The universe must have known it was our penultimate day and that we had slightly cheated the day before by getting the Greyhound and it punished us with roaring headwinds and heat of an unspeakable scale. And let me tell you what was really sick about the whole thing, we loved it.
We had said earlier that we would like the last 2 days to be difficult, not only because we had caught the Vomit Comet, but also because in some weird way we wanted to really feel the last few days so the end would feel even more amazing and like even more of an achievement. What can I say, we’re masochists.
We were still riding through the desert, but the names were getting more familiar – San Bernardino, Bear Mountain…man oh man, we were getting close and yet we still felt like we were in the middle of nowhere for large chunks of the day. The roads were lumpy, the water scarce and the McMansion suburbs of outer outer LA appeared as mirages in the distance, never seeming to get any nearer despite our pedaling.
Locals who saw us riding kept telling us that it was all down hill at ‘insert name of next town here’, thankfully after 80 days of riding I have finally learned the lesson of never listening to non-cyclist locals, as all of them were so very very wrong. There were hills, nay, mountains and once again we loved it.
When we arrived at the North LA K.O.A. campsite we could hear Johnny Cash music and the roar of muscle cars. It was rather ironic that at the end of our trip we had stumbled across a vintage car show. This is where the people who catch the Greyhound we caught the day before go when they get a car and crappy tattoos of pin up girls. It was actually quite fun.
As we went to sleep in our tent for the last time (yahoooooooo) we couldn’t manage to sleep. It felt like Christmas Eve, we were too excited to get to the coast the next day and the fact that day 80 was so hard made it all the more sweet.