Day 40
I was woken up by Sebastion, the little boy from next door, peering in at us from the kitchen. He saw me see him, giggled and ran off.
We met Aunt Julie in the morning who made us a glorious breakfast (as promised by Uncle Steve). We talked and got to know each other, which feels onligatory agyer sleeping in someone's house, but it was a pleasure, and their place was really very cozy.
The packs were on before long and we rode away with sincere goodbyes, down the hill back to El Camino Real. And we felt like kings and it was our road.
There was a substatial hill before La Jolla, though nothing compared to some that we've done, but it has been remarkably flat since Santa Barbara. La Jolla was nice, with the usual fancy, clean, very developed downtown and several nice coves with lucious waves. It struck me, thinking a out approaching the border, how if this was my first experience of America, of course I would think it a promise land. Wealth seems to be everywhere!
We watched a 6-person wedding occur on the bluffs above the beach. As simple as it gets. Nice.
We worked our way into the San Diego city limits on a long bike path along Mission beach, dodging the many beachgoers of all shapes and sizes. From there, we wove our way over Mission Bay, by the San Diego river, and I think Sea World, which I spied from the corner of my eye.
We got turned around in the Point Loma area but got back on track as we came into the downtown harbor area. Just in time to catch the pedestrian ferry to Coronado island. Got a fine view of those shiny downtown buildings and the Coronado bridge (which does not allow bikes, hence the ferry).
While biking on Coronado, we were approached by a curious man on an e-bike. He had a tie die shirt and a thick uncle mustache, listening to new wave ambient music from a speaker in a woven bag hanging from his handlebars. He asked us all the questions and eventually where we were staying that night. We told him we didn't know, which was true. He must have thought about it, because a few minutes later he caught back up with us and offered us a place in his yard. Awesome. "Come on! I'll take you there now!" Not so fast... we had lots of errands to do in our last day in the states, so we got his number and said we'd see him later.
Lluc and I spilt after we got to Imperial beach. He went to pick up some supplies while I went to the pier to find the office of Wildcoast, a bi-national coastal advocacy group doing awesome work in the area. I knew of them because they were founded by Serge Dedina, another ocean activist whose book 'Saving the Grey Whale' I read in college that, now that I think about it, planted the seed of Baja in ny brain; the way he talked about the wild west/end of the road culture, the desert landscape, and the majestic sea life in the presence of corrupt business and government. And now I'm going there.... I was able to talk with Zach Plopper, the conservation director there, and we had an awesome conversation about working across boundaries, the issue of overfishing, and the importance of MPAs. Look out for a devoted blog post on it soon!
On my way around town, I passed by the evaporation ponds where they collected salt from the sea, the crystals glistening in the setting sun like desert frost.
I met Lluc back at Charlie's in the Capri Lodge mobile home park. I pulled up as sparks were flying from a metal grider. Charlie was generous, and offered everything he had to us-- including his power tools. He insisted we ride his e-bike(s) (which really did have some pep) and he showed us his pride(s) and joy(s), his '66 baja buggie and '75 chinook camper, all modified by hand, of course. The man was inventive and handy. He had built a kayak sailboat from a shower rod and on old kayak, an off-grid home from salvaged building materials, and ambiance lighting from solar garden lights and thrift shop glass vases and cups. Groovy.
We had rice and beans in his kitchen with him and talked of many things, mostly about the area, which he called proudy "the best city in the world." We went to bed eventually, knowing we had a big day to come, Lluc on the couch and me in the camper. Tomorrow, the road dives deeper into the unknown, but even here we find surprises waiting for us.
We met Aunt Julie in the morning who made us a glorious breakfast (as promised by Uncle Steve). We talked and got to know each other, which feels onligatory agyer sleeping in someone's house, but it was a pleasure, and their place was really very cozy.
The packs were on before long and we rode away with sincere goodbyes, down the hill back to El Camino Real. And we felt like kings and it was our road.
There was a substatial hill before La Jolla, though nothing compared to some that we've done, but it has been remarkably flat since Santa Barbara. La Jolla was nice, with the usual fancy, clean, very developed downtown and several nice coves with lucious waves. It struck me, thinking a out approaching the border, how if this was my first experience of America, of course I would think it a promise land. Wealth seems to be everywhere!
We watched a 6-person wedding occur on the bluffs above the beach. As simple as it gets. Nice.
We worked our way into the San Diego city limits on a long bike path along Mission beach, dodging the many beachgoers of all shapes and sizes. From there, we wove our way over Mission Bay, by the San Diego river, and I think Sea World, which I spied from the corner of my eye.
We got turned around in the Point Loma area but got back on track as we came into the downtown harbor area. Just in time to catch the pedestrian ferry to Coronado island. Got a fine view of those shiny downtown buildings and the Coronado bridge (which does not allow bikes, hence the ferry).
While biking on Coronado, we were approached by a curious man on an e-bike. He had a tie die shirt and a thick uncle mustache, listening to new wave ambient music from a speaker in a woven bag hanging from his handlebars. He asked us all the questions and eventually where we were staying that night. We told him we didn't know, which was true. He must have thought about it, because a few minutes later he caught back up with us and offered us a place in his yard. Awesome. "Come on! I'll take you there now!" Not so fast... we had lots of errands to do in our last day in the states, so we got his number and said we'd see him later.
Lluc and I spilt after we got to Imperial beach. He went to pick up some supplies while I went to the pier to find the office of Wildcoast, a bi-national coastal advocacy group doing awesome work in the area. I knew of them because they were founded by Serge Dedina, another ocean activist whose book 'Saving the Grey Whale' I read in college that, now that I think about it, planted the seed of Baja in ny brain; the way he talked about the wild west/end of the road culture, the desert landscape, and the majestic sea life in the presence of corrupt business and government. And now I'm going there.... I was able to talk with Zach Plopper, the conservation director there, and we had an awesome conversation about working across boundaries, the issue of overfishing, and the importance of MPAs. Look out for a devoted blog post on it soon!
On my way around town, I passed by the evaporation ponds where they collected salt from the sea, the crystals glistening in the setting sun like desert frost.
I met Lluc back at Charlie's in the Capri Lodge mobile home park. I pulled up as sparks were flying from a metal grider. Charlie was generous, and offered everything he had to us-- including his power tools. He insisted we ride his e-bike(s) (which really did have some pep) and he showed us his pride(s) and joy(s), his '66 baja buggie and '75 chinook camper, all modified by hand, of course. The man was inventive and handy. He had built a kayak sailboat from a shower rod and on old kayak, an off-grid home from salvaged building materials, and ambiance lighting from solar garden lights and thrift shop glass vases and cups. Groovy.
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