San Jose to Santa Cruz, 45 miles

Day 25! So good to be back on the road! Today was a good reaffirmation of why I am doing this thing, this ride.

The Santas ask….

where did this need to do this ride come from? And, where is it going? What are you going to do with it?

But first, why is Day 25 so late in September? I was going to be long done with it by now. This has become a ride that had to be squeezed into other unshakable obligations, that is, real life. Last year I rode the 3,200 mile Southern Tier in one swoop. This shorter ride is taking longer.

I decided to see how the logistics of yo-yoing between riding and being necessary to other people I care about can work together. The result so far is the good news is that I can do adventure AND pull my weight at home and in my profession.

First off, the cost is cost. It’s much more expensive to be bouncing all over the West, between legs of riding, and getting to where I need to be between legs. It’s expensive and it takes a lot of time in-between.

Second is getting into the groove of the work, whether it’s recalibrating to long days alone on the bike, or blowing into a social situation with more push and imperative than is helpful. It’s hard to dial back the drive and sense of imperative I need on the road, so I don’t over-amp social life. Not saying it can’t be done, and I might even say I’ve done it pretty well, but it takes a lot of conscious effort to appear like I am not making a conscious effort. There is an intensity, an always-on effect, that can be a bloody nuisance around other people. I get feral on the road.

Third, it hurts. Every time I get back on the bike after being off of it, no matter how active I have been, it’s like starting over. Enough said about that, except to say that when you try do something the way I am doing this ride, expect it to cost more, be a bigger emotional and cognitive load, and challenge your conditioning over and over.

Is it worth it? Is wrenching at least some adventure into your already full life, given the tradeoffs? I think it’s worth the cost, worth the effort and worth the discomfort. The alternative is to put adventure off until you are dead or just don’t care anymore, which is a little late. The version of you or me who comes back to community, civilization, after driving yourself at something you could truly fail at if done badly, and then not failing, makes you a better dot release of your developing self. Adventure costs, and it give more back, if you don’t die.

I made some changes. I have changed my shirt to adopt a more autumnal color way. The blue plaid shirt was starting to unseam, and it was a summer shirt. Browns and grays are more fitting to September/October, don’t you think?

Second, I switched bikes again. I’m not unhappy with the Priority 600 pinion geared bike, but it’s a 15-40 mile-a-day bike, not a 60-90 mile-a-day bike. And it just wore me out. It will excel at knocking around town, gravel bike paths and casual riding. I will put studded tires on it this winter and, with poggies on my handlebars to keep my hands from freezing, have a perfect Montana winter bike.

Instead, I am back on my cycle cross bike, the one I abandoned after riding down Washington with that trailer. It couldn’t handle the big load and I was afraid of the shaky ride, and of wrecking a very good bike by using it wrongly. Now I have new wheels on it, and I’ve gone to tubeless tires. (To find out more why tubeless tires are a very good thing, look back at Day Eleven on the Southern Tier.)

I have left all of my camping gear at home and am going light for these last 8 days, with a credit card and plans to motel it. This is a big change for me because I have always carried everything I needed to camp and dive into the bushes for a night when necessary. I’ve ridden heavy. But future touring with be “grand touring”—credit card touring—to see the sights in Europe and such. It’s different way to ride, for different reasons, and I have never done it this way.

When not overloaded, the cycle cross bike is way faster. During my time back in Missoula, I did a 10 mile ride on the Priority and again, exactly the same ride, on the Cannondale. The Cannondale was 2+ miles per hour faster. Over a full day, that’s 15-20 miles further for the same time in the saddle. I want to bang out the last 600 miles and get it done. Returning to light-and-fast(er) will cut 2-3 days off of this last leg of riding. Also, the cycle cross bike is much more fun, much snappier.

To get back to San Jose and restart the ride exactly where I paused, I took the Coast Starlight Amtrak train down from Seattle. Cycling and Amtrak work great together, I will be doing more of tails and riding, and you should too. In the US, and in Europe too. Make plans because it’s a great way to go.

I retrieved my bike from the baggage car, loaded up, and rode to REI because, of all things to forget (there is always something) I forgot to pack underwear. I also forgot Tenacious Tape for fabrics. I have a hole my spandex cycling shorts that reveal a bit more than anyone wants to see. I also picked up a spare inner tube, because I am not yet fully confident in these tubeless tires.

A bit about that. With properly matched rims and tires, there is now an icky goo that can be put into bike tires that remains fluid. As you ride, centrifugal force spreads it out all over the inside of the tire tread. When a burr or piece of glass or metal punctures the tire, this goo is pushed into the cut by tire pressure and seals it. No need for an inner tube to hold air that gets punctured and deflates, requiring the rider to remove the wheel, unseat the tire, patch the tube, and get it all reassembled and pumped back up to continue riding. A big gash is a different issue, but most tire punctures are tiny little holes and the goo just seals them up with no fuss, no muss. Tubeless tires are the new thing, and they seem to really work.

Okay, I’ll say it and possibly jinx it: I have not had a single flat on this trip so far. I may get all the way to Mexico with nada flats. The Priority 600 bike tires were fortress-like impenetrable. The only benefit of being so bloody heavy is that I have had zero flats and zero of any other kinds of mechanical issues. These tubeless supple-sidewall, low resistance tires might, MIGHT, be durable at less than half the weight.

There was some serious rain through noon today.

I dealt with the rain by eating an early lunch and going shopping for underwear.

The weather system blew through and I just got a few raindrops. The rain cleared the air nicely but the humidity was up somewhat.

Recall all my laments about hills, hills, hills, when crossing from the coast to anywhere or anywhere to the coast? I can say that today I had the right bike, legs and attitude to get it done with a minimum of fuss. I climbed and descended 2,500 feet, but over great trails and road.

Climbing out of San Jose, I took the Los Gatos bike trail up into the coastal hills.

I saw two cats in a homeless camp in San Jose, but only squirrels along the Los Gatos trail.

“Los Gatos”…not be confused with “El Gato”…

The descent to Santa Crus and the coast was heavenly. I had to be on the brakes to keep the Cannondale under 25 mph, and I hardly pedaled for nearly 10 miles of perfectly angled (down) road. It flattened out into town, where bike lanes appeared and ushered me right to my motel. Even though I was in rush hour traffic, it was very calm riding.

So now I’m at the coast, and ready for some high mile days ahead. I won’t actually stay on the coast, though. The Big Sur Highway, every cyclist and motorcyclist’s dream ride, is stopped up with a land slide. At Carmel-by-the-Sea, just south of Monterey, I’ll need to turn inland to take the detour to San Luis Obispo. But south of that, I should feel ocean breezes all the way to Mexico. miles

Enough for today. I’ll get to those lead-off questions on a future, shorter post.

Day Twenty-Five

Day Twenty-four