I woke up early again. Between the rain, the train, and the crashing surf, it was a restless night, but I still woke up eager. I was heading to Ventura to stay with Janeanne and Fred. I’m pretty sure I met them long ago, but that was practically in another life, so I wasn’t sure what I would find. Ventura was less than 20 miles down the road, and after the deep grind down from Monterey, that seemed like a hop and a skip. My legs didn’t entirely agree. With all the hard riding, and my new trick of going faster than ever before, I was about as sore as I had been since the first week. The difference, of course, was the knowledge that I could go as far as I needed, and then some.

After an early morning stroll out to the beach, I started packing and drying out. It was a warm morning, and the sun was already blazing over the hilltops. I followed Kate’s lead and hung my rain fly on a sunny stretch of fence in the hopes that I could pack it up dry, or at least less than soaking wet. It never works out that way, especially with the ludicrous 9 AM checkout time. The coughing guy across the hiker biker camp may have actually been homeless, but no one else was. The fact that everyone gets kicked out on the off chance that a homeless person may be staying in the park seems like overkill to me.

I talked with Adam and Kate while loading the rig. They were heading for the train in Ventura. It’s a way to skip over the urban sprawl in LA. I could see the point, and I admit to being a little nervous about crossing LA myself, but the only way to see it, for me, is to ride through it. I made it out with 6 minutes to spare, and went looking for a nice egg-y breakfast in Carpinteria. I found it, ate it, and then started spinning down the avenue. I was still warming up when I merged back onto the highway and marveled at the coastal scenery as I rode down the superior bike lane on the 101. Not only a bike lane, but a huge shoulder to escape in case of truck issues.

A few miles further, and I exited off the 101 and back onto the segment of the 1 that still survived in the area. It led along a huge parking area for RV’s right on the shore. Dozens of RV denizens were working through their morning rituals as I rode by. I’m sure I never saw one single RV-driving, topless sunbather in the entire state of Oregon, but they were all over the place here, ten feet from a major highway. Welcome to Southern California, kids.

I was overtaken by two schoolteachers from Germany. Uli was the friendly one, and her friend Vera, was the serious one. I picked up my pace, sore legs complaining, just to keep the conversation going. They already had a huge ride behind them, on the road since July, but Vera was very concerned about keeping the schedule, since they only had a year to see a huge swath of the Americas. I believe they were aiming for Argentine and Peru before the end. They were also aiming for the 2:14 train out of Ventura to skip the LA crossing. We pulled over, exchanged blogs, and took pictures of two strong German women, two big dummies, and one white dog. They saddled up, and were gone.

I didn’t expect to see them again, but a short run down the bike path led to Adam and Kate swimming on the beach by a lrage concrete cube that looked for all the world like a septic tank. I stopped to say hi again, since it looked like a bike touring convention, and spent a few more minutes saying goodbye… again. This happens a lot with bike tourists. You never know whether you will see someone until you see them.

Uli and Vera left. Adam and Kate seemed to think there was plenty of time to catch the train and jumped back in the ocean. I followed the bike path into Ventura and started looking for the way to Fred and Janeanne’s house. I got sidetracked by some road closures. The whole of downtown Ventura was under construction, and the streets were ground up with rough surfaces in preparation for new tarmac. Manholes and utility ports were sticking up all over. I weaved along on the Big Dummy, just checking out the beautiful town. I found a tourist information place, and with the help of a nice lady, quickly became oriented to the directions Janeanne had given me.

I had been warned that they lived at the top of a big hill, but I was still surprised by how big. I had ridden from Carpinteria to Ventura faster than I made the climb across town and into the hills. When I arrived, no one was home but they had left it so that I could get in and make myself at home. I threw my laundry in, since taking a shower would be pointless until I had something to put on afterwards. While that was running, I finished unloading and called Fred to let him know I had arrived.

An hour later, Fred came home and proceeded to bury me in hospitality. I had also been warned about the depths of Fred’s Samoan hospitality, but again, I was surprised. I’m convinced that I recovered from my last week of riding three times as fast as normal due to the sheer amount and quality of food he threw in my direction. He took off again to pick up Alex, their second daughter, and I grabbed my first shower in three days. Janeanne is my friend Billy’s sister. Billy is one of the most entertaining people I know, and when Janeanne came home, I discovered that it’s a family trait.

Between the food, the fine company, and the rolling sense of humor, it was one of those places that made me feel right at home. Oh, and did I mention? Fred can cook like nobody’s business.