By 7:30, Amtrak, Hwy 1 and fellow campers eventually teased us out of our tent. Tim had slept pretty well but I had only managed a few hours. We had no breakfast and by 8am we were baking hot and in a site with no shade.
Tim, who seems to be able to function food free for miles, promised me breakfast would be round the corner. 10 miles later after following a convoluted route through San Juan Capistrano, we stopped for oatmeal and toast.
Beyond San Clemente we joined a bike path and started chatting with a group of cyclists traveling from Irvine to Carlsbad. They were all impressed that fully loaded we were matching their speed. We even overtook the odd group of cyclists. We passed San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant which they told us was known as the ‘Dolly Parton Monument’ – perhaps check it out online or Google Earth.
We cycled on as they regrouped and started chatting with a guy training some Swiz Ironmen athletes. I decided to see if I could keep up. One the flat it was easy but as we came to the end of the road I noticed a climb to our left and stopped to wait for Tim pretending I didn’t know where we needed to go ;-)
At Camp Pendleton we had to show I.D. ‘Northern Irish’ the guy said. But of course political fear is a sliding scale of relativity and as I was thinking here we go, the guys continues: ‘I stopped in Shannon on my way back from Iraq (I-rack) – it rained a lot there.’
A few miles into the reservation a convoy of army trucks passed us. It was a little off putting trying to mount a peak as large guns were pointed at your head – it put a new slant on hill climbing at least doing it at gun point.
Just out of the confines of the camp a lady asked where we were off to. Ahead was a detour which she safely led us through to get back onto our route and out to Oceanside where we joined SR21 through Carlsbad, Leucadia, Encinitas and finally Cardiff where we stopped at San Elijo State Beach.
Relieved we had not been knocked off our bikes by the throngs of surf board wielding bike menaces we found the hiker/biker section and a great couple called Matt and Ingrid who were hiding in the shade. We were ravenous but sat chatting for an hour or so. Finally, tent pitched we crossed the hwy for lunch at 4:30.
When we came back we went for a dip – the water was actually warm. There were no gasps as we walked in, but the thought of the shark attack on a San Diegon triathlete a few weeks back and the 100s of surfers put me off going in any further. Wimp.
After a shower we went for dinner with Matt and Ingrid. We decided on dessert in a shop next to the restaurant. As we tried to sit down outside we realised the chairs were all chained together around each table. ‘Only in California’ I declared, as we started the usual chat about political America.
Tim, who seems to be able to function food free for miles, promised me breakfast would be round the corner. 10 miles later after following a convoluted route through San Juan Capistrano, we stopped for oatmeal and toast.
Beyond San Clemente we joined a bike path and started chatting with a group of cyclists traveling from Irvine to Carlsbad. They were all impressed that fully loaded we were matching their speed. We even overtook the odd group of cyclists. We passed San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant which they told us was known as the ‘Dolly Parton Monument’ – perhaps check it out online or Google Earth.
We cycled on as they regrouped and started chatting with a guy training some Swiz Ironmen athletes. I decided to see if I could keep up. One the flat it was easy but as we came to the end of the road I noticed a climb to our left and stopped to wait for Tim pretending I didn’t know where we needed to go ;-)
At Camp Pendleton we had to show I.D. ‘Northern Irish’ the guy said. But of course political fear is a sliding scale of relativity and as I was thinking here we go, the guys continues: ‘I stopped in Shannon on my way back from Iraq (I-rack) – it rained a lot there.’
A few miles into the reservation a convoy of army trucks passed us. It was a little off putting trying to mount a peak as large guns were pointed at your head – it put a new slant on hill climbing at least doing it at gun point.
Just out of the confines of the camp a lady asked where we were off to. Ahead was a detour which she safely led us through to get back onto our route and out to Oceanside where we joined SR21 through Carlsbad, Leucadia, Encinitas and finally Cardiff where we stopped at San Elijo State Beach.
Relieved we had not been knocked off our bikes by the throngs of surf board wielding bike menaces we found the hiker/biker section and a great couple called Matt and Ingrid who were hiding in the shade. We were ravenous but sat chatting for an hour or so. Finally, tent pitched we crossed the hwy for lunch at 4:30.
When we came back we went for a dip – the water was actually warm. There were no gasps as we walked in, but the thought of the shark attack on a San Diegon triathlete a few weeks back and the 100s of surfers put me off going in any further. Wimp.
After a shower we went for dinner with Matt and Ingrid. We decided on dessert in a shop next to the restaurant. As we tried to sit down outside we realised the chairs were all chained together around each table. ‘Only in California’ I declared, as we started the usual chat about political America.
Back in our tent, the RV across the way was parting to Abba. Thankfully they changed to a more palatable Bob Marley, as we quickly drifted off, not even Amtrak was going to wake me this time.
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