Our first day of riding started with waking up at 6am to see our host, Tod, off to the naval base; We'd discussed all leaving on the 6:30 ferry to Coronado island, but Tod apparently decided he could stay longer and made us an egg breakfast. We found up catching the 8:10 ferry with eggs and juice and blueberries to fuel our day.
The ferry boat is free before 8:30, and as we boarded we found a bikerack in the center of the small ferry boats compartment, and of the six other people aboard, four had helmets with them. We struck up goood conversation with all of these, and then fell to reading the newspaper weather forecasts left lying around: 70's in san diego with a nice marine layer to shield from direct sun.
We stopped to adjust some creaking spokes on my rear wheel, upping the tension and truing the wheel in 15 minutes, then as we got going met Al, a recent retiree from Gooodrich, who had a beautiful carbon fiber bike and a bicycle tattoo on his leg, and said he was only a year into the hobby of cycling. We passed and were passed by Al a few times over the next mile, as we paused to adjust seats and other miscellanea of the first day of any long ride, and then Al spectacularly wiped out in front of us: he'd tossed his coffee, which he'd been riding with in one hand, into a trash receptacle on the outer side of the sidewalk, which had a steep rocky slope with boulders going down 6 feet or so to the water. He overcompensated, left the trail, rode over a boulder or two, and in slow motion we thought he was about to fall to certain doom on the left, smashing on the rocks. Instead he saved himself and crashed hard instead on the sidewalk, issuing a dull whump that made me cringe. We dismounted and tended to him - Lydia is an EMT, it turns out - and kept him company till, miraculously, he dusted himself off, complained "that was my bad shoulder, too", checked himself over, and then rode off again. Phew!
Down the breakwater to where it ends in oceanside; Then small roads to Saturn Boulevard south towards the southwesternmost corner of the united states. There we found our first thrift store, and I went in to look for a longsleeve light shirt to keep the sun off me in the Mojave. SCORE! I found a great white dress shirt, 100% cotton, with a neck and sleeves that almost miraculously fit me. $4 later, I'm ready to cross the desert in style.
Across the way we found a spanish discount store, basically a giant warehouse with dented cans and past-date packages of lots of things. But the prices were great! For $1.42, I got a packkage of milano cookies, and two cans of chef boyardee ravioli. Lydia found four Ghiardelli chocolate bars, that you'd expect to spend $5 each on, for $0.75, and we congratulated ourselves on our frugality. The food was fine, and with my bloodsugar back up, we started meandering towards the mexican border on the coast.
The roads were washed out in a few spots, and as we got within a halfmile of the border we started seeing border patrol police EVERYWHERE. I stopped to water a bush, and midprocess heard a brief whooooop of a siren, and there 100 yards away was a lightbar on top of a jeep, apparently letting me know I was spotted. Jees! I think they had a good laugh at our expense, but nothing came of it.
On monument drive in the international park there, a sign announced "road closed". We tried to walk the bikes, but the field on either siide is just mud, so we wound up leaving our bikes there in the middle of the road before the mud puddle and walking the 0.3 miles to the shore.
We dallied a while and updated our SPOT gps beacon from near the shore, took a few photos, but then hurried back, fear for our bikes in our minds, despite the fact that there were about five border patrol vehicles along the fence with tijuana, who would no doubt have high resolution photos of any thieves in action. We had lunch and I insisted on cleaning the mud from my braking surfaces and pads - hating the sound of grit grinding aluminum rims down - and met a few border patrol agents, all friendly and waving, as they offroaded through the deep puddles in their hummers and jeeps and pickups.
Then along came a game warden, Danny, and he said that we'd not been to the monument up on the hilltop, marking the "friendship park" and a recognizable landmark as the southwesternmost part of the united states. He drove us up there, after first stashing his shotgun and 22 rifle (for feral animals, since this is a habitat of many endangered species) in the foot compartment of the back seat, which we then sat on top of. We'd not have been allowed near that monument, since its all fenced off, except that he was known to the agents and we just drove right up. He took these pictures of us. Then, with a stick in the sand, he showed us how He'd bike to the salton sea. It was great, and we were overwhelmed with the sociable goodwill he and so many others have shown.
Leaving the border, we biked east and north on monument drive, parallel the border in many miles. Then, we noticed that the mud in our SPD cleats were making it difficult to unattach our feet - a big potential problem! so we stopped, and cleaned them with the toothpicks which I'd bought with no purpose in mind, but sensing there'd be one. Perfect! After cleaning cleats, we remounted, but at this moment, a critical oversight was revealed. My front derailleur outer-side hardstop screw hadn't been set! I dropped my chain off the crank, and then, since I'd been standing on the pedals, I proceeded to snag the chain on the front derailleur, and pull it 90 degrees around and mangle the cage. Catastrophe! I disconnnected the chain, removed the derailleur, and proceeded to try to rebend the steel cage on it, but we needed a vice grip.
Along bikes a hobo looking guy, and says, 'you need help'? we said we could really use some pliers, and he said "sure, come on wiith me" and bikes off towards tijuana's buildings in the distance, the nearest of which is probably at least a mile away. We scratch our heads, and ask "where?". Then it becomes apparent that he's got a camper just a hundred yards away, that he's apparently living out of.
As we got the derailleur working again, with Rod's gracious help, we decied to ride down to him to thank him one last time (our bikes till then being on the side of the road 100 yards up) and took this picture of him and his dog, Beatrice (I think). She had the facial markings of a german shepherd, and I missed my Pippa again.
Leaving him, excited to have a working derailleur, we got on the road, only to get 50 yards before discovering my rear tire was flat! apparently, I hit a cactus spine on the ride to Rod's place. Sigh. the first flat of the ride. We sat on the side of the road and changed the tire, and while doing so met twoo border patrol agents on off road four-wheelers, with green bulletproof armor, motorcycles on top of black balaclavas, with well-worn pistols on their belts. And they pulled up their visors and asked us if we wanted some water of if they could help! It is a great disappointment that we didn't get our pictures taken with them. a halfhour later, as we finished the repair and a snack and a few other things, they waved as they rode past going the other way.
Around 6pm we were looking at our map on the intersection of Olymic parkway - with a dedicated smooth sidewalk past a curb for riding, in addition to a bike lane on the road - and a guy in a car with a mountainbike on the back pulls alongside, asking if we need help or anything. We started talking, and he says, "you guys need a place to stay?". We consider, evaluate whats before us, and judge him worth checking out further.
Awesome decision. I'm writing this from Mauricio's computer in his house-cum-photography studio, which has no fewer than thirty bicycles in it, in Chula Vista. his wife and two kids are on vacation but he had to stay back for work, and was lonely. We had a fantastic chicken soup dinner with him, drove to a farmer's market, met some Llamas, had hot showers, and a soft bed for the night. In the morning, we all woke up at 5:30 and watched the tour de france on his TV, and he let me cook a denver omelette and make further repaiirs to my bike in his well equipped workshop, hose off our shoes, and more.
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