I was awoken this morning on my couch on the porch before dawn by the crow of a rooster. This notion they do their cockadoodle thing right at dawn and that's it I can tell you is a lot of nonsense; once they start crowing, they just keep going. I laid there for a long while messing on my phone and eating from my box of cheerios. But once I got up, I got around quickly, eager to hit the road.
Funny thing, a couple guys showed up last night while the other couchsurfer and I were chatting in the kitchen and announced themselves as the illegitimate sons of someone or other as something like a code. We explained who we were and that everyone else was asleep. They said they were going to set up in the yard for the night, and we said, "uh, yeah, go ahead." They promised not to bug me as I was falling asleep on the outdoor couch, and ended up going to the other side of the yard. Turns out this morning that my host had no clue who they were, just a couple of vagrants, who may or may not know one of the other people from the house, or a former resident. That's just the kind of house they had running. I love it.
Today was mostly flat and easy going. ...Though not entirely. The heat was harsh, even in the morning, quickly over 80, which felt less than great on my burns, and caused sweat to drip down my forehead even on the flat stretch. Then there was the frequent bumpiness of the road, often poorly paved over cracks, patchworks of tar and cement repairs. And then there was the traffic accident on the road that provided the one really good bike route, the official Pacific Coast route. The police officer told me to turn around, and told me the best route to take. I listened to his directions and started heading backwards. Then I stopped and checked my maps to see what it was he was actually instructing me to do, and realized it would take me over a mile backward and then many miles out of the way to the north. Then I realized there were side roads I could use to get around the accident easily, and his ludicrous detour was entirely unnecessary. I honestly wonder if he was just ignorant or if he was actually trolling me on purpose. I got a little nervous that there was still trouble up ahead past the accident when I noticed virtually all traffic was going en masse in one direction, opposite to me. But it turned out to be nothing, or nothing I had to deal with at least.
And then, right at the end of my ride, after getting back off blissful bike trail as I'd been on much of the day, I had some bastard ram into the back of my trailer as I was sitting at a turn lane waiting for the light to change. The look on his face said it was on purpose. Bastard. Not only was I shaken up by it, but my hitch got shifted down and my trailer was scraping my back wheel for a few very bad moments as I biked to a place to stop and fix it, and it tore my poor garden hose more. But, well, it could have been much worse, couldn't it? I just can't understand people who do that sort of thing, just can't.
It was a little surreal shortly after that pulling into the junk/art strewn yard of my host and being done with my day...before noon. It's been a long time since I've taken such a short day. But it felt fitting for my second to last, and the alternative would have been a damn near centennial to Santa Monica...which, well, with it this flat, maybe I could have.
But then I wouldn't have met my spectacular host (an interesting fellow, engineer back in school for physics, who has had some wild adventures, a history of drug addiction, and current involvement with psychedelic culture) and been able to go with him and his friends to the museum today...in LA. That's right. I officially was in LA today, the goal of my trip, to go with them to the Getty Museum. It felt surreal, a tad wrong, exceedingly anticlimactic, being there, arrived by car. But it was good, so much fun. We came to his friends' house in the desert of Thousand Oaks, and were invited in and provided some of their meal. They're an interesting older gay couple who seem almost polar opposite, one reserved and considered, the other outgoing and fast spoken. The museum was incredible. It requires a tram ride up the hill from the parking lot in order to reach its lofty perch overlooking the city and the Santa Monica bay, so I was able to get quite a view of where I'm headed tomorrow. It was college night, so the place was filled with college students, hanging out in the large open plaza with free food (which we sadly missed out on), music, and light sticks, as well as wandering the exhibits, crowding the space, and taking photos they shouldn't. Only a fraction of the museum was open for display, one building of four, and yet it was still plenty to see in the allotted three hours, exhibits ranging from unusual photographic techniques, neoclassical sculpture, and impressionist paintings. I really enjoyed it, and felt lucky to get to go.
But come the end of the evening, with the need to make the long ride back to Ventura...so I can get up in the morning and cover that distance again to very close to the same area, though thankfully not going the same way...I was ready to get back and get to sleep. I had to pass on the offer of quinoa, so I could be in bed at a reasonable hour.
And now, here I am, having mostly typed this out on the ride home, bringing my recounting of my second to last day to an end as I lay here on this sofa that generally belongs to my host's two cats, CAT07 and CAT08, while my host is doing some reading in his bed nearby. It's time to say goodnight, as the morning has a whole new day, and the final 60 miles of my adventure.
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