THE MOST EXPENSIVE CAMPGROUND IN THE CIVILISED WORLD

DAY 2

TUESDAY 5 APRIL 2016

MALIBU TO OXNARD

1200 - 2015

Trip: 76.19 km (47.34 miles)
Av. Speed: 14.9 km/h (9.2 mph)
Max Speed: 55.7 km/h (34.6 mph)
Time on Bike: 5h 05m 24s

Malibu Beach RV park is an obvious camping location on this particular strip of California coastline, so it was not a difficult decision to pull in for an overnight stay right on 6 pm.

I had previously designated for Day 1 to take as little toll on me physically as possible.

This is in direct contrast to all other bicycle tours I have undertaken over the years whereby I always attempt to set national records from the starters's gun and gradually wind it back from there.

Whilst it may have been an overall expression of my enthusiasm and excitement at taking on a new challenge, my body always picked up the bill for days thereafter.

At age 44, perhaps I'm starting to learn....

Finding a place to stay is invariably a big relief as a day draws to a close, no matter what distance has been covered.

Secondary to this is what you actually end up paying for the privilege.

On the occasions when free accommodation presents itself, this is obviously irrelevant.

Otherwise, the bean counter in me often gets involved.

I know that, for instance, being asked to pay more than say $20 in any world currency for the opportunity to pitch one's own tent on a patch of dirt in exchange for the use of a hot shower and at best, the nominal use of electricity and/or laundry facilities is nothing short of a rip-off.These days, some wi-fi internet can come in handy as well.

So I am still trying to coalesce all this with being charged US$45 to do what I needed to do in Malibu - which was to have a shower and sleep overnight in my own tent, basically.

I know I would be justified in writing in length to the President about this, although I doubt he, or anyone else for that matter, would care to listen.

With this dose of culture shock far from fully administered, I otherwise got through the night.OK.

NOW THIS IS A BICYCLE TREK.....

A chance meeting with a fellow cyclist is always something I enjoy and crossing paths with Tim Bridgman on my first night on the road was something I suspect will stay with me for a fair while.

Tim came and introduced himself in the dark after noticing my rig on his way to the amenities.

He too, was on a bike and after comparing a few notes in passing, it was obvious he was on some kind of mission.

Aside from the incredible nature of his 50 000 km+ something trek, which had begun at the northern-most point of Norway some 4 years previously, it was the harrowing context of how he had come to the point of speaking with me this particular night in Malibu, California that really left its mark.

Tim and his wife Sharon had left Norway in 2012 and cycled the full extent of the European and African continents from north to south (Nordkapp, Norway to the Cape of Good Hope) before commencing the "return" leg of their journey from Cape Horn to (eventually) Barrow, the northern-most point of Alaska.

Tim then revealed to me that it was whilst cycling through Bolivia in 2014 that his wife was hit and killed by an SUV from behind in the middle of nowhere. Just like that.

It blew me away.

Totally having to confront a cyclist's worst nightmare, as well as losing a wife and travelling partner, Tim's scenario would be otherwise unthinkable if hadn't have really happened.

And as it should, serves to remind anyone undertaking any style of serious adventure, whether it be cycling or something else, that our individual fates are largely at the behest of the Gods at any given moment.

To Tim's absolute credit however, he decided to hit the trail again in 2015 from the precise point of the accident in Bolivia - this, after a period of forced hiatus/grieving/restlessness at home in the U.K and continues north towards Alaska as I type.

Good luck champion!

SEA FOG AND THE CALIFORNIA COAST

I'm learning quickly that these two go hand-in-glove.

Malibu Beach RV park, located as it is clinging to the beachfront offers some stunning vistas of said coastline in both directions.

I had planned an obligatory photo stop on departure before topping up with water and heading on my way.

With everything packed and ready by 9.20 a.m, I was just about to throw my leg over and start rolling down the hill when I looked up to see that a massive blanket of sea fog had arrived in Malibu, right on cue.

With checkout not until 12 p.m, I decided to sit it out, which did give me an opportunity to rest up and also go and hang out with Tim for a bit.

So for the next 2½ hours, the fog didn't really budge.

And just as it had at 9.20, right on cue at 11.50, the fog spontaneously lifted and I was away.

Bound for somewhere north, possibly Santa Barbara.

THIS IS THE MALIBU COASTLINE WITHOUT SEA FOG

ON THE ROAD, DAY 2

Rough plan was to make it to Santa Barbara with Oxnard and Ventura serving as worthy backups.

I now felt the journey was underway.

PCH began to roll and wind and climb and dip underneath me as I began to put a little more distance between myself and the L.A maelstrom.

And beyond the extended commercial zone of Malibu, PCH unveils some seriously beautiful coastal scenery almost all the way to Oxnard.

SYCAMORE COVE, POINT MUGU STATE PARK

So far I've noticed the allowance made for cyclists all along PCH - it's been impressive.

Although signage is not exemplary, there is a wide, usable shoulder for about 80% of the time and elsewhere are dedicated laneways, especially approaching traffic signals.

It makes life easier.

Traffic is about as bad as could be expected although with the good shoulders and extra lanes, it releases the pressure valve somewhat.

Approaching Oxnard around 3.30 p.m, I was still on schedule to make Santa Barbara some time before dark, but as Oxnard closed its grip on me, it became clear that I was going no further.

No major dramas or anything, but certain things like getting completely lost for about 20 minutes due to poor signage & the absence of a map along with a shortage of cash and a need for some solid sustenance drew me into Oxnard by necessity.

By the time I eventually reached downtown, it was 4.30 and it was time for some food.

Mexican restaurants beckoned to me on every visible corner so it seemed at least one decision was made.

I also made haste for the local library to scope out accommodation options and when I was able to confirm that there was camping to be had at Macgrath State Beach, about 30 minutes ride from downtown, I was committed to the cause.

My penultimate mission however, was also to grab some cash before going any further, which also took about 25 minutes once I had located the extremely low-profile ATM machine in 3rd Street.

One final task was also to find a supermarket to stock up - the local "Von's" was on my way so a plan was set.

Tuesday's light was in its very final throes when I finally made it to Macgrath State Beach around 7.30 p.m.

On approach, I could see clearly that the prognosis wasn't good.

"CLOSED" said the signage barricading the public from gaining any access whatsoever to the beachside camping ground and I went off!!!

With rapidly failing light, I had to rummage around in the panniers for my headlamp and its bracket that I would need to be re-attached to my helmet to guide me back to town.

I had fortunately also scoped out a "Plan B" during my earlier library time and had at least some idea of where to look for a reasonably priced motel in Oxnard.

It was 8.15 p.m when I eventually checked into the Flamingo Motel on Oxnard Blvd.

So this is where I spent the night.

LET THE FUN BEGIN!

DAY 1 

MONDAY 4 APRIL 2016

BRENTWOOD TO MALIBU

1120 - 1800

Trip: 36.77 km (22.85 miles)
Av. Speed: 15.2 km/h (9.4 mph)
Max Speed: 54.5 km/h (33.9 mph)
Time on Bike: 2h 24m 51s

WATCH VIDEO!

Not having the initial stages of a big trip beset by problems is just not cricket.

As much as anyone would love to visualise the "perfect start", it never ever happens.

The most I ever hope for is the avoidance of complete catastrophe, which, when it all boils dry, is equally unfeasible as perfection.

What ends up happening is inevitably something in between.

So it came to be this time as well.

After faffing around for the best part of the morning, which involved fairly typical scenarios of misplacing any number of items, most of which I deemed absolutely necessary to start the trip (some actually were, to be fair...), I managed to get myself organised enough to eventually start rolling down the steep decline of Nth Kenter Avenue at 11.20 am. 

Bound for Santa Monica Pier, I intended to make an official start from this point - the southern commencement of the Pacific Coast Highway (which will be referred to from this point on as "PCH"...) as my launching pad to the north.

Proceeding a mere 300 meters beyond the Peruchini residence, I noticed immediately my trip computer was not reading.

I pulled over outside Fergie's house and adjusted the sensor.

Another 150 meters, still nothing.

More fiddling, more nothing.

Then after about a 4th attempt, I fathomed to swing the sensor unit completely to the other side of the fork so that the sensor area was actually FACING the magnet.

Brilliant!!!

There was also the other technicality of running a newly purchased helmet camera from the top of the hill all the way down to Santa Monica.

Wishful thinking at worst and utterly stupendous if I actually managed to pull it off, I generally do enjoy making things as complicated for myself as possible whilst creating the conditions for as many things to go wrong as possible.

So with a newly-fangled piece of technology which I had little or no idea how to actually use, if rightly would have been a miracle for it to have.

Anyway, I digress and the good news is that I safely made it to the pier in one piece, with or without the accompanying technology.

The trip computer had already registered 10.39 km and it was pretty good riding.

Charles and I had completed a dummy run the previous day in the Prius to enable me to avoid the worst of L.A traffic on my heavily laden rig.

As romantic as it would have been to take Sunset Boulevarde all the way to the ocean, we decided against this due to the windy and at times narrow nature of Sunset. Not to mention that it also comes out about 3 miles north of the pier.

San Vicente seemed much more user-friendly, particularly with the presence of a designated bicycle lane and the relatively flat trajectory.

So this was it.

Santa Monica Pier was teeming in spite of it being a Monday.

An absolutely perfect spring day had people out in droves, perusing all the food outlets and amusements that are perpetually on offer at the Pier.

It did not take me long therefore to get myself into trouble with my articulated vehicle.

Santa Monica Pier is a maze of narrow steps and ramps and kerbs, all of which are fine if you are as most people were on Monday - on foot - then along comes me with my ambitious conveyance, clearly at odds with the generally congested environment and unlikely to negotiate the obstacles with any amount of grace.

Still, it did seem obvious how HEAVY and likely overloaded my whole kit was.

Even though I was presently asking it to do unreasonable things, neither bike nor trailer seemed entirely happy and therefore, nor was I.

From experience, these generally all qualify as "teething problems" and can be adjusted and tweaked along the way, which is what I planned on doing.

After several attempts to shoot a departure video at a couple of different locations around the Pier - (first imposed upon by a loudly buzzing air compressor, then by the uncanny arrival of a garbage truck at a second location which eventually backed up and moved on only to be replaced immediately by a busker with 2000-watt portable speaker shuffling through the tunnel at snail-pace, singing away in full-lung - the acoustics of the Pier's tunnel amplifying the distorted noise about 10-fold from the 100+ dB already pumping out of the speaker)

Perhaps it was going to be one of those days...??

25 minutes later, I stole a moment to punch my video out and move on before Formula 1 arrived spontaneously for a Santa Monica "meet the people" open day....

I made my way briefly back onto Ocean Avenue, before hooking right and dropping down onto the PCH.

Away I went!

First stop was to be at the Getty Villa, having pre-booked a ticket for 1 pm.

Even though it was already 10 past, I was hoping they would accept my raft of excuses which surely would have included "bike problems", garbage trucks and hearing-impaired buskers.

Pulling into the Getty Villa then at just after 1.30 was a fair return I thought.

Even I would have accepted my own excuses on these terms.

As it was, they didn't even ask.

I was shuttled from the bike racks to up to the villa where I spent the next 3 hours or so, perusing the artefact collection of the late J.Paul Getty.

Mr Getty's primary passion, amongst other things, was ancient Greece and Rome.

If I'd paid more attention at school, I'd have probably known more about this stuff beforehand.

As it is, I still can't get overly interested in the archaeological origins of western civilisation, particularly when we have an Australian aboriginal culture that pre-dates all the items on display in the Getty Center by literally thousands of years.

I'd decided after about an hour that there were only so many marble busts and bronze or terracotta pots I could look at, so decided to go outside for some photo opportunities and then upstairs for some lunch.

It was close to 4.30 by the time I was shuttled back down to the bike racks where I saddled up and made way for a 6 pm arrival in Malibu.

THE GETTY VILLA
(SANS WATER FEATURE DUE TO DROUGHT IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA)

BRENTWOOD, CA

I am very lucky to be spending Los Angeles time in a lovely area called Brentwood.

Strategically wedged in between Bel Air/Beverly Hills to the immediate east and the famous beachfront of Santa Monica about 7 miles to the south, it's a wealthy area.

It is at the invitation of one Charles Peruchini that has afforded me this opportunity and of course it has been a huge advantage to have a base in L.A from which to ready myself and my equipment for the long road ahead.

Charles was a member of one of my APT Kimberley touring parties in 2015. 

A rare American in that part of the world, he made a point of remembering a planned trip to the U.S and Canada that I had discussed throughout the tour.

With time approaching, Charles got back in touch in late January 2016 for the reason of making good on an offer he had made to put me up if ever I came to Los Angeles.

It was a good enough offer for me and I accepted without hesitation, leaving one less thing to do in preparation.

Charles had also arranged in advance to pick me up from LAX on arrival on Friday so I couldn't have really prescribed a more user-friendly start to this trip.

The Peruchinis (that's Charles and his wife Joellyn) reside at the top of Kenter Canyon at the very back of suburban Brentwood, directly overlooking the Canyon itself, with panoramic views of the nearby Getty Center, 4200 ft Mount Baldy (a.k.a Mt San Antonio, which is the highest peak in the San Gabriel Mountains) and downtown L.A in the near-distance.

Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas is a near neighbour.

The villa where O.J Simpson never really murdered his ex-wife and her lover is just down at the bottom of the hill.

There is also a spectacular, calorie-killing fire trail running beyond the top end of Nth Kenter Avenue and into the adjacent section of wilderness park where rabbits, coyotes and various birds of prey have formerly inhabited, these days replaced more frequently by mountain bikers, hikers and professional dog-walkers.

Numerous sections of the trail offer immediate views of both Kenter and Mandeville Canyons - one on either side - and equally killer vistas in all other directions, from the L.A downtown area to the south-east, the Pacific Coastline and Santa Catalina Island to the east and south as well as the San Gabriels and San Fernando Valley to the north.

Mandeville Canyon is another, little known enclave of L.A's uber-wealthy - one of its most recent arrivals is Shawn Corey Carter a.k.a "Jay-Z" who is currently making extensions to his modest 39-bedroom cubby-house in the canyon, which I guess one can do when you're worth about half-a-billion....

Frequent visitors also to the Peruchini's top deck are myriad hummingbirds which come flitting in like over-sized insects to water themselves out of Charles' hummingbird bath.

                       
                    L.A PANORAMA FROM THE TOP OF NTH KENTER AVENUE

MANDEVILLE CANYON AS SEEN FROM THE KENTER FIRE TRAIL

JAY-Z'S CANYON CUBBY-HOUSE (CENTER-LEFT)

KENTER AVENUE, BRENTWOOD

SUNDAY SUNRISE FROM CHARLES' BALCONY

MOUNTAIN GATE ESTATE & SAN FERNANDO VALLEY

 SAN GABRIEL MOUNTAIN VISTA

DOWNTOWN L.A & GETTY CENTER @ NIGHT

Aside from the mandatory preparations of my equipment, Charles has dutifully run me about town in the Prius during the day as I stock up on various items - some to do with the bike and some not.

Evenings have seen us sample the very best of cuisines from around the Brentwood and West L.A areas.

Pizzicoto on Friday evening was a low key family-run shopfront serving super-scrummy and authentic Italian fare with a number of house specialties on offer. This little black duck went for the zuppa of the day (tomato/eggplant) followed by Ravioli di Spinach. Home-made pasta and all....9/10....

Javan on Santa Monica Boulevarde was our Saturday night booking. 

From the moment Charles had mentioned "Persian" when picking me up on Friday morning, I was totally up for it. 

I am a complete sucker for any version of middle-eastern cuisine on offer and since I am planning a trip to Iran in the next couple of years, I might as well start versing myself up now.

The menu at Javan describes itself as "Fine Persian Cuisine" and this was more than good enough for me.

My selection was once more a specialty dish named Fesenjan - "Sauteed walnuts in pomegranate sauce, served with chicken and side of Basmati rice". 

9/10.

And finally to Sunday evening and probably the most authentic and enjoyable of all Charles' restaurant selections over the past 3 days - Lares Mexican in Pico Boulevarde, Santa Monica.

"Longtime for Mexican and Mariachi"  as described on Google Maps, provided all of the above.

I liked the atmosphere very much and the food even better. I simply couldn't ignore the house specialties this time either, going for the "Camarones a la Diabla" (shrimp wrapped in bacon and dipped in our own special sauce (very spicy), served with rice & boiled beans.)

9.5/10.

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

A gathering is held each Saturday and Sunday morning in a comfortable Kenter Canyon home off Hanley Avenue.

It is the home of a local woman named Marlene who turns on a breakfast spread for the ages.

Almost all of it is home-made by Marlene herself and ranges from porridge to fruit salads as well as a host of hot dishes which could include anything from vegetarian selections to pasta bakes or even curries. 

The feast attracts a bunch of locals and blow-ins such as myself on a regular basis who get together (most often after a ritual 2-hour hike along the aforementioned Kenter fire trail) and catch up on all or everything, including in-depth analyses of why on earth a 44-year-old man-child traveller from Australia would consider riding solo by recumbent bicycle up the west coast of the United States and Canada.

To be fair, the subject has attracted quite a deal of interest from people over the past few days and of course I am hugely appreciative of the input many of those people have had.

I look forward to taking advantage of some of the knowledgeable advice and tips I have received from these good people as I indulge my adventure over the next 3 months....

I SAW FONZIE BUYING A BICYCLE!!

 A place I have frequented on numerous occasions over the past days has been Helen's Cycles on Broadway in Santa Monica.

Various extras and repairs have been required for my upcoming departure and I found myself in there again today attending to tyre-sliming, helmet cams and a whole lot of waiting around.

Helen's were particularly busy today on a Sunday and my bicycle was in a queue in the service department that didn't end up clearing for about 2 hours.

During the lengthy delay, Charles happened to draw my attention to a customer who had just entered the shop with his family.

"Hey Vaughan," Charles whispered. "See that grey-haired fella over there with the camera.."

"Yep.."

"That's the Fonz!!"

And sure enough it was.

Mr Henry Winkler OBE was in attendance with his family entourage, all for the purpose of purchasing a bicycle for his young grand-son who ended up scoring what grand-dad had set out to get him.... the orange and black Trek with training wheels!!

"HEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY........."

Next report from the road......

TOUCHDOWN IN L.A!

Just under 14 hours with a juicy tailwind landed me in Los Angeles on Friday morning at about 7 a.m West Coast time.

It had taken almost as long to shit fight my way through Sydney Airport only a few hours earlier. 

If it is possible to break down such a stressful experience into bite-size pieces, it becomes apparent how readily things could burst apart at the seams for any reason.at any given time.

Getting to the airport in less than an hour in Friday morning traffic would seem to be an important first box to tick.

Processing 4 large and rather unusual items of luggage through check-in was never going to be easy and I fully expected a tidy excess baggage fee to accompany my almost 80 kilograms worth of gear on board the aircraft.

A near-90-minute queue to eventually arrive at a check-in desk helped prolong the inevitable and it perhaps was not as bad as expected; although probably more due my meticulous packing methods than anything else.

I could sense the desk clerk desperately wanting it to be more difficult than it it was as I began smiling inwardly, observing the mother-and-daughter team next to me being asked to partially re-pack both of their smallish suitcases in situ.

As my gear weighed in correctly piece-by-piece, there was nothing obvious to contend with, although the fact that neither of my water-proof bags are lockable was an instant referral to a "supervisor".

"There's no guarantees of security on those bags darling," was the "supervisor's" appraisal, as they disappeared down the luggage chute.

"It's OK. That's the risk I run," I responded in kind.

And I was indeed charged some for excess - AUD$264.60 which was on top of the standard AUD$200 fee for transporting a bicycle as sporting equipment - the only note-to-self I would make here is the obvious fact that I well could have saved a few bucks by checking-in the offending piece online.

C'est la vie....

Passing through security with several hundred other people is rarely going to be quick, especially not when you then have a bag apprehended and placed in a queue with other questionable items for about 10 minutes.

The contraband was eventually identified as tube of toothpaste which I was immediately forced to bid adieu. 

With the clock now approaching 10 a.m, the 10.05 first call for boarding was, unbelievably, starting to look ambitious. 

The subsequent customs checkpoint also did not offer any obvious fast-track at first glance as the teeming queues persisted, although it did actually prove to be the quickest "through" of the morning.

I was left with about -5 minutes then to march on down to gate 56, grabbing a couple of food items on the way and finally being asked to produce a second form of ID before being allowed into the boarding area.

Apparently I look much "younger" on my 2007 passport photo these days...

Who would have thought..???

NOW....AT THE OTHER END....

The next stage of the morning provided two primary concerns.

Firstly, retrieving all of my luggage intact was immediately paramount to my mental and emotional well-being. 

As was getting through the bastards at the gate.

My previous experiences with U.S Immigration officials back in 2004 did not leave me with any warm or fuzzy feelings.

In fact quite the opposite.

Any expectations of being greeted with open arms and an invitation to the pub for some welcome beers were low to non-existent.

Not that their job is a social one, but certainly a "Good morning, how are you today? Passport please." would not be an unreasonable way to improve the bed-side manner and public perception along with it.

Likewise, my expectation levels on this were low.

Expect nothing and then you're not disappointed, so they say.

I guess sometimes, "they" can actually be right.

"Good morning sir. Your passport please." 2 out of 3 I felt was at least a pass mark for this female official.

A few standard but fairly non-threatening questions followed, all of which I answered honestly and concisely.

The thump of the stamp making contact with a page in your passport, is always a welcome relief when travelling but I reckon it's worth at least another 100 satisfaction points when the U.S is involved.

For whatever reasons, previous events of 9/11 included, they are by degrees more suspicious, belligerent and ruthless than anywhere else I have ever travelled, Israel included, and I would never recommend anything but full compliance.

Get your paperwork 100% in order, be polite, speak when spoken to although do stop short of trying to humor them. Probably a low-percentage play this one....

Now free to proceed with my customs declaration in hand, I now could sense the street noises of Los Angeles approaching from outside.

Another brief queue and some almost "off the record" questions from the customs officer who seemed genuinely interested that I was entering the United States to ride a bicycle from Los Angeles to Vancouver.

He did make me proceed to a secondary checkpoint however, as I had declared some food items.

After handing in my 2 bananas, the final indignity of having to shovel every last item of my bulky luggage through the X-Ray conveyor completed my "process of passage" into the United States of America, this time around.

What a fucking relief.....