Wednesday 18th June: Kayaking and Camping on Santa Cruz Island

Sat in our campsite on Santa Cruz Island, Tim informs me it is time for some pharmaceuticals - Guy had fed him large rum and cokes last night which had finally pushed him over the edge.

By 8am, we were sat in Ventura Port waiting for a small ferry to take us over to the Channel Islands. I had thought I might read, but minutes into the journey there were far too many dolphins to watch instead. For half an hour we had the most amazing swim past, which would only have been improved had we seen some whales.

I left Tim with the camera:

When we got to the island we met up again with our kayak guide - a wonderfully relaxed ex-marine. He gave us a brief orientation and then off we went. Shunned by Tim - apparently I don't do my fair share of paddling - we went off in single kayaks.

We paddled around the coast in the heat of midday sunshine. We went into caves (the names of which I cannot remember) and over waves. Towards the end we saw bright orange Garibaldi fish and (poor Steve Irwin) endless stingrays. Once one of the guys had pointed them out we just kept seeing more. At one point a seal surfaced but we apparently did not interest him and he soon sunk into the depths. Numerous times pelicans flew past, barely inches from the water, whilst a Cormorant watched us from its perch. The wildlife was endless, Oyster Catchers even though there are no Oysters for them and of course seagulls - they seem to be indigenous everywhere.

Just before landing back on the beach, Tony gave us instructions on how to get out of the kayaks. If we came parallel to the beach we were to step into the water - In the off side of kayaking apparently you should never come between the beach and your kayak. I neatly came onto the beach. Happy that i was home and dry I stepped out to the left just as a wave spun my kayak. Tony yelled not to get out that side, but trying to get back in just toppled me over, Kayak on my head, in front of a beach full of 15yr old lifeguards on a day trip.

Back on dry land, albeit sopping wet we (there were 8 of us in our group) ate lunch. We realised that when leaving the ferry we had forgotten to pick up our camping gas which had been placed in an aluminium box for the crossing. Content that no-one would have taken it we went down to the pontoon but they weren't there. Luckily the island is primitive, therefore interesting few people at this time of year so there were only a few campers to ask. Tony kindly gave us a stove to use in case we couldn't find them but our more immediate worry was who we would have to ask for them. On the boat over there had been bunch of spear fishermen (meat heads drinking beer on the morning ferry) who seemed to be the likely culprits. They were adamant they were off to swim around the cape with their harpoons, stacked full of beer. They were so obnoxious that one of the guides suggested/hoped they may harpoon each other. Either way, I didn't fancy our chances of getting the gas back.

The campsite is beautiful - like a prairie, although the deep pit latrines (or rather their smell) are far from appealing in this sort of heat. As we sat down on our pitch, we finally could enjoy the solace of some shade and regale the characters of our co-kayakers. We met a lovely couple called Chris and Christine with a son who had just graduated in Mechanical Engineering. There was a great guy from San Francisco who was a little camp and paddling with a friend from Texas, neither of whom had any notion on how to stop their kayak. On one occasion they knocked another guy clean out of his kayak. He was very sweet natured about it although form that point on always made sure they were in front of him.

As luck had it, the fishermen turned up in time for us to retrieve our gas and cook some dinner. Tim feeling decadent with the camping gas decided on risotto - see, campers can have just as many luxuries as RV drivers.

Day 41: Santa Barbara - McGrath State Beach, 62km

It feels like an eternity since we were last on our bikes - in reality it's only been 3 days. As we left Santa Barbara, the sun was high in the sky and our speedo was reading 2000 miles. There were no strong winds to mention and it felt really great to be in rapid transit again. As we gradually move further South, Conurbations merge and we were no longer allowed on long stretches of the highway. Instead our route tends to side highways, only crossing it if there are rich bike path pickings on the other side.

Having travelled through Summerland and Carpenteria we joined hwy 101 for a few miles on a fairly miserable stretch of road. The shoulder was strewn with blown tyres and broken carburettor's (I'm sure - if only I knew what one looked like), and for the majority, also dedicated to parking for surfers. One of the biggest shames about America, which I do admit is a bonus for us as cyclists, is how you never seem to be more than a mile or so from the highway. Could you imagine surfing just off the M4?

Hwy 1, mysteriously appeared for a few miles, albeit for the soul purpose of RV camping and cyclists - or so it seemed. Towards the end my indestructible Schwable Marathons failed me. With a big bang I had a flat. 10 cyclists must have passed as I obstinately told Tim I was going to change the tube myself. Apparently Lance Armstrong's team can do one in 10 seconds - it took me 10 minutes alone just to get the tyre off. Nonetheless, I got it sorted.

At the end of the road, we followed the on-ramp for the freeway - emblazoned with 'No Cyclists' signs we fearlessly followed the directions of our map which true to its words delivered us a bike path along the highway. Ventura didn't seem that great - another city of 100,000+ but out the other side we found the Marina and lunch. More to the point we started cycling past massive houses, behind which were masts - I wondered what weird garden structures they all had. Perhaps they were gaining inspiration from the ocean like unoriginal porthole windows in ocean side mansions.

We had to cycle back into Ventura as we had missed our last food stop and then out again to McGrath State Beach. Another short day was justified by our ferry journey from Ventura to Santa Cruz island the following morning. Tim got chatting to a lovely couple (Megan and Guy) and their niece (Clare) who were touring in a camper van. In reality I think Tim was eager to poke his head in and have a look, and they had so many space saving/technological/structural/mechanical modifications that they were happy to oblige.

Monday 16th June: I Guess we Should do a Little Sightseeing

Walking along the street I had the usual experience of spotting a bus. For once I had my camera in hand to snap what is otherwise known as an RV in this country.


We were obviously tired after doing very little yesterday and slept until 9am. Thankfully no early morning exercise had been suggested and instead we headed off for more breakfast muffins. Weekend over, there were no queues as we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast surrounded by dropped jaws induced by the US Championships on the screen above our heads. Paranoia set in.

After stopping in the Post Office, with it's quintessentially stunning architecture we went to the top of the Court House for views above Santa Barbara. Stumbling out into the heat (no sign of any sea fog today) we ambled around the beautiful, wide tree lined streets until settling down for copious cocktails on a party boat - a.k.a. reading with a coffee.

The car park designers here have good taste:

Views inside the court house:

On the way back from breakfast we had stopped in a mountaineering shop for some camping gas. In the Big Sur we had spent $12 on one in the only shop for 100 miles that sold such a provision. In this shop we could have bought three for that price.

I am embarrassed to admit that yet again we spent our afternoon enjoying a good book. In America book shops stay open until pub closing times. They also have coffee shops in which you could sit all day and read the book shop's books. For cycle tourers unable to afford the weight of travel compendiums this had become a useful tool for us, even if I did feel akin to the street people.


I know we sound completely uninterested in the places we land our sorry cycling selves in for a few days at a time, but when you are pounding the roads for hours at a time, it is nice to be able to relax and read. I guess we could drink ourselves silly but quite frankly after so much exercise it would only take one beer before I fell asleep over the next one.


We spent the rest of the evening eating burritos and debating our bests and worsts of the trip. The list is becoming so extensive that at some point later on I will have to compile an individual post for it.

Sunday 15th June: Intoxicated Running

This morning we checked in for another night in our motel, so we could book some time on Catalina Island. Tim was obviously still drunk when we woke and demanded we go for a run as planned last night. Thankfully my initial martini had taken so long to imbibe that my head was comparatively clear - there was only one of us popping pre-exercise ibuprofen.

We headed to Sambo's for breakfast again but this time the queue was colossal - at least 50 people. There was a sea fog which meant there was a slight nip in the air but instead of waiting an hour for a table we plumped for the free one outside. Again breakfast was great apart from a girl stood next to us complaining bitterly about the wait. I considered pointing out that there was a free table outside which considering she had already been stood outside waiting for so long she may as well take. Of course the devil in me didn't.

Back at the motel, the owner kindly suggested we may want to go to the Channel Islands rather that Catalina and it's 18 hole golf courses. He had a good point, so we visited the outdoor visitors centre where a lovely lady gave us the info we needed. After multiple phone calls Tim sorted us a kayak tour starting from Ventura on Wednesday - we would be staying in Santa Barbara for yet another day.

All sorted, we partook in our ever so guilty, high octane indulgence of coffee and reading. I can't see why anyone would ever say we didn't know how to have fun ;-) Of course any day that started with a hangover, required an Indian ending.

Saturday 14th June: Spontaneity = Beers + Pool

Brian had recommended Sambos on the seafront for breakfast when we had asked about traditional american diners. Getting there at 9am we queued for a while before being seated to endless coffee and a basket of muffins. A basket of muffins! They would have been enough to feed us alone, forgetting anything else we might order.

Our day started with a walk around the Marina, for which I repaid Tim with a visit to a vintage shop. To be honest we then spent a few hours in book shops. We had both finished our books (Ben - the book you bought me was hilarious) so we needed to restock.

There was plenty of chat about going for a run but as I sit here now my mind is more interested in dinner..

On Brian's Recommendation (again) we headed to the Hungry Cat for dinner. As ever there was a long wait for dinner so we went across the road to Honey and Milk for the most disgusting cocktail of my lief - Cucumber Martini. Of course, I do not have a discerning palette for such things, beer is definitely my tipple, and so for all I know it may have been a tasty cocktail.

An hour later (it took me that long to finish the martini, whilst Tim worked his way through 3 beers) we headed over for dinner. Our waiter was wonderfully camp and the dinner amazing although slow in coming due to a fire in the kitchen. Our response was of course to drink more and as we left 5 courses later, the draw of a pool hall as we walked down a back street uncharacteristically appealed.

Best of 3 became best of 5, 6 beers, a milky way and a sort of stagger home.

Day 40: Refugio State Beach - Santa Barbara, 40km (lazy)

The sound of waves, plagues the market of relaxation music and yet for me , the ocean is like being made to listen to U2 or Van Morrison on continual loop. Needless to say I got next to no sleep last night as my brain tuned into the waves crashing at regular intervals. As we set off at 10am I was secretly glad we had very little ground to cover today.

After maybe 10 miles on hwy 101, we turned off onto Hollister Avenue through Goleta. Tim later pointed out their interesting designation of road types. For a a freeway (or is it a highway) to be so it must have junctions at right angles to it. In this case the junctions were in fact slip roads so just before such exit the freeway would end and just after it would start again.

Modoc Road took us into Santa Barbara itself, where shrouded in sea fog it was hard to find any charm. Nonetheless we cycled on to the visitor centre to find some accommodation for a few nights.

The problem with touring is the inherent transience means you lose track of what is going on around you - memorial day, fathers day, even what day it is and as we realised on entering the visitors centre, graduation. Most hotels were fully booked and/or double their usual price. Luckily basic motels are obviously not what people want to stay in on such an occasion, so we were happy to find a downtown motel under $100. Of course it came complete with most of Santa Barbara's homeless lining the street across the way, but this seems to be a running theme as we go South and didn't think too much of it.

Showered and dressed, we headed off to find Telegraph Brewing Company, recommended to us by Andrew and Filaree. The owner (Brian and two others) was an ex - Wall street financier who had studied at both Berkley and Oxford. The story instantly appealed.

The beer was great and the origin of the company great - A couple who had dreamed about running a microbrewery, doing it. A few hours later we left slightly tipsy wondering why there are no such breweries in the UK.

Day 39: Solvang - Nojoqui Farm - Refugio State Beach, 46km

Our second night camping in a State Beach campsite has taught me the pecking order of campers and their perceived expendability. Bicycle tourers at $5 a pop are the least worth preserving - in the event of a Tsunami apparently America would not like us left to repopulate the country - maybe it is the fear of boiled swimmers. The next are group campers - I guess they can be obnoxious at times. However, it appears the most desirable to save are RV drivers. Curious.

The guys in the bike shop yesterday told us to start early and avoid the rush hour on our pilgrimage back to the coast. We have learnt to heed the advice of locals, although with our own interpretation - we set off at 11am.

We followed Alisal Road out to hwy 101, past a guest ranch, along one of those nagging climbs that looks flat and as a result leaves you demoralised as you puff and pant your way to the top, the peak of which goes almost unnoticed seeing as the gradient was almost negligible. Of course I had a sore knee and there must have been something wrong with Tim's bike. Ignoring my 'Never cycle north' mantra we turned right onto the highway and pulled into Nojoqui Farm where the guy we had met yesterday lived.

I have great concern for Tim's credibility as a farmers son. Filaree and Andrew sent us off with a bag of organic cabbage, green beans and mange tout. Tim, however, thought we had runner beans and a red carrot. I can't even imagine what he thought the black pepper was. Maybe the vegetables in Ireland have funny names too - lord only knows what he thinks eggplant is ;-)

Andrew took us on a tour around the farm which his wife's parents owned. For the first time since hitting the states we saw someone use their 4by4 in the vain it was intended. As we drove down a steep track, and across a fjord, I felt like we were on a full sus bike, down down the forks. I was thankful we weren't on our bikes.

As we came back to the entrance Filaree (Andrews wife) and their son Holden appeared and we went off to pick raspberries - I was in heaven. Holden was very cute (the photo shows it all), scampering around the farm without a worry in the world about thorns or mud or machinery. He was happily munching on fruit - obviously oblivious to the fact that most kids refuse fruit after being fed too much candy and pop.

Although we were within easy reach of Santa Barbara we figured we would camp outside to make good use of all our fruit and veg in our most sophisticated camp meal to date. As we pedalled away we both knew what the other was thinking - how is London ever going to compare to this sort of lifestyle.

We had had so much fun on the farm, that time had escaped us. Our route through Gaviota Canyon was far more spectacular than i had been expecting as peaks rose above us on either side. As we pulled into Refugio State Beach we realised it was 7 hours since breakfast. Failing to find the hiker/biker section (OK we didn't exactly hunt for it) we devoured sandwiches and raspberries. Replete in every sense of the word, we set up camp then lazed on the beach, dreaming and reading, reading and dreaming.

Day 38: Solvang Circuit, 71km

Being sticklers for habit, we visited the Pancake House across the road and ordered oatmeal and toast. With our nights accommodation we were also entitled to a 'free' pastry in the danish bakery next door - Olsens. It was truly authentic danish service - abrupt and forthright.

A 45 mile loop took us around the surrounding wineries, as we baked in the escalating temperatures. Shortly after our second climb on Drum Canyon Road I grumpily declared I was doing no more cycling away from the coast. It felt like we were spinning again, but at least so one shouting at me to pedal faster in tune to 80s pop would have taken my mind off the heat and lack of sea breeze. The climbs were nothing too strenuous and the far reaching views spectacular although becoming all too familiar.

At about the 20 mile mark we came into Los Alamos, where we were treated to cool old saloons and hotels. Stopping outside the local market a dog had decided the coolest place to sit was on top of the cab of a pick up.

The next stretch of the route took us along hwy 101 until we turned onto Alisos Canyon Road and it's varying steepness of climb. The Lonely Planets had deemed to call one "VERY steep". If this was the case then I could only imagine the Lost Coast was off the scale or undefinable at the least or maybe even the edge of the world.

Turning onto Foxen Canyon Road I began to realise how best to ascertain the turnover of a particular vineyard. If the road in front was pothole riddled, the likely hood was that they were mass produces and more likely intense haters of cyclists. Of course if there was newly laid tarmacadam the owners must have either been keen cyclists or successful entrepreneurs. Sadly to say the majority of the route was on roads that looked like they had undergone serious warfare and not only from falling cyclists who had become entangled in the strewn car parts and pot holes.

Turning onto hwy 154, we soon came into Los Olivos - a cute provincial village that obviously made it's money from wine and boutiques. With only 6 miles back to Solvang and a strong need for sustenance that could not be provided by fermented grapes, we followed the flat Alamo Pintado Road and hwy 246 straight into our motel.

In Guadalupe, the lady we had bought fruit smoothies from had suggested the bike shop in Solvang if we had any mechanical needs. We were looking for a route out of Solvang, and wanted to check out Refugio Pass which was described, in part, as 3 miles of steep climb on dirt track. After so much cycling we obviously thought we were invincible but as soon as we mentioned the road in the bike shop everyone (customers et al) said no way. Why deal with 3000ft of climbing, speeding ATVs and 9 stream crossings when we could take a pretty gradual climb along Alisal Road and stop in at an Organic Farm along the way. We were sold on this alternative route.

Day 37: San Luis Obispo - Solvang, 132km

As we left SLO, we were met with a strange phenomenon - a summer head wind. In the distance was a sea fog. This started a day which on the whole was lacking any 'wow.

12 miles in we came to Pismo Beach. This was one of the most depressing 3 miles of trip so far (on a par with Shelton, WA) - we were met by RV upon RV and the corresponding RV parks. I am willing to believe the fog was putting a negative spin on our views, but...

After Oceano we took a funny detour off hwy 1, which added 5 miles and provided us with little interest. I would have preferred a more direct route with any level of climbing.

At Guadalupe we happened upon little Mexico. We cycled down the strip and back up in search of a sandwich. We failed, instead opting for trail mix and fruit smoothies in JTZ Coffee, where our day began to improve. The owner was lovely and pointed us in the direction of a few places along our route where we could grab a sandwich - they were closed (probably for some random reason like it was Tuesday) but nonetheless she raised our spirits.

Out of Guadalupe we journeyed largely flat terrain on hwy 135. After San Antonio Road we turned onto Harris Grade Road where we climbed gently (although the lonely planets called it a steep climb) up one side, and needless to say down the other side. On hwy 1, we rolled into Lompoc where it was Tim's turn to accost some fellow tourers - Michael and Sarah..

Stuck on the edge of the hwy, our conversation turned to the Lost Coast - we needed coffee for this one. Settled outside a coffee shop we again laughed at all our similar experiences. With every new tourer we meet, comes the same loves and hates, just a week, a month, a year, a decade apart.

If any of you have any interest in watching part of the Lost Coast route that we cycled earlier in our tour, have a look at Sarah's blog: http://tourdesarah.blogspot.com Click on June on the right hand side and look for a video under Tuesday June 3 2008 (it should be right at the bottom of the page). Michael got off and pushed his bike up the part where our wheels were almost lifting away from the road. If you can get the volume up you can hear them laughing hysterically. What you can't really see is quite how steep the camber in the switch back is - this is where Tim (head to the floor) chose to pick his way.

Lompoc, with its population of 41,000 also had sandwiches. Micheal and Sarah headed off whilst we tucked into some food, then we too set off again for the last 20 miles to Solvang. Off hwy 1 we turned onto Santa Rosa Road. Finally was appealing to our senses - on we went through fruit, vegetables, vineyards and orchards. Apart form a few short sharp shocks, the road was flat. Before we knew it we were alongside yet more RVs in Buellton. 3 miles later we arrived in Solvang.

Through some bizarre logic, this was maybe the most interesting part of our day (and meeting Micheal and Sarah of course). I'm not sure if interesting is the word I mean but the Lonely Planets guide aptly described it as a Disneyfied Denmark. Anaheim had some competition on it's hands here.

Day 36: SLO Rollercoaster, 56km - short but sweet

After an uninspiring breakfast in the Splash Cafe a few buildings down form our motel, we headed out of SLO on Higuera Street. 7 miles or so later we joined the Bob Jones bike trail which wound its way through housing and high class spa and golf resorts. At Avila Beach we slovenly lay on the beach and read until our stomachs rumbled. Responding to the cue we cycled to Port San Luis where we ate tacos in the Fat Cat Cafe.

When we got back on the road I suddenly ended up with suntan lotion in my eyes - I knew Coppertone was a dubious name. I could barely see and had to stop in a cafe to

wash my eye out and sit in darkness for a few minutes. We eventually got going again and turned onto See Canyon Road. From here we wound our way through apple orchards and ranches. Every time we turn on these roads you realise how few people drive in roads other than interstates in this country - they may as well just designate the back roads to cyclists ;-) A mile or so later we endured three steep climbs and various dirt sections. Without the load on my bike after so long I could barely balance my bike and had to stay seated the whole way. This does not make Beth a happy tourer. That said, as I was stinking hot and beginning to wonder why we were doing this route we came to the summit and amazing views out over the nine extinct Sisters Volcanoes.

A long winding descent brought us back down to SLO and past numerous cyclists doing our route in reverse. For all the moaning I have aimed at the lonely planets, I have to give it to them that they always give their suggested bike routes in the direction easiest to complete. I was hot and tired but the ride was great and Tim was storming along.

Our evening reverted the day back to reality - laundry.

Sunday 8th June: Being Slow in SLO

Having topped 1800 miles of cycling we left our bikes in Cambria Bikes to get the chains replaced. Of course this was also a great excuse for us to have a day off the bikes.

As ever, we had a lie in, read our books then found oatmeal and the Internet. We had every intention of wandering around the town but we ended up window shopping. I had ripped a pair of my jogging bottoms and so thrown them away. This of course meant there was spare room in my panniers so I bought a new top to fill that void..

Having picked up the bikes, we had a long lazy dinner then rested for a day of cycling tomorrow. We had a great long chat with the guys in the bike shop who had agreed the route we were planning tomorrow for a side trip would be cool.

Day 35: San Simeon State Park - San Luis Obispo, 76km

The first stint of our day lasted for a whole 3 miles. At Cambria we pulled off hwy 1 and stopped for coffee..., and carrot cake. Decadent at only 9am but it was tasty and all because jean remembered a few nights earlier I had said I liked it.

The day continued in the same vain as so many have - hwy 1, beautiful views and stunning sunshine. Jean taught me the hand signal used by Harley Davidson riders. I then spent the rest of the day trying to get them to reciprocate my greeting - it was a shame I hadn't mastered what was and wasn't a Harley.

At Morro Bay we headed towards the state park, stopping for clam chowder and fish and chips on the way. Having passed through the park we turned off South Bay Blvd onto Turri Road. With the sun beating down onto us we pedalled through arid hills without a car in sight - it felt again like we were in the middle of nowhere. From Turri Road, we turned onto Los Osos Valley Road, until meeting Foothill Road which took us into San Luis Obispo (SLO).

Pedalling into downtown SLO we found the visitor centre and a bike shop. An hour later Jean carried on to Pismo Beach and we checked into a motel. The icing on the cake - Tim too me to see Sex and the City - he even laughed throughout it.

Day 34: Kirk Creek Campground - San Simeon State Park, 68km

With such beautiful scenery at our fingertips, we decided on another short day to enjoy the views. After breakfast we were left with very little water so we motored on to Gorda, where we refilled our bottles. One big difference to our day was the monumental tail wind. We had a couple of steep climbs, but the downs were long and gently winding, with only the odd switch back, affording us high speed descents.

Nearing Ragged Point the road came down to sea level where the wind picked us up and transported us practically effort free. I could have placed a foot on my handlebars and relaxed with a paper and coffee the winds were that extreme. At one stage we turned into a car park to look at an elephant seal colony. To my dismay Tim turned North. Tim must have managed about 3m - this was impressive - my bike stopped dead. I physically could not cycle into the wind. It was a battle I didn't fancy partaking in. There was only one direction to be cycling today and that was South.

At San Simeon Village we came across Motel city. The last 100 miles of the Big Sur coastline had been conurbation free. At the other end was affluent Carmel. This end was obviously where the likes of us stayed. There was some extreme planning at play here.

Our night was spent in San Simeon State Park, where we paid the princely sum of $2 to camp. Mike, who we had met at New Brighton State Beach turned up, then a guy called Warren and finally a dejected looking French guy - dejected because he was cycling North in record breaking southerly winds, to a booked flight from Seattle. He had started at 7am and at 7pm had only just managed 60 miles. The worst point was when he asked us all if we had known about the prevailing southerlies...

As the light dropped we swapped remarkably similar cycling stories: I can't believe it's not butter (I can - Mike), RV hatred, Nature Valley granola bars, REI, MEC.

In the middle of the night Tim and I got up and stood yet again in awe, this time at the spectacle shining down on us from the night sky. It was so clear that we could see the milky way, Saturn and the North Star - it added yet another layer to our visual extravaganza.

Day 33: 5th June, Pfeiffer Big Sur - Kirk Creek Campground, 56km

For three very good reasons, we enjoyed a short ride today: Jean, the scenery and a long day yesterday. Almost out of gas, we cycled a mile or so North and had a lazy breakfast with Jean, treating ourselves to a change from oatmeal.

Reminiscent of our cycling days up North, we started with a 2 mile climb. The day was already heating up, and as we emerged out of woodlands, we peeled off our layers. 5 miles or so past Big Sur we pulled into a Coastal Gallery, where we were treated to artwork and some of Jean's homemade trail mix.

Our day was spent entirely on the cliff-hanging hwy 1. With every mile we cycled, came another view point and another reason to get off our bikes and take photos. Shortly before leaving the gallery, 3 other cyclists went flying past. Somewhere before Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park we met up with them, as they paused to watch a group of Condors sawing above us. Round the corner we again all stopped and they introduced themselves as Karen, Rich and Sarah. Simultaneously we saw a Condor swoop within metres of a lady taking in the ocean view.

At Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park we walked to a viewpoint of the McWay Falls - California's only waterfall running directly into the ocean. I'm embarrassed about continually writing this but the views were spectacular, and they made our lunch that little bit more exciting.

Again on the road, we cycled until Lucia where we found our first shop for 30 miles. It was expensive, but we were ecstatic to realise there was camping gas. Restocked we cycled to Limekiln State Park. It was only 30 or 40m long, but the road down into the campsite was practically a cliff. At the bottom we realised there was no hiker/biker section. Back up the road we went! Jean and I were pootling along behind Tim, when Jean stopped to talk to a lady who earlier on in the day had mentioned that the next campsite had non-potable water. She verified this but with Tim so far ahead we couldn't stop him. Armed with my bottles and Jean's, I cycled back to the State Park, down the cliff, and back up it, again. Who says chivalry is dead ;-)

When I got back to the campground, the boys were setting up. We were positioned on a bluff with far reaching views of the ocean, Lopez Point and the peaks behind us. Before dinner and sunset we ambled down to the rocky beach where we sat in awe of the ocean.

4th June. Day 32: New Brighton State beach - Pfeiffer Big Sur, 139km

Wow - I have a lot of blog to catch up on..

Our target for today was almost 90 miles to the Big Sur. With Tim's muscle issues, we decided to get an early start, aiming to see how he felt at Monterey. The route began with maybe 10 miles of decreasing levels of housing. After Aptos, we drew away from hwy 1 to cycle on largely flat terrain, through strawberry fields - Beetles' lyrics began to play as a soundtrack to my day. With the amazing sweetness of strawberries in our nostrils we turned a corner to see a uni-cyclist out for some morning exercise - up hill and into the wind - I had to pinch myself to check I was really seeing it.

For 5 miles we rejoined a newly surfaced hwy 1 through Moss Landing, until just past the State Beach with an oil refinery for its backdrop. Crossing hwy 1 we turned onto Monte Road through artichoke fields where Tim yelped as he was sprayed with water from sprinklers. I raised my eyebrows until the next three got me, and I discouragingly ended up covered in mud. At Del Monte Ave just before Marina we joined the Monterey Bay Coastal Trail - what a cyclists' heaven. OK, so we went up and down as the hwy soared alongside with it's forgiving gradient, but we had no traffic for 15 miles.

In Monterey we continued along the path which took us parallel with Cannery Row until we found a deli to stop for food. It was just midday and we had cycled 40 miles so figured we would carry on until Pfeiffer Big Sur.

Past Fishermens Wharf we came to John Steinbeck's muse - the Monterey Coastline. The waves were brilliant white, and the water crystal clear against volcanic rock. Shortly after the edge of town we cycled onto the 17 mile scenic drive, which wound along the coast through Pebble Beach golf course. I thought I had seen it all, having lived near to both Henley and Mayfair but this was something else. The coastline was stunning and for once we weren't 100s of feet above it. The golf course was the most manicured I have seen, and the houses that lined the road were enormous. As ever I was reminded that money did not buy you taste, but anything compared to this coastline would have looked ordinary - maybe even Johnny Depp.


Towards the end of the road, we cycled past the club house, where we were reminded of the types of people who lived in the area. At Carmel we pulled onto the beach and like a pair of kids stood in total and utter awe. I'm not sure even the photos can do justice to what was before us. Carmel was full of boutiques and it was at this point that we decided to look for camping gas. Round and round in circles we went, before we realised Carmel residents were clearly not the camping type. If we wanted dinner tonight, a camp fire it would have to be.

Given in to the reality of not finding any gas, our route continued onto hwy 1 for only the second time of the day, carrying us above the ocean through Carmel Highlands. With 10 miles to go Tim was beginning to tire, but the delights our eyes were experiencing kept us going. After Point Sur we moved in land along the Big Sur River until we finally reached Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park and the most amazing state park showers with two shower heads in each.

As we set up our tent we realised we had caught up with Jean from a few days earlier, and so spent the rest of the evening chatting over coffee.