I may be riding a bicycle across the country, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am basically lazy. I hate the morning when I have to walk 200 yards to the restroom. I hate the packing and unpacking. I hate the beginning of each ride, and there’s a lesson in that. Every time I hesitated at the beginning, it was probably a mistake that made life harder later. Procrastination.

On this morning, I really resented the distance to the restroom. In some campgrounds, it’s no big deal to wander off into the woods and water a tree. In this one, wedged ungracefully between a farm field and a sluggish, muddy river, that wasn’t really an option. By the time I made it to the restroom, things were pretty desperate. I felt fortunate to make it in time. Ahhhhhh. Much better. My outlook improved radically in less than 60 seconds. That didn’t really improve the city park. It was grubby.

By the time I got back, the four guys were halfway through packing, and making a rapid exit. I thought they were just trying to put in a really long day, until the camp host showed up, and quickly established the fact that the four guys had stiffed the campground for the fee. It all made sense, to avoid a $5 fee, they came in checked out the camp, decided that it was loosely managed, and therefore “stiffable.” Then they went back into town until they thought the camp host would be asleep, showed up late, pitched tents, got up early and bailed before anyone came to check. Nice. For every idiotic, annoying rule you encounter in parks, there is a story like this to cause it.

Kate and Adam got up, and we shot the breeze while we packed and loaded. They took off just ahead of me, and I watched them head south on highway 1 while I went into Lompoc’s outskirts in search of some semblance of breakfast. I ended up eating some kind of breakfast roll from the Circle K. Don’t. Just don’t. I followed everyone south on the 1. The last big climb on the Pacific Coast Route was 18 miles ahead. and I was anxious to get over it. The earlier, the better, because I had two choices for camping that night. I could stop way before Santa Barbara, and leave myself a long ride into Venture the next day, or I could go long today, and camp in Carpinteria State Park, with a short Tuesday ride into Ventura.

Procrastination would dictate short today, long tomorrow, but that was my Oregon approach, so I decided to tackle it today, and take it easy tomorrow. For that reason I was pushing pretty hard, climbing out of the saddle, and spinning as fast as my legs would allow. The road was pushing back. The effortless cruise of the previous day led to a long, slow warmup today. Eventually, it happened. I was psyching up for the big climb, and when I got to the top, I realized that I had been climbing for the entire 18 miles. The summit was pure anti-climax, but it still felt good to know that the rest of the coast didn’t even rate an elevation map. I had survived a lot of big climbs, about 1300 miles worth, and had even learned to love some of them. Amazing.

The back side was much steeper, so it was almost like I got a free downhill. I didn’t pedal one stroke, as I made the descent, turned back onto the 101 for the first time in 400 miles, and kept burning downhill to the coast. This was my fourth reintroduction to the coast in California, and each time brings some noticable changes in climate, vegetation, and water character. This time I got drier hillsides, and oil rigs. The coastline had turned from the rugged northern variety into the TV, movie style that California is known to have. I think of it as “pure” although I prefer the gnarlier northern style. Rocks rock!

Anyone who reads this blog knows that Highway 1 has its challenges, but what it lacks is the 101’s intense truck traffic. I had almost forgotten the continuous sound of semi trucks whipping past. This section of the 101 has huge shoulders, though, so riding with the giants is not as stressful as it has been up north. In fact, with enough room to escape, the trucks help push me along the highway, as I tackle the endless series of long ups and downs, heading for Goleta.

I pass the state parks before Santa Barbara, eliminating the chance for a a fallback, but I was still feeling strong, even though the two long days were maknig themselves felt in the tops of my thighs. I reached the outskirts of Goleta and took the exit onto Hollister Ave. The whole region, from Goleta, to Ventura, and I assume further south, has the best signage, and the best bike lanes. The setup is perfect for cyclists who want to travel, and the avenue carried me all the way through to Santa Barbara and out the other side.

Goleta seemed nice enough, but it almost felt like a support town for Santa Barbara, which gave the impression of a town which is reserved for the privileged. I’m sure it’s all relative and I will see other places that make SB look poor, but for now, it’s the densest collection of high end boutiques I have ever seen. I made a quick stop along the Santa Barbara waterfront, celebrated the end of another map, and set out to tackle the last 10 miles. It was getting dark, and there were a lot of road changes in the last segment. That’s when I really learned to appreciate the excellent bike route signage. There was never any question of where I was going.

On top of that, I had gone over 60 miles, but I was still cranking hard. I passed people on the bike lanes left and right, mostly left. Yep. No one was more shocked than I was. I pulled into the town of Carpinteria just after sunset, and found the park in no time. I paid the $5 and was told that checkout time was 9AM. I said, “Are you serious?” Checkout time in parks is usually 11 to 1 PM. I was told that it was an effort to control the homeless problem and that it didn’t really apply to me. Huh?

I’ve been amazed by the various methods of dealing with that issue. Some parks just move the hiker biker sites, and leave the homeless alone. Some, like this one, take the hard line and just run everyone out. I’m not sure what the best method should be myself, but it’s an interesting problem.

I pushed my bike into the hiker biker zone and found Kate and Adam already there. I wasn’t surprised that they beat me, but I was surprised that they only beat me by 15 minutes. Then they told me that they had ridden across Goleta and SB on a bus and I felt pretty good. I rode the whole distance from Lompoc, and I got there almost as fast. Cool.

They shared some food with me, and we talked for a little while. I snagged Wifi from somewhere nearby, barely and let Adam check his email on my computer. We all went to bed pretty early. It was a long day, but a good day. I was deep into my reserves, and looking forward to a short ride into Ventura tomorrow, where my good friend Billy’s sister’s family was waiting for me to visit. I fell asleep to music in my earbuds, almost covering the sounds of Amtrak trains and the hacking cough of the one homeless man in the park.

Thanks for reading.