Quick update from the road, having made it to San Francisco in one piece (or three pieces if you’re Eddy, who seems to have survived his first plane trip unscathed, despite every single elevator door and security bollard arrangement being too narrow for his box. This made for a bonus encounter with customs, who wanted to know what I was doing wrestling him through the gate, and also meant giving up on finding the promised “bike assembly station”and just doing it in a random bus garage, which security loved obviously.
I was so tired that I couldn’t work out how to put the chain back upside down, and also neglected to tighten the handlebars, the first of which I worked out more quickly than the second which took my first ride to show itself. Rotating handlebars are not fun on San Francisco’s hills.
Mechanical ineptitude aside cycling in this part of California is more enjoyable than I expected — both LA and San Francisco, to a much greater extent, have a network of bike lanes and the bit of the coastal route I did is well signed (mostly!) and where on roads, as it predominantly is, fairly stress-free thanks to the wide shoulders the Americans sensibly equip their highways with. (Of course, at the beach these are often occupied by RVs, and in town by parked cars or, and more forgivably, taco trucks but there’s usually still room for a bike.)
I’ve even done a bit of free-range riding off LA’s cycle routes (inevitable if you actually want to get anywhere) and, as someone used to London cycling, found it fine, even in rush hour. Yes the traffic often moves fast on the six-lane highways (much faster than on the Euston Road), but most drivers gave me enough room, and a couple even chatted at lights — one guy shook my hand and said I’d inspired him to get his bike out again. To be honest, the biggest problem with that little expedition, apart from the police roadblock I had to navigate round, was the terrible state of the tarmac — potholes and fissures everywhere. I suppose that, unlike Islington council, they at least have the excuse of seismic activity. Such was the extent of the shaking that I had to keep re-tightening my helmet and God knows what it’s loosened on the bike.
A cool thing about the two cities I’ve visited so far is that you can take your bike on public transport — Eddy has been on the San Francisco BART, the LA Metro and San Bernardino Metro Link train and, nervewrackingly, transported at 65mph down a freeway on the front of a Silver Streak bus. I barely breathed until we arrived safely at Union Station; the drivers aren’t allowed to help you load it on, so I was convinced I’d done it wrong. Remarkably he seems none the worse for his high-speed trip.
So if you’ve been considering cycling the Pacific Coast Highway but worrying about it, don’t. It’s a lovely route — though check out the Adventure Cycling Association advice and maps and choose your time carefully (I imagine winter is wet and foggy up north and high summer is horribly busy on the road) — plus maybe wait till the Big Sur route reopens because I really would like to see that. Also, I couldn’t find any clear information on hiker/biker campsites in south California: intel online suggested they no longer operated, a man in Santa Barbara was insistent they did but hadn’t actually used them in years, so if you’re planning to camp that’s worth establishing. If you’re doing credit card touring, however, there are plenty of motels, hostels etc for almost every budget, just avoid the one I stayed in in Port Hueneme (below, though you can’t see the dirt or black mould). There are a fair few Warm Showers hosts too; I just couldn’t make any work with my itinerary.
Things I’ve learnt about cycling in the USA so far:
it is possible (I say this because in some quarters the idea of travelling through the States “powered by ass not gas” as a Venice Beach bike shop has the same ring of absurdity as visiting Britain for the weather)
Open roads and monumental landscapes mean that it can also be extremely enjoyable (I’m wary of getting too gung-ho after just a few days; as I keep being reminded, California is not a typical American state, if such a thing even exists)
The turn right on red rule makes positioning yourself at lights a bit trickier, but to be fair the one man I had to move aside for leaned out to thank me
There aren’t as many coffee stops, garages and en route sustenance options as you’d imagine
Huge American coffee cups wedge much better in bottle cafes than tiny European ones
Bike racks are not very common, for obvious reasons
Heavy-duty tyres were a good idea, and I suspect will be proved even more so in the next few weeks
It only takes a day to get some stupid tan lines going in Southern California in April
People are unduly impressed by you having cycled anywhere (see 1)
An Austin-based girl I met in Santa Cruz told me it was already 90F there. Don’t know exactly what that is in Celsius [a Québécoise I met in SF mused they do air temperature in F and water in C, or was it the other way around] but it definitely feels too hot for cycling, which I was not anticipating at the beginning of May. So, we shall see.
As a big fan of one more croissant for the road and red sauce brown sauce, it feels like a total privilege to follow this trip along live on Substack and insta. You’re a dream ❤️
Ride north! It’s cooler by Puget Sound, and by the time you get here, it should have stopped raining!