California Coast 4-day bike tour: San Fransisco to San Luis Obispo in 275 blissful miles
Back in November I proposed a four-day bike tour from the front door of my best friends’ house in SF to my parents house in SLO, to someone I had been dating for no longer than six weeks. I suggested February of an El Nino year. Call me crazy, but I have a way of following my heart, and with that accomplishing any and all sorts of ludicrous ideas that pop into my head.
Phil and I began planning in December for a trip that quickly became ten days long. We based our route research off of the Leave It On The Road trip, tweaking it based on the coastal towns we both wanted to visit. The destinations were Santa Cruz, Monterey and Big sur — places neither of us had been to before. A bottle of wine later and we had our motels and Airbnb picked out. A holiday bicoastal Skype session, and we had them booked.
The training was minimal, as Portland had one of the nastiest, wet and cold winters in quite some time. The two of us managed one windy trip to Vista House, a strong gust resulting in us tangled in our bikes up top, as well as a ride where we were hailed on and broke a chain in the middle of Germantown Road. Racking up the karma and practicing any sort of obstacle — albeit ending in smiles each time.
The tour: leave Friday morning at 5am for the long slog down I-5 to San Fransisco, planning for ample time with a couple of my best friends that night. Saturday morning we were on the bikes by 9:15, riding to Santa Cruz (80 miles). Sunday we rode mostly inland, on nice quiet roads and bike paths to Monterey (58 miles). Monday began with a leisurely walk down the beach and a late start to Northern Big Sur, via 17-mile drive and Carmel-by-the-sea (38 miles). Tuesday, the final day, was a stunningly gorgeous 95 miles to Morrow Bay, stopping at mile 60 to meet my mom who rode us home (#mothership). Wednesday was a swim for me, a hike up Madonna and a full afternoon of wine tasting in Paso Robles. Thursday my dad drove us back up to SF where we all had a fun night of hanging out with my cousin and closest friends at Mikkeller. Friday was SF-tourist day for Phil and I, with likely ten miles of walking. Saturday was a stop at the Santa Rosa Farmers Market and a drive down Avenue of the Giants to our camping spot in the Redwoods. Sunday was a long drive with many beach stops up the beautiful 101, back to Portland.
The California coast — a scene so prominent in American culture, movies, photographs, advertisements, you name it. After more than a few days of becoming quite intimate with the roads and views, I can say for certain it’s just as romantic as its depicted, if not more. Gorgeous scenery for every mile, quaint coastal towns littered with quiet motels, green farmland dotted with happy cows pausing to stare at us, diners and bakeries filling our hungry bodies with delicious treats. We managed to keep a strict diet during the day of pastries and americanos. Sugar, caffeine and water, am I right? We successfully avoided any incidents of bonking.
The roads ranged from decent to great, with sufficient bike lanes, and drivers were friendly. Those driving down the coast chose that route over faster inland freeways to soak up the views, driving at a leisurely pace and pulling over for every viewpoint. Much to our surprise, most of our route was on nicely paved roads. Neither of us even got a flat tire. Possibly due to the time of year, we only saw a handful of other cyclists out on the road.
Central Santa Cruz and Monterey were bustling. Both towns are Disneylands of sorts, with city centers exploding with people. We were lucky to have made sleeping arrangements on the outskirts of town, in the peace and quiet. My intrigue for touring through a few of the well known coastal towns was quickly satisfied when somewhat abruptly we’d go from quiet roads along the sea, to crowds of people swarming the roller coasters. Complete freedom on two wheels was instantly hampered by groups of people absorbed in their ice cream cones and children wildly wandering around their bulky strollers.
The contrasts of coastal wealth against the farm towns just slightly inland were stark. It was only a matter of miles after escaping ocean views that weekend homes worth many millions were swapped for old farm trucks and hispanic markets. My mind quickly retreated to traveling around South America, feeling foreign while riding past plazas, spanish wording on storefronts and catholic references every which way. Proximity to farmland meant an abundance of produce stands — seven avocados for a dollar being an obvious highlight. Avocado was certainly enjoyed roadside, using a pocketknife for a spoon.
The wind was at our backs for the first few days, pushing us right along. At best we were cruising uphill, loaded up with bags, at 25mph. At worst, the air was still and we were baking in the warm California sun. The latter was certainly felt our last and longest day, with little help from the wind when we could have used it the most, but no complaints were made. Dramatic views of Big Sur coastline and crashing waves made any 800 foot climb completely bearable.
Yes, it was just as dreamy as it looks and sounds.
I could do this for a whole year.
