The Lazy Days of (Almost) Summer

Where have I been?  I've been here, I've just not been writing.  Or cycling.  You'd think that after two weeks off from both work and intensive cycling (if you can call a ride to work and back a few times a week "intensive") I'd have been back with a spring in my step, ready to take on the world.  Not so.

First of all, it took me nearly a week to get over my jet lag - getting out of bed in time to get the train to work was a minor miracle, so getting up in time to cycle just wasn't happening.  When you take into account the time it takes for me to walk to and from stations and wait for the train, it probably takes about the same time as it does to cycle door to door, but with cycling I have to factor in packing my clothes for the day, showering time when I get there and so on, so a good half an hour extra of my bleary-eyed morning is required.

Then, as soon as I'd got over the jet lag, I got into a massive firestorm of work, causing sleep deprivation, which has effects similar to - jetlag.  I've also had a few busy weekends, with a family 90th birthday party, James' birthday and a few church things going on, so there's been no time for nice long rides, either.  After a not terribly relaxing bank holiday weekend (although I did go on a steam train!) I think I'm sufficiently recovered to contemplate cycling to work tomorrow.  Yes, that's what I'm going to do.

I've actually just realised that there are only two and a bit weeks to go until the London to Brighton Bike Ride, so I'd better get my derriere in to gear and get on my bike.  There, that's decided.  Much more cycling from now on; and much more writing about it.

Till the Sun Comes Up Over Santa Monica Boulevard

Sheryl Crow's got a lot to answer for.  It's absolutely impossible to spend any time in LA without constantly singing her classic hit All I Wanna Do.  In fact, I have no idea how the Angelenos cope with the incessant earworm.

On my mint green steed near Santa Monica Pier

Once we had left San Diego, we were back on the train to LA.  I was very curious to see whether anyone at all cycles in LA and the surrounding area, given its reputation for being a sprawling city of the car.  I needn't have worried - well, not too much, anyway.  All of the buses in LA have the same type of cycle racks on the front as in San Diego, but they seem to be used less in LA.  We hadn't been in Pasadena (my Uncle Simon's adopted home town) for very long before we saw our first people actually cycling on the road, and they were serious about it.  They were in a pack of about 15, all dressed head to toe in matching Lycra kits which were undoubtedly replicas of those worn by their favourite tour cyclists.  They were most likely riding up into the San Gabriel mountains for a few tough hill climbs and scenic descents.

The elusive other side
of the marina

We had the opportunity to meet one of these cyclists, Uncle Simon's friend Gordon, who regularly cycles on a Sunday morning.  There was some talk of us going on one of his mountain jaunts, but the reasons why we shouldn't join him were so numerous (fitness levels - we're not used to climbing mountains, having to cycle on the "wrong" side of the road for most of the ride, the heat, and so on) that we decided that it would perhaps be better to hire bikes at the beach and ride there.  Gordon provided us with a recommendation for a cycle hire shop and Uncle Simon kindly dropped us at Santa Monica Beach.

James outside the restaurant we had lunch at

This time, I knew what I wanted - a cruiser with hand brakes - and James opted for the same.  There is clearly some colour coding going on in Southern California, because I scored another mint green beauty.  James had a black "Pantero", which sounded far more aggressive than it was.  We set off south and soon found the cycle path.  The distance from where we started to Venice Beach can't be more than a mile or two, but the path was so winding (to avoid playgrounds, car parks, showers and other amenities) that it could easily have been more like five miles long.  At Venice Beach, the beach cycle path disappeared and we were signposted down a street.  We followed the signs a short way, but ended up unconvinced that we could get around the marina we came across, so turned back and got some lunch at a lovely restaurant in Venice.

One of the better skaters

After lunch, we made another attempt to get around the marina and got a bit further, but there were so many roadworks in the area (many of them causing the inside lane on dual carriageways to be closed, making it quite dangerous to cycle), that we decided it was a bad idea and turned back again - in any case, the whole point of the exercise was to watch the crazies on Venice Beach and our route was taking us further away from there.  We were slightly surprised not to find any mad Schwarzenegger-style body builders in this area, but there were plenty of places that would be willing to fulfil a medicinal "herb" prescription and the whole place was a bit like a very hot Camden-Market-on-Sea.

We came across a skate park and stopped for a few minutes to watch the skateboarders.  Some of them were very good and some were mediocre.  None was bad, but we soon realised that anyone who was a terrible skater wouldn't be skating at Venice Beach at a time when there would be a guaranteed audience.

These people are 47% upside down

We pootled (did I mention that I love that word?) back up to Santa Monica Beach and spent some time watching people messing about with the gym equipment.  We came to the conclusion that there must be a law in the city of Santa Monica (which is sometimes referred to in the local area as the People's Republic of Santa Monica) which prohibits people from spending more than 30 minutes on the beach unless they promise to spend at least 47% of the time upside down.

Greetings from SoCal!

So here I am in Southern California!  We made it, eventually.  We've just arrived in Pasadena to stay with Uncle Simon (of washing machine motorbike fame), having spent the last four days in San Diego.  If anyone tells you not to go to California if you can't/won't drive, then go anyway.  So far, we've managed perfectly well using public transport, including delightful train journeys to San Diego from LA and back again (think legroom in standard class, a decent selection of drinks and courteous staff - albeit with an approximate view of timetabling).  I understand that LA may be a different story (given that we're staying in Pasadena rather than downtown), but I'll reserve judgement until I've tried it.

Bike rack on the bus

I was speaking yesterday morning at breakfast with one of our new friends from the conference James was speaking at.  She lives in Albany, New York and was amazed at just how many cyclists there are in San Diego.  I mentioned last week that the buses in San Diego have racks for bikes, but what I hadn't appreciated was that these racks are fitted to the front of the bus - on the outside.  Each bus (and all of the urban buses have them) has a rack for two bicycles that folds up and away when not in use - there's even advertising space on the bottom of the rack that shows when it's stowed.

The Coronado Ferry

These racks appear to be reasonably well used and no-one seems particularly perturbed about having their bike affixed to the front of a large moving vehicle.  I was intrigued as to the circumstances in which one would want to use the racks rather than cycling, though - I know we're not all capable of cycling 20 miles at a time, so some older and less fit cyclists might use them, but I'm guessing that the primary use is freeway avoidance - people hopping on the bus with their bike to avoid a few busy stretches and a couple of nasty junctions.  I'm really not sure it will catch on in London any time soon.

Bike rack on the ferry

Another thing that might put me off cycling in the US (on a general level) is the trains.  Yes, that's right, the trains.  The railway tunnel/bridge/underpass does not seem to have found its way to this side of the Atlantic and every place that a train line and a road meet, there's a rail road crossing (a level crossing, to us Brits).  In downtown San Diego, there are a lot of train lines and trolley lines (light rail/tram), and so there are a lot of rail road crossings, which are really irritating.  In particular, there are coast-hugging train routes, so if you want to get to the beach on a bike, you may well have to wait at a crossing to do so.

One of the things I wanted to find out was why people cycle here - it seems that, like in the UK, it's a reasonable mixture of leisure cycling, commuting and other getting from one place to another and sport cycling.  There appears to be some kind of law here that if you indulge in sport cycling in any way, you must have head to toe matching Lycra.

View of the Coronado Bridge over the handlebars

As you might imagine, I couldn't resist having a go myself, so while James was at his conference, I got on the ferry to Coronado, a small almost-island that is half mansions, half naval base.  The ferry transports only people and bikes (and, apparently, Segways), and has a good bike rack on the lower deck.  After a spot of lunch, I rented a bike from a shop near the ferry landing and went on a little tour of the island.  At the shop, I was asked whether I'd prefer a "cruiser" or a "comfort bike".  I opted for the cruiser, which can only be described as the love child of a Pashley and a Harley Davidson.  I was then offered the choice from among the cruisers of a 7-speed bike with hand-brakes or a fixie with Dutch brakes (pedal brakes).  I decided now was not the moment to try a whole new different mechanism, so I opted for the former, and was presented with a shiny, mint green bicycle with a very convenient basket on the front.

Coronado Ferry Landing

I took my first tentative "steps" on the bike and felt a bit wobbly - it's a very strange sensation as it sits you so far back that you may as well be lying down, and your hands are more than shoulder width apart.  This was my first time on a bike other than mine or James' (which is very much like mine), so I was understandably a bit cautious.

Hotel del Coronado

Coronado is blessed with a coastal mixed-use path with no motor vehicles, so my plan was to follow that as far as I could and then see how much time I had left.  I was whizzing along the seafront with an enormous grin on my face, past restaurants and homes and families having picnics.  I passed the Coronado Bridge and went up the side of a golf course and then reached...The Road.  Now I had to work out whether I was going to address the large, probably red question mark that was hanging over my excursion.  Would I ride on the road, given that it would have to be on the "wrong" side?  I got off the bike and observed the traffic for a couple of minutes and then made my decision in an instant.  I did it.  I just went.  The big grin returned and I had an uninterrupted journey all the way to Hotel del Coronado, reportedly where Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson first met, 15 years before they were officially together.  It was noticeable that the cars that passed me gave me a very, very wide berth.  It helped that it was a very wide road, but I couldn't be sure whether they were giving me so much room just because that's what they do here, because they could see that I was on a rental bike so were approaching me with caution or I just happened upon a train of 5 or 6 nice drivers.

Cyclist windmill sculpture

After a quick look around, I set off on my return journey, hampered somewhat by the presence of a cycle tour group on the cycle path - they didn't seem to understand that riding five abreast very slowly wasn't going to work for anyone but them, and then they parked up, blocking the entire path.

Once back, I relinquished my steed and got the rentals lady to take a picture of me with it, before hopping back on the ferry to San Diego, full of excitement to tell James all about my day.

Unscathed and excited!