Ventura Highway (in the sunshine)
Day 5 was a little harder again, with legs that felt empty, more questions about getting through ok. I only have myself to blame for the insane effort expended the day before..at the time it seemed like a good idea. The profile of the stage looked relatively easy - 70 miles (short - yes that's good), and one big mother of a climb in the middle- Stagecoach hill. Combined with the other fairly innocuous looking bumps on the profile this added up to a lot of climbing I had somehow overlooked.
The route had more surprises, as we rode along tiny canyon roads that felt more European than Californian. There were technical and winding descents and some scary sections where we rode big highways with no hard shoulder. There's some roads you can't avoid when you are going south.
For 500 miles I have never stopped to look at a map. When the question in my head arises I see arrows showing me where to go, not now and again, but every time I start to wonder. If I get thirsty, as if by magic I see the truck stopped with water at the ready. The crew have strawberries and bananas and never run out. If you break down then Adam is there to fix it up. And Louis the medic appears with salt tablets, Advils and whatever you need. All are volunteers which is pretty amazing.
My roomate Dan has become Louis' project, a drug mule in essence, with a finely tuned mix of electrolytes and painkillers in his system that would be illegal in many states. After some tough days for him with knees giving out, he got his mojo back, and with a great tail wind and Charlie at the helm we gave it a kick home along a 20 mile newly built bike path along the edge of the Pacific.
At night we had a group dinner with lots of stories about why people are riding, lots of emotions and unexpected links to the City of Hope cancer hospital we are riding for. The room went quiet on more than one occasion and there were a few tears. I've come to understand that this isn't about us suffering on behalf of other people..what we're doing is not comparable, but we all come out, volunteers and riders, to try to do something and that's a good thing.
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| Dan towing Charlie up Stagecoach..this photo was definitely not staged |
For 500 miles I have never stopped to look at a map. When the question in my head arises I see arrows showing me where to go, not now and again, but every time I start to wonder. If I get thirsty, as if by magic I see the truck stopped with water at the ready. The crew have strawberries and bananas and never run out. If you break down then Adam is there to fix it up. And Louis the medic appears with salt tablets, Advils and whatever you need. All are volunteers which is pretty amazing.
My roomate Dan has become Louis' project, a drug mule in essence, with a finely tuned mix of electrolytes and painkillers in his system that would be illegal in many states. After some tough days for him with knees giving out, he got his mojo back, and with a great tail wind and Charlie at the helm we gave it a kick home along a 20 mile newly built bike path along the edge of the Pacific.
At night we had a group dinner with lots of stories about why people are riding, lots of emotions and unexpected links to the City of Hope cancer hospital we are riding for. The room went quiet on more than one occasion and there were a few tears. I've come to understand that this isn't about us suffering on behalf of other people..what we're doing is not comparable, but we all come out, volunteers and riders, to try to do something and that's a good thing.
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