Julian, California to SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA!!!!
In the final hours of my 50th year on the planet I'm thinking about being born a month premature. After my Mom lost two boys at birth before me, I feel like I was in so much a hurry to get into this world, to live my life and drink up enough for the two brothers that never made it. Well boys, I'm making up for it. I always felt blessed to have two sons, because they symbolized for me, the two Landman's that almost made it, finally making it on through.
LANDMAN - man of the land. In German it means farmer. Maybe that's why I was so fascinated by the agriculture industry the last 47 days. What's in a name? Maybe "Landman" and being a "Landman" labeled me as one to traverse the land - destined to experience the land up close and personally. Textbook self-fulfilling prophecy.
It didn't start out this way but this trip has been largely about patriotism. This land is my land, this land is your land. You know, late in the afternoon on day 46 as I pedaled into headwinds and a setting sun - closing in on the Pacific - I started singing God Bless America and tears started rolling down from my eyes. In fact, they're coming back as I write this. God I love this country!!
Maybe emotion was connected to what I envisioned the end of the trip to be. I always figured I'd drop to my knees on a sun drenched beach in San Diego and just start crying. Well it didn't quite turn out that way but I'll get to that later.
Good Morning, Julian! Julian, California. This is it. The final day. The ride to the beach. 5:30 am and there are 4 men sitting outside on the patio of the Julian Coffee and Tea House. It's about 55 degrees and I'm cold. Inside is a warm and charming coffee and pastry place. Big muffins, sticky buns, turnovers and more, all fresh and tempting. Four huge blackboards with multicolor chalk menus - fancifully written, hang high on the wall behind the counter. I am the only one in the place. I order a croissant with egg and Canadian bacon and a large coffee. As I start to eat I am busting. I tell the woman behind the counter that today is a very special day for me and why. She is awestruck. She gets it. Her name is Wendy and I find out she has traveled back and forth across the country over the years and shares the same feeling about how marvelous this country is, and appreciates and knows the value of taking the time to stop and enjoy it up close. Meanwhile, other customers came in and sat down and she announced to all of them what I was about to do. One guy said he had only one question: "Are you crazy?" I turned to Wendy and said,(Whoa, a guy in a gold thong with gold roller skates, a lion's tail, a lion's mask and body art painted on his ass just skated by me as I'm writing this...sorry but I thought I was in San Diego not Venice) "You get it, this guy doesn't get it. I chatted with the newcomers for a while and then got up to leave and Wendy said have a good ride today and offered a congratulatory big hug good-bye. Well the hug left me reeling - I think I walked, no staggered 3 circles around the lobby and felt a bit dizzy. I believe the term is "areeling." I realized that it had been 41 days since my last hug...whoa! Lots of handshakes - no hugs. I smiled and left and as I walked out the door I heard Wendy say, "Have a great life!"
I'm wearing jeans and 4 shirts because it is cold without even moving and my ride is down hills which means added cold until I get to the lower elevaitons. Seven miles of freezing to Santa Ysabel. Brrrrrr....keep alternating hands in pockets and thinking warm beach, sunny beach. From Santa Ysabel to Ramona was hilly. Ranches with lots of golden fields - the sun was shining brightly and I was feeling warmer. The last words from Wendy still ran through my ears and I thought "No Wendy, I have already had a great life!"
As I got close to Ramona, CA I saw this thick fog rolling toward me and soon this sea fog turned a sunny morning into gloominess. The fog stayed with me all the way to San Diego and I was sure I was riding through some spectacular scenery as I rode over Woodson Mountain down into Poway but I saw nothing but the guardrail and the roadway.
Once I got to Poway and all the way into San Diego there was a bike lane. This is health conscious California and I saw hundreds of bikers out for a Saturday morning jaunt. All the hills and the beach and coastal scenery make this a fantastic place for bike riding. Most biker friendly city I've ever been to.
About 8 miles from the ocean I met a guy riding from Santa Cruz, CA to La Paz, Mexico. He had a bike with a trailer and a lot of good stories. I talked to him for about an hour. Maybe it was because the weather was so gloomy, or maybe it was because I didn't want the trip to end but with 8 miles to go I wasn't in as much of a hurry as I thought I'd be. Finally I passed UC San Diego in La Jolla and coasted down to the ocean.
At the Pacific in La Jolla, I saw a couple sitting on the beach watching some surfers and figured I could get them to take a picture. Then they started making out to the point that if I said excuse me, I don't think they would have heard me. At the same time, a group of three people came down toward where I had stopped on the beach with my bike and they obliged a picture or two. Then the kissing couple came over and asked if I had really ridden across the country and I told them yes. He said, "You know you have to take a picture in the ocean." and I said. "You're right." So he took a couple of me splashing in the ocean still wearing the same 4 shirts and jeans I had put on in chilly Julian.
In a way, it all seemed very anti-climactic. Not exactly what I had envisioned for the past 48 days. 12:00PM. 3,429 miles - I wrote the mileage on the cardboard back of a legal pad. Thanks for taking the photos, folks! This is too gloomy to stay - gotta get my mail on the other side of the city before 2 PM.
Next task: figure out how to get from La Jolla to the Hillcrest section of San Diego. I removed the odometer from my bike so it will always remain on the final mileage 3429. I have no idea how far extra I rode that day but I do know it was a harried and hurried ride to the post office - got there at 1:50, ten minutes before they closed, only to find out that all the general delivery mail is sent to the Midway branch. I was just a little bit honked when I found out about this because there were a number of occasions someone could have told me that on the phone. First when I called to set up the account and secondly when I called to find out about Saturday hours. Anyway, the Midway post office was only a few miles away and a few people waiting in line helped direct me there.
At Midway, there was a bunch of mail but every piece was something sent to an earlier mail stop. The award for the letter that went through the most post offices goes to one from my sister which was sent to Charleston, WV finally made it to my hands here in San Diego. All the other mail had multiple post office stops too. The mail everyone sent directly to San Diego, I never got even though I'm sure it is in San Diego just stuck in some sorting transit between Hillcrest and Midway. In any case, it will get forwarded home.
I rode past Sea World and the Kemper Arena back to the beach. Out of La Jolla I came down through Mission Bay Beach and decided that looked like a good place to stay. Beach, bay, lots of hotels and activity. Ended up at the Mission Bay Motel. Made a ton of phone calls and had a few victory beers wandering the boardwalk and beach. It would have been nicer to party in person with even one person. Twas a lonely, empty kind of celebration. I'm not sure if celebration is appropriate. In reality, it was just an ending. It's over - 3429. Totals for the day: 57.62 miles 3 hrs. 52 min 3429.6 total miles