And that’s a wrap. What a week. Went even better than imagined. New roads and scenery, amazing weather, groovy new friends.

And everything, I mean everything, broke right for me. Water stops, food donations, local knowledge of the best routing, no flats or mechanicals, and on and on. Guardian angel(s)?

Exiting Fallbrook involved a lot of rollers, but I was feeling pretty good after the rest day, and we made quick work of them. As soon as things leveled out, a local legend was waiting for us with a suggested safer route. Which was cool. We weaved through backroads and neighborhoods until dropping onto a long nice bike path that took us all the way to Oceanside.

In Oceanside, we had to improvise because a thousand Oceanside 70.3 Half Ironperson athletes were smack dab in the middle of our planned route. So rude. Actually, as a lapsed triathlete who still follows the niche sport closely, it was really cool to gatch glimpses of the leading men flying on their way to the finish.

In Oceanside, a former regular on this annual ride, a guy who sat out this year because of anticipated heat, prepared an amazing spread for us in a little park with the help of his wife. Ice cream, cookies, strawberry lemonade, and more. Amazing gesture.

After that, Skip and Chuck and I made like a 1988 Taco Bell commercial and made a run for the border skipping the Potato Shack where the bulk of the crew stopped to replenish and soak in the glorious coastline. Their pics prove they had even more fun than us.

There was an incident. I may have snapped at Skip. At one point, we were weaving through residential Del Mar one block from PCH (Pacific Coast Highway if you’re not quite as cool). I turned one intersection before Skip. Chuck was drifting a bit off the back and lost sight of me. Skip kinda barked at me that Chuck had lost me. I didn’t understand why he was so annoyed. I knew where Chuck was and rode through an alley to reconnect. We were separated for all of 60 seconds. Still, Skip was so damn tense. Riding bikes, in the sun, in one of the most beautiful spots in the world.

By the time we hit the base of Torrey Pines he was even more annoyed with the humble blogger because I was riding too far ahead. So I lost it, “Why are you so pissed at me and everything all the time?! I can wait at the top!” “Okay, go ahead and chase your KOM then.” Because I hit it I hard I had ample time at the top to plan an exquisite apology.

“Skip, I’m sorry,” I started. “Forget it,” he replied. Okay, avoid conflict much? What can you do except drag the world’s best apology into the trash can icon at the bottom right of the screen. You can’t force someone to listen and work through something if they refuse to.

Skip really knew the last 30 miles. Even owns a house in the middle of those miles that he rents out. So he pulled and pulled and pulled. Until Mission Bay. Then a gritty bike path. Then, nirvana, the Motel 6 where it all began. Whew, Skips rig was fully intact.

Thirty minutes later, we headed north. Nearly eleven hours later, we arrived at Chez Griffin in Sacramento. I showered and jumped in bed literally 5 minutes before I was going to turn into a pumpkin. The next morning started with banana pancakes and coffee. Bookending the trip at Chez Griffin is prob why the week broke like it did. They are amazing friends and the world’s best hosts.

Sunday was NorCal, Oregon, and home. Always amazed at how beautiful Northern California is. But don’t sleep on Oregon with the baby lambs, sheep, and llama farms.

To quote Casey Musgraves, “Oh, what a world.”

Postscript. Thanks to Dean for the zen picture. He went above and beyond to capture ZenRon.