Day 67 - 11/28/16 - Long Beach to Newport Beach, CA

I had to go to the post office before leaving Long Beach, I’ve been meaning to shed some weight.  I sent the last two rocks home to Ava, Oregon and California, as well as my Holey Toledough T-shirt.  I also sent home my hammock and big, heavy U-lock, probably 5 pounds of combined weight off my bike.  But, I also had to send home the print Catherine gave me.  A while ago she did a painting of a banana penetrating a glazed donut, two very important things in my life just getting it on.  

She made an edition of prints of the sexy food scene and she was kind enough to give me one.  If I could’ve framed and displayed it on my bike I would’ve but, I’ll see it again when I get home, I’m sure my family will get a kick out of it.  The post office was quite busy, this is a busy time of year for them, the holidays.  I like that though, I like seeing the post office utilized, I like seeing people send Christmas cheer.  This post office was a bit odd, the tellers were behind an inch of glass, bullet proof, I assume.  It kind of took away from the experience of interaction, I don’t know.  Oh well.  

Outside, a homeless woman pushing a cart asked about my bike, asked if I had a pump.  I did, she had a flat tire.  I pumped it back up for her, the air stayed and her day got a little better.  She muttered something about not having eaten in a couple days so I gave her an orange and a bag of crackers and some granola bars and she was off.  I was happy to do it.  I didn’t need all that food anyway, I have places to stay for the next few days or so.  

I left the city by late morning, rode on the paved path right along the beach, the somewhat standard scenario for everyday now.  I’ve seen quite a few piers by this point but, I was still excited to see Huntington Beach Pier in person.  I’ve seen so many photos of that place from Ed and Deanna Templeton.  I wish I could’ve stumbled upon them there but, they were in Japan.  

The pier was a lot quieter than I’d ever seen it in Ed’s photos but, it was a cold, gray, windy day in November.  I watched the sun set and admired the residual glow like an ember in the lower half of the sky before I continued the rest of the way to Quintin’s house, another dood I met through Warm Showers.  I had dinner with him and his two boys, Caden and Chase, 14 and 11 I believe.  A fire crackled in the fireplace.  

The four of us, plus Moby, the dog and Cat, the cat watched Superman after dinner.  I almost fell asleep on the couch, I took the opportunity to go to bed when the kids did. 

Day 65 - 11/26/16 Leo Carillo SP to Long Beach, CA

I’d never met Catherine before.  I didn’t even know what she looked like, I had only ever seen her paintings through the screen of my phone.  On my way to her place I wondered how I even started following her on Instagram.  The morning at Leo Carillo State Park was just beautiful.  The Hiker.Biker campsite was tucked in a grove under massive, thick, meandering branches reaching in all directions, partly bleached by the sun, or maybe that’s the way they are.  

I knew rain was in the forecast, sometime in the early afternoon, so I was up with the sun.  I ate my oats and drank my coffee quickly in the cold and was on the road by 8:00.  Getting out of the grove and into the sun was thrilling, I was motivated to beat the rain but, I couldn’t escape it.  The first half of the ride was sunny and dry as I rolled over the seaside hills through Malibu and into Santa Monica.  The bike path winds you through the hot, tan sands, past the lifeguard huts in their soft sea foam shades of blue and all the vacant volley ball nets, at is Fall after all.  

I had to stop at REI in Santa Monica but it was nice to stop and see the pier and some of the trippy sidewalks with curved bricks that wiggled in your eyes as you roll over them.  But just outside of Santa Monica is where the rain found me.  Right on the beach.  I don’t know if anyone believed the forecast or paid attention to it because all the other cyclists and beachgoers seemed rather surprised by the sudden shower.  

The next 30 miles were a wet blur, a mad dash to get to Catherine’s in Long Beach.  It’s not so fun to stop riding in the rain when you’re already soaked through, I get real cold real quick.  It’s best to keep moving, and so I did.  As it sometimes happens, the sun came out from behind the veil of clouds just as I got to Catherine’s, what else can you do but laugh?  

Her apartment was set up like any good artist’s living arrangement: lots of art on the walls, lots of art on the floor leaning against the walls, paintings I had only seen from my phone screen, massive in person, and lots of art supplies shoved in corners that would be something at some point.  I went and showered and she went to work making a vegetable stew.  We shot the shit for a long time with some Christmas music in the background.  

It was nice to hear someone talk about art and making art.  That’s her full-time gig and it makes sense because she’s so damn talented.  There’s a box of Dunkin Donuts on her table.  I laughed when I saw them but, she assured me they’re just her models.  She knows what a good donut should taste like.

Day 62-64 11/23/16-11/25/16 Gaviota to Carpinteria to Leo Carillo State Park, CA

Gaviota State Beach faces South, nothing obstructs the view to the East or the West so it is possible to see the sun set in the evening and then wake up to catch the sunrise –that’s what I did before I packed up in the wind and blew down 101 like a leaf in the breeze.  The road never veered too far from the ocean until I rode into Santa Barbara.  I needed groceries and some other things; I expected a shit show at Trader Joes but it was actually a piece of cake to get in and get out.  

I cruised down State Street all the way to the pier, the focal point of any cozy spot on the beach amongst the palms.  I saw a massive pine tree on the wharf, not yet decorated but, I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for it to be dressed from trunk to tip in lights and ornaments.  I carried on from there in the late afternoon, now facing a headwind for the last 10 miles, no problem.  I stopped for a real meal, a burrito and a beer to fill in for any home-cooked meal I’d miss the next night.  Carpinteria State Beach has a campground right across from the parking lot.  

I paid for 2 nights and so did Montana and Coleen, the young couple touring on their fat tire bikes in preparation for a trip to New Zealand in December.  The campground was packed, full of families in their campers, fulfilling their usual Thanksgiving tradition or doing something completely different.  I’ve never thought of spending Thanksgiving on a beach in California but, it was certainly a good way to spend the day, even if I spent it alone.  I had a nice breakfast with Montana and Coleen.  Not long after the sun began to warm the Earth, Blue came riding in!  

The old-timer we all met at Burlington Campground in Avenue of the Giants.  I was so excited I gave him a hug and he gave me some bud that we smoked shortly after we got caught up.  But, Blue is like the wind: one minute he’s there, the next, well... So I took my bike out for a ride, cruised the empty streets and down the crowded walking trails full of folks trying to justify stuffing their faces later.  I did my best to be by myself, I wasn’t interested in any bullshit smalltalk with random strangers.  

I’m thankful I don’t need the company of others to feel happy, sometimes it’s good to get away and be quiet, everyone should give it a try sometime.  I was excited to get on the road again today, too many days off aint my style and I had just taken a day in Big Sur.  The riding was phenomenal, mostly bike paths wedged between the ocean and the PCH.  I was extra grateful for this road today, there were dozens of RVs and campers next to the ocean and the ocean was filled with surfers.  

I felt like I avoided the miserable hustle and bustle of the highway and rode along the road of good times and good vibes, like this is where you go, where you ride when you prefer life on the edge, on the fringe.  The highway is where you go when you want to get it over with, when your eyes are on the destination, not the journey.  I don’t ever want to want to be there.

Day 57 - 11/18/16 - Day Off at Andrew Molera State Park, Big Sur, CA

Laying on a picnic table under the starriest night I’ve laid eyes on in Big Sur after what feels like the best day I could’ve asked for – I’ve seen 9 shooting stars with my back on the Earth and my eyes in the sky.  But how many days are in the vault labeled something like, “Best day I could’ve asked for”?  

These special days are filled with beautiful moments, scenery, hills, laughter, eating...and this trip is full of so many days like this and it’s all going by in my mind like one of these shooting stars in the sky.  Some day, I’ll be 50 years old and I’ll have twice as many “Best Days” in my memory, piled up and disorganized like random clutter in a junk drawer.

I’ll say things like, “10 years ago –or maybe 15” before I start to tell a story.  Maybe one day I’ll tell the story of when I ate some shrooms at Big Sur and walked to the beach and became a bump on a log, a blade of grass, and a shrub on the side of a cliff and sea hawks hovered and flew over me, their wings sharp like blades.  The waves crashed and made intricate curved patterns like veins or smoke; out in the distance the water looked like 3D shapes all floating and bumping, catching the glare from the sun.  

The delicate flowers were black against the sky and their ends broke off and became pelicans swooping into the blue.  Becoming human again and coming off the cliffs I backtracked down the trail, the mountains in the distance caught the last bit of sunlight and glowed a bright pink that darkened to red and then purple, like a bruise, until the sun dipped and it all went gray.  

I lay on the ground and watched it all.  One of the mountains looked like a sad, tired face and I felt like it was mother nature and she was telling me, “it’s okay” and I felt loved.  By the time I got back to my tent the stars were already coming out.  I got in my sleeping bag but, hung my head outside my tent to stare up at the starriest night I’ve laid eyes on.  

Or maybe I’ll have an even better story to tell of an even better day and my night in Big Sur will just go by the wayside, into the junk drawer of my mind, just like a shooting star blazing across the blackness, and those keeping count don’t remember a difference between the fifth and the ninth shooting star, they’ve all been bright and beautiful.