Day 33
Sleeping inside is intense. Without any shuffling noises outside, no cars on the road, not even any movement in the air, it felt like we had been put into a sleep chamber and awoken a year later on the same day.
We packed without occassion and broke fast with the last of the granola on the carpeted floor. Funny to be slurping our rehydrated milk from a pot lid beneath the carved wooden mantle with perfectly placed graduation photos of someone's kids.
Our host had gone for the morning. Some are much more hands- off than others. Fine with us. We rode through the cauldesac street (no sidewalks) and out the automatic gate behind a big white SUV with a pug sitting in the front seat.
We rode on a side road parallel to the freeway for a while before turning off onto the Harris grade road, winding its way up the dry, rounded hills from Orcutt towards Lompoc. There were few cars and we rode side by side. For some reason we were chatty today, and dove into a long conversation about the industrial agriculture we've been observing the past couple days; How synthetic fertilizers can grow crops devoid of minerals and other micro-nutrients, how mechanization and corporate control alienates the farmworkers from the land, how capitalism dictates our acquisition of food, and thus our relationship to it and those who produce it... just as we crested the hill talking about the food system's dependence on fossil fuels and undocumented labor, we saw Lompoc in the valley below, and a lone oil drill, pumping away in infinite solitude.
The ride down was nice, and this valley was more naturally verdant. Far more scrubby trees, mostly oaks I think, spread around us, reminding me of days hiking in Utah. Town was plain. Lots of chain hotels, and the only folks on the street had shopping carts full of cans. We stopped at the public library for shade, a snack, and an internet connection, across the street from a church of the nazarene.
We rode side by side on the 1 nearly the rest of the day, for at least 30 miles. It had a wide shoulder and only gentle slopes. We talked on about extreterrestrial life, about latin american revolutions and the concepts of indigeneity and race... There's plenty of time to talk when you're riding all day, and even more time to think. Sonehow the pedaling motion really puts the brain in gear. We haven't solved all the world's problems yet, but we're working on it.
We stopped in the shade of a tree by the road and gazed in a dazed heat at the hillsides while ants crawled over us and our snacks.
We passed under a big sign that crossed the whole highway: 101 North San Francisco right lane, 101 South Los Angeles left lane. A couple hoots and hollars were necessary. LA here we come.
Then, one of my favorite road signs: 7% grade. This'll be fun.
The road dove down and wove through narrow hills with granite and limestone poking out of the dried grasses. It got so narrow at Gaviota pass, the northbound side went through a tunnel. Gusty winds through there, lots of trucks and roadside debris, very fast. It was remarkably fun. I associate this kind of scenery with Hollywood and Disneyland, so it felt a lot like a ride.
At the bottom: ocean, framed with an old railroad trellis. The highway followed the water closely, as did the railroad. Shorter cliffs here, perhaps 30 or 40 feet high, with thin beaches. Offshore, Lluc spotted fins. We looked closer. A pod of dolphins, we think. Riding with someone has made me realize how much I don't see while riding. Nice to have another pair of eyes. I spotted. however, 4 offshore oil rigs in the distance. This was a let down. Our first offshore petroleum infrastructure we've seen, and it's a real eyesore. I had read about the "Platform A" spill in 1969 here that helped motivate stronger environmental laws in California, but it was sad to read on a roadside informational plaque of a 2015 pipeline spill that dumped 100,000 gallons of crude onto Refugio beach. What did we learn?
Those informational signs gave us lots to think about for the end of our day: Aleutian kayakers hunting sea otters off this coast for the Russisn-American Company? 20 mile open water crossings to the Channel Islands by native peoples in driftwood plank canoes? A fascinating history this coast has.
We camped at El Capitan beach. Decided to stay here over going on to Santa Barbara just to enjoy camping while we can. (Anticipating the next week to be a lot of urban sprawl). We relaxed in the shade and took turns reading aloud while the other shelled and ate peanuts. The evening brought us to the beach for a swim. It had been a while and it felt right. The sun set while we cooked and ate, its lingering orange like the afterglow of a full stomach. We were filled with pleasure, inside and out. A good day.
We packed without occassion and broke fast with the last of the granola on the carpeted floor. Funny to be slurping our rehydrated milk from a pot lid beneath the carved wooden mantle with perfectly placed graduation photos of someone's kids.
Our host had gone for the morning. Some are much more hands- off than others. Fine with us. We rode through the cauldesac street (no sidewalks) and out the automatic gate behind a big white SUV with a pug sitting in the front seat.
We rode on a side road parallel to the freeway for a while before turning off onto the Harris grade road, winding its way up the dry, rounded hills from Orcutt towards Lompoc. There were few cars and we rode side by side. For some reason we were chatty today, and dove into a long conversation about the industrial agriculture we've been observing the past couple days; How synthetic fertilizers can grow crops devoid of minerals and other micro-nutrients, how mechanization and corporate control alienates the farmworkers from the land, how capitalism dictates our acquisition of food, and thus our relationship to it and those who produce it... just as we crested the hill talking about the food system's dependence on fossil fuels and undocumented labor, we saw Lompoc in the valley below, and a lone oil drill, pumping away in infinite solitude.
The ride down was nice, and this valley was more naturally verdant. Far more scrubby trees, mostly oaks I think, spread around us, reminding me of days hiking in Utah. Town was plain. Lots of chain hotels, and the only folks on the street had shopping carts full of cans. We stopped at the public library for shade, a snack, and an internet connection, across the street from a church of the nazarene.
We rode side by side on the 1 nearly the rest of the day, for at least 30 miles. It had a wide shoulder and only gentle slopes. We talked on about extreterrestrial life, about latin american revolutions and the concepts of indigeneity and race... There's plenty of time to talk when you're riding all day, and even more time to think. Sonehow the pedaling motion really puts the brain in gear. We haven't solved all the world's problems yet, but we're working on it.
We stopped in the shade of a tree by the road and gazed in a dazed heat at the hillsides while ants crawled over us and our snacks.
We passed under a big sign that crossed the whole highway: 101 North San Francisco right lane, 101 South Los Angeles left lane. A couple hoots and hollars were necessary. LA here we come.
Then, one of my favorite road signs: 7% grade. This'll be fun.
The road dove down and wove through narrow hills with granite and limestone poking out of the dried grasses. It got so narrow at Gaviota pass, the northbound side went through a tunnel. Gusty winds through there, lots of trucks and roadside debris, very fast. It was remarkably fun. I associate this kind of scenery with Hollywood and Disneyland, so it felt a lot like a ride.
At the bottom: ocean, framed with an old railroad trellis. The highway followed the water closely, as did the railroad. Shorter cliffs here, perhaps 30 or 40 feet high, with thin beaches. Offshore, Lluc spotted fins. We looked closer. A pod of dolphins, we think. Riding with someone has made me realize how much I don't see while riding. Nice to have another pair of eyes. I spotted. however, 4 offshore oil rigs in the distance. This was a let down. Our first offshore petroleum infrastructure we've seen, and it's a real eyesore. I had read about the "Platform A" spill in 1969 here that helped motivate stronger environmental laws in California, but it was sad to read on a roadside informational plaque of a 2015 pipeline spill that dumped 100,000 gallons of crude onto Refugio beach. What did we learn?
Those informational signs gave us lots to think about for the end of our day: Aleutian kayakers hunting sea otters off this coast for the Russisn-American Company? 20 mile open water crossings to the Channel Islands by native peoples in driftwood plank canoes? A fascinating history this coast has.
We camped at El Capitan beach. Decided to stay here over going on to Santa Barbara just to enjoy camping while we can. (Anticipating the next week to be a lot of urban sprawl). We relaxed in the shade and took turns reading aloud while the other shelled and ate peanuts. The evening brought us to the beach for a swim. It had been a while and it felt right. The sun set while we cooked and ate, its lingering orange like the afterglow of a full stomach. We were filled with pleasure, inside and out. A good day.
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