Tandoids
Current
Location: Long Beach, California
Distance
Cycled: 15,725 km
Distance
to End at Mexican Border: 200 km approx
Maximum
Speed So Far: 72.0 kph
Status of
Backsides (out of 10) Judy the Stoker: 8, Mike the Captain: 9
Cyclist Gets
Guillotined
Lead
Story – The Daily Beatup
Santa
Barbara: The back seat rider on a tandem bicycle was guillotined by a car park
exit barrier Saturday.
It struck
the woman’s glasses forcing them down onto the bridge of her nose and then hit
her arm.
“I could
see it (the barrier arm) coming down but there was nothing I could do except
shout at my husband to stop,” said the woman, Judy Yeoman, of Auckland, New
Zealand. “It gave me a terrible fright.”
She was
not seriously hurt.
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Guillotine Victim: New Zealander Judy Yeoman (left) just minutes before she was struck by a barrier arm at a car park exit. She's seen lunching with new friends Pat, Lucas and Stan Brown in Downtown Santa Barbara. |
Her
husband, Mike Brockie, said he was following a car out of the car park and knew
there was a barrier arm.
“I tried
to make eye contact with the attendant to let him know we were coming but he
vanished into the back of the office. Stupidly I looked the wrong way for the
barrier arm – to the right not the left – and thought I must have passed by it
safely.”
The pair
were trapped by the barrier, unable to go forward or back as it lay between them.
They had to dismount and push the bike out from underneath it.
“No
thanks go to the attendant,” said Ms Yeoman. “He didn’t raise the arm and nor
did he even bother to ask if I was alright.”
She said
she was fortunate they stopped when they did, otherwise she would have been
stuck a severe blow on her helmet.
The
couple had been lunching with friends at a nearby café shortly before the
incident. To reach the car park, they had pushed the tandem through a walkway
but decided to leave via the main exit.
When Thermarests Get Pregnant
|
Age 20 years. It starts as a small bump ... |
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And gets bigger by the day ... |
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Until it becomes impossible to sleep on. |
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Riding into Southern California. |
California
Dreamin’
All the
leaves are brown
And the
sky is gray.
I’ve been
for a walk
On a
winter’s day.
I’d be
safe and warm
If I was
in LA.
California
dreamin’ on such a winter’s day.
The Mamas
and The Papas
Suddenly, in
a day’s ride, we have made what feels like the transition into the California
of our imaginations – palm trees, blue seas, surfboards, tanned bodies and a
soundtrack playing in our heads that dates back to The Mamas and The Papas and
The Beach Boys.
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Walnut trees in the Santa Rosa Valley, near Buellton. |
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Refugio State Beach |
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Early morning shadows |
|
Modelling session on the beach |
Today (13
Sept) we rode south from a town called Lompoc, it’s the nearest place of any
consequence to the giant Vandenberg Air Force Base. We took the advice of a
fellow cyclist and instead of following the regular cyclists’ route we took
Santa Rosa Rd, which runs for 17 miles through a stunningly quiet and beautiful
valley of grape vines, wineries and walnut trees. On either side of us steep
hills climbed into the blue sky. The land looked dry, the road meandered gently
and we pedalled happily – thinking how much this region reminded us of Central
Otago.
We stopped
at Buellton and instead of the usual filled rolls from a supermarket we dined
at Ellens Danish Pancakes where we stuffed ourselves with pancakes and coffee
that kept on coming.
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Refugio State Beach. The pinpricks of light on the horizon are oil wells off the California coast. |
Back on the
road, the traffic was much heavier and faster as we rejoined Highway 101 and
climbed over the hills and then raced down to the coast. And there were those
palm trees and a sunlit beach. The coastal fog had vanished out to sea and people
were enjoying the water in kayaks and on SUPs (stand up paddle boards).
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Campsite, Refugio State Beach |
Tonight our
campground is Refugio State Beach, about 20 miles north of Santa Barbara and
within 120 miles of Los Angeles. We are camped on the foreshore, there are hot
showers and a store where we bought a bottle of wine and two beers. The sun is
drifting towards the horizon and to add visual interest we can see three oil
rigs out at sea. We know we will fall asleep lulled by the sound of breaking
waves.
It’s taken
102 days to get here from Vancouver BC – that must be some sort of record for
the Slowest Tour Down the Pacific Coast Highway – but it feels like we are in
California at last.
Wildlife at
Bed Time
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We've seen no sign of mountain lions or even rattlesnakes but there has been plenty of other wildlife to keep us awake. |
The mouse
was tiny and kind of cute. It was hard to think of it as vermin – spreading
nasty bugs. Judy was the first to become aware of him (let’s call him a him, but
he could just as easily have been a she) as he noisily trampled his way over
the floor of the outer tent – the area tent makers like to call the vestibule.
I got a nudge and Judy whispered in my ear, “there’s something out there” with
her usual sense of the dramatic. We unzipped the door to the inner tent – our
bedroom – and shone a headlamp into the vestibule. Its beam picked up nothing
and then suddenly - the tiniest of mice. He was gray and so skinny his ribcage
was clearly visible through the taut skin of his chest. I tossed a jandal at
him, but before the jandal had left my hand he was gone – out under the fly and
into the darkness. We had a quick discussion and decided that our food was
securely stowed in our black, roll top bag.
A racoon would have no difficulty getting in, but a mouse would never
make it.
Five minutes
later he was back, clopping around on the floor and rustling over a plastic bag
as though he was wearing two pairs of those cycle shoes with metal cleats on the
bottom. We shook the tent, muttered and the noise stopped – for a few minutes.
It carried on like that for much of the night.
Then Came the Gophers
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The result of gopher tunneling near our tent. |
Part way
through the darkness came another sound – hard to describe but a gnawing,
shovelling sort of sound as though something was burrowing into the floor of
our bedroom. The sound seemed to be coming from near our feet, so I kicked the
floor and hoped whatever was there would go away.
We woke
feeling a bit jaded but grateful we were having yet another day off on the
Slowest Bike Tour Down the Pacific Coast Highway. Outside the tent, mounds of
earth had popped up, and peering under the tent it was obvious some little
beastie had shovelled his way out there too.
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Suddenly a head emerged from one of the mounds. |
As we ate
breakfast, there was a slight movement and suddenly a head emerged from one of
the mounds. The gopher looked around unblinking despite the bright light, then
retreated down his hole.
We discussed
what to do. Should we move the tent so we were further away from our gopher?
Could it gnaw its way through the tent floor? How sharp were their teeth? If it
got into the tent, would it tear around like a mad thing trying to escape –
like the baby possum a friend had as a youngster. A fellow camper suggested
pouring water down the gopher’s holes – or should that be gophers’ plural? We
didn’t know if it was one or a whole family making those little dirt mountains.
In the end
we decided to do nothing.
Followed by a Frog
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We found this frog plastered on the side of our wine bottle. |
That evening
we were having dinner in the vestibule when suddenly I felt a movement on my
leg. I glanced down and there, nestling into the hairs on my calf, was that
tiny mouse – he was so warm I could feel the heat from his body. He must have
sensed he had been spotted and a moment later he was gone – behind the black
bag and under the tent fly again.
Judy reached
for the wine bottle – anything to get us through the night – and almost dropped
it with fright. There was a frog stuck to the side of it. We prodded it with
our fingers and eventually it followed the mouse and hopped out under the tent
fly.
Clear Winners
Judy and I
made an agreement. We would not be intimidated by a mouse, a frog or a gopher.
Do what they may, we were determined to get a good night’s sleep and we
wouldn’t respond no matter what happened. And that’s the way it was. The mouse
trampled in his bike cleats, the gopher shovelled earth to its heart’s content
and in the morning we found the frog under the tent. It was 3-0 to the
wildlife.