Day 28, 29, & 30

I acknowledge that I am riding my bicycle on indigenous land once the exclusive home to the Ohlone, Salinan, and Chumash tribes.   

Hydration.

Nutrition.

Thermoregulation.

Rest.

Patience.

It’s a pretty simple recipe for longer bicycle rides. If you violate or ignore one of these physiological principles, you’re likely to experience some discomfort at some point. Hydration is the easiest to ignore because if you run out of water, you just keep going, and don’t immediately feel the effects of dehydration. Unfortunately for Tom and I, we didn’t carry enough water on our ride from Franklin Hot Springs to Cambria and suffered the consequences.

Since neither of us had been to the Paso Robles (“Paso”) or the Templeton area, it was an amazing change of pace. The Coast Live Oaks and Blue Oaks punctuated the hillsides with scattered wildflowers, green range grasses, cattle, and grapes. Grapes were everywhere and new vineyards were rising with the sun. It’s hard to believe Americans drink that much wine, but not when you see all the vineyards and wineries! Too bad you can’t hydrate with Cabernet Sauvignon. 

After a brief stop at the Templeton Trader Joe’s and a water bottle top-off, we rode west toward the coast on CA Highway 46 which was going to take us to 1700 feet from about 750 feet. We had not experienced many road shoulders with that much consideration for bicycles, gradual incline, and magnificent views so it was easy to forget about the dry air and warming temperatures. We reached the Templeton Gap and briefly celebrated conquering the hill. What about those empty water bottles? Hopefully we’ll find some more water soon. The exhilarating five-mile ride downhill had to wait until after we stopped to observe Morro Rock and Morro Bay off in the distance, an awe-inspiring view by any account.

Soon we hit CA Highway 1 and made the north-bound turn toward San Simeon. A few short miles passed before we rode into Cambria, and stopped at a restaurant, Linn’s, recommended to me as a place to see old bicycles on display, hanging from the walls. For some reason we forgot about the water bottles, and headed north again for San Simeon campground. The road shoulder again seemed like a magic carpet and we arrived to the campground in short order. We finally started to drink water again, but the damage was done. The next day both of us reported scratchy throats and I had a very runny nose. No worries! We’re distance athletes and will recover quickly! 

Tom was not interested in going to Hearst Castle the next morning stating he had seen his share of castles in France. I was curious because it was something I learned about in 4th Grade at Sierra Gardens Elementary School. I learned California history from Miss Welch who had us recreating missions (mine was Soledad, but it really looked like a big cow pie), and other history up to the modern era, including Hearst Castle. I guess I should have known, but didn’t remember that the Hearst fortune resulted from extractive industries, i.e. mining, by William Randolph’s father. The estate probably forced more than a few Native Californians from their resource-rich homes. When William finally tapped the family fortune, the opulence he created continues to impress many, but I never saw the externalized costs in any of the guest rooms. Suffice to say, I’m glad I went. If you want to go, go. But I wouldn’t say it’s a must-see. I should have tried to see the Elephant Seals instead. 

I retuned to campground, grabbed Tom and we headed to Los Osos, just south of Morro Bay and home to our friend Randy who accepted us with open arms. Like Kathy, Randy is from Green Bay and is in the process of relocating from Anchorage. Randy and I have had our share of winter bicycling adventures in Alaska the last few years with some epic fat-tire rides. Our post-Christmas rides last year were brisk, but memorable. As Tom and I unpacked inside, it was very apparent that I was coming down with a cold, and Tom was in denial. I took two rest days here at Randy’s house. Yesterday, Tom chose to pedal on. His goal is to ride from LA to San Diego in one leg and he wants to get some miles under his belt. Instead, today he stayed in his tent in Pismo Beach recovering from his cold. You can’t escape the basic rules of bicycling. 

Yesterday, Randy and I hiked what I thought would be a lactic acid draining exercise, but it turned out to be THE reminder that I needed more rest and a nap. The hike was on PG&E land, and the Point Buchon Trail led us through some incredible active grazing grassland right to the ocean cliffs. The bird life and wildflower bloom was head turning. I added two more birds to my unrecorded life list: Allen’s Hummingbird and Brandt’s Cormorant. I’m sure there were other birds to ID, but I wasn’t able to clearly see them. Through our binoculars, we watched a Kestrel perched on a fence post as it eviscerated a mouse for lunch. Shortly after, we were very impressed with the flying prowess of a Red-tailed Hawk soaring with a snake firmly grasped in its talons as if to say, “Look mom! No Hands!” By the time we got to the end of the trail, the fog rolled in and luckily for me, it completely obscured the soon-to-be dismantled Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant. It would have been a totally incongruent experience to see it after taking in such a broad swath of the landscape’s natural beauty. 

As part of my second “rest” day, this morning I rode to San Luis Obispo and met my niece Rhys and her +1, Jake, for breakfast. Turns out Jake is another bicycle aficionado with two-wheels in his blood. Rhys is a proficient rider, too, and both of them accompanied me back to Los Osos after we ate. They had an unusual experience last night just like much of the PNW had. Late in the evening, they drove to the top of a nearby mountain so they could see the aurora! The aforementioned fog bank didn’t lift, so they had to hit the high road in order to experience that magic. It was nice to be with family again, and on a bike ride!

The magic associated with this trip just continues … and will as long as I stay hydrated.