This morning I studied the map and saw Hearst Castle pop up as a place to see. I remembered Atris had suggested this, so I booked a tour online for the latest possible spot, leaving me about an hour and a half of buffer time for the four hour ride down there.
It was a pretty cool place. There was a lot of beautiful art and architecture from all over the world.
The pool looked so appealing as we stood there in the heat. I zoned out during that part of the tour, wondering what exactly they’d do if I jumped in. Maybe a hefty fine?
As I pondered the logistics of such an act, we moved on to the Indoor portion of the tour. It’s insane how much money this guy must’ve spent on this.
The tour guide seemed completely enthralled with the shows of wealth, continuing to remind us what it would’ve been like to live here and be a guest of Mr. Hearst. It’s like she was worshipping him as some sort of deity. Nice to know that’s on the table for the next of us to get lucky with mining investments.
The tour came to an end and I toyed around with the idea of making it down to San Diego by the end of the day. It was theoretically possible at five and a half hours south of the castle. Seeing as it was 5:00 pm, this could be done by midnight or so, assuming some breaks.
I figured I’d just keep at it and see how good of time I make, while keeping tabs on how tired I end up feeling. Of course this was going to be a recipe for a speeding ticket.
As highway 1 opened up into a straightaway toward San Luis Obispo, I correspondingly opened up the throttle. Seemed fine seeing as nobody was around. Or so I thought.
Just seconds later I saw an enemy bike perched on the shoulder waiting for his opportunity. The timing was incredible.
I hit the brakes, dropping down to a cool 65, as if nothing had happened. I watched hopefully in my mirror and for a moment thought my little trick had worked.
Just as I prepared to sigh relief, he pulled out from where he was situated and turned on his lights. My heart sank.
He said he clocked me going a certain speed that my lawyer has advised me not to share (ok it wasn’t actually that bad). Luckily he was only going to put me down for 80, which is in the lowest penalty range in this part of the state. How kind.
I suspect his grace was at least in part due to pity. To get to my registration, I began pulling out my camping equipment and laying it on the side of the road. Whether he knew it or not, it certainly didn’t look like I could afford anything other than the base rate. Or maybe he saw I was a donor and appreciated that I’d at least be putting myself to use out here.
The question I asked myself though, and am still wondering, is if he just made that up and got me to sign an agreement to 80. I had hit the brakes pretty quickly, so I’m not confident his radar gun actually clocked my speed.
Regardless of his potential scheme, I was now behind on time and neutered such that I wasn’t going to gain much back anyway. It was becoming more clear I’d be staying somewhere other than San Diego tonight. And I had nothing planned.
I rode by some trees on the 101 through Santa Barbara and inspiration struck. I could just find a park here with some trees and pitch my tent for the night! I’d be gone before anyone would notice.
The first place I tried had a decent outcropping of trees, but it was in a wealthy neighborhood where everyone could afford to not park on the street. A bike here would stick out like a sore thumb.
The second place had good street parking, but it required entry through a private drive and it became obvious that the land I intended to camp in was private too. I needed a public park - I’d much rather have a second citation for the day than a gunshot wound.
The third place was just right. Well, right enough. And late enough that I was done looking for better.
I parked about a block away from Stevens Park and packed up all my gear to take with me. On my walk I somehow missed the trailhead but saw an open field, which I figured was part of the park. Little did I know I had ended up in someone’s front yard. Not a great place to be with a 45L backpack after dark.
I opened up Google Maps, careful to keep my phone screen pointed away from the house. I could make it into the park from here, but I’d need to go down the slope into the canyon.
I started down, and while it began only as a moderate grade, I was eventually slipping in the dirt and grasping at twigs to keep my balance.
My backpack was only halfway on this whole time, as I thought it’d be a quick journey. Realizing it wouldn’t be, I put down my helmet and day pack and laboriously fished my arm through the other strap.
I’d foolishly hoped to find some flat spot conveniently placed on this hillside, but nothing showed up. It became evident I needed to head back.
I struggled back up the hillside into the now comforting embrace of the front yard. At this point I was drenched in sweat. It was hot out and I was in full gear. I sat down, pack on, and pondered my situation while I caught my breath. A truck drove by and I sat motionless. It kept moving along.
I remember telling John Henry that a time would come on this trip where I’d wonder what the F I was doing with my life. This was it.
But this was no time to sulk. I needed to make camp. I got back to the road and found the proper park entrance. Just a few hundred feet down the trail I saw a flat enough outcropping of trees. Home sweet home.
I cleared a bunch of leaves with my feet and hands and got the tent staked. I operated mostly in the dark to avoid having anyone see my light. The moon was not up yet, so the only light I had was the diffused light from the great city of Santa Barbara.
I considered making dinner but did not want to deal with the trouble or risk attracting attention, so I just got in the tent with all my crap and laid back.
Now I sit here in this tent and it’s so hot I do not dare use my sleeping bag. Hopefully I can at least get some sleep tonight.
Miles Today: 316
Total Miles: 2,614
Camp: (34.4504347, -119.7342131)