Day 88: Perris to Oceanside

May 27, 2004 California

When we set off at 6:30 am, the commuter traffic was already going full-tilt. And of course the shoulder was poor to non-existent. We were finding that these smaller, two-lane roads in southern California are not too pleasant for cycling because of their lack of shoulder. The traffic is typically heavy and fast, but at least the drivers are more skilled and seem to have no inclination to run us off the road.

We rode the 12 miles toward Lake Elsinore, crossed Interstate 15, cycled around the north end of the lake, then reached the turnoff to the Ortega Highway. This switch-backed far up the impressive mountain, and continued over the hills 30 miles westward to the coast. This was not the easiest way to reach the coast, but we figured the climb would be well worthwhile because the route would be much more interesting than peddling through more cities. However, our first look at this "highway" was very discouraging. It was a narrow 2-lane paved road with no shoulders, and it bore quite a lot of traffic. This was another one of those long moments while we stood alongside the road considering our options.

On long, gently graded switchbacks we chugged our way slowly upwards, hugging the edge of the pavement to give the cars and trucks every available inch of road width. The steep hillsides were covered in buckwheat and ceanothus, and the usual family of chaparral. We reached the top in an hour, and up here the air was clean and surprisingly cool. Pines and scrub oak covered these higher ridges, but the road did not remain high for long.

The descent toward San Juan Capistrano was long and winding, and quite fun. We whizzed down through cool canyons full of grand old oak trees. The road generally followed the dry bed of the San Juan River, crossing it and re-crossing it time and again. With two and a half thousand feet of descent, my hand grew cramped from squeezing the rear brake lever. But the bike, ever faithful and reliable, handled the steep curves beautifully.

Ahead to the west was a layer of fog, indicating that the Pacific Ocean lay close at hand. The air became even cooler, and the oaks gave way to tall eucalyptus and California pepper trees. The aromas of eucalyptus mingled with that of wild dill which grew tall and weedy alongside the road.

On the east side of San Juan Capistrano we passed through miles of nurseries. The land looked like a giant checkerboard with each square on the board a different flower in a different vivid color. It was a treat for the senses.

After crossing I-5 we stopped at a small bagel and sandwich shop and telephoned a good friend who lived in the area. Jim Martin was surprised to hear we were in town, and interrupted his busy day to come have lunch with us. So we enjoyed a prolonged, 2-hour reunion, during which time we talked non-stop about computer programming and global sailing. Jim was my best friend back when I was preparing my boat for the circumnavigation, and he was preparing his boat at the same time. He and his girlfriend departed a year later than Jenny and I did, and they stopped at many of the same islands we had. Today he is a computer guru, one of the best programmers in the business.

We set off again, and reaching Capistrano Beach we stopped to celebrate our arrival at the Pacific Ocean. It had been 41 days since we had turned west at North Carolina's Outer Banks. Now we could go west no longer. We had cycled across America, coast to coast.

We followed the Coast Highway as far south as we could, but from the north side of Camp Pendleton we had to peddle along the very busy Interstate 5. We were fortunate that the coastal wind was blowing strong out of the northwest, for this gave us a boost and allowed us to scoot southward at a good clip.

From the top of the bluffs the ocean views were fantastic. The fog dispersed, although the air temperature remained cool and pleasant. The sea looked beautiful and inviting. Reaching Oceanside we left the noisy freeway, and because the afternoon was getting late we decided to stop here for the day. Besides, we had come a long ways to see the Pacific Ocean and now that we were here we wanted to enjoy the coastal ambiance for the rest of the day before turning east.

The day had been a fun one, and of course reaching another milestone in the journey was very satisfying. Now we have one final objective: to close the loop.

Day's mileage: 77

Day 89: Oceanside to Borrego Springs

May 28, 2004 California

The sky was completely overcast when we set off at 6:15 am. Highway 76 started out as a very nice thoroughfare with an official bike lane, leading away from Oceanside and following the San Luis Rey river drainage. It was an enjoyable ride. After the first 15 miles it began to wind and climb into the higher mountains. Here the road became two-lane with lots of traffic and very little shoulder. But not to worry, we were heading basically east, the day was quite cool, and we were enjoying the scenery. The heavy fog clouds persisted well inland, and for a short while we peddled in a cool mist, and even a light rain the wet the pavement. Highway 76 continued on through the hilly terrain, passing small towns. It crossed Interstate 15, passed through several small Indian reservations, and continued its gentle climb.

These foothills harbored miles and miles of plant and tree nurseries both retail and wholesale, orchards of citrus, avocados, and mangos, acres and acres of strawberries, squash, and other melons, and so on, as far as the eye could see up the mountain slopes and down into the valleys. Apparently the abundant sunshine and the excellent drainage of the sandy soil makes for very healthy and productive plants.

At the intersection with state route 6 we stopped at a fruit stand to ask for directions, but the Mexicans working there spoke no English. In Spanish I asked a young man: 76? Yes, he nodded, pointing to his right.

From this intersection, 76 began climbing at a grueling gradient. Although the day was cool, sweat poured off us. It took us an hour to peddle the four miles to the pass, and we climbed what must have been a couple thousand feet. At the top, the air was almost too cool for comfort, and there was no warmth from the sun hidden in the clouds. Here we picked up the southwest wind, and it helped us along.

We expected a steep descent, but it was not so. The road stayed high, winding this way and that, following a hearty creek that appeared to be flowing out of Lake Henshaw. This creek was lined with immense oaks, sycamores, and cottonwoods. Poison oak was also well represented. But the locals, knowing a good thing when they saw it, had converged on the refreshing creek, and had set up tents and picnic tables that went on for miles. It looked like they were here to stay for the duration of the Memorial Day weekend. We caught tantalizing aromas of hot dogs grilling on barbecues, and the air was filled with the laughter and voices of children playing in the creek. From our vantage on the paved road above this unofficial campground, it looked like a wall-to-wall tent city stretched out in a great long line.

In a few more miles we came to Lake Henshaw and a small resort with a café and store. We stopped for lunch, and asked a few employees about what the towns along our intended route ahead had for amenities. One woman told us she would never bicycle down the Montezuma Grade, and she recommended we go a different way. This made the Grade sound like something we would enjoy.

We cycled on, and in a few miles reached the junction with Highway 79 where we turned north. Then in 6 miles we turned east onto the S2.

We were now on the east side of the coastal mountains that we had just crossed; the sky was now blue and the terrain much drier. Cattle grazed in large fields of native grasses which had already turned golden yellow. Oaks still dotted the hills but they were smaller and very widely spaced. We cycled past large clumps of sagebrush and the tall, white blossoms of the prickly poppy.

By now the wind was starting to rip, and for once we were headed in the proper direction to take advantage of it. We stopped at the Pacific Crest Trail crossing of the S2 near Barrel Springs, where the trail descends from the San Felipe Hills at their northern terminus. Today marked the fifth time we had been at this location while on journey.

Near Ranchita the S2 reached its zenith. We stopped at a small store for a cold juice, then continued peddling eastward toward Anza Borrego Desert State Park. We knew we would soon be descending the Montezuma Grade just ahead, but were astounded when we first glimpsed over the brink. This was not your average downhill run. Anza Borrego, and the town of Borrego Springs, was WAY down there, the buildings and roads too small and distant to see clearly. We hesitated at the top, but the wind wouldn't allow much lingering. So we seated ourselves on the bike and were immediately blown down the twisting, winding road faster than we cared to go. I braked constantly and the overheated rear disk brake squealed its protests. The road was so steep that about every third of a mile the disk brake began to loose power, and we had to stop to let it cool. The entire 10 mile descent was an 8% grade. It was the longest and steepest descent of the trip by far. In terms of brake wear, it was ten Emory passes and fifteen Wolf Creek passes. It was also a great deal of fun - at least going east, downhill.

Like the San Gorgonio Pass region we had cycled through a few days ago, this area also funneled the strong west wind, so that it positively howled. The cloud cover that we had left behind earlier was now spilling over the edge of this great mountain range like a gleaming white tablecloth, and the desert plains below were billowing in dust.

By the time we reached the bottom of the Grade at Borrego Springs, the time was 4:30 pm and dust storm swirling out across this vast desert quelled our desire to proceed. So here we stopped for the day.

Day's mileage: 85

Day 90: Borrego Springs to Palo Verde

May 29, 2004 California

Our 5:30 am start was not without some trepidation. The early morning was pleasantly cool but still terribly windy. In the not-too-far distance we could see dust being torn from the desert floor, and whipped into massive dust clouds. Above, the sky was blue but the nearby mountains we had descended yesterday were covered thickly in the silver tablecloth type clouds that told of high winds. Up there we would most likely have found ourselves storm-bound for the day. Down here, we hoped we would enjoy powerful tailwinds that would give us many fast and easy miles.

The problem was, the road lead out of town for the first few miles in a southerly direction, and this put the wind on our beam. So the going was fairly slow, and one gust in particular tried to pick up the bike with us on it, and hurl it completely off the road.

In three miles the road began curving more eastward, and we began picking up speed. We covered the 12 miles to Hy 78 quickly. And now on 78 and going straight downwind, we covered about 10 miles while coasting at between 30 and 32 mph. It almost felt like we were riding a motorcycle, except for the lack of engine noise. But there was a steady high-pitched humming emanating from the tires, where the rapidly spinning rubber met the road. This was about the most fun we had experienced while riding a bicycle - ever.

Three or four times when a car or truck went past, going our way, it left us wallowing in its dust. This is because its wheels picked up the dust blowing along the highway and threw it into the air, and the tailwinds then carried this dust along at just our speed. We couldn't get out of it. Curiously, the vehicles going the other direction did not create this effect. I think it had something to do with Relativity.

Much of this vast desert is a playground to souped-up, off road vehicles. Their tracks were everywhere, and a few times we saw a few of them zooming around.

As we approached highway 86 we could see the massive Salton Sea glimmering in the sunshine. Then reaching the highway we were surprised to find it more like a 4-lane freeway bristling with high-speed traffic. But like 78, it had an excellent shoulder for us to ride on. So as we turned south onto this, we put the wind more on the beam, and unfortunately this brought an end to our fast and easy going. Also, since we were down in elevation to around a hundred feet, this put an end to the gradual downward slope of the landscape that had also been helping us along. That, and the wind was beginning to lose strength.

The highway led through Westmoreland, and then on to Brawley where we arrived at 8:30, just in time for a breakfast snack. We had covered 60 miles in 3 hours.

This entire area at the south end of the Salton Sea was used for agriculture, and these towns supplied the work force.

From Brawley, highway 78 lost its shoulder, and proceeded nevertheless due east, out across the vast expanse of creosote desert. The temperature had climbed into the 90s, and the sun was feeling intense. 28 miles to the non-town of Glamas with a store and ramshackle trailer park, and hundreds of off road vehicles of every description tearing this way and that across the Imperial Sand Dunes.

The 40 miles to Palo Verde were slow going due to light headwinds and the road incessantly climbing and descending into and back out of gullies. The heat had grown intense, and we were starting to tire, and perhaps lose concentration. The road was narrow, with only a few inches of shoulder, and cars and trucks were zooming past every few moments. Some of the trucks were hauling onions, and these smelled wonderful. One of the trucks, however, failed to give us ample room, and forced me to steer off the pavement. Unfortunately, the gravel was very soft and the front tire instantly sunk in about 4 inches. This caused the wheel to turn abruptly, at which time I lost control of the bike. The truck got past us, the pickup behind that got past us, and we were flung out onto the highway directly in the path of a car following the pickup. With one foot still on its peddle and the other on the pavement, I dashed us back into the gravel. And to our good fortune the driver of the car reacted appropriately and swerved toward the opposite lane, missing us by a surprising wide margin. Shook up, we walked the bike for the next hundred yards, collecting our nerves.

As if that were not enough excitement for the day, a while later a police vehicle roared past, slammed on the brakes and stopped on the shoulder ahead of us in a cloud of dust. The officers raced back and opened the back of their truck, and pulled out a wide and flat box. I stopped the bike well before reaching them, not knowing what they were up to. Suddenly a shiny new pickup raced past, and one of the officers flung a mechanism across the highway in an obvious attempt to disable the truck. But not in time, for the truck swerved into the opposite lane and raced past with impunity. No one in their right mind would try to elude the police in their brand new ultra-expensive truck, so we guessed it might have been stolen. Two more police vehicles raced past, and as we peddled past the first one, the officers were folding their device, and soon had rejoined the chaise.

Palo Verde sits next to the Colorado River and the border between California and Arizona. We pulled in at 3:00, wilted as a couple of desert cucumbers, and more than ready to stop for the day. This town was very small, and had no motels, but we did manage to rent a mobile home for the night.

The disk brake had been giving trouble all day, binding and causing friction that we did not want or need. I had adjusted it slack, and re-adjusted several times, but still the pads would not quite let go. The disk itself was coal black, and we were afraid that the Montezuma Grade might have fried the works. So this evening we removed the wheel and found a black, sticky substance coating the disk and pads. It looked like burned-on tar. We guessed that we had inadvertently collected a few bits of tar, some of which had stuck to the disk, and while coming down the Grade the disk had become extremely hot, melting the tar and coating everything in it. I removed the pads and Jenny carefully cleaned disk and pads with rubbing alcohol, and cleaned and lubbed the chain and gears also. That done, the brake was back to working perfectly again.

Day's mileage: 131

Day 91: Palo Verde to Buckeye

May 30, 2004 Arizona

We set off at 5:30 am into an already warm morning. The large town of Blythe lay 20 miles north and a little bit east, but to reach it Highway 78 had to bend at right angles - first west a few miles, then north a few miles, then west again, then north again - around large fields of agriculture. Highway 78 ended at Interstate 10, so just before we reached the Interstate we turned east on a side road and proceeded on into town.

We stopped at the first gas station/convenience store and enjoyed a "breakfast" of hot chocolate and toasted bagels. While we sat outside eating and relaxing, a fellow rode up on his bike. This fellow was definitely not a city-type bicyclists (wearing the expensive cycling jersey and matching shorts, and riding an expensive bike) nor was he the typical bike bum on a beat up old bike, hauling a trailer full of aluminum cans and other road debris. He was a mixed breed. He rode a mountain bike that had a small pile of gear strapped on the back. He wore a battered old sun hat, and his face and arms were darkly tanned and slightly grizzled, a bit like lizard skin from spending a lot of time outside, which is rather what we look like. We learned that he has biked all over the southwest, and he knew a lot about the roads and towns in this area. He explained to us in fine detail how to find the bike path that would take us through Phoenix. He had ridden on Interstate 10 many times and seemed to know every bump and hill along the way. He said the Highway Patrol didn't mind if bicyclists rode on the Interstate.

Following the fellow's directions we peddled to the old main street though Blythe, which had very little traffic this Sunday morning. We passed a bank sign reading the temperature: 84 degrees. The road led us to a pedestrian crossing of the Colorado River. We were amazed at how much water was flowing here. No wonder this area draws so many boaters and floaters.

The Colorado River serves as the boundary between California and Arizona, and so crossing it we said goodbye to California and hello again to our home state, Arizona. Now we were on the final leg of our journey. At Ehrenburg we cycled onto the Interstate and began our eastward push toward Phoenix. The shoulder was wide and newly resurfaced, which meant clean of debris. The traffic was surprisingly light, and a highway patrol car whizzed by and the officer ignored us. The wind was at our backs, making even the uphill gradient seem friendly. The river here is only a few hundred feet in elevation, and peddling away from it we climbed gradually but steadily into and through the arid Dome Rock Mountain range. The slopes of the dark hills were covered with creosote and cholla cactus.

One hour and seventeen miles later we pulled off at Quartzsite for a rest. At the truck stop, we went in to the busy gas and service station and found the trucker's tables with table-side telephones. This was what I had been needing for a couple days now, a place to plug in my notebook computer in order to take care of some internet business.

When we left Quartzsite the day had warmed considerably. The key element for us today - in this hot climate with few towns along the way - was water. We had to know where the next store or gas station was. After a few miles of level terrain, Interstate 10 began another gradual ascent through the Plomosa Mountains then leveled out on the Ranegras Plain. Now we were in Saguaro cactus country. The tops of these tall and chunky cactus were covered in flower buds, but few of them were flowering yet. When they blossom, the tops of these cactus are covered in large white flowers.

Because of the excellent road conditions and our good progress we decided to stay on Interstate 10 rather than take the north route (Highway 60 via Wickenburg) into Phoenix. The nice shoulder surface ended, but the shoulder remained wide with a stout rumble strip. The only problem was the astounding amount of truck tire debris on the shoulder. It was like trying to peddle through a mine field. I had to constantly steer right, left, right, left, back and forth, trying to avoid the flak.

We cycled on into the hot afternoon, stopping every hour or so, whenever we came to a shady overpass. Each time we would inspect the tires and pull out any bits of wire debris. These stops were not terribly restful because we could not sit down, but at least we could get out of the hot sun for a few minutes and drink another quart of water. We carried 7 quarts of water and 2 quarts of fruit juice.

At one such rest stop Jenny found several truck tire wires in the rear tire, and sure enough, one of them had punctured the tube. We patched it, but when we tried to pump up the tire, the tube wouldn't hold air, so we knew there must be another small puncture in the tube. We pulled out one of our old spares and simply replaced the damaged tube.

At a freeway rest stop we pulled off and were pleased to find a faucet. We shared the water with the honey bees, and doused ourselves in order to cool our overheated bodies. We could have taken a longer rest here, but the social ambiance wasn't too inviting and the picnic tables didn't have much shade this late in the day, so we pushed on.

Over 100 miles into the day, and at 5:00 pm we stopped in Tonopah, and enjoyed cold drinks and a most friendly chat with a couple of clerks at a store. With a strong tailwind we cycled on eastward, past the large domes of the Palo Verde nuclear power plant. The shadows were growing very long; rarely have we cycled this late in the day. By the time we reached the turnoffs to Buckeye the air was beginning to cool ever so slightly. We don't know what the high temperature had been today, but we would guess around 100.

Finally we pulled off Interstate 10 at Buckeye, and thus ended our longest stint of freeway riding yet - 114 miles. The time was 7 pm, and we had been riding for 11.5 hours. We had come a long ways today, 146 miles altogether - our highest mileage of the trip, with the monster tires no less.

Day's mileage: 146

Day 92: Buckeye to Arizona City

May 31, 2004 Arizona

At 5:30 am we set off from Buckeye, and peddled east toward Phoenix on Yuma Road for several miles before it changed into Buckeye Road. The town of Buckeye was fairly remote and rural, but soon we started seeing more and more housing tracts replacing the farm fields and sage lands.

The traffic was very light this Memorial Day morning. The only signs of life for many miles were the lizards and rabbits. Within an hour we had cycled into Avondale, which is part of the West Valley arm of the great metropolis of Phoenix. The closer we got to the city, the more traffic, especially semis because this was an area where there were a lot of truck terminals.

We sensed that the day was going to be a hot one, so did not linger too long at our rest stop in Avondale. We cycled on east, then at 51th Street we turned south and stayed on this road for nearly 30 miles as it bypassed the city center and made its way between Sierra Estrella and South Mountain. This gap in the mountain ranges is where the Gila River makes it way west towards the Colorado River. We were now in the rural farmlands of the Gila River Indian Reservation. The cycling was very pleasant, even with a slight headwind and a slight uphill climb. We left the irrigated fields behind and for much of the way the land was open creosote and cholla cactus, with the occasional palo verde and mesquite trees. The traffic was very light, now that we had left most of Phoenix behind.

While cycling along this road we encountered a bicycle rally, with hundreds of local bicyclists, all headed the other direction. Included in the mix were a couple of recumbents, but no tandems. The group was spread out for miles, and at one point we stopped to talk with a few of them.

Our road eventually angled southeast, then east, and crossed Maricopa Highway and then several miles later, Interstate 10. At this intersection was a small store so we stopped for our second rest stop of the morning and drank lots of ice-cold, watered down fruit juice. The day was already very hot, and we knew that drinking plenty of liquids would be crucial for us today.

East of Interstate 10 the road became Riggs Road and we peddled along this busier road for another 4 miles before turning south once again. We were now on Highway 587, which is the road we had cycled last year during our Canada-to-Mexico trip. But this time we were not headed to Mexico. Instead, our goal was simply to return to our starting point, our home in Arizona City.

In the small Indian town of Sacaton was a small park with shaded picnic tables, and something we truly appreciated - a hose. I turned the faucet on, and we stood under the flow of water, completely drenching ourselves. It was wonderfully refreshing. With our shirts still dripping we followed the 2-lane highway as it climbed onto the lower flanks of the Sacaton Mountains and wound through a gap. Then we turned south again, crossed the Interstate again, and cycled on a newly resurfaced road toward Casa Grande.

The traffic here was a lot busier, and in one place a fellow in a large gas hog of a pickup roared up behind us, blared his horn, and swerved in front of us with his tires screeching, cutting us off as he turned onto the side street. This has happened to us many times, and I think part of the problem is that the drivers completely misjudge the bicycle's speed. When someone wants to turn, they almost always try to pass us first, rather than slow down and wait about 1.5 seconds for us to clear the intersection.

Mid-day we stopped at a sandwich shop in Casa Grande. The temperature was in the 100s, but home was less than an hour's bike ride away and we were anxious to keep going. Checking the tires, we found the rear one low, but not so low that we couldn't simply pump more air into it and keep going.

In another mile we turned east onto Jimmie Kerr Blvd and followed this 3 or 4 miles, past familiar shops and other landmarks. We crossed under Interstate 10 then turned south onto the road that would take us into Arizona City.

We commented several times how odd this felt, after 3 months and over 6,000 miles, to be cycling back into our home town. We talked about our departure day on March 1: the feelings of awkwardness and unfamiliarity with the bike, our bodies that were not yet lean and mean, and those overwhelming number of miles that we hoped to peddle. We compared that to how we felt now: as Jenny put it "two leathery lizards on wheels," cranking out the miles, very much in tune with the bike and comfortable on just about any kind of road.

"Two leathery lizards on wheels"

Before we crossed Interstate 10 for the last time we stopped next to a strip of grass outside an old motel. Here the sprinklers were watering the grass: another chance to drench ourselves and cool down.

Then after a couple more miles we crossed our outbound track. Circle completed!

We stopped at our local market to buy some fresh oranges, and soon were cycling down our street and turning into our driveway. The time was 1 pm, the temperature 105 degrees, and we were home.

Day's mileage: 99, Trip total: 6,716 miles

Gear

The red seat bag, tied beneath my seat and Jenny's handlebars, is home-made. Jenny can access it while riding, and it carries camera, maps, food, extra water, sunscreen, a valuables pouch, etc.

The computer carrier is home-made, and is secured to the bike with heavy hook & loop fastener. Inside the red waterproof shell is a foam-padded liner. Additional vibration protection is provided by extra foam padding on the mounting straps. Additional moisture protection is provided by a re-closable plastic bag surrounding the computer.

Over the rear wheel we installed a standard bike rack made of hollow aluminum tubing anodized black. To this we strapped a pair of ordinary dry bags (blue) of the type used for river rafting. These bags contain our tarp, groundsheet, 2-person quilt, foam sleeping pads, extra clothing, ditty bag, and the computer's AC power plug-in and phone wire. These bags are tied to the rack rather than fastened with buckles. This is because a buckle coming unsnapped at high speed could entangle the spokes.

On top of the rack rests a yellow dry bag. This holds our rain gear, spare tire and 3 spare tubes, a few more spare clothes, and any food and water that will not fit in the seat bag. This bag expands or contracts to fit the contents. And like the blue bags and red computer bag, is completely waterproof.

With the gear in place, we cover it with a sheet of orange flagging, lashed in place at all four corners. This flagging make us more visible to motorists.

These tires barely got us home, Specialized Infinity Armadillo 700 x 35. Note the tread delamination.

Hello America Bicycle Tour track across the US, Coast to Coast - Twice 6,700 miles in 92 days, 2004.

Here is our route in Google Earth: Hello America Bicycle Tour

This might make a fun route if someone else wanted to follow it. My link gives the turn by turn details.

Note: We did a lot of highway riding, which might not be legal (or safe) in some areas. I'm not recommending this to others.

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