Hermosa Beach to San Clemente, 66 miles

I left at 8 AM from the Grandview Inn in Hermosa Beach, just a block off The Strand, that I bicycled yesterday from Santa Monica. My “grand view” was of a neighboring roof—I booked an economy room.

I followed The Strand 4 miles to its end

Apparently they play beach volleyball from dawn to dusk. If it is light enough for a volleyball to be seen, somebody is spiking it.
I popped into the Go od Stuff Restaurant for breakfast.
It was a leisurely breakfast, with lots of coffee and a long phone call home, so whatever benefit of an early start I began with, I lost.

Torrance Beach is the southernmost of the oceanside communities of Santa Monica Bay. I turned east and inland to Torrance (birth place of the American Youth Soccer Organization), towards Long Beach. What an amazing difference a few miles make. The coastal towns are little villages packed together liked canned fish, with all the homes and businesses inside each of them packed together like canned fish. Colorful, fit, tastefully dressed canned fish. Oh, the money here.

Port of Long Beach

The Port of Long Beach is industrialized, gritty, hardworking, and massive. Oil refineries, railroads, warehouses, trucks, battered pavement, ships and container cranes. This felt like the beating heart of LA, where the “business of looking great” along The Strand is supplied. No one drives Porsches, Audis or Mercedes Benz—but instead, Peterbilts, Freightliners and Isuzus.

To me, those volumes of conveyances, cargo and money are too big to be truly comprehended. The shear scale of Los Angeles is mindboggling.

California Coast Trail

In the middle of all of this industrial might there is, of course, being LA, a dedicated bike trail. Cycling is such an embedded part of the culture here. This culture extends across California with the grassroots effort to create a walking/cycling trail along all of California’s coast…the California Coast Trail.

The Queen Mary

The Queen Mary’s maiden voyage was from Southampton to Cherbourg, France and then arriving in New York on 1 June, 1935. Crossing time: 5 days, 5 hours and 13 minutes.
She is now a hotel and tourist destination, among marinas with thousands of pleasure boats, and the fast ferries to Catalina Island.

Seal Beach, Huntington Beach and Newport Beach, rolled past, all looking to my eye not much different from the oceanside communities north of Long Beach—Venice Beach, Hermosa Beach and Redondo Beach. But LA is a megalopolis made up of distinct cities and neighborhoods. To an outsider like me, LA is LA. But I’m sure local people could go on about how each “Beach” has its own unique flavor, and which is best. Certainly the pelicans have opinions….

“Mondo lunch”

Stuffed grape leaves, chicken, beef, lamb, fresh pita bread, saffron rice, hummus…

Hills again

South of Newport Beach, steep hills scrunch the cities into tighter spaces. Laguna Beach and Dana Point (with Capistrano Beach) are squeezed along the shoreline and hewn into hillsides.

The rule is: haul ass or get out of the way

Bike lanes disappear in favor of “Share the Road” signs. Roads are narrower and there is just less to share, though the traffic in the afternoon was both more voluminous and more frenetic. Cars whiz by, on my left shoulder, RIGHT THERE. Nobody slows down, they just drive with more determination. The LA driver’s motto seems to be, “if there is a gap ahead of you, speed up and fill it”. Still, as I’m sure I have mentioned, LA drivers pay attention. Bikes are tolerated. I felt like I was a factor but never a nuisance. I just deal with them, and they deal with me, and everyone gets along.

66 miles today, or 88?

Even though my moving speed has been good, today has been a lot of stop and go, with traffic lights, lots of cars and frequent map reading.

Camp Pendleton

I find a hotel in San Clemente and while finishing the leftovers from lunch, mull how to get across Camp Pendleton.

The Camp Pendleton traverse has been a mystery to me since I began planning this ride. I know people do it regularly, but the information how exactly is spotty and inconsistent. Bikes cannot use California freeways—except when they can. Bike trails are everywhere—except where they haven’t been completed yet. Cyclists can cross Camp Pendleton—except only authorized persons may enter the base—and to become authorized, one must first get a pass from the visitor’s center…in Oceanside.

Tonight, I finally figured out a solution. I will ride the first 12 miles on side roads of I-5, until I get to the Camp Pendleton entrance. Then I’ll find a freeway onramp (without a “Bicycles Prohibited” sign) and then ride for 8 miles to the first exit past Camp Pendleton, where I must exit I-5 and find a side road.

Here in San Clemente, I am about 81 miles from my final destination at the “Binational Foreign Interaction Zone” (ICE-speak) at the corner of Pacific Ocean and Mexican Border. An early start tomorrow, and a smooth, strong ride, will give me the option to finish tomorrow, tired and sweaty. Or I can hold up in Imperial Beach, get cleaned up, fed and rested, and pedal the final 8 miles (and back) on Friday morning. Bang it out tomorrow? Or slow down for a moment and savor it? I’m not sure. I’ll just get to Imperial Beach, and decide then.

Day Thirty-two