Day Mileage: 24
Trip Mileage: 643
Somehow, despite the three square feet of pizza I must have eaten last night, I managed to wake up starving. The lady at the hotel desk pointed me to the nearest breakfast-type place in Little Italy, where I ate a variety of embarrassingly large portions. I didn't have to travel far to wind up on the ferry from downtown San Diego to Coronado.
The ferry ride was quick, inexpensive, and otherwise unremarkable. When I hopped off the boat, a fancy bike trail began which took all the way down the silver strand. I found myself dodging bewildered/curious tourists on rented cruiser bikes --asking questions like "how can you go so fast with all that crap on your bike?" I really never answered that question satisfactorily, beyond "the bike was made for this."
The trip down the strand was mostly uneventful. It was a straight southward line. Once I reached the Imperial Beach neighborhoods, I followed some weird google map-data directions through a farm road. By the time the road turned to gravel, which turned to dirt, which turned to a foot path... I laughed hysterically when the voice navigation lady said:
"In a quarter mile, hang a left on 15th St."
I swallowed my pride and turned around, opting instead to take a better-paved road southward. This whole excursion added up to *maybe* three miles, so I wasn't really all that mad. I must have confused the shit out of the border patrol helicopters, though. One seemed to breeze just over-head of me every two or three minutes.
The road meandered south and west, until I finally arrived at a paved outcropping with picnic tables, a bathroom, and a permanently-stationed (and humorless) border patrol agent. It overlooked the edge of the US border. I destroyed a couple granola bars and a liter of water while I just sat, stupefied that I had actually arrived.
I stared at the big stadium on the Tijuana side, as this family wandered by the border. They seemed amused to see someone there, so the dad yelled across the fence: "HELLO!" to which I responded: "HOLA!" --don't judge me, I was in a good mood.
I spent what felt like a solid hour reflecting back on the entire trip. "Was this crazy?" No. I think it was (handily) the best vacation I've ever taken. I met a bunch of great people, got to enjoy some of the best roads in the country, and camped out in perfect weather for nearly two solid weeks. I'm sad it's over. If my hands weren't positively throbbing, I'd want to keep going.
When I headed north, I shut off my Strava feed. I saw something pop up that I hadn't seen the entire trip: A "top ten" award. When you're riding a bike that weighs north of 80lbs, you're simply not going to break speed records on popular trails. Confused, I investigated further:
Apparently, my boat had a tailwind. Top five time, guys! Solid work Coronado ferry --you nearly made me a champion.
I want to thank / mention the cool people I got a chance to ride with on the way down:
Terri Lynn Hope
Marcia R. Cebulla
Nathaniel Nichols
Bruce James Kimosorio + his buddy (whose name escapes me)
Joe and Chuck,
...and to the friends that visited/humored me along the way:
Florentina Tanase
Liviu John T
Ashley Siebels
Matthew Hayes
Kathryn Kruse
David Hardy
Molly O'Donnel
William Cobb
Roderick McIntosh
Ian Miller
Marvin Javier, and
Dustin Bradley
...with a final shoutout to Kathleen Kahr D'Esposito for giving me an avenue to clown around on my way down.
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