SATURDAY 9 APRIL 2016
LOMPOC TO PISMO BEACH
1040 - 1830
89.24km (55.45miles)
Av. Speed: 14.3 km/h (8.9 mph)
Max. Speed 70.4 km/h (43.7 mph)
Time on Bike: 6h 12m 45s
The provided bed in Lompoc was way too comfortable and I told Richard as much.
I could have easily slept all day but other things beckoned.
After a bite to eat at Richard's, I was on my way towards Pismo Beach.
Between us (that's me, Richard and Google Maps), we had devised a northward route that would get me where I intended to go.
Santa Lucia Canyon road took me straight out of Lompoc to the north, re-connecting with Highway 1 through the Vandenberg Air Force Base.
An alternate route that Richard recommended was San Antonio Rd West (a.k.a the Lompoc-Casmalia Rd) which passed through the small rural town of Casmalia, where there was apparently a very well-known steak house which looked to be in good time for lunch.
It was all pretty good running for the entire morning, and I was in particularly good spirits by the San Antonio turnoff, having just hit 70 km/h for the first time on my new bike.
The first 3 miles of San Antonio too, was divine riding - flat, peace and quiet in the midst of rolling hills flourishing with yellow mustard flowers and the contrasting mauve of lupine.
Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention the tailwind as well.
Rounding the right-hander at the golf course turnoff, I lost all favorable conditions in place of an extended grade, which dragged me steadily upward for the next 3 miles, the sun timing its first appearance of the day just as the hill started to pinch that little bit harder towards the top.
The downward side of the pass, as brief as it was, dropped me straight into Casmalia at about 1.15 pm, just in time for lunch as anticipated.
Problem was, the famous steak house known as "The Hitching Post", didn't open until 4.30.
Bugger.
So push on it was, to Santa Maria, where I was due to re-join the northward Highway 1, which would take me through to Pismo Beach.
As has been the regular routine so far, I got myself hopelessly lost in the bowels of Santa Maria, which I knew I was meant to avoid.
When I hit the 135/101 junction, my misdirection was confirmed.
Back the same way I had come, at least temporarily, as I had noted the Santa Maria public library as I had passed it a mile or two up the way.
Once again, the local library came to the rescue as I was able to grab a few minutes of internet time to help right my wrong.
Immediately I could see how badly I had fucked it up, but thankfully the way out of it was not nearly as bad as it could have been.
In my own defence, I maintained how badly things are signposted (or not) and partially blamed that for missing the Highway 1 turnoff, several miles back.
Santa Maria library was on the junction of 135 and West Main, my out of this situation.
Trailing West Main would take me straight through to Guadalupe and a happy reunion with the 1.
Having already probably lost an hour, I wasted no more time and set out immediately.
Pedalling west along Main was straight into a headwind, which have thankfully mostly been absent so far.
And with the wind also came some sleeting rains which scraped into my face with some healthy wind assistance.
Light conditions also were poor, with the day advancing and the presence of dark storm clouds, it was not great riding.
Guadalupe is an area similar to those surrounding it which is heavily active in agriculture.
The effect of this was to turn what was normally a thick coating of dust on the roads adjacent to the plantations into slimy mud, which in some sections entirely covered the shoulder and road itself.
I nearly lost traction a couple of times and had to stop several others to let trucks pass me by on the narrow sections where there was no shoulder.
As relieved as I was to finally reach the Guadalupe township, the rain was now starting to pour down pretty steadily.
With only maybe 20 miles now through to Pismo and maybe 90 minutes of daylight left , I had to get moving. It would likely take all that time to get there.
From Guadalupe north, it was more rain, some short but sharp grades and intermittent afternoon sun which kept poking its head out of the layers of black clouds.
There were a couple of aggressive drivers too, who should have focused a little more on slowing the fuck down in poor conditions rather than trying to run me off the road.
I pulled into Pismo Beach around 6.30, in fading light and after 90 kilometres on the road in sometimes trying conditions, was happy to pull into the first camp I came across.
In hindsight, probably the worst option available, it was a ramshackle affair, strategically positioned between Highway 1 and the Amtrak rail line.
With time enough to shop around, I would have readily gone a mile or so up the road and stayed at North Beach, but it was not to be.
As I found the overgrown patch of grass that doubled as the hiker/biker camp spot, I proceeded to pitch my tent in the company of hundreds of mosquitos.
Still, beggars can't be choosers they say and for a princely sum of US$13, I had found a camp and an inclusive hot shower, which had to count for something.
I had decided one thing for sure though; I would be moving on tomorrow.
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