Day 34
The highway blared all night, and the surf roared right along with it. They wrestled in my dreamstate until cars were riding into the beach and waves crashed down the interstate. Headlights on the tent making the whole thing feel like it was swirling didn't help...
In the morning things were steadier. Looking at the bottoms of my feet gave me a shock, with black spots all over them. I thought perhaps it was sap from the tree I was camped under, but I realized later it was the tar that naturally washes up on the beach from the oil seeps off the coast.
My network of friends, friends of friends, and associates impresses me. We seem to have connected a string of people to stay with or see for the next week. A buddy from my boy scout days in Minnesota reached out some time ago and was so stoked on the trip, he came and rode out to meet us at camp. So the montando crew gained another rider for the morning.
Charlie is a grad student at UCSB, so he gave us a bicycle tour around campus, got us some donoughts, and even showed us what he's working on in his lab. Robotics. Dope.
Would've liked to hang out there longer (gorgeous campus, beachfront dorms, really? no fair...) but we had places to go. We split and Charlie pointed us in the right direction, and we rode the 10 miles to Santa Barbara on a fun bike path. Big white Spanish style buildings lined State street, in downtown.
We were feeling cheap, so we stopped by the dollar store to ger ourselves snacks to last us the day. On our way out, a man with patchy beard, heavy stammer with a large backpack said "Wait right there, I'm getting you a candy bar." I wasn't sure if I heard him right, but sure enough, he came back out in a few minutes and gave each of us a butterfinger. He said he rode the coast a long time ago, and would do it again if he were younger and had the money. I almost didn't want to accept it-- I've never been bought something by a homeless man before, but he was intent on giving. It reminds me of just how generous people can be, and how much we've been given on this trip. I know I'll have to find ways of passing it on when I have the chance.
We cruised the beach boardwalk until we came around a corner and a fellow coming the other way on a bike pretty well loaded hailed us. I stopped somewhat suddenly and Lluc nearly rear-ended me, but the fellow had a big smile on his face. "Do you know the way?" he said. "I think so," I told him, but he told us how he would go anyway. I notice he had several panniers, a guitar case and and two tennis racket cases on his bike with him, and I didn't ask, but he noticed me looking and told us what was up. "I'm a teacher, bringing us into a 21st century renaissance: I teach that all life is art, and we must always seek health first. And I teach it through tennis! I call it, the Tennissance method." He described how he tied ribbons onto the ends of his rackets and used two at once to juggle a tennis ball in a kind of a dance, whereby one could realize true "coordination of mind, body, and spirit." I find these people so fascinating that I'm not very good at disengaging, even if we have to go. I noticed Lluc was getting antsy, so we said thanks and goodbye and rode on down the road.
There were several towns that blended together: Summerland, Toro Canyon, Carpinteria... suddenly we passed a sign we couldn't ignore:
Oh yes. We got off the bikes and gawked at some massive avocados of every variety and every festival treat you can imagine made with avocado: avocado cake, avocado ice cream, deep fried avocado... We bought two excellently ripe ones of the Gem Hass variety, and were approached my a member of The Yellow Deli family (some kind of Christian commune that runs a cafe in Vista). He was a spaced out, soft and slow talking boy with a wiry beard, but seemed realtively innocuous.
Back on the road, we cruised the 1 along the beach in Ventura county. Not sure if it is The Ventura Highway, but it was close enough to sing the song as we rode.
By the evening, we came into Ventura and found the home of the Gahans, sister of an uncle of a girlfriend... close enough for our purposes. They were headed out for an Oktoberfest fest party, so they showed us the digs and said goodbye shortly after hellos. We relaxed on the patio, washed our things, and at dusk went out to scratch and ice cream itch. The strip was dark quickly under the desert stars and the lights of the motel signs and headlights shone brighter.
Tomorrow: LA.
In the morning things were steadier. Looking at the bottoms of my feet gave me a shock, with black spots all over them. I thought perhaps it was sap from the tree I was camped under, but I realized later it was the tar that naturally washes up on the beach from the oil seeps off the coast.
My network of friends, friends of friends, and associates impresses me. We seem to have connected a string of people to stay with or see for the next week. A buddy from my boy scout days in Minnesota reached out some time ago and was so stoked on the trip, he came and rode out to meet us at camp. So the montando crew gained another rider for the morning.
Charlie is a grad student at UCSB, so he gave us a bicycle tour around campus, got us some donoughts, and even showed us what he's working on in his lab. Robotics. Dope.
Would've liked to hang out there longer (gorgeous campus, beachfront dorms, really? no fair...) but we had places to go. We split and Charlie pointed us in the right direction, and we rode the 10 miles to Santa Barbara on a fun bike path. Big white Spanish style buildings lined State street, in downtown.
We were feeling cheap, so we stopped by the dollar store to ger ourselves snacks to last us the day. On our way out, a man with patchy beard, heavy stammer with a large backpack said "Wait right there, I'm getting you a candy bar." I wasn't sure if I heard him right, but sure enough, he came back out in a few minutes and gave each of us a butterfinger. He said he rode the coast a long time ago, and would do it again if he were younger and had the money. I almost didn't want to accept it-- I've never been bought something by a homeless man before, but he was intent on giving. It reminds me of just how generous people can be, and how much we've been given on this trip. I know I'll have to find ways of passing it on when I have the chance.
We cruised the beach boardwalk until we came around a corner and a fellow coming the other way on a bike pretty well loaded hailed us. I stopped somewhat suddenly and Lluc nearly rear-ended me, but the fellow had a big smile on his face. "Do you know the way?" he said. "I think so," I told him, but he told us how he would go anyway. I notice he had several panniers, a guitar case and and two tennis racket cases on his bike with him, and I didn't ask, but he noticed me looking and told us what was up. "I'm a teacher, bringing us into a 21st century renaissance: I teach that all life is art, and we must always seek health first. And I teach it through tennis! I call it, the Tennissance method." He described how he tied ribbons onto the ends of his rackets and used two at once to juggle a tennis ball in a kind of a dance, whereby one could realize true "coordination of mind, body, and spirit." I find these people so fascinating that I'm not very good at disengaging, even if we have to go. I noticed Lluc was getting antsy, so we said thanks and goodbye and rode on down the road.
There were several towns that blended together: Summerland, Toro Canyon, Carpinteria... suddenly we passed a sign we couldn't ignore:
Oh yes. We got off the bikes and gawked at some massive avocados of every variety and every festival treat you can imagine made with avocado: avocado cake, avocado ice cream, deep fried avocado... We bought two excellently ripe ones of the Gem Hass variety, and were approached my a member of The Yellow Deli family (some kind of Christian commune that runs a cafe in Vista). He was a spaced out, soft and slow talking boy with a wiry beard, but seemed realtively innocuous.
Back on the road, we cruised the 1 along the beach in Ventura county. Not sure if it is The Ventura Highway, but it was close enough to sing the song as we rode.
By the evening, we came into Ventura and found the home of the Gahans, sister of an uncle of a girlfriend... close enough for our purposes. They were headed out for an Oktoberfest fest party, so they showed us the digs and said goodbye shortly after hellos. We relaxed on the patio, washed our things, and at dusk went out to scratch and ice cream itch. The strip was dark quickly under the desert stars and the lights of the motel signs and headlights shone brighter.
Tomorrow: LA.
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