Then one Sunday morning my friend Brian, who I knew had picked up riding with a group of bikers in Irvine for a year or two, called me and said he and a couple of his riding companions were heading toward my home for a venture ride and thought he might stop by and visit me, since he's been wanting to see my new home for a while. So I welcomed them and when they arrived and found out I had this fine French-made bicyclette piece lying in waste in my garage, they started proselytizing me all the great benefits bike riding can bring to the health of my body and soul, until I agreed to give it a try with them.
So I went out and bought some biking gear--suit, helmet, gloves, etc.--and started biking with them, for a couple of times in the past few months. The reason I didn't go more often than that was because their Sunday morning riding schedule usually conflicts with mine, and Irvine is a bit too far a place for me to drive to--burning a couple gallons of gas just so that I can burn off a few hundred calories of mine doesn't seem that altruistic or green to me, to play the role of an environmental activist for a second.
But this past Thanksgiving weekend they decided to have one of their annual long trips to Oceanside, a little seaside town in north San Diego County right off Camp Pendleton, and the ride would start from Dana Point Harbor, right down my alley. So I decided to join them, even though I knew the distance would be a stretch for me and I was not as physically well tuned as a regular biker would be.
We met at the harbor's parking lot. Besides Brian, there were 4 others, all but one I had known and ridden with before. Brian brought me a right-size water bottle that snugged tight in my bike's bottle holder so it wouldn't jitter out during the ride, and a hood liner for my head for comfort and wind protection. I also found out my bike's tires were low on pressure and the air pump I brought would not work because its air cap didn't match the tire's intake pinhole, but they helped me hold down the air cap so I could successfully pump my tires to the right pressure.
Off we went then. It's a sunny day, and the first few miles were along the beach and the coast highway that I had ridden a couple times myself before, so it all seemed nice and easy. Then we turned into the city of San Clemente, still on the coast highway, but now right through its downtown district, along with some climbing up that gave us our first physical checkup of the day. "That was about the only up-slope we are going to have for the trip all day today," said the team leader at our first rest stop. Right, that was about the first of 3 or 4 such remarks I heard all day that day.
San Clemente is not a big town, so it took us about 15-20 minutes to traverse through, then we turned into a bike trail of San Onofre State Beach. It's an old trail, but wide and clean, with no city or highway traffic to compete with, only a few fellow bikers and occasional picnic tables scattered along the way. I took peeks at the scenery as much as I could steal time to--we were riding at the average of 15-20 miles per hour so if I dawdled I immediately got left behind and would need to play catch-up to rejoin the team.
We then headed into the Marine base territory, first breezing through a wide, long runway, then roaming inside the heart of the camp, barracks on one side and target practice ranges on the other, all along the Pacific coastline. This is probably the largest training camp for the US Marine Corps in the West Coast (many troops were sent to Iraq or Afghanistan from here), yet other than the check point that inspected our ID when we entered and those beach head structures, there is nothing really unusual here that makes it look much different than a quiet little town somewhere in midland America.
And the light traffic on these country roads made our ride safe and easy. After a couple of the usual toiling slopes and winding turns, what do you know, we were there already!! A small shopping center near the southern end of the Marine base was our destination point. It's been 27 miles, 2 hours, since we left Dana Point Harbor this morning, according to our team leader's meters.
We parked our bikes outside a McDonald's and went in to relax, chat, and have lunch, for about 45 minutes, then headed back.
The ride back was easier, mostly because mentally we were familiar with the road (or I should say I was the only one that became familiar with the road, the rest of the team had all ridden this route before), therefore didn't feel pressured or as high-strung as when we came. The only thing a little different on the way back was when riding through downtown San Clemente, there were more traffic on the streets than in the morning, and we had to stay really close to each other so we wouldn't get broken up by the traffic or cut off by the light. But the cars were all very friendly with us and the traffic signals seemed well synced to accommodate exactly speeds like ours that we hardly needed to stop at the lights at all.
We got back at Dana Point Harbor around 3:30. The sun is still shining bright, and other than sore legs and painful butts, every one was still in high spirit for an after-ride coffee. I didn't join them because I needed to rush home. But hey, now that I know the route, maybe next time I'll just ride casually down San Clemente pier and have a morning coffee there myself!
Anyone wanna join me?
At the beginning of the off road trail On the runway tarmac of Marine base
Destination McDonald's Brian fixing disengaged gear chain
Returning to Doheny Beach, Dana Point Harbor in the background. The bike to the right is mine, or actually Tim's, and is the second one he left in my garage because it fits my height better than the first one he left. (Yes I now have two fine bikes sitting in my garage).
* This is one of my favorite songs, happens to have something to do with bicycle riding: Les Bicyclettes De Belsize by Engelbert Humperdinck,
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