We met last june in NY. During the 42ride we didn’t really hang out much, but by the time we got to LA we had decided to keep going together, even though we hardly knew each other.
7 months and a lot of miles later we had shared beds, rooms, food, spare tubes, water, laughs, beer, sweat, ants, tears, hills, smells, fear, memories, houses, sunburns, clams, loneliness, cigarettes, hospitality, dreams, peanut butter, dust, sadness, friendship, films, happiness, donas, hate, tacos, grease, tortas, joy, cookies, saddle sore, heat, empty roads, hot chocolate, love, popcorns, feelings, coffee, camp fires, the horizon, and an endless summer.
Joaquin and I have been pleasantly holed up in Ensenada for a number of days while waiting for some new Keen Commuter sandals for Joaquin to make their way south of the border. As we spend our days reading, writing, relaxing, and prepairing for our eventual departure we take pleasure in listnening to the sounds of the outside world drifting in through the metal grates of the Casa del Ciclista. So many sounds. Music from cars and neighbors. Children playing. Dogs. So many dogs. Chihuahua squeals that sound like screeching brakes. (There´s a wide variety of dog breeds here, but they’re all half chihuahua.) The most interesting sounds, to me, are the sounds of commerce:
The water delivery truck at 7:30 in the morning. Blows its air horn as it turns down every street announcing its presence. It’s blasting horn approaching closer and closer like a train fronted by a Mexican trumpet player.
The cucumber sales truck announcing its goods with a used car salesman’s zeal. Lots of exclamation points, sentences rising in volume towards the end, fast rhythms, and a lot of hyperbole.
Avocado truck utilizes the cucumber method. (Avocados are the only thing we´ve purchased from the vendors. Perhaps their pitch was the best. Perhaps we really like avocados.)
The bread salesman with his looping tape of droll sales pitch delivery. Prerecorded as well. Blaring out of similar PA speakers attached to a truck. However, the bread delivery pitch is delivered in a flat monotonous drone, as if to stand out against the other hyperactive pitchmen with their music blazing and carnival squawker announcements. No exclamation points. “Senoritas, we have the most amazing bread for only 20 pesos. Si, Senoritas, only 20 pesos will buy you this fantastic bread.”
The doughnut delivery guy has the most exciting product, in my opinion, but the saddest delivery. He carries around a plastic tub of donuts and wails like a drunk man crying the name of the love he has wronged “Dohnaaaas!” Dohnaaaas!” He knows she’s gone.
Then there’s the ice cream delivery guy. My favorite. He rides a tricycle around with a huge penguiin on the front of it. No internal combustion. No blaring muisc. Just a bike, bell, a sweet custom track-suit uniform, and a giant penguin. No beating the customers into submission with an audio assault. No pity sales for sad sellers. I’m sold.
After almost two weeks of WeKeepHangingOutInLA.com we’re finally on the move again.
The Los Angeles stay was extended in length while we waited for some final items to be shipped to us at the Aglago house. It’s been mentioned before, but we really couldn’t have done this trip without the support, and tolerance, of the wonderful residents of this fantastic community. Once we had everything in our possession, we decided to depart early Monday morning with a ride along the ocean and then over to Long Beach. We left at 2:30 in the afternoon. I knew I had to repack all my panniers and edit some of my contents that I had brought down from San Francisco before we left, but I had no idea it would take me almost five hours. Once I had everything packed it was launch time. We rolled off the Aglago grounds stopping for photos, tire pumpings, and equipment adjustments. By the time we crossed the driveway to the street, people were yelling at us from the Aglago windows to “get the fuck out of here already!” We made it about 15 feet before somebody across the street stopped us to ask us where we were coming from and going. Shouts continued from the house. “Keep going already! Go!”
This was our first fully loaded ride. Giggles and snickers and holy shits escaped our lips as we reacted to the shear weight of our loaded rigs. It didn’t take long to get used to the feel though. This speaks mostly to the rigid build and geometry of the Soma Saga frames. By the time we got to venice beach the bikes felt like normal extensions. Jo required a bit more time to get used to the “fat suit effect”, as Allison calls it, of riding with panniers. Side swiping me and then clipping a red vintage Ford mustang with his bags (the second incident causing a fall) probably will help him remember his new girth.
The ride to Long Beach went without hitches, besides the second half being in the dark due to our late departure (my fault.) Scenic along the coast, just enough up and down hills, our first loaded ride was deemed “epic” by Joaquin. Our total mileage for the day was around 50 miles. Only when we arrived in Long Beach did Crystal and Allison mention the more direct 25 mile river route from LA, but I don’t think we would have passed up riding along the coast anyhow.
We stayed with fellow 42rider, Allison, in Long Beach. She provided us with supremely comfortable arrangements, a delicious dinner, great conversation, and shocking news of a possible move to Arkansas. Apparently the Southern Route of the 42ride was shown a sufficiently good time in Arkansas. I believe she’s visiting there now. Hope everything’s going well. It is a beautiful state.
Allison escorted us out of Long Beach on bike (we probably would have gotten rather lost otherwise) and it was good to be on a little group ride again. We went our separate ways after an hour or so an Joaquin and I continued south towards San Clemente State beach where we would camp for the night. The ride along the PCH was spotted with beautiful coastal views, well-to-do little towns, a bit of road construction, and bike lanes every once in a while. Altogether, a great sixty mile ride. In San Clemente we were fortunate enough for a local cyclist, and experienced tandem tourer, Susan, to happen upon us and sherpa us through the winding bike route through town to the State Beach. Thanks Susan! Good luck on your upcoming tour and future cross country ride (West to East to avoid headwinds).
Our first night camping was great. We arrived at about 5pm and had about an hour and a half of daylight to set up tents and cook a pasta dinner using the stove that Mikey Wally provided us. Delicious. Still had some of the Food Not Bombs leftover stew from Aglago that we mixed in the sauce. Ashira from Aglago was coming to join us for an evening of camping by the beach, and she and her friend Theresa arrived about 10pm or so, beer in tow. The evening turned awesome after their arrival. We enjoyed the nearly full moon on the beach, walking through some bizarre land formations to get there. Our beach time was split between watching the stars and watching the trains go by (or overhead from under a tunnel).
We woke up late the next morning, packed, said our goodbyes, and headed off for San Diego. This was a good ride. The towns were laid back and the coast was fantastic. Before San Diego, outside of La Joya, a cyclist asked us where we were going. “Just one more hill!” he exclaimed. Being told of an upcoming hill by a fellow cyclist is both a welcome bit of information, and an instant way to dread the remaining miles until said hill. Even the smallest of hills are made mountainous by carrying pounds and pounds of baggage. This was no small hill. We made it up, took a break, and looking around, I had the feeling that we might be close to the Salk Institute. Quick check on the phone confirmed this and a few minutes later we were walking around the Louis Kahn temple of science and research overlooking the ocean. Something I’d always wanted to see since my brother, John, told me about it.
Rolling into San Diego was a breeze. Good bike lanes and roads. Another mountain of a hill in Sand Diego, that we probably could have avoided, but was good training nonetheless. We stayed with a Couch Surfer named Katie in San Diego. She and her roommate were amazingly welcoming, helpful, and hospitable. They were both involved in some pretty awe inspiring work in Africa that really kind of blew me away. Katie also had the unfortunate experience of having been down Baja before. Unfortunate in that Jo and I then peppered her with an endless stream of questions. Thank you so, so much Katie and Noelle!
San Diego was the end of the American road for us. We had the jitters. So excited to really start our international trip, kind of nervous not knowing what we could and couldn’t get in Mexico if we needed anything. Eventually we couldn’t think of anything else keeping us in the states, so we took off. Rode the San Diego tram/trolley all the way to the border. Crossing wasn’t too difficult. We had to get a tourist card and visa. $20 US gave us 90 days ride through the country. It was suggested by someone to take a cheap bus through Tijuana down to Rosarito, and while we don’t really want to not ride our bikes and want even less to spend money, we were glad we followed this advice once we were riding out of town. Huge hills, lots of traffic, and the fact that you’re not even supposed to be riding your bike on the toll road would have all made for a not so great ride.
We got off the bus in Playa de Rosarito and rode along the coast to a campground called Saldamando about 20 miles out of Ensenada. The camping fee was a bit much, but it was right on the beach and had showers (cold but wet). Crossing the border from US to Mexico was the most drastic border change I’ve ever made. It’s crazy to think that in such little distance you can have such drastic change. Never thought much about politics and culture affecting landscapes so drastically before.
So far Baja has been a string of older little resorts that don’t look too crowded and huge half-built newer resorts that aren’t occupied and the construction on which appears to have stopped. It´s this damned economy. The coast is beautiful though and the ocean is neverending. Life is good.
Eight hour ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles. The end of our New York to Los Angeles ride is now the beginning of our America Central and South America adventure.
Great ride with Tyler and Ryan, our awesome Craigslist rideshare hosts. Tyler provided a spacious pickup truck for our too numerous panniers and bags (Need to do some baggage editing.) Thanks for driving, guys.
Staying at Ashira and company’s hospitable home here in Los Angeles. Camping out on their back patio. Looking forward to starry LA skies tonight.
Hey everybody! Look over there to the right —> We created a PayPal donation account for the ride.
Got a dollar or five (or more?) that you’d be interested in donating to our South American exploration? We sure could use it. Just takes a second. Every little bit will help us by food, bike parts, and keep us connected on the interwebs.
Spread the word! Email your friends with a link to the blog. If everybody gave a little we could do a lot. And we promise to donate to your bicycle tour in the future. It’s only fair.
We’re finishing preparations here in San Francisco and plan on departing for Los Angeles soon for the official launch. Los Angeles is where we ended our cross country ride from New York. So it seemed fitting that we would start our next ride from there. We’ll keep you posted!
