Day 17 – Pigeon Point
Lighthouse to Monterey – Po, Larry the Luddite and Me
First, let’s get the Wind out of the way: We are even for the day. It was a light South Wind to start out, went
SSW mid-morning, and then hard West.
Because the route turned to the East, the West wind was a help and not
(too) much of an issue as it was then a cross wind for most of the day. Only when I turned hard to the South for
Monterey did it turn into a headwind. By
then I had the leg licked.
75 miles of a very beautiful ride. The route book says that it is not very
scenic unless you like artichokes and strawberries. I like both but the reasons I liked the ride
was that it was sunny all day long, the route was mostly flat, and I felt good.
But let’s not get carried away. Tomorrow brings Big Sur, coastal mountains and hill climbs galore.
The day started out like a bad dream when I woke up in a
room full of men. Fortunately, none were
in my bed proper. It quickly got better
when I remembered I had stayed at the Pigeon Point Lighthouse Hostel and was
assigned to the men’s dorm. Po (see
below) was right: He could sleep through Armageddon. He did not stir as I pulled my saddlebags
(panniers) out from under my bed, made breakfast, and headed out the door. The lighthouse was beautiful in the early
morning dawn as the sun peaked out over the hills and into the bay. It didn’t take too long to hit Santa Cruz
County and Surf Country (see the photos below). The absolute highlight of the
trip was Santa Cruz and Larry the Luddite (below) but the miles-long bike path
on the side of the Cabrillo Highway that led through Marina, Seaside and into
Monterey was a primo way to end a great ride.
Here is a link to today’s ride: http://www.movescount.com/moves/move36093653
Make
sure you check out the route through Santa Cruz
Po
I met Po in the kitchen.
Together with a woman in the living room, we held a three-way
conversation. I was seated at the table,
which if you picture the letter “V”, was at the point, with Po to my right and
she to my left. They could not see each
other, separated by wall, cabinets, and a refrigerator. In turns, we described our motivations for
being at the lighthouse; She, a resident of Santa Cruz, was chilling after a
visit with her daughter; He, a savvy but entirely pleasant 22 year old, was
biding his time between jobs by riding a formerly borrowed bike from Half Moon
Bay to points South, and; Me, Peter Pan in search of Never-Never Land.
Reconnecting on the veranda, waiting on sunset, Po and I
discussed biology, geology, the beginning and the end of time, and almost no
religion. In that moment, I realized my
moment, our moment, in Infinite Time, is short but all we will ever know. In the warm glow of the sinking, yellow-red orb,
as sun, clouds and the sea became one, I realized that after 53 years and 1,000
miles of riding I had found my unfindable; Peace. A peace so calming and firmly rooted, I
worried not when it would be gone.
Larry the Luddite
Larry is a bus driver, Luddite, and perfect human being. He doesn’t own a phone. He doesn’t own a computer. He rents a small house with his
girlfriend. He loves her and he wants
for nothing. And, he is the definition
of satisfaction. I met him as I rolled through
Santa Cruz in search of the quickest exit to the Highway. He met me a railway trestle/path like he was
assigned and willingly accepted the job to be my personal guide through Santa
Cruz and a world seldom experienced…by anyone.
Larry, not knowing my planned or unplanned route, assured me
if I followed him I would reach my destination. Weaving along boardwalk, bike
path, through marinas, and along the street, Larry waved, chatted, and
narrated. Past the bridge damaged by the
tsunami, where the Monkeys played, Jack O’Neil’s house, the local and tourist surf
breaks, Gayle’s Bakery. When he left me,
I was were I wanted to be.
If you are ever in Santa Cruz, ask for Larry the Bus
Driver. He will get you where you need
to go.
Me
Because I've shared, loved, and been
loved, I’m better.
Photos
The geology in the area of Pigeon Point Lighthouse is fascinating. You are looking at eons of time below. Igneous rock, broken, eroded, rounded, and captured in sedimentary rock as conglomerate. The second picture has an igneous intrusion after all of that. Eons. Amazing stuff.
Look closely and you can see the Hermit Crabs I put on the rock. They made it back to the water.
Look closely at this one as well. There are snails, Hermit Crabs, and a little Sculpin.
Layers of sand flow separated by ferrous oxides
Last night's sunset
The lighthouse at dawn
The ocean in the background. Sections looked like African savannas
Yup, we're in Santa Cruz County. Outside of Davenport
On the Cabrillo Highway
Santa Cruz!
The boardwalk. I'm looking for the highway at this point.
The bridge where I met Larry
Clean break in Santa Cruz. Small but they look super fun. I mean SUPER FUN!!
More of the same break
Todd W!!! Look!! Jack O'Neil's house!
I taught Larry how to take a photo. He got it on the first try. The other eight weren't so hot ;-)
Beautiful Capitola
Lunch at Gayle's. Thanks for the clue-in, Bonnie.
As I left Santa Cruz, Larry told me I could not go on the highway and I had to take a different route. At first, I ignored his advice but upon finding a closed shoulder, I changed my route. Look closely and you will see cars stacking up in the distance. This is heading North, not South which was the direction I was headed but as I passed that very spot while on the route Larry provided me, I heard a screech and a BAM, another screech and another BAM, and finally another screech and BAM. I could not see it but there was a pile up on the highway right beside me. As I got to the bridge the ambulances and the police were racing to the scene.
Strawberries. Yes, I tried one...and then spit it out as I realized they probably had pesticides on them. What I did taste was good ;-)
Back to my old ways. You got to love Larry (and the guidebook) but all these right and left turns around fields of strawberries and artichokes has a way of getting to a guy. After a while, I made a beeline for the highway and bushwhacked my way back on.
Flat, flat, flat.
Old Customs House in Monterey
A surly fellow
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