Canada to Mexico in 33 days

With searing sunshine overhead and mile after endless mile of sandy boardwalk to traverse, we set out towards San Clemente and then the border. Cruising the beaches, we kept our eyes out for ideal surf spots, but before we could get comfortable we headed inland briefly to check out some of L.A.'s most picturesque regions such as Crenshaw Boulevard and the untouched landscape that is the Los Angeles River. Balanced atop the L.A. aquaduct, we followed the river as it went from a soft stream to a trickle before dropping down into Long Beach. Not knowing whether it could be done or not, John took the liberty of inadvertantly checking the impact resistance of a luxury car. Note to all: People in L.A. like to park AND sit in their cars. After unexpectedly dragging his paneers across a brand new Lexus, he keep his compose and peddled faster, just as the touring manual had suggested, as obviously there were no injuries. Moving onto the longest beach they'd ever seen, Long beach provided an exciting and enjoyable stretch for the guys, before meeting up with Jason, a fellow co-worker in Seal Beach.

Inspired by the talk of another incredible burrito/taco shop, Gregs' tire decided it was a fine time to blow 3 times as we approached Chronic Taco. After consuming some incredible, calorie-laden burritos, we continued our consumption with a dozen donuts before meeting, undeniably, the most insane as well as boastful bicycle shop owner any of us had ever met. After allowing this moron to berate "road bikers", while he claimed we didn't fall into that category, we continued on in utter astonishment.

With the miles compounding and the sun just about to fall below the horizon, we reached San Clemente. To no ones surprise, she lived atop a high bluff and, settling into a final climb, we had an incredible view of a setting sun off in the horizon, before meeting up with another co-worker, Elsa. As promised, she had cold beers waiting for us and it wasn't long before we headed out and ate (surprise, surprise) a ridiculous amount of mexican food and wandered back home armed with pints of ice cream and cases of beer. A entertaining game of telephone pictionary and nintendo showdowns ensued before calling it a night before our final ride.

The next morning we all awoke early, the reality of hoping to cover 90 + miles to reach the border before sunset. Saying our goodbyes, our group of 5 jettisoned from San Clemente and into the rising sun. With bicycle paths to guide us along, we loaded up on miles, watching aerial exercises and armored vehicles motor past us as we gained access and passed through Camp Pendleton. Never knowing if those Cobra attack helicopters overhead were zeroing in on us, we decided to get beyond the camps fences before stopping and grabbing a bite in Oceanside at what John would consider the best cafe he'd eaten at the entire trip, if not ever (bold statement). Loaded up on huevos, homefries, and hot sauce, we continued our journey into San Diego, enjoying the sunshine and the growing number of hills we had come to miss the past few days. Reaching La Jolla, we took a moment to catch our breath and see if we could intercept our friend Erin, who, ironically lived in La Jolla and was flying in from Europe that day before seeing family and then jet-setting down to Costa Rica 2 days later. To no ones amazement, she was not in California, but in an NY airport, so accepting her delay and words of encouragement we continued on. Realizing that our possy had racked up 60 some miles for the day without recharging on some sort of spicy/calorie-laden/deep-fried/ or otherwise bad-for-you-food, we headed to the mediterannean for some greek gyros and ice cream to fuel up for the fnal third of our day. Considering all the education between the five of us, none of us realized that the ferry we had to take across the San Diego harbor may, in fact, only run during certain hours of the day, which we could miss seeing it was already 4 o' clock and the sun sets around 5. Racing through the city to the ferry landing, we were happy to find out that we could catch the 5 o' clock ferry, which also ment we had about 45 minutes to have some happy-hour suds. With the bikes loaded on the ferry, we made our crossing as the sun set and we realized there were still 17 miles through the darkness to the border.

Firing up all of our lights, we set off into the darkness towards the border. As we slipped further and further away from the city, the landscape became increasingly desolate, illuminated only by impeding horizon which was the Mexican border. We passed the last homesteads and businesses while dodging dark sillouettes along the bike path before coming along the last outpost, a plaza with a liquor store. Here we grabbed some Tequila and headed off into the darkness. It has gone without mention, but our final destination was not the border crossing, but the aptly named Border Field State Park, which would allow us to reach the fence just before it trailed off out into the ocean. With the anxiety of realizing we were probably not suppose to be entering the park after nightfall, compounded with the recent dangers in and around Tijuana, and the fact that breaking rules in and around this area could result in violating federal laws, we decided to continue not after seeing anything prohibiting entiring the park at night via bicycle. Pedalling down a bumpy road flanked by thick bushes, an eerie hush came over the group, anticipating some sort of activity to explode out of the darkness. Rounding a turn, the unexpected glow of contruction lights illuminated what will be the new fence that is being put up. Following the road, a distant lighthouse that we presumed would be our destination came into clear view atop a hill along with the fence. Climbing out the the surprisingly cold valley to the warm hilltop, there we were at the end. A lone marble column situated within the fence stood as the culminating point of our trip which we had begun 33 days earlier. It did not spark a momentous celebration, only a few quite moments when we all realized that we had literally reached the end of the road. Wasting no time, each of us poised the bikes and ourselves for some photos, as a mexican band played in the distance. With tequila shots taken, we relished in the moment, not believing that it was all over, yet thankful that we had all arrived undamaged and intact. As we mounted our bikes to head off and meet Connor's parents to shuttle us back to Hermosa Beach, the border patrol made their entrance with the lights of two jeeps breaking through the night as they crested the hill we were on. Expecting the worst, we were very happy to realize that they were inquisative about our adventure and congratulated us on our accomplishment. We headed off on the bikes one final time before putting down the paneers and calling the trip complete.

For the record . . .

For the record, our crew is closing in on the Mexican border. After a day of rest in Hermosa Beach at the lovely McCleary/Westin which overlooks the ocean and with our stomachs at capacity and our minds full of cheesy movie lines, we are heading to San Clemente tonight. If all goes as planned, we'll reach the border tomorrow afternoon and a ticker-tape parade will escort us back to Hermosa beach. It's been an incredible trip and we will be working on posting photos and stories here on the blog once the trip is all said and done. Thanks for following us and all of your encouragement. We'll be sure to take a shot of tequila and down a taco or three for each and every one of you. Adios me amigos!

Movin' on down the coast

To all of you folks who have diligently followed our blog, we apologize for our lack of updating. In light of this, we'll try and consolidate the past couple weeks into one convenient blog to bring everyone up to speed as we relax and recover in the unseasonable warm and sunny city of San Francisco.
We've come a long way since our last update. After leaving the Saul's homestead in Raymond, WA, we headed south toward the OR border. Connor, aptly dubbed "Con-air" due to maneuvering not only his 6'4" stature, but also his overburdened, accident prone, brake-pad deficient bicycle, finally saw defeat as his wobbly rear-wheel, blew a spoke right before we hit the Columbia river. With Nick and Greg taking an alternative route inland through to the border, Con-air and I bandaged his bike and limped it along to the coast. With the sun setting and a 4 mile bridge over the delta to go, we left the great state of Washington and coasted into the beautiful, if not cinematically famous city of Astoria, OR where notable films such as "The Goonies", "Free Willy", "TMNT 4", and "Kindergarten Cop" came to life. After wheelin' and dealin', Nick and Greg finaggled us a room which was quickly overcome with gear, bicycles, beers, and JoJo's. The highlight of Astoria was the visit to the local bike shop. Not only did they service Connor's wheel, but they had an old-school big wheel bike that stood about 6 feet tall. You'd think that 500 miles of cycling would make us pros, but even this old-boy gave us a challenge. We'd like to say we painted the town red, but to be honest most of our 2 day stay was spend sipping beer, coffee, and consuming considerable calories while resting our legs. Pushing away from Oregon's northern most city, it wasn't long before we found looking down from the hillsides at the rocky columns and mounds that epitomize the entire coast of OR. Rolling hill after rolling hill left us cruising through sleepy, almost desolate little fishing communities. Late in the day, exhausted from the climbs, Connor decided it was time to due some highway acrobats and took a tumble that luckily ended in only a little road rash. Cold, wet, and tired, we rolled into a non-descript town and, after struggling to make a fire in the rain and called it a night. The next day was unfortunate in that John found out his grandmother had passed away while the guys were in Tillamook, OR. While John crossed the street to see if there were any bus shuttles out of Tillamook, Connor, Greg, and Nick helped him out tremendously by contacted all the airlines for flights back to Ohio as well as contacting a local bike shop for him to store his bike while he was at home. They were an incredible help as within the next hour, John was on a bus, heading to the airport for a flight home to be with his family the next morning. The guys said goodbye as John headed home for a week, promising to return and meet up with them again, as they continued on down the coast.

Hospitality in the Hills

Despite our hiatus from the blog, we are safe in sound in Raymond, WA, about 60 north of the Washington/Oregon border.
After surviving Monday evenings' generous serving of gale force winds, dark winding roads, and stinging rain, we settled into Larrabee state park, scoring not only a shelter for the evening, but peeling out early enough to avoid the entrance fee (not that we (cough) um, condone that sort of stuff.
Setting out the next morning on a beautiful ride along Chuckanut drive, we quickly found our energy drained fighting whipping headwinds as we passed through the fields and hills near Anacortes, WA. After crossing the tretchorous deception pass which is probably about 600 feet off the water, we hid from low flying fighter jets and ate/entertained ourselves with roadside apples before jumping ship (ferry) for Port Townsend. The funniest Grandma you'll ever meet told us how the only thing less reliable than the ferry was her grandson as well as a good place to grab some pizza. With steaming slices in hand, 4 educated men sat around a table, sober, and watched the presidential debate. Needless to say, this did not heed the attention of a single women in the town. With the options for camping for the night being either the city park with the bums, or a desolate, closed-f0r-the-season park a few miles down the road, we chose option B. After riding a mile down a desolate road, and turning off all lights and walking into the Fort Townsend State Park, we were interest to find that 5 minutes after we arrived, a random park ranger decided that a Tuesday night in October at 10pm was a great time to check a campground with a spotlight for non-paying campers. Needless to say, he did not shackle us and "encouraged" us to pay the fee. We're convinced he was tipped off by the local pizza guy, but we're not the type of guys to point fingers.
Wednesday, after waking up, we smartly determined that following maps was for Sallys and headed off the itinerary toward Potlatch. Heading deep into the forests, we stopped for a lunch break in a little log cabin style cafe, the entertaining waitress delayed us about two hours before heading on the not so mountainous route along the coast just on the edge of the Olympic National Park. After a quick stop to test out rock throwing aim at side street fender and grabbing some grub at a local mini mart we headed to our Potlatch campsite in near total darkness of a starless night. Brewing our Ramen, Kidney Bean and Macaroni concoctions we bedded early for a long next days ride.
Our most recent adventures took us on an almost 80 mile ride cutting toward the coast and through acres of clear cutting. Near dog attacks, rushing logging trucks, and patches of rain clouds were no deterrent to our final destinition of Raymond. As the sun was setting the police, fireman and even librarians offered no help for a place to camp, we turned to Jon Q Public to hear our plee, one offer after another poured in but we went with the best, dinner consisting of Elk Gravy, Potatos and Apple Sauce; warm showers and yes internet, just two miles away; plus who can resist friendly company after a long hard day on the road. Thanks Gordon and Jenine Saul for your great hospitality, excellent food and letting four, not so fresh smelling boys, take over the house for an evening.

Lessons in Aerodynamics

The Canadian Conundrum

We're in Canadia, the Couve to be exact. It's a dark and rainy night, 4 boys holed up in a room pouring over racks, maps, lights, cleats, socks and safety triangles. Stomachs full of bangers, mash, beer and anticipation. Considering that 4 men bought into the idea of forming a pelaton down the west coast via emails and phone calls less than 2 weeks ago to the date, it is nothing less than remarkable, yet conceivable, that they have all spawned from the same travel company, willing to throw convention to the wind and 2 wheels under their tails, all for the sake of one of many incredible adventures yet to be written.

This blog begins tonight as a way for us to keep you posted, posted on the leg shavings, daily dares/scavenger hunt challenges, animal-style slathered food eating contests and all of the shenanigans yet to come. We invite any and all recommendations for challenges/dares as the material between 4 guys, although funny, can sometimes (surprisingly) become narrow. These shenanigans could not have been made possible, or continue to be possibilities if not for our Canadian contingent... Aimee, Andrew, Beth, Dan, Lindsey, Kurt and Wendy. Sit back and enjoy the ride from the comfort of your computer chairs as we freeze, sweat, rash and party, on our migration South toward warmer climates and burritos.

We'll keep you posted on our location along the route so come out and join the ride. No distance is too short and even the smallest amount of company and conversation goes a long way on the hard road. So sit back, grab some suds, check and sign out of your email/facebook accounts, write on your own blogs, reheat some leftovers, text your ex, and settle in for debauchery and some "deep thoughts" from the road.

Signing off with a round of scotch,

Palin's Roving Boy Band