Monterey to Big Sur by Bike

On Hwy 1, Big Sur.

I've spent a week in Monterey, CA on business for the Desert San. One day extra for my ride from Monterey, through Carmel, and on down to Big Sur.

Monterey Bay.

The conference I attended for work was okay--a bit boring. All I could think about was renting a bike and hitting the road. Trouble was that it got very cold and windy early in the week. Finally the winds calmed and everything looked good for my trip.

The Monterey Aquarium in what used to be the heart of Cannery Row.

I walked down into Cannery Row, Gentle Readers of This Blog, to check out the bike shop and make plans for which day to pick up a road bike. I'd also had a copy of John Steinbeck's Cannery Row, and had been reading it for a few days before my trip.

Ed Ricketts' lab and apartment on Cannery Row.

On my way down to the Aquarium, I walked right into Ed Ricketts' lab. Ed Ricketts and John Steinbeck were very close friends, and Steinbeck based his character "Doc" on Ricketts. I'm glad this old shack is still standing--there's a lot of commercial development all around the place. What used to be factories, or canneries--think of slaughter houses for fish instead of cattle--is now way over-priced hotels and cheap shit tourist crap. Anyway, from old photographs, this lab hasn't changed much in appearance.

The old purse-seine sardine boats are almost gone--here's a few under-going restoration.

The sardines were fished out by about 1946--with almost 90% of the sardines gone--the canneries shut down. Cannery Row was a slum and abandoned for 30 or 40 years.

This old boat is probably 80 years old or older.

There's a bike and walking path now all along the wharf and coast for many miles, and it goes right through Cannery Row. I'm pretty sure it was the old rail-road line. Its great to walk and bike on the path. Many of the locals commute by bike to work and home.

The boilers of the last cannery, preserved and now the heart of the Monterey Aquarium.

I had an afternoon free, so I went to the Aquarium. My Grandpa Crosslin, my mom's father, was a boiler man, so I'm always interested in the old boilers like this one. My Grandpa Crosslin ran the boilers for one of the big high schools back in Tulsa. The four large ones of the old cannery cooked sardines.

The boilers are about three stories tall and installed 100 years ago.


Past Cannery Row and heading South to Pacific Grove.

I picked up the bike from the bike shop late evening--I'd have it 24 hours--so I did a little recon before I rode back to my hotel.


On the bike and running path along Pacific Grove.

The wind had died down for my planned morning ride, mes amis, however--it was still very cold on the coast.


Bike lane and running/walking path on the shore.

The rental cost me $55.00

My room was on the 4th Floor of the old Monterey Hotel. There was no elevator, so it was quite a workout to come and go to my room, mes amis.

I brought the bike back to my hotel, but before that, I had asked Diego, the wrench at the shop to loosen up the pedals. I put on my clip pedals, and I had brought wrenches to adjust the seat post and the handle bars--so I was good to go.

Early morning on the bike path leaving Monterey and the warmth of my cozy hotel.

Gentle Readers, I will tell you that it was quite windy all week and very cold. The wind was gone, but the morning when I headed out was freezing. As the sun came up, it got a little warmer but not by much.


On 17 Mile Drive. My adventure begins.

The ocean spray felt damp and cold as I rode through the morning mist. I brought cold weather gear so I was prepared. The air was clean and fresh, mes amis--it made me feel strong and determined to ride through this cold breezy part of the morning.

I've made it--the wind has left me alone for a change--the sun is warming the morning air.

Pinos Point Lighthouse.

The lighthouse began operation February 1st, 1855. According to the information on the entry, this is the oldest working lighthouse on the West Coast.

17 Mile Drive by bike.


Still a bit cold.

Tail winds are sending me on my way.


Adam riding with me up into Carmel.

On 17 Mile Drive I met up with a local rider named Adam. He was out putting in a few training miles, and graciously lead me up into Carmel and through some of the more scenic areas. He would get me to where it would be safest to catch Hwy 1 for my trip down to Big Sur.


Carmel Beach--way beautiful.


Adam and Bill.

Adam is a young velodrome rider, moved back to Carmel, his hometown, from working and going to school for awhile in Flagstaff of all places. Out on the road, we run into another local rider and his pal, Bill. I get some good information about what lay ahead, how long it will take, where to stop (there won't be many places to stop for water--it will be remote for a long while) and I get land-marks explained so I can find my way back through Carmel if I am running late and need to make it back before dark.


If Dog Mtn had an ocean, mes amis, it would be just like Carmel.


Very good of these fellows to escort me to where it would be safe to catch Hwy 1.


Old Historic filling station on Hwy 1, about three miles outside of Carmel.

Adam cuts off to get home, and Bill and I ride up to Hwy 1. Before he heads back, Bill says to be careful because in the late afternoon traffic will get busy. He shows me where he lives in case I need to stop by on my return if I'm running late.

I take Bill's advice and make a quick stop for a snack and fill my water bottles. I won't get a chance to stop from about 25 miles. Its also a bit later than I would have liked--I had planned to leave Monterey at 6:30 a.m. but it was still very cold and the sun didn't come up until 7 o'clock. I waited for it to get a bit warmer and a bit lighter--and had a quick continental breakfast at my hotel. I stashed an apple and a few biscuits in my pockets for later.

Now I'm rolling in open country.



Hwy 1 is narrow and the shoulder is often quite small--or there's really no shoulder at all.



It has been windy early in the week so there are many downed branches in the road. I have to dodge them, as well as keep an eye out for cars speeding by.

This stretch of Hwy is Big Sur.



Very scenic and beautiful. I can't help but stop almost every mile or so--breath-taking views!

Very pretty here--worth the trip just because of this stretch of road!

You can see the Hwy hugging the coast.



There's a lot of steady climbing--cars are coming past fast and close. Again, the shoulder is quite narrow.



The road is beautiful--but not for the faint of heart. I'd say its a bit on the dangerous side.

Gust of wind can be such that I'd ride off into the sea--



These old WPA bridges built in the 1930's are pieces of art--kind of a weird feeling going over them on a bike--like you're trying to keep from disturbing a sleeping dragon. This is the Wildcat Bridge, and it certainly has its own spirit...



C'est moi

Big Sur



I stopped at the famous Bixby Bridge, built in 1933 by WPA workers. This would be my turn around point as it was getting late, and I knew I'd have a pretty strong headwind going back. Bill and Adam told me that I'd come to a lighthouse, which I was told was just around the corner--then in another 8 or so miles I'd find a restaurant. Because of the lateness of hour, and the wind, I thought I'd just take a break and get ready to head back to Monterey.


The Bixby Bridge

While relaxing, another cyclists speeds by, and then over the bridge.



Rock on!


There he goes!

Not long after, the rider is coming back, and he pulls in and we chat. Risi, from LA, says that he's got to be back himself--so we're off, Gentle Reades... I have to tell you that going back was a bit harrowing--there was little or no shoulder--and the locals were not very patient with us having to ride in the road.

There was one point were a work van come inches from running Risi down--the mirror on the van came about six inches from his head! I wonder how close the guy came to hitting me as well... Risi rode strong and fearless--having lived and biked in New York City, and LA; life and limb divided by mere inches was no big deal.



I wish I could have taken a few more pictures to send him--this was an epic ride for both of us--but we needed to get back. Despite the traffic, I would say we made pretty good time. Risi gave me some Gatorade, which hit the spot--and he was on his way back to LA and I to Carmel. Thanks Risi!



I make it back to Carmel safe and sound. I can get water at the mission.



The woman working at the admission/gift shop was from Tulsa, my hometown. She let me in for free. I thanked the Heavens for safe passage back to Carmel, and asked that I make it back to my hotel before dark--and in time for happy hour at the Pub.



The mission was warm inside--that I needed because the headwind, while not so bad, had made me cold for the ride back on Hwy 1.


The old smoke stacks of Cannery Row.

The Bay Aquarium put replicas of smoke stacks on the boilers. I had gotten into Carmel a bit late, so I sped along 17 Mile Drive to make some time.



Before I knew it, I was back on Cannery Row.

A good day in the saddle I'd say.

About 4:30 I pulled into the bike shop to let Diego know I was back. He had told me if I was running late to give him a call and he'd wait for me before closing the shop. I just needed to go back to my hotel, switch out the pedals, put on some pants and a jacket--get to the shop and then get to the English Pub for that pint during Happy Hour.

I walked back through Cannery Row to the Pub after delivering the road bike to Diego--who was glad I had a safe ride. We both agreeed that the map the shop hands out to tourists isn't that great.

I got a bit confused on the way back on Pebble Beach, and while trying to read the map, I almost hit group of deer standing indifferent in the road. He told me the locals had a safer and faster training route they take--where I rode with Adam and Bill earlier in the morning no doubt--and next time I'm in town ask about that course.

At the Pub, I sat at the bar with the local blue-collar types having their grog. The young barkeep was asked about his new road bike--it turned out that some of the guys at the bar were local cyclists--when he placed that cool pint of Guiness in front of me, I told that I'd just come back from riding Hwy 1 to Big Sur. He looked a bit surprised. "This beer should taste pretty good then," he said. "I know that a lot of people do that ride--it's pretty dangerous though--but good you made it back in one piece--Cheers!"

We chatted and later I told him it was a ride I don't think I'd ever do again--and he agreed. "Chances of getting killed are high--but the scenery! The scenery is to die for!" That is true indeed. "Have this next one on the house, Mate." and another thick, dark, cool pint appeared there on the bar.

Cheers! Bruce

Big Sexy on the Road

I run a few nights a week now with the lads after work down at the river park. To get in a ride too, I thought I’d do the short commute to the office—and after work stash my stuff in somebody’s car—then roll the short ten miles back to moi voiture as the sun sets. A piece of cake, right?

Big Sexy, having no expensive or easy to steal components, would be the bike to ride. At the river park, this dreadnaught would be locked to the bike rack—good to go. I couldn’t have my saddle bags on Big Sexy because some passer-by would lift them.

Big Sexy, once moving, is quite a machine—in the morning I quickly caught up to, and then left behind other riders and commuters on the path. A few roadies, probably taking a short-cut to some other roads—gave the bike a quick look or two.

After the run, I started homeward—it was seriously dark, mes amis. My commuter light, like a huge sword of light, cut a clean tunnel down the bike path. When the sun went down, the headwind out of the Northwest subsided. Big Sexy got going quite fast—but being so dark, I thought it a bit hazardous.

Cochise Classsic October, 2009

Paul on Hwy 80, at mile 210, just past Rodeo, New Mexico and over the New Mexico-Arizona Border.

Many more photos and my crew chief report of the ride coming very soon!

Paul did a great job and finished strong!

Cheers! Bruce

Owl Head Ranch Ride

Rare photos of my independently wealthy, recently converted rouler, and old college chum--et moi--early morning along the Frontage Rd.

Ryan was a good sport and came out early to Dog Mtn to tag along for my famous Owl Head Ranch Ride. Its a 70 mile trek from my place which circles the Tortolita Mtn Range. I can't believe that October is here, Gentle Readers, and we need arm warmers as its about 59 degrees this morning. Because I'm not having to drive, I get to sleep in a bit, make a pot of coffee for us, and throw the ball in the street for Callie.


The Frontage Rd is flat, with a tailwind heading up to Phoenix, and no traffic--time trial riders regularly spin out here.

From Dog Mtn, there's a very fast six mile descent down Tangerine to the Frontage Rd at I-10. We took this because I wanted Ryan to ride that part of the El Tour de Tucson course. After the 35 mph down hill through the brisk morning air, there's usually a strong tailwind heading West toward Phoenix--and it will push us to Park Link Rd, or about 22 miles, in no time at all.


Ryan has a GPS thing that he will plot the course with--if he can keep it from falling off the handle bars!

The water tank at Red Rock.

This is about all that's left of the town or Red Rock, that old water tank you see up there. 1918 flu epidemic put everyone to rest I think. We're on the old stage coach line, and then it was the rail line--and now Interstate 10. Back in the old days, it seems there was a town every 15 or 20 miles as the steam trains had to stop for water. This was the same in South Dakota where I went to University--about every 15 or so miles, the steam boats had to stop for fuel--wood--to keep the engines going. So towns like Vermillion and Yankton sprang up.


Trains are still rolling into Tucson. Engineers often wave and toot their horns as we ride past in the open desert.

We make a stop--I take this photo for you--the sky and clouds make the light for taking photographs a bit tricky today.

Ryan holds on to my bike as I have to see a man about a horse.

Picacho Peak on the left--we're about to make our right turn onto Park Link Rd.

All the Randonneurs around here can tell you stories about Picacho Pass--first of all, you can see Picacho Peak from about 80 to 100 miles out in any direction. Its a check-point for Brevets, a place to get coffee on cold mornings, and often just in time for a water stop and food. There's a head wind that will suck the life out of you, and if you're lucky enough to be going the same direction as the tailwind, you will think you're Superman! This morning I promised Ryan a tailwind, and by golly 'twas with us!


Picaho Peak, I-10, and DQ.

If you click on the photo of the Peak for a larger image, you can see to the far right, the Picacho Peak Dairy Queen. There's a tower there with a steady blinking red light--and on brevets where you're headed South down into Saguaro Nat'l Park, on heading home in the late evening darkness to Casa Grande, the tower gives you a gauge to navigate by.

Looking East across the great desert to Mt. Lemmon.

If not for the tire tracks of a hunter's jeep, this is how the desert would have looked hundreds of years ago, before white people and before Father Kino rode horseback on this same road in the 1690's.


Not a photo of Father Kino, just me in my new Team Mooney jersey. Father Kino was Italian and he would be riding a Bianchi of course.

One thing about this ride which I like, is that at one point, you reach a section on the course where time seems to stand still--there is no sound--only the millions of saguaro reaching into the Fall sky. You look around, and you see Picacho Peak clearly with no interstate or clutter, as the Indians no doubt saw, and then you see Mt. Lemmon about 50 miles to the East, through a forest of saguaro.

Bees! Cool...

I have always wanted to have a bee hive in me back yard. I think I will someday. These bee hives are new and I want a photo. Ryan tells me that he is a bit wary of bees, so he rides up ahead. No sooner than I take this photo--watchful bees have arrived wanting to know what the hell I want, and they let me know that this is about as close as I'm going to get--so BUZZ OFF. Umm, okay like later bees...


The Regal Saguaro.

The rains this year were light--and the saguaros look a bit lean this Fall. Plus, Gentle Readers of This Blog, it was a hot and dry Summer.


The new chip seal on Park Link Rd has gotten smoother it seems.

As we're riding, the wind picks up and we have to push our way through a head wind--and there's a steady climb. I had thought about riding this 70 mile course the opposite way but I was hoping Ryan could benefit from riding parts of the El Tour course we'll both be on in November.

The Great Owl begins to appear! This is why we've ridden here today!

I believe the recently installed barbed-wire fence is to keep the cattle off the paved road now. This means that the area will most likely be developed for housing some day--but for now, it still remains quite pristine and ancient. I like to think that even the Indians that lived out here recognized that the rocks look like an owl's ear's coming out of the Earth. The Great Owl seems to rise up and his gaze follows you are you travel past.

It that cool or what?

Owl Head about three or four miles in the distance.

Time to get back to Dog Mtn.

Ryan and I both have early afternoon appointments to make, so we decide we'll get busy and push it home. But it has become gusty and now we have to do some moderate climbing.

I just want to say that Ryan is quite the strong rider, and I had to push to keep pace. I think we did well considering the climb and the headwind. At one point going back, I told Ryan about the 300 KM brevet I was on with Paul and Steve, Star of the Blog--and how we reached the snowline at one point in the climb where I joked there was a White Tiger. It was cold, the wind was brutal, and I was suffering. Paul and Steve pulled me up but I just wanted to stop and expire right there on Hwy 79. Well today, we took the climb head on and made good time. Ryan pulled some long stretches up for us.


This is from Ryan's GPS.

We made up for some lost time on the way back because, as you can see, we get the down hill for most of the way back. For the return trip, Gentle Readers of This Blog, there was tons of traffic--that is happening in Tucson and the area I'm afraid. At least we got to ride a twenty mile stretch with peace and serenity.

Cheers! Bruce