Once in a Blue Moon, Lots of Armstrong, and a Penultimate Ride

Day: 56 (Plymouth, CA to Davis, CA)

Average Speed: 10.6 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 79.7 (*projected with ride back to Motel 6)

Miles Cycled Total: 3, 808 (*projected with ride back to Motel 6)

Mood: Placated 

Mural in Downtown Davis, California

“Have a Blue Moon for Dad somewhere tonight,” Mom said this morning before I started today’s ride.

"Beer and Blog" Should be a Bar Name

This is the ultimate Don’t Ask Me Twice moment. 

It’s been exactly a year since my family sat by my father’s bedside and celebrated his life with tears and laughter (a lot of laughter) as we watched him take his last breath. And what a cool place to be for this anniversary: Davis, California. The (rightfully) self-proclaimed “Most Bicycle Friendly City in the World” in aptly named Yolo County. 

I Know YOLO is Already a Tired Cliche... But Still...

Pic is a Couple of Days Old Now...

Two days ago, my mom sent a text after seeing a pic of me standing under the “Welcome to California” sign. It’s the first time I realized that my projected date of landing on the West Coast would line up with Dad’s anniversary. 

The completion of his dream ride. 

My arrival date to the Pacific was never planned, or even considered. This is 100% coincidence.

And sure, today’s original destination was Cordelia, but A) I miscalculated the mileage and B) Who cares?

Today's Route

76 miles ain’t a bad ride, and as long as I can (just for ONE day) drag my butt out of bed in the morning, I’ll hit a beach somewhere in San Fran before the sun sets tomorrow. 

Tristan Leads Me on a Tour of Davis

But anyway, back to Davis. Jamie and I checked into a Motel 6 on the outskirts of downtown, and I rode solo to check out the sights. 

Glad I resisted the urge to rest. 

I asked the first cyclist I saw, a local named Tristan, why Davis was so famous for bicycles and he happily gave me a tour. There are bike lanes on every road, and well maintained paths throughout. “There’s more bikes than cars here… kinda like Holland…” he explained. 

His mention of Holland made me think of Joop. And I suppressed a fit of rage. That Lying Dutchman. 

In Downtown Davis

He showed me the Bicycle Hall of Fame (closed for the night), and all the murals dedicated to cycling throughout the town before dropping me off at the University of Beers for Dad’s Blue Moon. 

Golden California

The ride to Davis wasn’t anything to complain about either. Jamie and I rode out together on curvy, roller-coaster hills, savoring the last of the rural sights- the golden hills of the California countryside- before entering densely populated cities. 

On the Bike Path...
This is One of the Few Exciting Views. Promise.

It’s a bit of a culture shock- suddenly being around people, bicycles, and heavy vehicle traffic everywhere you turn. Bluntly put… we’re nothin’ special anymore. Luckily, the West Coast provides bike paths to get from one busy city to the next, but like the Heritage Trail in Goshen (where I live), bike paths can be a bit… bland (I dare someone to suggest that the Heritage Trail is exciting). 

And bicycle paths are especially difficult to travel on a Sunday, when all the Lance Armstrongs come out to play. 

You might think that I can pedal super fast now after 55 days on the road, but fully loaded touring bikes are just plain heavy. They simply can’t compete with feather light bicycles captained by uber-serious cyclists. 

“Lance back!” became the new warning (instead of “Car back!”) that Jamie and I used to alert each other of a approaching danger behind us. 

Selfie While Pedaling with John, Pamela,
and Jamie (not pictured... behind me for once)

Granted, there were plenty of non-Lances too, and we pedaled a few miles with quite a few, like local Cal-Tech professors John and Pamela who saw our touring gear and offered awesome encouragement and insight into the area. 

And really, with the constant, hysterical banter between me and Jamie, there is nothing that can’t be enjoyable. 

"I Hear the Train a-Comin'..."

The lone, angry-looking, muscular, heavily tattooed guy suspiciously sitting outside a public toilet that we pulled over to use just a few miles away from Folsom Prison? Hysterical. 

The oncoming cyclists screaming to get out of the way when one of us saw a butterfly and accidentally veered into the left lane? A riot. 

"The Best Path to Cycle On!"
said no one ever.

The poorly maintained bike path from Sacramento to Davis that Jamie described as “Yolo county’s first attempt at making a road”? Belly laughs.

A View from the Bridge.
Old Town Sacramento on the Way Out

Old Town Sacramento was thoroughly enjoyable as well- partly due to how easy it was to find a sticker to slap on the bike frame- and the leisurely ride to the revised destination of Davis (“We’re not making it to Cordelia,” we both agreed upon while choking down gyros) was literally no sweat at all. 

But I’m happy to call this my penultimate day. 

It was great. 

It was a helluva lot of fun.

And it ended with a Blue Moon or two- okay three (Dad’s favorite). 

What else can a cross-country cyclist ask for?

Tristan warned me that bicycle laws are strictly upheld in Davis… they have no problem ticketing cyclists for even the smallest of infractions.

And as much as I want a ticket as a souvenir, I think I’ll play by all the rules on the ride back to Motel 6 from the University of Beer. 

Cheers, Dad. 

P.S. 

Guess I Won't Be Swimming at Motel 6 Tonight...

And You Know These Signs Only Appear Due to Past Incidents...