The End of the Road

We started with breakfast burritos in the parking lot by the sea, trying to shake the effects of a few too many red wines and a late night stop at In and Out Burger. Louis the medic handed out the Ibuprofen one last time. The honorary basket was given to Charlie who had made 3 speeches the night before and proceeded to make another on the award of said basket. The routine was coming to an end and we all knew it, but there was still Mulholland Highway to come, a left turn off the PCH that snaked 10 miles uphill. The gas had been turned up on the Highway, all of us realizing that there wasn’t a need to conserve now, so Why Not. I ended up on Sven’s wheel again on the climb, the only long effort of the ride that I imagine might emulate the alps. I kept my head down and ground it out, the road tricking me into thinking we’d crested then offering up more gradients in the scorching LA midday sun. It was a fitting end to an unforgettable 6 days.  My legs went a little wobbly again and I wimped out a bit on the hair raising descent to the sea. I blame the cross wind hitting my old style Zipp 404 deep rim wheels. Over forty miles an hour starts to get sketchy. For me, at least.

Down in Malibu Bruce took us to his local coffee shop that sold his home made honey; we drank cold brew coffee that made my hair stand on end. We then ate lunch at Paradise Cove, getting to where the LA locals ride and live. Nick’s family arrived. He has a 6 year old and I felt a twinge of jealousy as I knew I wasn’t going to see my wife or boys for another week or so. The final miles were eventful, as one Firefly's bike literally sheared apart at the crank and had to be ridden at walking pace for the last five miles, but we all made it. 

The post ride buzz is something any rider will tell you about..but when we gathered at Father's office (a local beer & burger joint) the buzz was so palpable you could almost touch it. There was a kind of giddy euphoria in the air and there was lots of spontaneous cheering and hugging. We carried on to the Mill for the post-ride bash. A few beers in and my legs just went, so I called a cab and got out of dodge.

Prepping to fly to Vancouver the next day,  I stayed that night on LA-X boulevard,  in a bland hotel with a  grimy window that overlooked the floodlit car park next to the airport. I had left my bike in Framestore LA to be shipped back, and I emptied my bag of cycling paraphernalia next to the flat screen tv and stared at it. Where was I going the next day? I wasn't getting a route map, or a debrief on the sights along the way.  There was no climb to consider. Nor was I going to see the new friends I'd made, or the old ones from London I'd reconnected with. Or my roommate Dan and his amazing wheel sucking abilities.  "Au Revoir Big Leech" I fondly thought to myself.  It was over.

When I got to Vancouver I remembered just how great the city was.  I had a busy time ahead and was ready to get started with my job. But Sunday looked quiet. I tapped the PA on the shoulder:

"Do you know where I can rent a road bike around here?"

ALLEZ FIREFLIES!!!!!! - wherever you all are.