Coyote howls woke me just after midnight. First one, then two, then a whole pack. They were close. Well, close enough to wake me. I wondered what they were so excited about. Probably some rabbit they killed.
I listened to them for a while. It was colder now too, cold enough that my strategy of lying on the tent floor in my underwear was beginning to fail me. I considered opening up my sleeping bag, but bagging it back up was going to add extra time if I needed to make a speedy exit.
I put on my puffer and threw my riding jacket over my legs, putting a foot in each arm. I felt a little warmer now. Good enough.
And now I was wide awake again. I was curious what the exact penalty would be if someone caught me sleeping here. I was right on the trail, and there was line of sight to my tent from a house’s backyard.
I Googled what the law was and argued with Gemini about it. Supposedly people sweep the park on evenings and mornings for such behavior. Yeah right. I figured if this happened I’d just plead my case and pack up quick. With that in mind, I drifted back off to sleep.
I woke up one minute before my alarm, and this was good timing. As soon as I got started packing my things, I heard movement outside. One of the coyotes perhaps?
No. These were footsteps. I could hear them moving across the leaves. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Someone was walking along the trail, which was about 30 feet from where I was situated. I froze, making sure no more sound would come from my tent. The footsteps continued, then eventually faded off.
I remained frozen for a few more minutes until I was sure I heard nothing. I packed up as quickly as I ever have and made haste back to the bike. What a relief it was to be moving again. San Diego here I come.
Getting on the bike before daybreak was an epic experience that I’m glad to have had at least once on this trip. Highway 1 opened up along the coast for an awesome sunrise. I stopped off at Solimar, just north of Ventura, and walked along the beach. Just a few other early birds were there, one guy walking his dog. Seems like a nice way to live. I saw a flock of baby sandpipers, reminding me of my days at Solana Pacific: “Goooood morning sandpipers!”
I continued down the road and arrived at BG’s Cafe in Oxnard for breakfast. My hunger met its match with an absolutely monstrous breakfast burrito which I was just barely able to firm in its entirety.
The road was beautiful down through Malibu, and the perfection would’ve continued as I rolled into Beverly Hills had it not been for the heat. It was up to the mid 90s by noon, so I had to take refuge. I ended up spending about four hours in the LMU library waiting out the peak of the day’s heat, then continued down the 1.
In Huntington Beach I joined in with a swarm of bikers. The first few of them passed me, then I picked up to their pace. It was super cool seeing how nimbly these Californians move through traffic, and it was fun having strength in numbers. At some point their leader forked off, we waved and I continued on my way.
After Dana Point I was on the 5. The home stretch. The street names started to get more and more familiar.
It was pretty surreal riding through the streets I’d grown up in. And it seemed a bit different. I felt like an outsider and a native at the same time.
I made it home to a nice home cooked meal. Steak, salad and a Guinness. And I got to meet the new dog Archie who is afraid of me.
I’ll be chilling here for a while. There’s a big heat wave coming though, but once I can enjoy some more day rides I’ll be back out there.
I’ve also decided I’m not going to sell this bike. I like it, and one of the takeaways from the trip has been that this is everything I need. There’s also some sentimental value in it now that will probably appreciate over time.
As a result I’ll be heading back up the west coast and will hopefully find a window without too much rain and cold. Expect some more activity around then.
Miles Ridden: 245
Total Miles: 2,859
Camp: The Woodman Household, San Diego, CA