Los Angeles was hectic. We had been working out of a small coffee shop called Infuzion in Santa Monica for several days before Will and Daniel wrapped up their meetings in the area. It was time for the last stage of our trip: San Diego and the Mexican border.
Daniel wanted to finish the trip strong and everyone agreed. So, with 150 miles from our place in Manhattan Beach, we decided to make the final push to the border in one epic day.
I awoke at 5:30 a.m., Sunday, August 23 in Manhattan Beach. There was a quiet concentration among the group as we packed up and prepared for the longest ride of the trip. We left by 6:15 and began our ride south along the coast. It was a gloomy Sunday morning and the streets were empty aside from a few cars. Beside the fact, we were still had a close call with a bus as it whizzed past on the Pacific Coast Highway. Daniel swerved after the bus came inches away from us as we rode the shoulder of the street.
The flat terrain of Southern California made riding 150 miles seem less daunting and as we pedaled mile after mile, we met large groups of cyclists on morning rides. This made riding that much easier and all four of us found different groups to keep pace. At this point we had all hit stride, pedaling at a consistent rhythm. After a section of flat riding, we encountered several miles of rolling hills, into San Clemente.
Daniel takes in the view at La Jolla Cove.
Dan and I managed to keep a strong pace with a group of riders for more than 80 miles and decided to stop for lunch at noon in Oceanside. Brendan had busted a tire during the first stretch of the trip and stopped in a bike shop in Laguna Beach to get it fixed, while Will reached Oceanside just a little while after us.
Refilled and refreshed, Dan and I set off from Oceanside into the high noon heat for the second half of our ride to the border. We continued to see cyclists all day while we rode along the marked bike routes running adjacent to the freeway, the surf crashing along the coast to our right.
This ride was a culmination of eight weeks of riding. After 2,400 miles, we had been exposed to almost every kind of cycling that could be done on the west coast. We had cycled through heatwaves, up mountain passes, along rolling hills and through long hours of cranking pedals. The road to Mexico threw everything it had at us, but we had prepared.
The sun became intense as the day continued on. Flashbacks of Oregon heatwaves came to mind as Dan and I continued along the bike path. We were already caked in dirt and dripping sweat as the path wound back and forth under the freeway.
We arrived in La Jolla at 4:30, the heat of midday giving way to a warm afternoon as Daniel and I took in the view of people in the water along La Jolla Cove. Just north of San Diego, we only had another 30 miles to reach our goal. The trials of the day’s ride began to take its toll as we began to make our way towards downtown San Diego. My legs were working hard to keep pedaling and my stomach, deprived of any substance besides Clif Bars, began to growl as the sun began to fall along the western horizon.
Dan lifts his bike 100 yards from the border.
Because Dan and I had stayed along the water, we missed the opportunity to shorten our route by heading straight through the city of San Diego. We had some trouble getting back on track, but after asking a few people along the way, we were able to make it to downtown in a reasonable time. I had to stop for a quick bite as I began to run on fumes for the last stretch of such a grueling ride.
We finished our last push to the border as the bright afternoon became a fading dusk. Dan pointed out the rising hills along the horizon which were not part of the U.S. We were close and could both feel it.
Our instincts were correct as we encountered the final stretch of bike path with a sign pointing us in the direction of Mexico. We followed the streams of people heading towards a fenced entrance and found Brendan and Will waiting for us. The black fences and fluorescent lights gave the place a very inhuman glow, but we were too excited to care.
As I sat and watched the people streaming into the border, we touched our bikes as far as they could go without going through the trouble of customs. We had all pushed ourselves to the point of physical and mental exhaustion.
For the next several days, Will, Dan and Elliott will spend time in San Diego working with outfitters before flying home on August 27. What a trip, what an adventure and a great success.
