Big Sur bound
Day 2... My room mate Dan and I slept a touch fitfully following more Hibachi than is generally recommended. I was told my someone in Prospect Park to eat more than I felt like on a big ride like this. To qualify it was a bike trainer and not a drunken hobo or anything, but still I didn't feel great. I carefully lifted the covers, mindful not to wake Dan after a night of gentle spooning. The nose was a little sniffly, so I took a dose of "Man the F**k up" as I remembered what we were out here to do. And an Advil.
We left early, heading for Big Sur. It was damp and cloudy. The outskirts of Santa Cruz as you travel inland are not likely to make onto Judith Chalmers top ten on "Wish you were here". Bleak agricultural towns and truck stops pretty much sums it up. We reached the ocean, riding on a bike lane that stretched for 15 miles. The highlight for me was the antics of a dude on a heavy mountain bike who had incredibly strong legs, and wanted to show them off by riding next to us. It felt annoying but I congratulated him. I think he saw through my false bonhomie. Next came huge expanses of farmland that seemed endless. I can assure anyone in the US that there will not be any shortages of artichokes in the near future.
The legs were talking to me a little..what are you doing? Didn't we do this yesterday? I took some hills with flamboyant abandon. Non..the legs said..ziss is not so good..but I kept going. I don't like fake french accents.
We had lunch in Carmel. Burgers and Fries..they taste good at the time. But they do repeat a little. The burger joint had serious AC on, and we all shivered waiting for the food. The racers left, and I hung back a little on the pretense of getting Dan up a few hills on his bad calf, but more really because I was feeling a little done in. We hit the coast, the road rolled and climbed, and we rode over bridges perched across rocky outcrops by the coast. The descents were fun. At full tilt Aidan over took me. We found some kind of rhythm and the road turned in to the forest, huge sequoias lining our way. Each pedal stroke was becoming a question: Could I really keep going? How long can I keep turning the pedals? I thought if I can keep this up I can have a beer soon, so that's what I did. It was nice to ride that part without needing to prove something, to get through it and do some work, just to get there. Arriving at the cabins, I was greeted by a mass "stretch out"...lots of middle aged men on rollers or performing yoga moves, groaning..It was horrible. Dinner was lovely, and the place had a cool little bar in the forest, showing premiership hi-lights. Never has Southampton versus Swansea been so enjoyable. A demain.
We left early, heading for Big Sur. It was damp and cloudy. The outskirts of Santa Cruz as you travel inland are not likely to make onto Judith Chalmers top ten on "Wish you were here". Bleak agricultural towns and truck stops pretty much sums it up. We reached the ocean, riding on a bike lane that stretched for 15 miles. The highlight for me was the antics of a dude on a heavy mountain bike who had incredibly strong legs, and wanted to show them off by riding next to us. It felt annoying but I congratulated him. I think he saw through my false bonhomie. Next came huge expanses of farmland that seemed endless. I can assure anyone in the US that there will not be any shortages of artichokes in the near future.
The legs were talking to me a little..what are you doing? Didn't we do this yesterday? I took some hills with flamboyant abandon. Non..the legs said..ziss is not so good..but I kept going. I don't like fake french accents.
We had lunch in Carmel. Burgers and Fries..they taste good at the time. But they do repeat a little. The burger joint had serious AC on, and we all shivered waiting for the food. The racers left, and I hung back a little on the pretense of getting Dan up a few hills on his bad calf, but more really because I was feeling a little done in. We hit the coast, the road rolled and climbed, and we rode over bridges perched across rocky outcrops by the coast. The descents were fun. At full tilt Aidan over took me. We found some kind of rhythm and the road turned in to the forest, huge sequoias lining our way. Each pedal stroke was becoming a question: Could I really keep going? How long can I keep turning the pedals? I thought if I can keep this up I can have a beer soon, so that's what I did. It was nice to ride that part without needing to prove something, to get through it and do some work, just to get there. Arriving at the cabins, I was greeted by a mass "stretch out"...lots of middle aged men on rollers or performing yoga moves, groaning..It was horrible. Dinner was lovely, and the place had a cool little bar in the forest, showing premiership hi-lights. Never has Southampton versus Swansea been so enjoyable. A demain.
.JPG)
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