Day 3: east of San Diego, CA --> San Dieog Airport

Total day miles:  66

Temps:  88/43

I must have been a sad, sad sight walking down the bike path lugging my BOB trailer behind me, sleeping bag under my arm, and old, weathered camel back slung on my opposite shoulder.  Down the bike path towards San Diego Airport in search for a plane ticket back home.

It had been another long day mentally, physically, and environmentally....

The morning had started out alright.  A cool morning in the upper 40's seeing me retracing my bike steps for one last hurrah in trying to find my lost cell phone.  I thought I found it, but it ended up being a piece of styrofoam that looked exactly like the back side of the cell phone.  It was only 515AM, so my headlamp was doing the bulk of the searching.  Traffic minimal.  Success in locating cell phone minimal.  I passed by the San Diego Charger's football stadium for what seemed like the 20th time in less than 12 hours and headed off towards some new territory. 

I was really excited and ready to get rolling on the day despite yesterday's loss.  Perhaps the main reason for this being that when I called up Loretta on payphone she told me she just found out she was accepted into Exeter Graduate school program (Exeter is over in England).  I was soooo happy to hear this news and surprised how fast they were in letting her know.

I carried good spirits from the news up and over the next couple of small mountain pass climbs until I was dropped down into the small town of Santee.  Nothing but desert was around me.  High mountain peaks with the town of Santee nestled withing it's crevaces.  Again, this landscape was exactly that of eastern Oregon. 

Of course the temperature was decreasing from when I started out earlier.  But, I soon found out that that was about to change.  Within the next two hours the temperature nearly doubled and stood in the mid 80's.  Needless to say I looked like the new town fool in my oversized mittens, two pairs of tights, wool socks, and winter coat. After abandoning such images I was off and trying to make my way up what would be the start of a long day of climbing on Old Highway 8.  I was hoping to make it to the flip side of these desert mountain passes by days end and be pitching tent in the small, and first, desert town of Ocotillo.  

I managed to not get lost (there were only two turns I really had to make) and was feeling strong considering the shock my legs were put through the past two days.  I had some music going and felt confident in my ability to make today an all and all more positive day....and not to lose any major piece of equipment.  

That's when things started going down hill despite the obvious observation that I was pedaling uphill.  

My left knee had a shooting pain around outside half of the kneecap whenever I started to push the pedal down.  Seeing I needed at least two knees to pedal a bicycle, especially while going uphill, I slowed down my cadence.  That just made it worse.  So I pulled off to the side of the road (Percent grade of road 7-8%) layed down next to some mailboxes and just looked up at the sky for 30 or 40 minutes.  My mind wasn't sure what to do anymore.  I felt like everything was breaking down.  First my sense of following direction, my gear, and now by body.  I pulled out my camera to at least snag some pictures of the following desert surroundings.  The screen turned on but that was it.  None of the buttons were working on it.  Naturally I cursed about this additional good fortune and took the batteries out hoping the camera would let me start from square one again.  I turned camera on again and this time the display screen showed random "option" screens.  Screen I didn't even know existed.  Options and buttons to press I was flooded with feeling very insecure around my camera. 

Go figure.

After 5 minutes of pressing random buttons I managed to snap a few pictures.

I went back to looking up at the sky.  At least that was something I couldn't mess up, right?

My brain started making lists in my mind as to whether to continue on or to turn back and fly home whenever I could get a plane ticket.  I was only 30 or 40 miles from San Diego and would have plenty of time to make it there if that's the path I would choose.  

I could keep pushing onward, but I felt I wouldn't be enjoying the trip, and what would the point be if such were the case?  Financially speaking, I'd rather spend the money I was going to spend on the trip if I were enjoying myself.  That only seemed to make sense to me.  Furthermore, would my knee(s) get worse if I kept pushing it not just today but for the next 7 weeks of travel.  The long climb had only begun and the road was on its way to getting even steeper and more rugged.  Furthermore, I was lonely.  My first XC bike trip was great b/c I had met up with Stephen when I was only a few days into the trip and rode with him for a couple weeks or so before riding from Boulder, CO to Virginia by myself.  Plus, I was already missing a lot of my other interests.  My fingers were itching to play a stringed instrument...but it's like my fingers were going through withdrawl or something.  Of course every time I listened to David Grisman my fingers grew even more anxious.  

I thought of all the great explorers in the world.  Lewis and Clark came to mind first, naturally.  They sure as hell didn't meet success the first attempt of every endeavor they embarked on.  Maybe it was that I felt insecure labeling myself as a "quitter" so I tried to find, and make, excuses why it was ok for me to bail on this trip that I had spent so much time dreaming about, planning, and obsessing over.  

I took it pretty easy while biking back towards San Diego.  I stopped at Mission Dam State Park to explore the desert landscape and ended up using the shade cast by surrounding dessert shrub as a blanket while I napped in and out of consciousness.  The temperature was nearly 90 degrees and I was in no rush to clamber my way up 7% grade roads.  

I thought about a lot of things and so much more as I backtracked my way across roads I had just ridden across until I reached the San Diego Amtrak station.

Within an hour my bicycle was dissembled along with the rest of my gear.  The clerk said my bike and belonging box would be in Charlottesville, VA in 3 or 4 days.

I then started to make the 2 mile walk to the San Diego Airport.  Of course the sunset was amazing.  I was in San Diego of all places. How could the sunset be of anything less?  Of course I naturally jammed my hand in my backpack for my camera and was only reminded of it's malfunctioning issues while trying to capture the sunset in several frames of digital injustice.  It was a struggle 'til the very end.  

My plane took off at 9pm PCT.  I'm in New York right now.  In another hour I'll be boarding to fly back to Richmond, VA.

Already my miseries feel like a lifetime ago.  Were they even ever real?  I know it's hard for most folks who are reading this to understand, but it was a very hard decision for me to make and to confront myself with.  But, I know that the only thing I can do now is look ahead towards the countless roads I hope to be fortunate to go rummaging down with BOB trailer in tow.  I feel that as long as I learn from this trip then it was as priceless and perhaps just as significant as my first XC bike trip.  

Thanks to all the folks who followed this unexpectedly short lived adventure and as Loretta summed it up nicely, "Michael, sometimes the circumstances, which you can't control, just aren't going to cooperate..."

++My camera won't upload the last round of pictures d/t whatever reason...I'll need to use different camera with my memory card and hopefully get some up soon++