I started the last day of my tour with the last hill of this journey – the climb up Torrey Pines Road. I lived in San Diego from 1980 to 1997 (with a few years back in Colorado), and my only transportation was a bicycle from 1980 through 1988. So I was very familiar with Torrey Pines Road. We didn’t have bike computers, or Strava, or RideWithGPS to tell us how steep a hill was, but Torrey Pines seemed daunting back then (even though I lived at the top of Texas Street in North Park and worked in Mission Valley for a couple years!). Now it seems easy, and it certainly seems easy after some of the hills in Oregon and Northern California!
Riding through La Jolla, La Jolla Shores, Pacific Beach and Mission Beach brought back plenty of memories from my wayward younger days, but the boardwalk was crowded, so I was glad to get on roads and bike trails again. I lived in Ocean Beach in the mid- to late-eighties, but skipped the trip down memory lane and stuck to the ACA route and headed downtown to catch the ferry to Coronado Island. After I bought my ticket for the ferry, I realized I could save a lot of time if I went to the ferry terminal at the convention center, so I rode as hard as I could to get there on time. I ran through multiple red lights, something I never do!
When I got there, I ran into a group of cyclists, and one of them, a San Diego randonneur, recognized the Seattle Randonneurs jersey, so we had a fun conversation about randonneuring (“No, I haven’t done PBP!”) and my adventure. I saw them again when they passed me heading south, and saw them again in Imperial Beach!
I made my way to the Border Field State Park, where the route ends at the border. When I lived here, this park was a quiet and desolate place. It often floods, and the floodwater is reputedly very polluted, but I used to come here to take pictures and I loved how quiet it was. I am not sure where all these photos are now, but it would be interesting to dig some up and compare them.
At any rate, there were no other park visitors to be seen, but there were plenty of Border Patrol trucks. When I spent time here in the 1980s, the border fence was much flimsier, and you could walk right up to it. You could see the Tijuana bull ring, and even talk people on the other side. Now there is a really tall border wall, and you aren’t allowed to go near it. And there are lots of new modern buildings on the Mexican side that look like condos.
I waited to see if someone might show up to take a picture of me in front of the border wall, but nobody appeared, so I took a few pictures of my bike and headed back to my hotel for the next few days, in downtown San Diego.
On the way back, I met Leroy and Hank in National City, and we had fun chatting after Hank helpfully pointed out where the bike trail switched to the other side of the road.
I am happy I finished this route, and I have no regrets, but I am also sad it is over. I love how bike touring becomes routine, and life is so simple.
