I turned back from Mexico 4 days ago and have spent the time considering my next move. It seemed my knees were not getting better in a hurry and it was too expensive and boring to sit around in a hotel waiting to get back to full fitness. I also felt like I'd had enough of cycling by myself. It was only this morning when I finally decided to book a flight home. As soon as the flight was booked I knew I'd done the right thing. I miss everybody back home. I've now been away long enough that I can sit here and dream about home in the same way that a few months ago I would sit at home and dream of being out here.
I felt pretty low after leaving Mexico. It seemed like a big failure. With some perspective and the support of family and friends back home I can now start to look at the wider scale of what I've achieved. I made it from Canada to Mexico using only pedal power, carrying everything I needed (and a bit more) on the bike. I slept almost every night in a tent. When I started the trip I could hardly sleep for fear of bear attack. By the end of the trip I would sleep like a baby, preferring my tent to any other accommodation. I met hundreds of wonderful people, a few of which became great friends. I saw bears, whales, seals, eagles, vultures, hummingbirds, snakes, lizards and far too many raccoons. I was fairly sure when I started that I was about to have the time of my life. To begin with such high expectations and then far exceed them is quite something.
I was a little worried that after this trip I may just return to my normal life dissatisfied, wanting to continue riding forever and exploring new places. What I actually feel now having spent 2 and half months away from my real life is a renewed appreciation and enthusiasm for all the wonderful things that await me back in England.
I should perhaps also mention the importance of this blog. It's not always been easy to find the time to write an account of each day's events but I have tried hard to document every day. When everything was changing all the time and I was experiencing so many new things I would find it hard to remember what had happened the day before. For this reason it was important to me to get it all written down somewhere. To my surprise many people found it interesting to keep up with my adventures and provide messages of support. This was a constant source of motivation for me whenever things became difficult. It was almost like I had an invisible support team just behind me. If you're reading this, thank you.
Here are some statistics about my trip you may find interesting:
Total miles ridden: 2,277 Highest elevation: 2,000 feet Days when it rained: 3 Nights when it rained: 3 Punctures: 1 Bike problems: broken rear wheel rim Campgrounds stayed at: 50 (or thereabouts) Border crossings: 4 Flip-flops lost or broken: 2 Beard growth: 16mm
My plan was to reach the city of Ensenada 72 miles away so an early start was required. I loaded up my bike with my own bodyweight in water and left my hotel. I was a little nervous on the roads to begin with. The roads around Tecate were full of large potholes and busy at 7.30am. It took me a bit of trial and error to get on the highway to Ensenada. It seems signposts for major highways on Mexican roads are a little sporadic. I was hoping to roll down the the other side of the mountain I'd worked so hard to climb a few days before. It appeared there was more elevation to gain before descending into Baja's wine-making valley. Disappointingly, despite a day's rest my knee felt worse than ever. It's a little scary to be embarking on a 1,000 mile bike journey with a bad knee at the best of times. With Baja's population being almost entirely based in the north and with mostly desert to the south I was going in the wrong direction to be near a hospital. I knew there would be no shoulder to ride on and a lot of trucks but I thought that I was starting on a bit of a quiet backroad. The trucks were big and fast and flew by sometimes with only inches to spare. The road is only big enough for 2 trucks to pass each other in opposite directions. There is no additional space for a bike. Every now and then a truck would pass when a vehicle was passing in the other direction. I was forced to teeter dangerously on the edge of the road. Much of the time the edge of the road drops straight off to a steep slope. If forced off the road onto this slope I would certainly come off the bike.
I can't say I wasn't prepared for any of these things. The guide book I bought in San Diego specifically advises against cycling Baja because of the road conditions. Perhaps foolishly I thought with my London riding experience I was prepared for anything. The thing I was not prepared for were the dogs. Once out of the city I found myself riding through farmland. Every mile or so I would pass a farm. Each of these farms would have at least 1 dog, usually 2 or more. Almost without fail the dogs would be free to roam onto the road. My first encounter was with 2 nasty looking large mongrels. They ran out onto the road barking and chasing me. My limited previous experience with dogs has taught me that they can't be outrun uphill or on the flat. I tried slowing down in the hope they'd lose interest in the chase. As I slowed another dog appeared from a farm on the other side of the road. I thought my number was up. I had 2 dogs in front and one behind. Luckily the third dog started chasing the other dogs and distracted them from chasing me. As I cycled away a truck sped by honking at the dogs. I didn't look back but I guess they had a narrow escape.
I passed a dead kitten at the side of the road. With all the unrestrained pets on the highway I wasn't surprised to see this kind of domestic roadkill.
It was quite foggy and a little chilly at times. Quite a contrast from the last couple of clear hot days I'd experienced in Mexico.
As I continued on I was regularly passed at uncomfortably close distances by vehicles. To give them credit many of the lorry drivers gave me plenty of room but much of the time it simply wasn't possible for them to do so because of the width of the road.
I passed another farm and another hungry dog. I'm not generally afraid of dogs but in a country where rabies is a real problem you can't afford to be complacent. If I was bitten by one of these dogs I would have to flag down a passing vehicle and hope they would take me to a hospital to receive a rabies shot. If this happened I may have to leave my bike and belongings at the side of the road. The dog chased me, barking and jumping at me, only a few inches from my exposed leg. With shoes clipped into the pedals I felt even more vulnerable to any potential lunge from the dog. A truck passed in the other direction scaring the dog away. This was truly horrible. I was so afraid I began to cry.
I started to question my motives for coming to Mexico. Unlike my trip through Canada and the US I had few things I really wanted to see here. I was of course interested in experiencing Mexican culture, riding in the desert and improving my Spanish. Was this worth putting myself in real danger for?
After another couple of miles another pair of dogs came at me, the biggest and most determined so far. One was at my heel and the other in front of me. I was descending a steep hill. It was hard to avoid the dogs whilst trying to keep from swerving dangerously in the road. I got up enough speed to escape the dogs and then pulled off the road onto a sandy lay-by. I could see another even larger black dog wandering about on the side of the road further down the hill. This was too much. I stepped off my bike and sobbed. Had I not been alone this may have been a manageable, even funny situation but as it was I was really afraid. I'd only covered 15 miles. I had another 60 miles of farming country to cover today. At my current rate that would be another 30 dogs pursuing me before the day was out.
I called my girlfriend. I needed support. I told her I was ready to turn back. It was hard to even think about turning back after all I'd put into the planning of this Mexican part of the trip. I needed to make a decision. I sat on a rock and tried to weigh up the pros and cons. I really couldn't think of many good reasons to continue. Certainly nothing worth risking my safety over. My only reason to continue would be not to appear a coward. Had I been with someone else I'm sure I would have carried on but this wasn't something I could do by myself. Having spent 2 months deliberating over whether Mexico was worth the risk or not I now knew the answer. My main concerns coming into Mexico had been the violent drug-related crime. In the end it was the dogs, traffic and knee pain that turned out to be the more tangible reasons for not continuing further into Mexico. Had I ridden south for another 2 weeks I'm fairly sure the traffic would have improved. I suspect the knee pain would have only worsened. As for the dogs I would have probably armed myself with pepper spray and left a series of blind dogs in my wake. It took me nearly an hour of sobbing on a rock at the side of the road to come to this decision. It was too late to come out of this looking like a tough guy.
I turned my bike around and headed back the way I'd come. I once again ran the gauntlet of dogs, this time ready to kick them in the face if they got too close. I was willing to risk a bite now for a slice of a revenge. At least I was heading in the direction of the hospitals now.
Back in Tecate I remembered I'd withdrawn a ton of Pesos not knowing when the next cashpoint would be. I visited one of the rip-off money changers on the border, not caring that I was getting a terrible exchange rate. I was ready to leave Mexico as soon as possible. At the border I was confused. I could see no exit and there was nobody around to point me in the right direction. I knew I was doing the wrong thing but decided to go for it anyway. There were traffic cones blocking traffic from exiting through the border but on a bike I could avoid the cones. I cycled across the border back into America. I was of course immediately set upon by an armed US border guard. 'What are you doing?', he asked incredulously. 'Am I going the wrong way?', I replied trying to sound as if I'd made an innocent mistake. He told me to go back through the border and pointed at the correct US entry point. I'd illegally entered the US. It was quite exciting. Had I been Mexican I would have most likely been pinned to the floor with a gun held to my head. Apologies to any Mexicans who followed my advice a few days back about Tecate being an easy place to sneak across the border.
I pushed my bike through the pedestrian gate and entered the US border entry office. The border police looked at me with disbelief. What had I done wrong now? I don't think they'd ever seen anybody arrive by bike before. 'Where do you think you're going?', the border guard asked. 'America!', I replied chirpily. He looked me up and down and asked to see my passport. He asked me where I'd been. I explained about my intentions to cycle to the end of the peninsula until the dogs started chasing me. He laughed. He proceeded with a few of the usual tricksy American border questions. Being interviewed by an American border guard is a bit like playing a game of chess with a 10 year old. I passed the test and was allowed back into the States. To their credit the border guards all seemed concerned about my safety and wanted to make sure I knew where I was going. I didn't. I was a man without a plan. As I walked through customs I panicked for a moment when I saw a dog running around. Luckily it was of the cocaine sniffing rather than the rabid Mexican bike chasing variety.
I had no map of the US. My detailed map of Mexico was of no use to me now. I decided to head for Joshua Tree National Park which had been my original plan B had I decided no to go to Mexico at all. I put it into my GPS and saw that it was 200 miles away. I followed the route for the next 15 miles but it was a struggle. Both of my knees were hurting and my mental well-being had taken quite a beating. I felt like I'd let myself and everyone who has supported me on this trip down by turning back so early from Mexico. I decided the best plan of action was to head to a motel and take some time to plan my next move. The route to Joshua Tree was quite remote and probably through the desert. This didn't seem like a good day to get stranded in the desert so I headed back towards San Diego and found a motel on the outskirts of the city.
As I write this I still have no idea what my next move will be. I don't believe I'm in a good enough physical state to embark on any serious cycling right now so I need to consider my options.
I decided to take the day off. I had to sort out my visa and I wasn't really sure where I was headed yet. I visited the tourist office in the centre of Tecate. I had expected the staff there to speak English what with it being tourist information office. The young lady didn't speak English. I am actually quite pleased to find out so far that most people I've come into contact with don't speak English. It forces me to improve my Spanish which is one of my main goals while visiting Mexico. I asked whether I could get my tourist card here. She told me I didn't need one. This is true for most visitors. You can spend a week in the Northwest of Baja without any paperwork at all. I explained I was travelling to the end of the peninsula and would be staying a month. She told me I needed to visit the immigration office at the border.
I walked back to the border where I'd entered Mexico the day before. The immigration office was well hidden, I think perhaps you are supposed to visit the office as you enter the border. To get to the office I had to go around the back of a building and walk down a pathway in the opposite direction to a series of arrows painted on the pavement. I was aware that to a border guard I could appear to be sneaking back into America. I prepared myself to be taken out by a sniper or set upon by a guard dog. None of this happened of course. I got the impression it would actually be quite easy to sneak back into America from here. Nobody was paying me any attention at all. If any Mexicans are reading this and are interested in illegally entering the United States I suggest rather than risking your life digging under the fence or swimming across the ocean, just pay a visit to the Tecate border and casually walk through. I found the office and spoke to a young lady who seemed a little unsure about her work. She asked to see my passport and then spent a long time flicking idly through the pages. She spent the longest time studying the page at the back where I've written details of my next of kin. She asked if I was Canadian. She was holding my clearly labelled British passport in her hand. I filled out a form and handed it back to her. She explained that I needed to visit a bank to pay the fee of about £15 and then return with a receipt.
At the bank the cashier seemed quite excited to meet someone from England. I don't think they get many English people coming through Tecate.
I returned to the immigration office and had my passport stamped. I was allowed to stay for 180 days. I found out today that Baja California is the second longest peninsula in the world but I hope it won't take 6 months to cycle the length of it.
Back at my hotel I took a long nap. I then spent a few hours trying to work out where to cycle to tomorrow. There appears to be a few campsites in the wine-making region I'll ride through on my way to Ensenada, the next city. I may stop at one of these or continue on the 72 miles to Ensenada and get another hotel. I'm still not really sure how much water, food and money I need to carry. I am hoping that 4.5 litres of water will be enough to get me to the next place where I can refill. No doubt everything will become a lot clearer once I actually get going.
I could pretend to be tough and say that I was looking forward to entering Mexico. I wasn't looking forward to it at all, I was dreading it. I'd stayed up late reading every piece of information about cycling in Mexico I could find on the Internet. I couldn't find a single person who'd crossed the border on a bike at Tecate, my chosen border crossing. I can only assume this has something to do with the fact that Tecate sits on top of a 2,000 feet high mountain range. I didn't know what was waiting for me in Mexico. I was scared of the unknown. I had been fed horror stories by so many people throughout this trip about the violence in Mexico. It was hard not to be afraid. I tried to take my advice only from cyclists who have actually ridden Baja. On the whole their experiences seemed to be very positive and trouble free.
I was up early but managed to spend to whole morning getting things ready. Part of my preparation involved the bumification of myself and the bike. Don't try and look up 'bumification' in the dictionary, you won't find it. It's a term I invented meaning to make things look roughed up a bit so as to appear not worth stealing. I was pretty much bumified already. My beard is now fairly wild and capable of storing large pieces of food for extended periods of time. I'm so tanned that I could pass for a slightly odd-looking Mexican. My bike and bags needed a little work though. I set about scratching off some of the decals on the bike frame. I also added a few pieces of gaffer tape to my panniers to make them look like they were falling apart.
It was after 11am by the time I was ready to leave. I said goodbye and thanks to Beth and Brian, my wonderful San Diego hosts. As I cycled through some of the more unpleasant neighbourhoods of San Diego I started to do a little mental arithmetic. It would be dark just before 5pm and I had just over 40 miles to cover. Normally this would be fine but the ride to Tecate was a non-stop climb meaning my average speed would be very low. Rolling into a Mexican border town and looking for a hotel in the dark was just not an option. I had to ride as fast as I could all day with no stops to have any chance of making it.
Once out of the urban sprawl of San Diego everything suddenly turned to desert. Things are artificially green in the city thanks to sprinklers. Out of the sprinkler's reach are miles of barren, rocky, mountainous desert. I'd never seen anything like this before. This is the kind of thing I was hoping to see in Mexico and given that I was now only a few miles from the Mexican border it was really no surprise that everything looked a little bit Mexican.
The climbing began very gently. I spent the next 20 miles gently climbing to nearly 2,000 feet. I was disappointed but unsurprised to find that my right knee was still a little painful. The road felt very remote. I could see for many miles and there was no sign of civilisation anywhere. Just beautiful scorched mountains. I wished I could stop to take a photo at so many points in the ride but I simply couldn't waste a second. It was too dangerous to risk missing the light. I casually began looking for wild camping spots at the side of the road just in case I didn't make it to Mexico in time.
I passed a police checkpoint. They were checking every car heading in the opposite direction, I assume for illegal Mexicans and drugs that had just come across the border.
I had one last 1,000 foot steep climb before reaching the border. The light was fading, I only had another 30 minutes of light remaining and I didn't know how long it would take to get past the border. I entered Tecate, California. This is basically a large car and truck park rather than a proper town. I rolled through looking for the border. I saw a few open gates with Mexico written on top in large letters. Through the gates I could see a busy town. This was it. I didn't know where I was supposed to go and nobody was there to tell me so I followed a car through the 'nothing to declare' gate. The whole time I was waiting for an armed official to stop me and ask to see my passport and check inside my bags. Nobody even looked at me. I just cycled under the Mexico sign and into Tecate, Mexico. I stopped and looked around waiting for someone to shout at me for illegally entering the country without showing my passport. I started to wonder whether this was really Mexico or just another American town before the 'real' border. I continued down the road into the bustling town. This was clearly Mexico. Everything was a bit shabby and all the shops were falling apart a little. It's so strange to be thrust so suddenly from the top of a deserted mountain into the heart of a busy Mexican town. I'd memorised the map of the town to allow me to reach my hotel without having to look at a map. I hate getting a map out in a busy and potentially dangerous place as it makes you a target for any bad people that may be lurking around. I found the hotel El Paraiso without any trouble. Had this windowless building been in England I would have assumed it was abandoned. It was extremely run down and a bit scary looking. I considered for a moment whether I should look for somewhere else. It was late and everything else looked equally run down so I figured this was where I would stay. I wheeled my bike in and got ready to wheel out my rusty Spanish. I said hello to the lady on reception and asked if they had any single rooms available. The words were a little slow to come out and I stumbled a little but she understood me which was a good start. She said there were rooms available and gave me the price in Pesos. I didn't have any Pesos yet and had been advised by some guys in a San Diego bike shop to pay in US dollars where possible. I asked for the price in dollars. It was going well. I understood her and she understood me. I was having a proper conversation in Spanish! It was $19 which seemed pretty cheap to me. She asked if I'd like to take a look at the room. I didn't really, I was pretty much sure it was going to be a flea-pit and that was fine by me as long as it had a shower and a lock on the door. I thought I might as well take a quick look, so followed her up to the room. 'Muy bien!', I declared politely as she showed me a small windowless room that would be considered an embarrassment if it were found in a British prison.
The lady on reception was quite lovely and patient with me when I didn't understand. She even helped me upstairs with my bike bags. Once in the room I took a bit more of a look around. Most importantly it was clean so I was happy. I took a shower. It was cold. I was sort of guessing it might be. I imagine hot showers may be considered an upmarket feature in Mexican hotels. It didn't matter too much, I'd spent the day in a sweltering desert so it was actually quite refreshing. As I neared the end of my shower 5 minutes later the water became hot which was a nice surprise if a little late.
I got dressed in what I thought to be my most Mexican looking outfit and headed into town. I was a little nervous walking around town in the dark. After a few minutes I started to relax a bit. It actually seemed like quite a nice relaxed smallish town. I went looking for the tourist office where I had to get some sort of tourist card validated. Apparently I needed this before heading much further south. The tourist office was closed as I suspected it would be. I would have to try again tomorrow.
I headed to the supermarket to pick up some food for dinner. On entering the supermarket a lady holding a clipboard said something to me in Spanish I didn't understand. I said, 'No gracias.'. I'm pretty sure this was the right answer. I've never met anybody with a clipboard I wanted to speak to. The supermarket was exactly like those I'd seen in the US. Most of the products were pretty much the same. There were certainly a far greater selection of chillies and tortilla chips than I've seen before but other than that it was a very familiar experience. The cashier spoke very quickly so I didn't understand her. After a bit of back and forth in Spanish she explained in perfect English that she was asking if I had a loyalty card. She didn't accept credit cards so told me I'd need to go to a different checkout. This was good because it meant at the next checkout I was prepared for the loyalty card question. The new cashier asked what I assumed was, 'Do you have a Tesco Clubcard?'. I quickly replied smugly in Spanish that I didn't have one, nor did I want one.
Back at the hotel I made some burritos and ate some tortilla chips. Tecate is famous for its eponymously named beer which I could smell being brewed a few blocks away. I treated myself to a can of Tecate and began to consider my next move. I looked at my map and tried to work out where I should stay next. Today is the first day of my entire trip that has not been planned with the assistance of a guidebook called Bicycling the Pacific Coast. I'm on my own now. All I have is my map and a book I bought about driving down Baja.
We started the day with an excellent cooked breakfast made by Olivia. Before leaving I fixed my punctured rear tyre. We said our goodbyes to Jenna and thanked Olivia and her housemates for putting us up for the night.
It was Halloween so Chris, Brooke and I stopped off at a thrift store (a sort of giant charity shop) to try and find some costumes to ride in. Sadly all the costumes had been taken already. We tried on a few ridiculous items of clothing before getting back on the road without costumes.
A few miles later we were passed by a gang of bikers wearing some really excellent costumes. It was a hot day so I was impressed to see some of them riding at speed with large wigs and heavy suits. Later on we saw them stopped at the side of the road so pulled over to get our pictures taken with them. They were a lovely bunch of guys and it was fun chatting with them for a few minutes.
It was Saturday and there were lots of bikers out, they were all really friendly and supportive. It was Chris and Brooke's last day and they received lots of congratulations from the bikers we chatted to. Just before entering San Diego we climbed a big hill. As all the unladen racing bikers passed us they cheered us on.
On the other side of the hill we entered the city of San Diego and navigation started to get tricky again. Chris and Brooke were getting picked up by their uncle on the outskirts of San Diego so we said our goodbyes. We were all staying in San Diego for a while so made plans to meet up in a few days time.
I was on my own for the first time in about a week. It felt strange and took me a while to get the hang of navigating by myself again. Beth and Brian who I'd ridden with as part of my first gang before San Francisco had kindly invited me to stay with them at their new apartment in San Diego. It took me 2 hours to navigate the 10 miles of complex city bike paths before nearing their house. Leading up to their neighbourhood was the steepest hill I'd encountered since San Francisco. On the approach it looked near-vertical. It was only just possible to climb the hill on my heavily loaded bike.
It was a big relief to finally make it Beth and Brian's place. I was so pleased to see them both again. When I'd said goodbye to them back in San Francisco I wasn't sure whether I'd ever see them again. They made me feel very welcome and said I could stay until I was ready to head into Mexico.
In the evening we headed out into their neighbourhood to have a look at the craziness of an American Halloween. Amongst the Michael Jacksons, drag queens and Roman centurions I was amused to see a few people dressed as cyclists.
It was time for a rest. My knee was not in great shape and my bum could use a few days off the saddle. I also had a ton of preparation to do before entering Mexico. I was now only 15 miles from the border. I'd almost made it across the entire length of the United States of America. This was certainly something to pleased about. Setting out on this journey I expected the highlights to be the mountains, forests and scenery. These have all exceeded my expectations. What has surprised me most in becoming the highlight of my trip are the wonderful friends I've made along the way. I'd never expected to meet people who I would ride, camp and eat with every day. These people have made me laugh, taught me a great deal and looked after me when I was in trouble. Friendships are compressed on a trip like this. You can go from meeting someone to feeling like you have known them all your life in a matter of days.
As I prepare for Mexico I'm excited and frightened by the unknown that awaits me down there. I'm expecting a huge culture shock, far fewer cyclists and some concerns for my safety. I know that great things await me as I attempt to reach the bottom of the 1,000 mile long Baja Peninsula. I also know that huge challenges are down there too. I'll need to carry lots of heavy water, find safe places to sleep and learn a language I can hardly speak.
Today Jenna needed to get to her friends house in Oceanside. This was at least 85 miles south. Myself, Chris and Brooke all thought this was too far for us to ride so we planned to find a camping spot at a more manageable 60 miles. Jenna was unconcerned by the long ride. She is a machine and can ride faster and further than almost anyone I know.
It was a fun ride. Everybody was in good spirits having spent a night in the comfortable motel beds. We were also glad to have passed the miserable riding of LA.
We started to experience love again from other cyclists. Chris got talking to an older guy who was an experienced tourer. He recommended a place further south that made great pizza and sold a wide selection of great micro-brewery beers. We all set our sights on visiting this place later for dinner.
By the time we reached our proposed campground I was tired and experiencing pretty constant knee pain. I was ready to stop. Jenna was keen for us all to stick together and stay the night at her friends place. She suggested we stop for lunch and then make the decision whether or not to carry on. We ate PBJs by the beach and discussed whether we should carry on or stay put for the night. In the end we all decided to stay together and aim for Jenna's friend's place. I was happy with the decision, it would be great to keep the gang together for another night.
The next part of the ride took us off the road and onto a disused runway. We had great fun racing each other along the wide deserted stretch of tarmac. The route was then supposed to take us through Camp Pendleton, a military base. I was a little nervous as we approached the gun-wielding soldiers guarding the entrance to the base. I wondered whether they wouldn't let British citizens through or perhaps my beard would give them the wrong idea. As we reached the soldiers they told us the road was closed to bikes because of construction work. Our alternative route was to take the extremely busy interstate freeway I-5. The soldier didn't seem at all bothered that he was sending us out onto the dangerous freeway.
All 4 of us entered the freeway and rode along the shoulder. I couldn't keep up with the pack and soon lost the others. I passed an exit to a rest stop. I didn't realise at the time that cyclists were required by law to take this exit, ride through the rest stop and then rejoin the freeway. I continued along the shoulder of the freeway. The others had all taken the exit and were waiting for me. They apparently watched with concern as I missed the exit. I passed a sign informing me that bicycles were not allowed on this part of the freeway. I expected to be pulled over by the highway patrol at any moment. Before long the others caught up with me and asked me what the hell I was doing staying on the freeway. I felt myself getting slower and slower. I asked Brooke how my rear tyre was looking. She confirmed that I had a puncture. This was my first puncture since starting the journey more than 2,000 miles ago. I was 50 miles short of making across the entire US without a single puncture. This was really a terrible place to get a puncture. The freeway had 4 lanes of traffic moving at greater than 70MPH. It was not the kind of place you want to have to stop for any length of time. I hopped off the bike to inspect the tyre. Luckily it wasn't completely flat, it had a little air still remaining in the tube so I decided to try and pump it up and hope I would make it to the freeway exit. I pumped up the tyre as quickly as I could. Chris and Brooke kindly stayed with my the whole time. It's amazing to think that these guys who I'd only known for a week would put themselves in danger to make sure I got out of this situation safely.
I rode on with my slightly flat tyre. I tried to keep a good pace as I wanted to get off the freeway as quickly as possible without having to stop again. I could feel the tyre slowly deflating as each mile passed. It was such a relief when we finally made it to the off ramp without having to stop again. We only had 30 minutes before dark so for the rest of the journey I stopped every now and then to top up the air in the tyre rather than take the time to fix the puncture.
By the time we reached Jenna's friend's house it was dark. I was really pleased with myself for having made it 88 miles. We met Jenna's friend Olivia and her housemates. The house was a beautiful old farmhouse and everybody was really welcoming.
After showering and changing into our normal clothes Olivia drove us in her truck to Pizza Port, the place recommended to us earlier. It was a fun place with some great pizza and beer. We were having a great time and getting a little merry. It was the day before Halloween so many of the people in the restaurant were in fancy dress. There were men dressed as women and most amusingly of all there was an old woman sitting on her own at the bar reading a book dressed as a cat. It was all this dressing up that led me to make a rather embarrassing gaff. We were all sat at our table chatting when I noticed a rather lavishly dressed and heavily made-up blonde woman walking through the restaurant. I asked the group, 'Is that a dude or a girl?'. I then watched this very same blonde woman walk up to our table, sit down and introduce herself to us all. As I shook her hand I realised this was a friend of our kind host Olivia. I felt terrible and cringed for next 30 minutes. Olivia's friend was in fact a very attractive woman but having seen quite a few lavishly dressed, heavily made-up men in drag throughout the night I'd just gotten myself a little confused.
Back at the house we had another beer but were all very tired after our long ride so it wasn't long before we headed to bed.
Today was the day everybody cycling this route dreads. The journey through the sprawling, mess of a city they call Los Angeles.
The ride began along the busy ocean-side highway through Malibu. Just about everybody living in Malibu has a house and car that are far bigger than necessary. It was a horrible experience dodging the endless parked SUVs that took up the shoulder.
The next section of the ride was along cycle paths running alongside or actually on the beach. This would be a pleasant experience if you were cruising a couple of miles along the beach with no real place to go. We had a place to be and that place was far away. Just about every freak in LA was out in force getting in our way. A woman skated by on roller-blades pushing a children's pushchair with a couple of Chihuahuas in it. We stopped off at Santa Monica pier where Luke was picked up by his friend. This was the end of his trip. We all congratulated him and took pictures. He seemed very excited to have finished. As we ate lunch on the edge of the cycle path we were joined by 3 other tourers. Scott from Florida who I'd met a couple of days before, an English guy who I took an immediate disliking to and very tanned Luxembourger. They were all headed to the southern tip of Argentina.
The gang continued south, now a with 1 less member. We still had a long way to go before getting out of LA. Los Angeles is a truly horrible place. I've visited 3 times and never found a shred of goodness in the entire place. Everywhere we've been other cyclists wave and encourage us. Not in LA though. There was no camaraderie between cyclists, there was no love in the place at all.
As we cycled along the beach we stopped for a toilet break. Next to the toilet was a workout area. I thought incorrectly at the time that this was the famous Muscle Beach. We watched a muscular, shirtless man swing across a series of metal rings hanging from long chains. It looked difficult. The others encouraged me to have a go. I could barely reach the first ring as it was quite high. I couldn't get swinging on it to reach the next ring as I was just too short. Jenna offered to give me a push. This did the trick and I managed to grab a hold of the next ring. Before I knew it I was making a swing for the third. I never thought I'd get this far. I noticed a small crowd of people gathering to watch. At the time I imagined they were so impressed by my show of strength that they had to stop and admire. It later became clear that they were laughing at my skinny frame and flailing legs. Contrary to the predictions of everyone watching I made it to last of the 6 or 7 rings.
After hours of complicated and slow going through the urban sprawl we made it to the more sedate peninsula of Palos Verdes. We took a tip from a local cyclist and found a longer but quieter route.
We were running out time. Daylight was fading and we didn't yet have a place to stay. Due to the lack of camping in the city we'd planned to split a cheap motel room. I managed to find one with my GPS and we bombed it through the hilly town of San Pedro. The motel was perfect. Cheap with 3 large beds. We treated ourselves to dinner out at a nearby diner. I ate enough food for 2 people and topped it off with a milkshake.
