Day 36 & 37

I acknowledge that I am riding across the ancestral lands of the Tongval, the Juaneno and Luiseno tribes, people of this land before the arrival of the Europeans. These lands were never ceded. 

After I left Carpinteria, I neglected to nominate songs that would lift me through the Southland. Here they are in order:

L.A. Freeway, Jerry Jeff Walker

Come Monday, Jimmy Buffett

All I Want to Do, Sheryl Crow

Coming into Los Angeles, Arlo Guthrie

Calling All Angels, Train

And the winner is, Calling All Angels. No, it’s not specifically about Los Angeles, the city, but it is about the city’s name, so I consider that fair game. Besides, it’s my contest. Give it a listen if you haven’t heard it recently.

La-La Land. The past two days I feel like I traversed a cultural archipelago starting with 20 miles of Malibu. Surfers, hikers, and houses so large that one could hold all 13,000 of Seattle’s unhoused. One house was the size of a small industrial manufacturing plant. After a brief interruption of fixing that pinch flat again (my spare inner tube is too small for my tires), I passed by many trailheads that led into the Santa Monica Mountains and other state parks. The lines of cars parked along PCH (Pacific Coast Highway, aka Highway 1) was legendary. If you put in a trail, they will come. 

Santa Monica is where the L.A. mystic starts. The Santa Monica Beach path broke away from PCH and now riding through the sand was time to observe the beach life. There were some tourists for sure, but because the sun started to break through the clouds for the first time in a week, the locals were out in force, too. Venice Beach was a distraction and stopping to get a selfie in the middle of the craziness wasn’t in the cards. Instead, I took one where there were fewer people and I didn’t worry about getting in the way of someone who was completely absorbed in the pandemonium. Marina del Rey seemed to have its own vibe and contained the UCLA Marina Aquatic Center and Rowing Team’s shells. Lots of kayaks on the water!

The beach at the end of LAX’s runways featured more folks than you’d expect, especially since LA Water and Power has their water treatment facility right next door. Still, a great day for flying kites and actually attaching yourself to one if you wanted. Manhattan Beach had its share of volleyball tournaments and a cancer research fundraiser, Tour de Pier. Arriving to Redondo Beach, my destination, around 4 PM, I noticed my front tire was low which could only mean I needed a new tube. I did the obligatory grocery shopping and went to bed.

Before I went to sleep, however, I had been texting with both Jake and Tom. Tom made it to the border first. Jake made it there just after the sun set. They didn’t see one another being on different schedules and Jake scheduled a ride home with his uncle once he arrived there. While I was impressed with Tom’s determination to go to the border and altering his schedule so he could, Jake’s bicycle racing past kicked into full gear after we met up in Carpinteria. Coming into Carp, he rode 112 miles the previous day. We rode together 50 miles to my campground outside of Malibu before he continued another 63 miles to Long Beach. His ride from Long Beach to the border on Saturday was 133 miles. Remember, I met Tom at Manzanita, Oregon and Jake the next day at Newport. Their support and their companionship made this trip exceptional. I look forward to riding with them in the future.  

Waking to another day of urban riding, and after swapping in a new tire tube, it was time to head to the O.C. under sunny skies. I passed through Torrence’s “Pill Hill” where Providence, Harbor-UCLA, and LA Children’s hospitals were located as well as all the supporting clinics and hotels. Riding through Carson was meh (didn’t stop) until the largest oil refinery on the West Coast suddenly appeared like a saucer from outer space. Marathon Oil’s Los Angeles Refinery manufactures “cleaner-burning” gasoline and diesel as well other distillates. What it also has on site is a 400 MW cogeneration power plant, the largest in California. Doesn’t matter where I go in California, crude oil is there. 

My introduction to Long Beach was a bit odd. I could see the LA Harbor in the distance as I rode on the L.A. River levee/bike path south to Long Beach Harbor and waterfront. The river is notorious for not being a “river” but more of a concrete conveyance. It was not a pretty sight. The bike path had its share of squatters and associated dwellings. However, at one point I was surprised to find “country” below the levee where old Long Beach survived as an area of stables and horses. Entering the waterfront area, I could tell there was a buzz in the air. The 41st Pride Parade had just concluded and rainbows reigned everywhere.

Now for The O.C.! Transiting Long Beach, the buzz continued right into Bolsa Chica State Beach, where a music festival was underway, with bands spread out every mile along the trail. Huntington Beach was hosting an AVP Beach Volleyball tournament, so the area was impossibly jammed with cars pulling into beach parking lots. It was here when I met a couple of guys who were on a two-day ride from San Luis Obispo to San Juan Capistrano. I think that’s about 350 miles. I rode with them for about five miles before bowing out. I can do 15 MPH for a long ways, not 20 MPH. 

Newport Beach I’m familiar with because Kendall lived there for a couple of years during the pandemic, working for SAP. Nothing new to report here! Still lots of very expensive cars trolling PCH and making spectacles of themselves. It was a short jaunt to Crystal Cove State Park, one of the system’s Crown Jewels. I had a prime campsite and enjoyed my evening watching the surf, the birds, the hang gliders, and the sunset. Which, by the way, keeps happening earlier and earlier the further south I go. Looking forward to longer days!