Day 6: Lompoc to Ventura

Today was a first for ALC: the first rain-out in its 16-year history.


Rain came early to Lompoc. About 1 a.m., I bolted awake to water droplets on my face and the stiff pelting sound of raindrops on the tent (we forgot to put up the rainfly). At 3:45 a.m., I awoke with cold, wet feet—inside my sleeping bag—but the rain had stopped. At 4:05 a.m., I realized my legs were getting wet up to the knees…and it was raining again.



I was coherent enough to conclude that it’d be better to get wet standing the in breakfast line, than to get wet lying in my tent. Actually the breakfast line was mercifully short. Consequently I was, for the only time this week, ready to ride out with the first group at 6:30 a.m. We were some hearty souls, ready to brave the driving rain for a 15-mile uphill climb on Highway 1.

Riding in the rain isn’t awful. It is more dangerous, but the human senses are most perceptive of change and exception. Once you’re thoroughly soaked (and that doesn’t take long at 15 mph) it stops being new and you just deal with it.

Unfortunately the conditions also made driving very sketchy. Just past Rest Stop 1, there was a very serious car accident. It happened before any riders were present. I was among the first few riders into the rest stop. We were refueling and hydrating quickly, trying to retain as much body heat in the rain and light breeze. Some riders went to leave but were held back; for safety the CHP had closed the route. That’s when the survival blankets came out.

With some 900 riders out of camp, and the course limited to only 15 miles, the ALC staff cancelled the rest of the day’s ride. This was absolutely the right call. The steep descent to Highway 101 would have been very treacherous. Given the number of riders, even those of us who know what we’re doing, a fall was inevitable and only pure chance would keep that down rider out of traffic. So instead, I spent about an hour huddled under a canopy, wrapped tightly in a mylar blanket, avoiding hypothermia. It wasn’t easy.

The rain did let up and the clouds parted. Our direction was to ride back to camp and await buses to Ventura. Going back was very nice (since the scenery was obscured by precipitation on the way up), and generating body heat wasn’t a problem.

So for several hours we killed time in increasingly creative ways. The weather held in Lompoc, but looked threatening.

In Ventura, it was gorgeous. Everybody immediately set up and starting drying out.

Some of the gear was a little worse for the wear.

And the equipment, too. But for the final day’s ride into L.A., everything looks good!

Day 5: Santa Maria to Lompoc

Day Five is called “Dress in Red Day,” because red is the color of HIV/AIDS awareness. With this crowd, however, that designation is transmuted to “Red Dress Day.” And boy is it ever. Red cheerleader dresses, red wedding dresses, red firemen outfits, red grandmothers, red divas. On and on and on, and every single one of them on a bicycle.

This year’s route was new; normally the trip from Santa Maria to Lompoc is a quick, direct 45-mile route. This year Vandenburg Air Force base could not (would not, depending on who you hear tell the story) grant the encroachment permit for the ride.
Instead, we did a 68-mile backwards “C” route, breaking for lunch in Solvang. That town really did not know what to make of red dress day. Let’s get to the photos, and you’ll see what I mean.

ALC takes up the left turn lane as we depart Santa Maria.

I rode with these lady bugs for a while to get my legs warmed up.

The Tour of California this ain't, honey. See you next year, Solvang!

The poppies were out at Sanford Winery outside Lompoc, where we had a quick water stop


By now you’re probably wondering what I wore for Red Dress Day. Email me.