Day+19+Journal

=Colin's Journal= 19 January 2006 27miles Mugu Point State Beach--> Emma Wood State Park 9 miles run, 18 biked

Slept in again this morning. We are definitely getting lazy. I was the last one up, I waited until the sun made my tent too warm to stay in before getting up, around 9am. We ran out of fuel for our camp stove last night, but luckily we had bought a bundle of wood yesterday. We built a fire, and used most of the rest of our water on batter while Grant made us some delicious honey-wheat pancakes over the open flames.

We got back on the PCH and started riding north, with a plan to stop in Oxnard for supplies. Unfortunately, Rt. 1 turns into a freeway about three miles after our campground at Thornhill-Broome, so it got busy, but we saw no signs prohibiting bikes. Soon after I increased my tempo to catch Rogo ahead though, I was looking at some fields to my right (we were going near Driscoll Berry property, which produces most of the berries out east) and I heard a loud buzzing. I figured it was maybe a way to keep birds away from the fields. The noise came again though, and I looked back to see if it was a weird truck sound. It turns out it was a highway patrolman, pulling me over.

He announces over the bullhorn that we cannot ride on the freeway, then gets out of the car and tells us the same thing. After being sure there were no more riders in front of us, he tells us he already directed our runners onto the frontage road, and says we have to get off at the next exit, about a half mile ahead, and meet Grant and Corey there. He then follows us, making sure we get off.

Grant and Corey find us soon, and we figure out a new route without using the freeway. We are soon back on track, and stop at a grocery store for bagels for tomorrow and to fill our water cannisters. We have a lunch of pb and j or honey on tortillas. The grocery store was wierd and refreshing in being in an agricultural area dominated by hispanics, but the two songs I heard on the radio were "You Can't always get What You Want" (full version) and "Touch of Grey". Nice to hear music again.

Stephen and I started running a little later. He set a brisk pace at the start, but I was feeling good and tried to hold him to it. It felt like I hope a marathon feels like: brisk but comfortable. Stephen cuts off a car at one point, causing the Australian driver to honk, and then hold up traffic while admonishing him. We soon found a bike path near the water, which took us right to our campsite.

Once again we may be stiffing the National Park Service, as most of the signs said it would be $8 to stay, but in smaller print it said $5 **per person** for thru-bikers. Needless to say, we left only the $8 and set up camp. Here we are on grass, nestled between the freeway and a railroad, with the beach out of sight on the other side of the tracks.

There is only one bathroom open, and outdoor showers, which I used right when we got in. It was like torture to have to hold down a button with one hand so you could spray yourself with cold water and wash with the other hand. We are joined at the site by an old man with a guitar and a nice tent, set up as far away from us as possible. We are making another fire to try to cook minestrone soup for dinner, since we still have no fuel.

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