Season 3 Episode 15 (10/20) Big Chance on Big Sur

Season 3 Episode 15 (10/20) Big Chance on Big Sur –

We woke up on 10/20 with increased excitement and both of us could feel the adrenaline pumping as we had much at stake. As described in greater detail in Episode 14, we decided to go for it and see if we could bike through the road closure on highway 1 south of Big Sur (for 2 miles from Lucia to Limekiln State Park.)

Maybe due to being eager, we decided to get going and try to get 10+ miles in before eating any breakfast. So we headed out on empty stomachs. Some of you might think we also had empty heads. 

Just a few miles out we reached the Monterey Peninsula and started riding the iconic and magnificent 17-Mile Drive, home of Pebble Beach Golf Links and other oceanside courses.

Passing the Pacific Grove Golf Links, one of the holes was sponsored by Dos Caras Tequila, and we saw they were serving shots. I was told they are actually sippers not shots. Well I must say it did go down very smoothly. Given it was the first thing I ate or drank today, probably best it was only a sipper. But I could use all the help possible to be bold today. What a great slogan for us: Be you, all of you.

I had driven through here back in the 1980s when Clint Eastwood was mayor of Carmel and recalled the views were spectacular. But it was even more beautiful from a bike seat at a slower pace with no windows. After an hour of seaside pedaling, we both felt total serenity and ended up riding over 20 miles before stopping for breakfast.

As soon as we left Carmel and headed south on Highway 1, the sign had been revised to make it clear we could go 50 miles, but no further to points beyond Lucia. Let the record state we were warned.

And in case it wasn't yet clear to us.

Although it was cloudy, some of the views for which we decided to risk this ride today.

Even when open, this road is treacherous for cars and even more so for bikes. Especially those heading southbound who are on the outside edge.

The higher the climb, the grander the view.

Heather went first across the span and made sure it’s steady for me.

I made it across, without more tequila to calm my nerves on these stretches with no shoulder.

A few hours later, around 3:15pm, I met Jack, a 27-year-old solo rider from Huntington Beach. We swapped stories with the now standard opening questions - where did you start? Where you riding to? And after only 5 minutes of meeting, he offered us to stay with him when we get to Huntington Beach. I thanked him and replied that we already have plans to visit and stay with friends in nearby Irvine. But that’s the kind of instant trust, understanding and friendship that is shared in our bike-packing family. Jack was also trying to ride through the closure today, and he heard to go after 6pm compared to our hearing after 5:30pm. We spoke longer about his travels and plans and wished each other good luck, said bye and maybe see you later.

By 4:15pm, the clouds had cleared and the views got even better from the high climbs.

And the potential fall to the rocks below even scarier.

At 5:06pm, we were 6 miles from Lucia, the last point north of the closure - the end of the line so to speak per the amended sign. And yes, we knew all too well that rocks really do slide and shift. We were approaching our moment of truth.

Looking back at the bridge we rode over hours ago. By bike, the pace of travel enables us to appreciate how ambitious this road is. Maybe even audacious as our friend Zach told us. It has been beset by slides since its inception. Horse and wagons traveled this route back in 1855. The paved road was built with the help of convict labor from San Quentin Prison and opened after delays in 1937. Should such a road even exist?

5:30pm and the sun is dropping. It’s getting darker and colder and the thought of being turned away is getting harsher.

One thing that had been a bit surreal is the last 25 miles or so had been as close to traffic-free as possible. After the village of Big Sur (as opposed to the region), cars pretty much had nowhere to head south. I counted only 9 vehicles in the last 30 minutes. It was eerily quiet, like a country road on an early Sunday morning. We could forget we were on a highway that under normal times has a steady flow of motorists who come from around the world to drive this renowned coastline between the populous cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles. On the one hand, the emptiness was a huge plus. We could “cheat” towards the center of the road, and take the lane, avoiding clinging to the shoulder and riding at the edge. I’m not sure how I would have done with normal traffic levels. On the other hand, it meant we were more isolated and on our own if we needed help. And we had no cell service. It was clear this was an all-in bet.

5:52pm and we are basically there. My long shadow from the low sun behind me felt ominous. Another sign just like this was at 1000’ and another at 500’. I imagined somebody saying - how many warnings do you idiots need?

It can’t be this easy.

And it wasn’t. A hundred yards down the road, there was a white pickup truck parked on an angle blocking the road and with its rooftop yellow lights flashing. Heather said let’s just go. I asked her what’s her plan B to which she replied she had none. I shared my plan B and then we went forward. Without details, we successfully passed the truck. (For older readers with knowledge of Hogan’s Heroes, let’s just say it was reminiscent of the late actor John Banner as Sergeant Schultz.)

After riding for about minutes on blacktop, with this escapade seeming too easy, we came to the real closure. We saw equipment on the other side and there were still crew members on site. We were now rejoined by Jack who we met earlier.

The three of us lay low for about 30 minutes as we pondered our next move. Jack’s presence added confidence that we were not in this alone. Although he said to Heather that if anyone asks, he’s just going to say “I’m with my parents.” Meaning us!

It was now go time!

It was steep and getting dark. Heather walked this section.

Jack headed to his campsite at Kirk Creek, a mile down the road.

Saying goodbye to “our riding son” Jack.

We continued 4 more miles in dark, eerie, cold silence with the road completely to ourselves. We struggled to find the sign to the turnoff, and after going down the wrong road, we corrected and at last arrived to our destination, our host’s home without him.

Our host had laid out on the counter a welcome note with pasta and a bottle of wine for dinner, and for breakfast bananas, waffle maker and waffle mix, syrup, chocolate sauce and a scoop with a note to add ice cream from the freezer. He even left us protein and granola bars for the next day.

It was over 12 hours since we departed Seaside, of which we rode for 8 hours, 20 minutes, covering 81 miles and climbing 5734’.

Heather and I both wondered why at our age are we doing this? But we know the answer. The excitement and adrenaline we felt was real. It was the similar feeling to backpacking overseas in my 20s and confronting the unknown daily - with no cells back then. It satisfies my inner explorer and adventurer which must be nourished or it dies.

© Copyright Mark Segal 2023.