We woke up in Santa Paula, the ‘citrus capital of the world’, feeling like it was Christmas morning. We only had 55 miles to make it into Santa Barbara and to the Pacific ocean.
After choking down breakfast, we danced around like drunken monkeys until it was time to ride, and ride we did. Vant and I traded bikes for the first ten miles, and – no surprises – I was still way faster than him.
Around mile 25 I hit the coast. I walked on the white sands right up to the edge of the water with the Channel Islands shrouded in mist on the horizon. I watched the clear blue water break into white caps and roll up to my toes, and I smiled.
After choking down breakfast, we danced around like drunken monkeys until it was time to ride, and ride we did. Vant and I traded bikes for the first ten miles, and – no surprises – I was still way faster than him.
Around mile 25 I hit the coast. I walked on the white sands right up to the edge of the water with the Channel Islands shrouded in mist on the horizon. I watched the clear blue water break into white caps and roll up to my toes, and I smiled.
We rode up the 1 and the 101 into Santa Barbara, which is a shockingly beautiful ride. The ocean and beaches lie right in the shadows of grand mountains – a sight like which I had never seen. The skies were clear and blue for us, flowers were in full bloom, and the roads all had bike paths.
We rode into town and stopped at a beach on the main drag, and the entire crew ran and jumped in and sang to our hearts content.
We rode into town and stopped at a beach on the main drag, and the entire crew ran and jumped in and sang to our hearts content.
