Slow Motion

Day one is now in the books! At 7:30 this morning we arrived at Ocean Beach, the starting point for eastbound riders on the Southern Tier. The temps were hovering in the mid-40’s and Odie and I could feel the damp ocean chill through the multiple layers we had donned in anticipation of the temps dropping further as we climbed eastward. My wife Jane and a few friends came with us to take photos and give us a proper launching, which was much appreciated. I’d been awake for most of the night fretting about things that weren’t really relevant, and it felt good to have family and friends there as a reminder of what truly matters in life. We said our goodbyes, we hugged, and then, in a way that somehow felt too abrupt, we mounted Hank the Tank and quickly evaporated into the distance.

Around the 3 mile mark we hit our fist snag in the form of a vague detour that took us several minutes to untangle. After that, the ride remained fairly uneventful for the next 30 or so miles. We missed a turn at one point, and the urban landscape we were riding in was rife with fast moving traffic that seemed wholly impervious to the two old guys on an old tandem bike. But the shoulders on the roads were wide, and it felt safe and good to have finally started after a full year of plotting and planning.

By lunchtime, we’d covered around 30 miles, a distance that would’ve been much greater if not for all the traffic lights and stop signs we encountered. We found a bus stop bench to sit on, pulled out bananas and apples and nutrition bars, and spent the next 20 minutes relaxing and refueling. Pretty easy so far, I thought, but I also knew exactly what was coming.

I called The Bob before we recommenced our ride and coordinated a rendezvous point where we’d meet, throw Hank in The OREM, and have The Bob chauffer us across a 3.5 mile stretch of road that was closed to bicycles due to construction. After hanging up, Odie and I walked into the tall grass behind the bench and relieved ourselves, an act that has already become a blissful, freeing and deeply satisfying part of our routine.

After lunch, the thing I knew was coming began almost immediately. What at first seemed to be just another small hill quickly morphed into a prolonged climb of 12 miles. Each bend in the road teased us with promises of an easing in the grade, but those promises remained unfulfilled. The climb would grow steeper before momentarily easing just enough to keep one believing the end was near even though it wasn’t. I dropped Hank into the lowest gear, and Odie and I reduced our world to the simple act of keeping the pedals moving, the bike computer telling me that we were doing roughly 5 miles per hour. Hank wobbled as Odie and I strained mightily against the relentless elevation gain. Our breathing defined us, our quads begged us to stop, but we just kept pushing those pedals around and around and around...

Eventually I spotted The Bob sitting in The OREM just ahead, and I wheezed to Odie that we were nearly done. The road flattened as we neared the crest, and after a few more cars flew by, I guided Hank across the road and onto the graveled area where The Bob had parked. I called for Gary to unclip, our shared signal he should remove his right shoe from the pedal cleat and get ready to stop and put his foot down. But apparently that simple but very important word got swallowed up by the combination of noise from a passing car and the sheer and utter fatigue we were both experiencing. I assumed Odie had heard me as he had all day. I got out of my pedals and had both of my feet on the ground, but not so for Odie who had only freed his right foot, and down we went in a heap of humiliation and bone-crushing weariness. The end result was a nasty scrape on Odie’s left shin and a mutual vow to do better in general.

After the slow motion crash, we sat in The OREM and refueled ourselves and decided to push on to Pine Valley, a mere 6.3 miles away that of course included one final, long climb. The pit stop left us both slightly renewed, and we survived these last few miles uneventfully. Our plan at the start of the day had been to make it to the Golden Acorn Casino, a distance of 63 miles. Instead, we called it quits upon reaching Pine Valley, a distance of 50.5 miles. The mountains, simply put, had kicked our collective ass. But oft times defeat comes with a silver lining, and in this case that silver lining arrived in the form of one of the best chocolate shakes I’ve ever had!

As we were less than an hour from my house, we drove back home for one more glorious night sleeping in a bed. Early tomorrow we’ll head back out to Pine Valley and pick up where we left off for another day of steeps climbs and descents in frigid weather. We hope to end the day in Calexico, Ca., 130 miles from my house, and enjoy some good Mexican food before driving home and taking Monday off. The local mountains are beautiful, the roads still bordered by snow and slush from last week’s crazy storms, but those mountains ain’t no joke.