I'm not going to bullshit you --today was kind of boring. It was the longest day I've done yet, only because I wanted to plow through the hills before Santa Barbara in one go.
I woke up at some unfortunate hour this morning due to a freight train blasting by the camp site. I could have hit it with a rock from where I was sleeping. I did manage to fall back asleep, but not as soundly.
I got a late start because I had to stay in town for a few hours to dial into a meeting for work. I popped back into Red Dirt (the same place that gracefully helped point me in the right direction last night). I had a spam breakfast burrito. I now wish I had the presence of mind to snap a picture.
When I finally did hit the road, I hit a few small hills almost immediately. On the way to Guadalupe, there was a small town called "Mesa" nestled into what I can only assume was... a mesa... given how the climb felt at the time. Inexplicably, there was a giant pile of cabbage heads just rotting next to part of the highway.
Heads rolled... two or three days ago.
I stopped in Guadalupe for only a second to apply sunscreen and stock up on water. I didn't want to stay long. That town kind of bums me out. I saw an old guy put $6.00 into his gas tank. You see stuff llike that in the city sometimes and never really give it any thought... but in a dusty shithole like Guadalupe, it's hard to avoid thinking about it.
The scenery didn't really help me in this regard. It's farmland. It's really... really hard to dress up farmland.
Basically, it was variations on this picture for a few hours; though the farm workers seemed amused by me as I rode by. Eventually, there was a hill. That hill was long, straight, and easy to climb. That hill took me to Vandenburg AFB --a place I never really considered visiting (voluntarilly).
FPCON: Radical
I rolled through a few rows of manicured trees, and down a sizable hill into Lompoc, CA --another place I thought I'd never visit voluntarily.
I sped down the main drag, pulling off at a random gas station to get my bearings. Not four seconds into pulling out my map did this nice old dude wander out and say "Need directions!?" I really didn't, as I only had to make one incredibly well-marked turn, but he seemed really eager to help me out.
I asked him where I could find a good sandwich in town, to which he pointed me to this unassuming little place just up the street:
I had been craving a decent roast beef sandwich for a while. Not to mention one with horseradish mustard and a ginger beer. That sandwich went down faster than Frazier against Mike Tyson. I was out the door almost as fast as I came in, and slogged further down the 1.
The hills were kind of pretty, but not Big Sur pretty. Honestly, this was the first day I wanted to listen to music during the ride. I made it through a few "Explosions in the Sky" records --not really listening to much else. Whenever my energy waned, one of those big-ass crescendos was there to lift me back up.
Speaking of things "lifting me up" let's talk hills one last time:
Not one of those hills was as nasty as the wind past mile 70. I was getting, literally, destroyerd by crosswinds heading to / down the coast along the 101. I've joked before that "tail winds do not exist"... but when I moved along a curve in the road, one of those gusty crosswinds turned into a strong tailwind that I maintain lifted me up at least 10 feet of a 50 foot climb. I've never felt pushed like that before --thankfully it came at the end of the day, when I sort of needed it.
My camp site is less than 100 feet from the water. I'm typing this looking at the milky way as waves crash by my feet. The cool wind is totally refreshing. It's a damn shame Vegas isn't on the coast. I'd like it more.
No comments:
Post a Comment