Cycling Saga of a Couch Slug – Part 2 of 2

After reading the first part of my epic cycling saga, I fear that I might have omitted some of my few skills in the area of all things physical. Yes, it is absolutely true that the only sport I can claim as a part of my high school experience is Speech and Debate, but I did do quite a bit of backpacking and hiking in my teens and twenties. I had accumulated no small amount of gear and plenty of valuable experience in the art of traveling lightly.

The Proposal

My wife, Kelly and I both enjoy camping, and the California coast offers some gorgeous camping and cycling routes. When we started discussing possibilities for our spring vacation, I tentatively suggested the possibility of a bike camping trip. Again, I sensed that pause of surprise, followed by the poker face. She only missed one beat before she mentioned that Adventure Cycling puts out route maps of the entire Pacific Coast. Without further comment, she ordered the two that we needed, and we started planning our trip.

Inside, my inner Couch Slug was SCREAMING. “WHAT in the name of all things holy are you thinking? Are you seriously going to ride a gear-loaded bicycle for a week? Have you completely lost your mind?” I did my best to ignore the terrified voice from within, but I had more than a few doubts. Could I sit on a bike seat that long? How much more unstable would I be with a full load in the panniers? Will I have to quit in the middle? I squashed the voices down and kept racking up the miles on the trainer.

One of the fears that refused to go away finally came out one night as I asked Kelly, “I don’t want to slow you down. I’m always slower than you are. I don’t want to make you feel frustrated on this trip, always waiting for me.”

She explained to me that the reasons that I was slow were not all about my physical condition. She was riding a custom, lightweight road bike with narrow tires. My tires were wide, mountain bike tires. My handlebars were flat, so my body met more wind resistance. And my bike was much heavier than hers.

Kelly’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “You know,” she said, “I just got my dividend and discount coupon from R.E.I., and they let you apply it to their house brand of bicycles now. We should get you a new bike.” Immediately, I panicked. If we invest in a bicycle, it will mean that I’m committed to this course.

Picking up Speed – and a New Bicycle

She was moving ahead of me, looking online at lightweight models with flat handlebars so that my back and shoulders wouldn’t have to be abused at the greater angle of drop handlebars. She muttered things about frame geometry and derailleurs and carbon fiber forks. I nodded and tried to look casual about the whole thing.

She speaks fluent bicycle. I know that it has two wheels and you pedal it. Submitting myself to her better judgment before I could construct a decent argument against the proposal, we were soon on our way to our local R.E.I. store.

I did not know that bicycles are sized to fit your body. Apparently, I had never ridden a bicycle that fit me – they were always too big for me. Even Kelly’s Cannondale was suited to her 5’8” frame, not my 5’5” frame. I have always felt like a tiny child balanced atop a mighty machine, which was, as I discovered, an apt statement.

The bicycle I took to the parking lot for a test ride felt small to me. As soon as I got astride it, I knew something was very different. I felt like everything I needed to control the bicycle – handlebars, gears, brakes, pedals – were easily within my reach. I felt compact and powerful instead of stretched thin and frightened.

She nodded approvingly as I tooled apprehensively around the parking lot. I asked her to ride it since I didn’t have a clue as to what I was doing. She looked a little like a big kid on a tricycle – it obviously didn’t fit her. Still scared, I went with her back to the store to make the purchase. We picked out water bottle cages and a bag for gear.

For the record, I confidently chose the color – white – and promptly named her Guinevere (all bicycles in our house have names). This purchase came only a week before our trip. I had grave misgivings about changing bicycles right before our departure (complete with metaphors about switching horses in mid-stream), but she seemed certain that it would only improve my experience, so off we went.

City Riding

We drove to the Oxnard Amtrak station and parked the car in long-term parking. We set off through downtown Oxnard with my bike loaded on the back and Kelly pulling a single-wheel trailer. It was a challenging start. The road was narrow in places, and there was quite a bit of traffic. There were construction zones and slippery steel plates.

It was a rough ride until we got on the cycling path in Ventura. We rode along the coast to Carpinteria, our first night’s stop. I was happy and proud of myself that we had made it 25+ miles under our own power.

The next day, we continued north along the coast with some lovely paths and even a section along US 101. I was nervous about cycling along a freeway, but that section was clear of debris and with good road conditions, so it passed without the anticipated anxiety. We camped at El Capitan State Park and shared a hiker/biker spot with a cyclist who was on his way to San Diego from Seattle. I was amazed and awed at what seemed to be just another bike ride for this guy. We knew we had an even longer ride ahead of us the next day, so we got to bed early.

Stopping to eat (again) and fix the flat tire on the trailer

The third day started back on US 101, but this section was filled with debris and poorer road surfaces. Signs warning of “Fresh oil – stay off” greeted us, as we had no choice but to ride over the stinking, slick, oil-sprayed surface of the shoulder. We rounded the corner at Gaviota State Park and prepared to go through the tunnel.

The Tunnel

Four lanes of traffic. 12-18” of shoulder. There were flashing lights that alerted motorists to our presence in the tunnel that turned on when we crossed a pressure plate, but it was small comfort. Shaking and gripping the handlebars with every ounce of my strength, I pushed through the dark tunnel, against the wind that threatened to slam us to the ground in front of oncoming traffic.

People speak colloquially of being so frightened that they peed their pants, but I remember focusing all my effort on staying upright and on not peeing myself – I was that scared. As soon as we cleared the tunnel, I got off my bicycle and took deep breaths until the shaking subsided. We agreed that if we ever had to do that again, we were walking the bikes.

Exiting US 101 at the point where PCH 1 heads toward Lompoc, we stopped for a snack. There was a sizable incline ahead, but after the Tunnel of Terror, we thought were ready for it. We were not ready for the reality of 2.5 miles of sharp incline. Kelly had ridden over the Rocky Mountains and claimed that this section was equally formidable.

We stopped. A lot. We also walked a great deal. It took us over an hour to travel those 2.5 miles and to gain over 1000 feet in altitude.

Shortly after we reached the top, we found a shady spot to stop for lunch. We took out our camp stove, reconstituted freeze-dried lasagna and contemplated the rest of the ride. There were plenty of other cyclists, but they were all traveling from north to south, not south to north like we were. We soon found out why.

Santa Ana Winds and Saddle Sores

What we had anticipated as a restful descent into Lompoc turned into a brutal push against strong Santa Ana winds. I struggled to keep moving and not throw up my lunch. When we finally arrived in Lompoc and stopped at a local bike shop, the proprietor said to us, “You’re cycling from south to north? No one does that!” Yeah, dude. Now we know why.

Saddle sore, sun and wind burned, and utterly exhausted, we decided that we were in need of a few comforts, so we checked in at a Holiday Inn Express. After indulging in hot showers (without quarters), washed our cycling gear, ate rotisserie chicken and drank a good bottle of Chardonnay from chez Albertson’s, we soaked in the hot tub and examined our options.

We decided that the restful nature of vacation would be best served by cycling eleven miles in the morning to the train station at Surf/Lompoc and taking the train to SLO, where we could visit with a friend, crash for the night and make decisions about the last bit of our journey.

The wind was proving to be a difficult travel partner, making the eleven miles of mostly flat terrain seem much more arduous. The relief of being able to roll our bikes aboard the train and relax our way to SLO was downright delicious. It was the wind that helped us make the decision to travel back to Oxnard by train the next day – with gusts up to 40 mph predicted to last through the weekend, there would be no more relaxed cycling to be had on this trip.

Rolling Onward

At first, I was disappointed that we had not been able to ride as far as we had planned, but I let this kind of useless perfectionism go and was able to celebrate my accomplishment. I came home, feeling empowered to ride in all sorts of adverse situations. I go out by myself riding now, and can easily lift my new, lighter bicycle onto the bike rack on the back of my Yaris.

My new bicycle, easily lifted to the rack on my Yaris

I have set myself a new challenge, and this blog entry is serving as a public declaration as such. I want to ride a century (100 miles in one day) this year. It’s an audacious goal, but it’s one that in spite of my repeated questions, Kelly assures me that it is a reasonable goal for my level of experience.

I never dreamed that I would attempt something like this. After seeing my friends successfully train for and run in marathons, I know that my fear is only getting in the way of greater things. If I can ride through the Tunnel of Terror… there’s really no telling what may be within this Couch Slug’s reach.

Clear your Space – Recharge your Self – Direct your Life

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Christina Laberge

Owner at Wellspring Energyworks

Liturgical Fabric Artist, Composer, Reiki Master Teacher, Space Clearing Consultant, Energetic Better Living Coach - Christina Laberge is living abundantly in the Boston area with her wife, Kelly, her two cats (Tam-Tam and Rosie) and one very cranky parrot (Daisy). She loves choral music, creating fabric art, travel, and riding on the back of a very large Harley motorcycle.

Latest posts by Christina Laberge (see all)

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