Bicycle - Specialized Roubaix
Miles ridden - 76 (Happy Independence Day!)
Total elapsed miles - 987.3
Time in saddle - 6:19
Average speed - 11.9 mph
Maximum speed - 29.9
July 16, 1961 - Got a late start today. Broke two spokes in Castroville. Ate bread and honey... at Watsonvile. Got to Monterey about 2:00. Called Mother and Hilda is in Long Beach. Toured Monterey for a while then moseyed 28 miles to Big Sur. Got into a private park for 50 cents at 6:30.
Had a big swimming hole in Sur River. Met a girl in the water. Marylou K. (not her real name) , 16. Recently from Texas and now living in Van Nuys. On vacation with father, mother and 14 year-old brother.
Ate spaghetti and then went to K camp where I popped corn and we cooked marshmallows. Got to bed at 11:00. Rode 69 miles.
I clearly remember that while at the checkout counter buying bread and honey in Watsonville, I heard a woman saying to a cashier, "So I told him, 'I was born in Watson, I live in Watson, and by God I'll die in Watson'." A lot of people were born in, moved to and live in Watson. The population in 1960 was 13,293; in 2011, 51,199.
My hardest day, if not my longest. Got off to a slow start after a good breakfast at one of old Santa Cruz's iconic cafes. Before I started riding, we found the famous surfing spot Steamer's Lane and were amused to through the fog that it was crowded with kooks and gremlins on identical boards taking a class in 18 inches of surf. The wave of the future, so to speak.
A very mixed route, beginning with urban Santa Cruz and taking me through suburban Aptos, where I just missed getting blocked for six hours by an Independence Day parade. From there, I was shunted off Interstate 1 onto agricultural roads through some of the most fertile-looking fields I've ever seen. Want to know where your strawberries and artichokes come from? Just ask me.
Met a local rider and hung with him for 20 minutes or so before my first serious headwinds of the trip began to take their toll on me, making my fourth hour of the day the hardest on level ground to date. Rendezvous'ed with Bob in Seaside, where I rested for an hour and we partook of yet another Mexican meal (quite good, actually). Bob had also had the kindness to pick up for me a headband, which solved the constant irritation of my eyes from helmet-liner brine - don't know why I didn't bring one from home. Lost my rearview mirror somewhere on the morning's run - will look for another in San Luis Obispo today.
The afternoon was also long. Turned away from the head winds but had to make a long climb over the heights of Carmel before beginning the last, hilly coastal leg to Big Sur (in 1961 I "moseyed"? Life was so much easier then!). That route took me over the famous Bixby Bridge, famous as the venue of an old Chevy commercial and for a much-published photo of a Tour de California peleton in full cry. As were all the bridges on this leg, it was built in 1932, before which time it was presumaby impossible to get to Big Sur from the north by motor vehicle. The bridge was followed by another monster ascent to another imposing headland, after which the road began to descend and level out. The final five miles into Big Sur were dead downwind and the fastest of the day by far.
I found Bob waiting for me at mile 75. I asked him to follow me up the road until my cycloputer showed 76 miles, in honor of Independence Day.
For reasons that will become clear when you read the retrospective, 1961, portion of tomorrow's post on this blog, we shuttled the next 93 miles to Morro Bay in the Jeep. It was challenging and scary enough in the comfort and relative safety of a motor vehcile to make me very happy that I wasn't seeing and doing it from the saddle of my spoke pony. My hat's off to the one group of riders we passed, a man and two twenty-something women, heavily-loaded and heading south.
The final approach to Morro Bay took us past one of the few sea elephant rookeries on the coast and gave us a view of San Simeon Castle on a mountain ridge far to our left. We found our pre-reserved room at a Best Western a few minutes from the waterfront and drove into town for dinner. Didn't stay for the fireworks, but could see and hear them from our motel. I really can't say whether it's changed a lot since 1961. It was so foggy when I was here that I couldn't see anything outside my 50-yard radius of visibility.
Watch this spot for the next few days. ETA and wheel-dipping in Long Beach now likely for June 8.
Signing out, from Morro Bay
Bob
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