and sometimes even a liberal hero.

His actions are presented in sync with current tastes. Displays about how he stood down free speech advocates during campus unrest while governor of California also stress how much he increased funding for education. Descriptions of his environmental achievements fail to mention how James Watt, his Secretary of Interior, dismantled the environmental movement. But more important than how the curators tweak the message to popular taste, the Ronald Reagan Library illustrates how events, often beyond the control of the President, shape his legacy. Reagan got a huge boost when the Iran hostages were freed on Inauguration Day. Then, 71 days later, he was shot and survived, and the United States had our first bionic president. The guy was sharp and he was a great communicator, but he was lucky how events conformed to his message. Under Reagan, Americans could really believe we are a special people.

The building is well organized and sited, but the museum itself is terrible: cramped, cluttered and chaotic. I came to dead ends several times. The Air Force One Pavilion, however, is terrific. It’s great fun to stroll through the plane that served eleven Presidents. The control panel where the nuclear codes and black box were kept was eerily like the ones I witnessed in North Dakota’s Missile Alert Facility.

Simi Valley is not all that close to LA. I cycled many miles up and over Santa Susana Pass, against Santa Ana headwinds, before I landed in the San Fernando Valley. Fortunately, I had a nice bike path along the dedicated Orange Way bus line for over ten miles. However, the last five miles, along Ventura Boulevard at rush hour, were dicey. I have never seen so many stores that cater to the beautiful body. Want a gym? Massage? Cosmetics? Mud bath? Pilates? Tummy tuck? Laser hair removal? Fat freeze? Aroma therapy? Yoga? Herbal elixir? It’s all on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City, TV Capital of America.

October 28, 2015 – Sun, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 70

Miles to Date: 9,129

States to Date: 25

The bike path south along the Pacific Coast Highway is well marked and worth hopping back and forth across US 101 in order to enjoy the times the path hugs the ocean. Along one four-mile stretch the route stretches along a seawall where wave overspray refreshes riders. In another section I rode tight to RV’s set up along the shore. I felt like a voyeur checking out the middle-aged people lounging on their chairs, smoking and staring out to sea. Seemed boring to me, but relaxing is not my forte.

The path dissipates in Ventura, so I traveled though the center of this pop legend town. It’s got a good vibe, but more second hand shops per strip of storefront than any town in America. All signs of bike path disappeared east of town. It took some time to find my way to Oxnard, but once I did, I sailed east past the flat farmland with a strong tailwind. Going eighteen miles an hour without having to pedal is like being on an amusement ride!

All good things must pass, and eventually I had to climb Potrero Road, a few miles of very steep grade that bought me to Thousand Oaks, an affluent bedroom city.

Serendipity took me past a development of Eichler houses, one of the few developers that built Modernist residences. I met several people in the well-preserved development, each of whom loved their iconic home. Note how the mailbox matches the front door. Modernists are cool control freaks.

October 27, 2015 – Sun, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 20

Miles to Date: 9,059

States to Date: 25

Santa Barbara is paradise. The weather is perfect, the architecture stunning, the people thin and rich. That is, once you overlook the street people who have commandeered the best spots on the beach and all the parks. Even they seem pretty content to lounge in the lovely sea breeze.

I had an early morning interview with the city engineer responsible for overseeing the newly refurbished desalinization plant. Santa Barbara’s water woes are serious. Despite impressive conservation, they are siphoning the dregs out of their reservoirs. But, because this plant will come online and supply about 70% of Santa Barbara’s water needs, with the potential of meeting 100% of current demand, there’s a sense that the water issue is manageable, as long as you’re copasetic with processing sea water.

I spent the rest of the day playing tourist: the waterfront, the Mission, the beautiful shopping arcades, the elegant library. In late afternoon I visited the farmer’s market.

I’d spent a week trying to connect with my brother-in-law Matt, a long-time Santa Barbarian and neat guy, but plans never gelled. So, I found myself in paradise without a place to lay my head for the night. I could, of course, join the many other middle-aged homeless guys with bikes along the beach. But fate has been more generous to me than to them, so I figured I could cough up the cost of a motel.

In the meantime a local cyclist invited me for a beer at Figueroa Mountain Brewery in the funk district. I arrived early, snagged a spot at a community table, and before long was chatting with a personable IT wannabe explorer and a trio of Bakersfield guys on a business trip to the coast. When the men with expense accounts heard my story they insisted on buying me beer and dinner, Eventually, I met the cyclist, and her friends, as well as folks at other tables. When time came to disband Kerry, the IT guy, offered me the floor of his apartment three blocks away. Way more fun than a motel.

October 26, 2015 – Sun, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 67

Miles to Date: 9,039

States to Date: 25

Rule number one of bicycle touring: always listen to knowledgeable locals. My host last night, Bill Korn, gave me detailed directions on back roads from Santa Maria to Santa Barbara that proved to be challenging, beautiful, and worth following.

Faxon Canyon Road follows a valley rather than a traditional canyon. The valley floor has all sorts of agriculture, with sculptural hills rising on either side. I was intrigued by yet another method of efficient harvesting; a twin tractor setup that that included picking and packing in one movable process. I could not figure out what the laborers were harvesting – maybe broccoli?

As I climbed higher the fields gave over to vineyards. I had been warmed that Los Olivos, midway along my route, was a tony wine tasting town, but I wasn’t prepared for the disdain every set of eyes shot my way. The chicken panini at Corner House Coffee House was the most expensive and worst sandwich of my trip, served with a side of attitude. The Internet didn’t work (what coffee house doesn’t have superb Internet?) but the leggy staff couldn’t care less when I mentioned it. I longed for a tacqueria. Mexicanos in hairnets standing behind a steam table are so much nicer than gorgeous California girls who don’t give the time of day to a grey haired guy in a garish cycling shirt.

I was happy to shake the dust of Los Olivos from my feet, even if it meant cycling through the hottest part of a very hot, cloudless day. The grass along the road is beyond brown. It’s translucent stubble waiting to spark.

There’s a pittance of water in Lake Cachuma. The surface of the reservoir is well below the lowest discharge gate. A big green hose siphons water through the dam, an inelegant solution to a problem the dam designers never considered.

Before the big climb over San Marcos Pass, I ducked onto Stagecoach Road, a wonderful meandering path up and up and up. I passed under the giant bridge of Route 154, and eventually wound up higher. My legs were plenty tired when I finally reached the big descent into idyllic Santa Barbara.

October 25, 2015 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 47

Miles to Date: 8,972

States to Date: 25

You know you’ve been on a diet of excessive beauty when a day rolling along the California coast seems ho-hum. But after Big Sur, mere hills and valleys, distant seas and invigorating salt air are commonplace. So, instead of dramatic views I offer close-ups of the many trees and plants I found along a single stretch of California Route 227. New England may be glowing in fall colors this time of year, but California offers its own vegetative charm.

October 24, 2015 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 21

Miles to Date: 8,925

States to Date: 25

When you have an unavoidable day of administration work to set up travel plans for Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, it’s lucky to be in San Luis Obispo, where the Madonna Inn offers a midday diversion from reality. Although I visited Cal Poly’s campus and SLO’s vibrant downtown, the main event of this college town is the eclectic Madonna Inn, a three-dimensional confection that Alex Madonna constructed at the base of his very own mountain.

The urinal in the men’s room is so famous it’s impossible to use. Women are always barging in to take a peak.

The cakes are also noteworthy. I had a piece of Toffee Crunch for lunch – it was a complete meal, except perhaps for its nutritional content.

I didn’t get to see any of the 100+ unique rooms, but the lobbies and cafe were plenty garish for me. Besides, two hundred bucks a night and up is well beyond my taste. Instead, I stayed with a terrific friend-of-a-friend host whose house has a commanding view of the entire valley – including the Madonna Inn.

October 23, 2015 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 66

Miles to Date: 8,904

States to Date: 25

 Warmshowers superhost Murdock is a San Francisco 49’rs superfan, so even though the Seahawks trounced the 49’rs Thursday night, I still woke up more sports paraphernalia than I’ve even seen. Murdock lived up to his reputation by fueling me with waffles topped with ice cream and real maple syrup for breakfast. I pedaled mighty well on that combo.

The first portion of my day was more Big Sur terrain – incredible hills cut into the coast with occasional exclusive estates hanging over the sea. At one vista a guy hovering on the guard rail exclaimed, “You never get tired of this.”  Which is true.  Watching the waves is mesmerizing and majestic.

The world leveled out into a broad coastal plane where the cycling was easy and the ocean gorgeous. Crowds of elephant seals sunned themselves on the sand, and a few splashed in the water.

I stopped in Cambria for lunch – the burrito at Sandy’s Deli is very good. South of town California One pulls away from shore, and the landscape reverts to California’s trademark bald brown hills.

I fell in love with the beach town Cayucos, and not just because it’s home of the Brown Sugar Butter Cookie, though that would be reason enough. Cayucos is funky and friendly and the air’s a perfect mix of sun and sea. Besides, the local church touts noteworthy messages.

Morro Bay, just down the road, is larger and less charming. Highway One turns into a freeway and I felt the first surge of Southern California speed. Fortunately, I turned away from the highway to my host’s home in Los Osos and witnessed a dramatic sunset over the marshes.

October 22, 2015 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 63

Miles to Date: 8,838

States to Date: 25

 The fabled ride down California Highway One south from Carmel through Big Sur is a captivating sequence of the sea meeting the land. There are silky beaches, shallow shoals, waves crashing against granite outcroppings and water spouting up sheer cliffs. I began the day beneath a carpet of clouds, pedaled through hours of bright sun, until misty fog rolled over the hills. The sea scent was strong. The sun’s heat was dissipated by thermal drafts and crosscurrents through the canyons. Giant hawks swooped and circled, playing on the tricky breeze. The road itself is gorgeous, a sinewy ribbon that weaves up and down cliffs. Elegant bridges span deep creeks. Highway One was built during the Depression; California’s first scenic highway. It’s still the best.

October 21, 2015 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 51

Miles to Date: 8,775

States to Date: 25 

Pedaling south along the cusp of Monterey Bay offers something for everyone. My day began with great coffee and chat with my Santa Cruz couchsurfing hosts about the state of the world. Before leaving town, I ate a healthy but pricey breakfast at Staff of Life’s community table, and then cycled side streets to avoid California 1 traffic.

Eventually I got on Alameda Road, which parallels the bay with lettuce, kale, and strawberry fields. It was strawberry harvest time, which is a labor-intensive activity. Crowds of Mexicans bent over the low plants, picked the fruit, and placed them directly into the plastic Driscoll’s containers we find in every supermarket. Perhaps the containers get rinsed somewhere along the line, but I will be extra diligent to wash them out of the box from now own.

Newly planted fields are wrapped in plastic sheathing that shimmers in the sun. Laborers walk each aisle and cut a circle in the plastic every foot or so to let the plants emerge. Additional laborers hand dig tranches along the ends of each row for irrigation. The crews are so large portable toilet trailers and taco vendors service the hardworking people.

I stopped in Watsonville for some excellent Mexican pastries. Unfortunately someone ripped my tire pump off Surly while I ate. I replaced it at the next bike shop, with one that actually works better. Still, it’s disheartening that people are compelled to damage and steal.

Moss Landing has a landmark power plant, incredibly cheap fruit stands, and really easy riding across the lowest portion of the bay.

The southern half of Monterey Bay has a dedicated bike path that follows the dunes and runs right into town. Cannery Row has been turned into condos and restaurants, but Monterey is still full of colorful looking characters that John Steinbeck could write about with flourish.

I stayed with a group of four army officers studying non-violent methods at the Naval Institute. We ate steak and drank beer and chatted about the state of the world. There were more similarities than differences between my morning and evening hosts. Its a good omen for tomorrow when a military man states, “Non-violent action is twice as likely to succeed in it’s objective than violence.”