Fin.

Thank you all who have stuck with this for so long, I know how terribly boring reading a blog can be.

I've finally returned to cap this off - and to report some grave news.

TJ and I ended our trip in Temecula. He decided to move there, and as I found out when I tried to bike from San Diego back to Temecula, my knee still hasn't recovered.

I bought a plane ticket back to Connecticut, where I'll try to put the pieces of my Oregon expedition back together.

Farewell, friends. Happy Holidays.

The Beach:

A Plateau:

And some snow...welcome home:

One Million Burritos

And that's all you need to know.

Days #40 - ?: San Diego and Surrounding Areas

Biking to Pacific Beach (with Cathy and Chad, since TJ's eye is non-functional)

La Jolla Cove, home of the seals:

Hiking in Idyllwild, equally as cool as Julian, and where I'm going live when we decide not to bike anymore:

And the mayor of Idyllwild (not a joke):

Right now we're in Temecula, staying with TJ's awesome Aunt Amy and Uncle Mark, their three kids, three dogs, and TJ's brother Taylor. We'll be here (at least) until early December, so we can enjoy some tasty treats on Thanksgiving.

We've eaten tons of scrumptious food (all the California Burritos), saw the coast, played volleyball, drank some local beers, and given up biking. We unfortunately arrived during the two only rainy days of the year, but it's absolutely beautiful now. Done deal.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone - be sure to check out the two new posts below, recapping the trek from Tuscon to the coast. Enjoy!

The Deplorable Desert

There are some points in your life, when a friendship comes to an abrupt and unfortunate end. When one second you think you have a pal, only to be crossed the next - stabbed in the back in a terrible display of hatred and hostility. An act so horrid, you vow to never return, never to confront the traitor again.

Shame on you Sonoran Desert. I thought we where friends. 

It's the land that started off beautiful, engulfing much of southern Arizona and stretching west to the mountains of California. Filled with magnificent cacti and cloudless skies, we were like three peas in a pod. 

And then, on one fateful night, everything changed. So forget you Sonoran - we're on the coast now, and we don't need you.

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Day #39: Tamarisk Grove Campground to San Diego, CA

What happened that night must have been some sort of sick and cruel joke. The terrible winds that we fought so intensely during the day had morphed into a fierce sand storm of swirling death over night. We woke up covered in sand (partially my fault for leaving the rain fly open), overturned bikes, and sand covering all our belongings. 

The desert sucker-punched us in our sleep, and left us feeling cold and empty. Angry, disgruntled, and covered in sand, we packed up camp. At least we would be climbing some mountains today...

As we biked out of the campground, TJ and I began hopelessly laughing - vicious gusts of wind were slamming us in the face. At this point TJ was about ready to kill me, since I was the reason we diverted off of the planned course. This was my "slightly extended tour of the mountains," aimed at keeping us off of the interstate and in the high country...although at this point it seemed more like a suicide mission.

Alas, we plowed on, slowly working towards the mountains, grasping onto the slight hope that the slopes would shield us from the wind. Luckily, we were right. After a few miles of struggling, we entered the beautiful foothills of the costal range, and began climbing out of the horrors the lay behind us.

What happened next was better than we ever could have imagined. As the road wound further west, we climbed into a beautiful array of fall foliage and sloping mountain sides. We pedaled in constant awe of what surrounded us, and how quickly the desert was left behind.

Before we knew it, we had climbed past 4,000 feet (working up from 120 feet), where we found the town of Julian (The coolest town in America"). Since we heard tales of delicious pie, we had to stop and take a look around. 

...And thus ensued TJ and I gorging ourselves to the verge of vomiting.

The first stop was Mom's Pie House, were we bought an entire strawberry-rubarb-crumb pie for $10, and devoured the entire thing. They were so impressed with us, that they gave us free cinnamon ice cream for desert. Next was The Julian Cafe, where they were oddly still serving breakfast. Against the waitress' advice, we both ordered gigantic stacks of pancakes, and continued to eat every last bite. 

We felt disgusting...and then we had to keep biking. 

Unfortunately, it was about 40 degrees and the mountains were entirely socked in with clouds, so our views were very nonexistent. 

Overall, our trek over the costal range was pretty anticlimactic. Although the ascent was top-notch, there was no marked (or evident) pass, and the decent was full of rolling hills. San Diego was in our grasp though, so we continued plowing on.

We crushed the last miles, arriving at our friend Cathy's house in style (and before the sun went down!) 

Miles Crushed: 84

Pies Eaten: 1

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Day #38: Brawley to Tamarisk Grove Campground

With my knee still hurting in the morning (although thankfully moderately better), I contemplated taking a rest day while Bill stuffed delicious chorizo burritos down our throats. We decided to ride again though - after all, that's the best way to recover.

The first few miles were nothing to write home about - just a poorly designed (and busy) road that took us so close to the Salton Sea that we just barely couldn't see it.

I stopped again to ice my knee before we made a turn into a horrible headwind. Cue "a terrible day of riding in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sand with the wind in our faces, on a slight uphill grade." The miles dragged on...

There was nothing to look at, just miles and miles of sand in every direction. We rode through a long stretch of Ocotillo Wells, where off-roading / ATV usage is abundant. Unfortunately for us though, it was Tuesday, and apparently everything is closed during the week. 

It was pretty hilarious actually - at one point we were so mentally exhausted that we planned on camping at an upcoming RV park after 35 miles. We were so excited to get there, plowing through the relentless desert wind at 6 mph with all our might...except when we finally got there, they were closed. Luckily we were at least able to sneak through the gate and procure some questionable (non-potable) water from the bathroom.

We pushed on, eventually finding the Tamarisk Grove Campground in the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. We were incredibly glad that we went as far as we did, with the campground only costing $5 (thank you hike & bike). The host even gave us some free wood so we could finally build a campfire.

Check out this crazy plane that landed in the middle of the desert:

And more shots from the worst place in America:

 

And the campground:

Miles Crushed: 58

Miles We Wish We Rode: 0

There Are No More Roads

Day #37: Blythe to Brawley, CA

Hammering 130 miles after a week of rest: bad idea

Biking 92 miles when your knee is on fire: even worse idea

Taking a million Advil so you can't feel pain: a terrible idea

And so it began...

In the morning, I had a horrible realization - something had caused my left knee to be in excruciating pain. I'm talking every-time-I-pressed-down-on-the-pedal-my-knee-felt-like-it-was-going-to-explode pain. And let me tell you, that kind of pain is no good for biking.

Following "Brian Keefe's Guide to Overcoming Injuries," I naturally refused to rest. Since there was no track in sight, I settled for the bike - a good decision since the next town was 92 miles away. 

20 miles into the ride, we passed a road-side gas station where TJ insisted that I ice my knee. While I was icing, TJ attempted some bike repair. What he actually ended up doing was causing a flat tire and almost destroying his rear derailleur...nice one.  

With my knee feeling moderately better and TJ's bike up and running again, we set off. It's important to note that we both thought that this ride was going to be flat. We were heading South today, in order to stay east of the Pacific Coast Range as we moved towards San Diego. 

We were wrong.

This road took us through more diverse landscapes than I thought was possible in 90 miles. From farmland, to mountains, to the heart of the desert, and back. We saw it all...and it was terrible. Albeit beautiful, it dragged on and on. My knee was in pain, and the hills were relentless. 

It started off deceivingly flat, surrounded by cotton and KALE...

And then it started to get hillier...

Until we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere...

And then the mountains appeared...

Things got a little better after we got through the mountains, as we rode around a gigantic exhausted open-pit mine:

Welcome to the heart of the desert, where things got a bit...sandy:

Actually, very sandy:

Incredibly, disgustingly sandy:

And then suddenly, right around the corner, there was water:

And more farms:

And a McDonald's?

After 92 miles of riding, we finally made it to Brawley. Little Caesar's hooked us up with a whole pizza for $1, and of course we had to go to McDonald's so TJ could get his fill of fast food. We even had a house to sleep in that night, courtesy of Bill and his wife.

Miles Ridden: 92

Bum Knees: 1

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Day #36: The Middle of Nowhere (South of Phoenix, AZ) to Blythe, CA

As we rode out of Buckeye, we crept our way towards the inevitable - the Interstate. As it turns out, Arizona does not like to build roads. In fact, since Western Arizona is all but deserted, the state must figure no one actually travels through it. Well, news to you AZDOT, people do. 

At least the first 35 miles of riding were nice, taking us through quite backroads. 

I even got my fill of gravel riding when the road "unexpectedly ended" for 12 miles. As it turns out, touring bikes with slick tires handle very poorly on dry desert roads...

And then, the road ended altogether.

There are no more roads...only the Interstate.

For the next 95 miles we plowed our way towards California. In hindsight, it could have been 1,000 times worse. Not only was the road pancake flat, but we had a wonderful tailwind that rocketed us along at about 20 mph all day. Had either one of those things shifted against us, we probably would have just started crying.

And so we rode along, blasting crappy music as semi trucks sped by at 100 mph. Luckily the shoulder was huge, and there was no way to get off the road (crossing exit ramps are very scary).

With impecable timing as usual, we made it to California just as the sun was going down:

As we watched the sunset at a depressing 4:00, we rejoiced as we exited the Interstate with minimal casualties - one flat tire (TJ), and a semi truck that sprayed me with some questionable green goop as it sped past...remind me to shower soon.

That night we hit Pizza Hut in order to procure some free food, and they were nice enough to make us an entire pizza for free! After stuffing ourselves, we strolled over to the local fire station. Not only did we get some showers, but they invited us in to watch TV and gave us some comfy grass to sleep on.

Scenes from the...eh...Interstate:

Colorado River, in a less-than-glorious condition:

Central Arizona Canal Project:

Miles Crushed: 130

Hours Lost to Pacific Time: 1

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Day #35: Tuscon to The Middle of Nowhere (South of Phoenix, AZ)

There is some discrepancy about the legitimacy surrounding what happened this morning. 

Lucky for us, Heidi had to drive up to Phoenix to visit a friend. This was great news for us, because we were able to dodge the horrors of the desert yet again. However, given she dropped us off directly south of Phoenix, there is a slight (read: 30 mile) gap between where we originally diverted from the route (Globe), and where we ended up (the middle of nowhere). Of course, we did pick up a few bonus miles when we diverted down to Big Bend, so let's just call it even. 

After a quick jaunt up I-10 in a very cramped pickup truck cabin, we were dropped off at our destination. At this point it was about 1:00 in the afternoon, so we weren't expecting too many miles from the day.

Off we went - the ride was a strange mix of quiet desert roads, bustling suburbs, and farmland. Oddly enough, we never actually saw any part of Phoenix.

As the sun started to set, we rolled into Buckeye, a small town that gave TJ and I the creeps. Death stares from all the passing drivers didn't help ease our concerns at all - nor did the Amber alert we got during the night. Luckily the local fire department let us camp in their fenced-in backyard, so we were unbothered the whole night. 

Miles Crushed: 52

Helicopters that Woke us up During the Night: 2