6/1/00
Santa Monica, CA - Fontana, CA
Mileage 71.89 miles
Max. 25.5 mph
Avg. 12.75 mph
Weather: High 60s, morning overcast

Standing next to the Santa Monica Pier with the busy sounds of the ocean shore reminding that I was far from home, I thought about a lot including the return portion of my airline ticket from Lexington. It was there to use if for any of a thousand reasons I turned cheek and ran for the reassuring routine of home and the University.

That was the moment the weight of the huge challenge I had worked for nine months to create pushed itself into the pit of my stomach. Beforehand of course there had been stirrings and flashes of apprehension. They increased in frequency as I rushed to put my affairs in order the weeks and days preceding the flight out to LA. But there alone on the beach, the enormity of 3000 miles by bicycle loomed.

To side step the anxiety yesterday afternoon, I focused on details. I shopped the local bike shops for a safety flag my wife thought was essential. I assumed finding one would be easy, but learned that dirt bikes rule shop inventories in southern California and flags aren't needed. I did find another spare tube and a small lock for the thin wire cable I hoped would discourage theft.

At 8 am the photographer showed to document the obligatory beach scene. I learned what models go through without copying their success.

At 9 am a reporter from the local CBS affiliate set up for an interview. During the taping and while I was commenting on the likely impact of the Internet on higher education, a bystander shouted a question about prisoners and Internet courses. I responded by describing a program I had read about in which prisoners enrolled in Internet courses. Meanwhile she strode up, kissed me on the cheek, and wiped off a lipstick smudge. I wondered what this foretold.

With the morning half through and at the conclusion of the interviewing and picture taking, the video photographer asked that while he filmed I was to pedal away on the route I planned to take. Within a city block, I faced the fact that while I knew I must go south to Venice Beach to catch the bike route east, I had not determined how best to get there.

Ordering a much needed hotcakes breakfast at the Big M offered a chance to get myself oriented and to work on routing through the city. After a go on Ocean Blvd., I opted for the less traveled bike path on the beach to Venice Beach.

I was nervous at this point despite having a good map of bike routes through Santa Monica and West LA. Maps from the LA county bike coordinator had arrived the day before flying to Santa Monica.

The core problem I faced was routing through the LA area east to an interchange on I20 where I could ride legally on the shoulder. Yesterday I had succeeded in contacting the state biking coordinator in Sacramento. He told me I could get on I20 at the Dillon Exit just east of Palm Springs. From there I could stay on the freeway to Phoenix. How to bike the 100 or so miles through the maze of freeways and communities of southern California was a problem requiring a safe solution that did not waste precious energy or time.

The bike map for Santa Monica and LA was very helpful. I chose the bike path through center city LA past the Civic Center Complex and the old Dragnetn style high rises. LA proper has a small town flavor that has turned distinctly Latino with lots of Mexican restaurants and shop signs in Spanish.

Once past the LA River, the bike map with recommended streets ended, and I was on my own. In Santa Monica I had stopped at the city library and photocopied all the small scale and large scale maps I needed. But, highway maps do not provide traffic density information. They don't describe roadway shoulder or climbing distances which are helpful to bikers.

What made sense to me was to parallel the freeway to avoid mountains and to stay near services. Valley Blvd. stretched a long way from east LA to El Monte where the name changed to Ramona Blvd.

Lunch on Valley Blvd was at King Torta (4507 Valley Blvd.). In queasy Spanish I ordered a sandwich (Asada con Salsa) on a huge bun easily half a foot in diameter). When orders were ready the check number was called in Spanish. Thanks to completing the undergraduate course series in Spanish at UK I could understand. I picked up my order without incident.

The fun portion of this ride was passing through communities whose names I recognized from TV shows. Anyone who remembers the Johnny Carson show knows Cucamonga, Covina, West Covina, San Bernadino and a score of others. I thought, as I passed one familiar name after another, "So this is what this place looks like."

Where Ramona Blvd ended I noticed that a short ride north would put me on old Route 66. Called the Arrow Highway, I couldn't resist and took it to Fontana where around 7:30 pm I found a motel.

Reflecting on the day, it was full of emotional extremes ranging from high anxiety to warm familiarity. I felt satisfied I was off to a good start having solved the route question through LA, and avoiding a mishap that would have jeopardized the trek right at the start. Somewhere in Santa Monica, I suppose, I lost a large international orange triangle strapped onto the back of the bike that was meant to make me a little more visible. I hope someone is putting it to good use.