Day 26
September 7th 2008
Huntington Beach, CA to San Diego, CA
97.1 Miles
With the bulk of L.A. safely behind me, today should have been a piece of cake. I was dropped off at the intersection of Beach Blvd and PCH in Huntingdon Beach. I wisely chose to let Monique carry most of the bags today so I could ride unencumbered. The original plan was to ride to La Jolla and get a motel room so I could rest up for the last few miles. Since I knew I would be seeing Monique and all my gear later tonight, and since I knew I wanted to cover a lot of miles, it just seemed prudent to ride light today. It was a cloudy and foggy Sunday morning, but the shoulders were wide, the bike lanes clearly marked and the traffic very light. The first 10 miles went by quickly. I rolled through Newport Beach before 8am. Just North of Laguna Beach I ran into my first spot of trouble.
The Pacific Coast Triathlon had taken over Crystal Cove State Park and all of the southbound lanes of the PCH. As I approached the first set of cones blocking my route a young police officer flagged me down. He told me I couldn’t ride on the road anymore since the biking section of the race was using the highway. I asked if I could follow the detour with the all the cars. He told me that they weren’t allowing bikes to ride with the cars, it would be too dangerous today. He suggested I follow the bike/beach path through the park. I’d have to walk my bike however, I couldn’t ride it on the path.
“How far?”
“I think it is about 4 miles.”
“You’re Kidding. I have to walk my bike 4 miles? Really.”
“Well, you’ll have to walk it at least until I can’t see you. After that I don’t care.”
So I started walking down the path. After about 150 feet I was out of sight from the cop so I got on my bike and started to ride. About 100 feet later, a race official jumped out from the bushes and yelled at me to get off my bike. Apparently this path was for the running section of the race. I hadn’t seen any runners yet, but there was the tell tale chalk arrows on the ground indicating this was part of the race course. I asked the guy what I could do, I pointed out that I wasn’t interested in the race and that I was just trying to ride through to San Diego. He told me to either walk my bike the next four miles or wait until the race was over at 10 am.
This was ridiculous. I walked my bike back out to the road. The racers were flying by me on their bicycles. I looked down and saw that someone had lost their number, the one that attaches to the bike. A little further up the road, some else had lost the number that sticks to the bike helmet. I figured the racers would be too concerned with racing and the officials would be too concerned with the racers, to notice me riding along with them. I grabbed both numbers, stuck the one on my bike and the other to my helmet and started riding. I was right, nobody cared. I was sure I would stand out like a sore thumb since I was riding a bike with front and rear pannier racks and a handle bar bag and trunk bag, but no, in fact I was cheered on by some of the spectators. After about 4 miles of “racing”, near the southern end of the race course, there was a steep descent followed by a steep ascent. I was content to just ride my slow pace and I stayed as far right as possible. but when we started climbing the hill, the group of riders around me started slowing way down. Too slow for me. Come on people, it’s still a race. Is this all you’ve got? I tried to keep their pace but I just couldn’t do it. I picked up my rpms and started passing people uphill. To be fair, I hadn’t just finished a half mile swim in the ocean and I wasn’t pacing myself for the 10K to come. I ended up passing about 20 racers going up hill.
At the top of the hill, the bike course made a u-turn and started heading back north on the PCH. This was my exit. I road past a couple of orange cones where another young cop and a race volunteer were directing the racers to turn around. I feigned being out of breath, and looked at them and said “Tough race, I give up.” I squeezed between the back bumper of the cop car and the curb and I was back on route and riding south.
A couple of miles later I was riding through Laguna Beach. It was probably too early for me to catch a glimpse of “LC”, but I kept my eyes open just in case.
As I approached the end of the O.C. I had one last obstacle. The bike route through San Clemente. It was well signed so I didn’t get lost, but in truth, it had to be well signed. San Clemente is a mess of curving roads and cul-de-sacs. I swear there wasn’t a straight road in the entire city. How do people drive here? Haven’t you people ever heard of a grid pattern? It was insane the amount of lefts and rights I had to take just to maintain a generally southernly direction. I was thrilled when I finally left San Clemente and had a straight away for about 11 miles until I reached the entrance gate for Camp Pendleton. It was peaceful, and quiet with hardly any traffic at all.
After traversing the base I was back in the thick of busy city streets and lots of beach traffic. This continued for the rest of the day until I reached La Jolla. This was where I planned to stop for the day and even though I had made any reservations I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find a motel. I rolled up to the first hotel I saw, and thought I’d get some information. I was sure this place was too fancy and I couldn’t afford to stay here, but I thought they might be able to tell me where I could find some affordable lodging. This place was $179.00 a night, I was right, I couldn’t afford it.
“So where am I going to find the economy motels?”
He actually laughed out loud.
“In La Jolla? Economy? You’re not.”
“So what do you recommend?”
“You’ll want to continue on to Pacific Beach. That’s where you’ll find a better deal.”
So I rode further south, no big deal since Pacific Beach was one my route. After a few miles I found a row of Motels and went inside the cheapest looking one and asked about their rates. $100.00 a night. A little better, but I was hoping something around 80 a night. The guy behind the counter told me that all the motels/hotels in Pacific Beach would 100 or more a night. If I wanted cheaper, I would have to head towards the airport. Ok, fine, no problem, heck it’s on my route so why not. If it saves me a buck it’s worth it.
Several miles later, just after passing the airport in fact, I saw my salvation. A Motel 6 advertising 55.00 a night. It was exactly what I was looking for, even if I did have to ride more mileage to find it. I hadn’t planned on this being such a long day but I guess it is fitting that my longest day should come a day before the last day, which at this point on the route, will be the shortest day.
Maury
