Day 42: McGrath State Beach - Doheny State Park, 213km

It was lucky we got up at 7:30 this morning, because after many attempts, and to rapturous applause, our neighbours started up their generator. Half an hour later they started to sing – apparently they only had one listener, and that was God, which was no real surprise as all we could hear was the generator.

As we set off, we had no real plan for our destination. All we knew was that L.A. was looming and we had no real desire to experience it for longer than required.

The initial stages of our day were on hwy 1, with a small inland detour through Oxnard and Port Hueneme, where we cycled through miles of turf. I had an experience not unlike the first time I saw reinforcement set out on site ready for a concrete pour – I had never thought about how steel ended up inside the concrete, nor it appeared the turf in our garden centers.

Shortly after, we passed Missile Park. Tim almost crawled to a halt as he had a boy gawp at the various different U.S. missiles, whilst 'Grotesque' came to my mind. The lonely planets guide pointed out how the interpretive panels (which we did not stop to read) boasted about the increasingly efficient ways they had to blow things (?) up.

With Santa Monica Mountains looming on our left we pedaled along relatively flat terrain, as surfers became more prevalent. At Leo Carillo State Beach we got a taste of the day ahead as cars lined our bike lane, doors flew open and guys turned with 6ft boards in their arms – apparently an ability to ride waves leaves you devoid of any spacial awareness.

About 35 miles later, we had been flying along and decided to stop for fuel. I saw a sign for the ‘Hideaway Café’ and we took the turning, only to be faced with a driveway not too dissimilar to our lost coast days – thankfully it could only have been 50m long and the fruit, toast and coffee was worth it.

Still with no plan for L.A. I suggested we cycle clean through it. Tim agreed, fully aware this would entail over 130 miles of cycling.

Up a short hill we came into Malibu, home of the rich and famous and it suddenly struck me they would enjoy hiker/biker camping, due to its similar proximity to the ocean. It was a pretty faceless town albeit with some extravagant architecture. The properties that lined the road (and of course the beach) had little road side glazing leaving you wondering what they looked like from the other side. The rest of Malibu was gated complexes and mansions and the few times we caught a glimpse of the beach, the ocean could be seen pounding against the foundations of many of the homes. It was pretty obvious that any amount of storm could have covered those homes in seconds.

On entering Santa Monica, we joined our first beach front bike path. It wasn't too busy, although I was soon thinking how the Americans could have learnt a thing or two from the Romans as the chicanes began to make me feel nauseous. 6 miles later we detoured around Marina Del Ray where we refueled on cakes and coffee. With our long cycle ahead we chose the junk food route – there has to, after all, be some enjoyment.

Again we followed a bike path past L.A. Airport and Manhattan Beach. At Hermosa Beach we over shot our turn off and had to cycle the few miles back to Torrance Blvd. Someone had told me not to hang around in Torrance but at a service station we decided on a pit stop where Tim looked on in horror as I bought 6 candy bars and a tube of lifesavers.

Through suburbia we passed Carson to join a path along the Los Angeles River which wasn’t smelling all that great in the stinking heat. After Long Beach we were again at the coast, where we cycled through Bluff Park until we again cut in land to Circuit Alamitos Bay. At Seal Beach we rejoined hwy 1, to take us through Sunset and Huntington Beaches. Tired and hungry we finally paused a few miles North of Newport Beach where I suggested a motel. We had breached the imperial ton after all, but Tim was eager to continue. Having cycled 120 flat miles, the last 10 almost hammered nails into our coffins. Suddenly we were faced with undulations – I wanted to sleep, not climb.

With a few miles to go, we were barely speaking (having used up all our energy). As I looked behind us there was the most amazing sunset and yet we were still cycling.

At Dana Point we were lost. We had no idea where the campsite was and the bike lights were at the bottom of one of the panniers. Tim turned off the highway, and just as I was about to ask why on earth we had come off route, we found a back entrance into the campsite and the smallest hiker/biker section ever.

You would have thought the adventure would end there, but we had absolutely no food, and Tim was barely speaking. We met a great guy called Josh who was cycling North but didn't pause too long to share stories, in order to go and hunt out some food.

We could see the lights of restaurants in the distance, and turned down the road we thought led to them. Of course at the end, we realised we were looking at veritable eateries from the wrong side of a waterway. We retraced our steps. If I had had any energy in my reserves I would have swum across but as we walked back waves of dizziness and nausea kept stopping us in our tracks – it was almost like a comedy skit.

When we finally got food I was so tired I couldn’t be bothered to finish, and dessert didn’t even appeal after all the candy we had consumed. Finally in bed at midnight I was shattered but wide awake. At 1am we realised Amtrak passed no more than 5m from our heads. The trains were so loud that we laid there laughing uncontrollably for what felt like hours - it seemed so unfair, it was funny.