To Live And Bike In L.A.
by Steve Butterman
West Coast bike tours often pass through charming little places like Otter Rock and Dunes City in Oregon, Half Moon Bay and Pebble Beach California. They may also pass through a place like nowhere else, Los Angeles.
I enjoyed my tour down the scenic Coast Highway (Rt. 1); but as I pedaled through the redwood forests, the back of my mind churned with worry about the massive metropolis ahead. It seemed almost impossible for a bicycle tourist to find his way through L.A. and back out again.
On this particular tour, I would also pass through the cities of San Francisco and San Diego; but San Francisco deserves its reputation for being fairly biker-friendly, and I knew my way around San Diego. But L.A.-I was only aware of its widely-known problems: smog, random violence, heavy traffic. How would I get through it?
I had rashly decided to undertake this tour sans maps, in a carefree, adventuresome, spontaneous style… I mentally added “irrational” as I approached the city.
Entering Malibu on the city’s northwest edge as evening crept toward night, I decided to remain north of L.A. proper until much of the city dozed off, and then sneak through its western edge through the night. I found a coffee shop somewhere between Malibu and Santa Monica and prepared for the night-long ride with a couple of eye-opening cappuccinos. Like in many small-town cafes, some locals there noticed my loaded touring bike outside and inquired about my journey. I praised the rugged coast, the barking seals on wave-beaten boulders, the blackberries of Oregon and Northern California. I expressed my apprehensions about riding through Los Angeles.
Then they told me about a bike path that runs the length of L.A.’s beaches. They pointed out the way there. And within an hour I was relaxing at Santa Monica’s festive, colorful pier.
After darkness blanketed the beaches, I pedaled off down what would prove to be my own private L.A. highway. A paved, well maintained, two-lane cycling path ran right along the wide beaches through the whole city: Santa Monica, Venice, Dockwater, Manhattan, Hermosa, and Redondo.
Early in the night, I passed a few people: jubilant partiers and weary vagrants on Venice Beach, and spray-paint-wielding young graffiti artists near Marina Del Ray. Then I was alone, gliding silently down the smooth path. A gargantuan but now unthreatening city…seemingly clean and sparkling…lay to my left. There were frothy, rhythmic waves to my right, and an unexpected tranquility everywhere ahead.
So, of course, I had to prolong this gorgeous night. Near Manhattan Beach, I heard live music from a small beachside club, so I stopped in for some juice and chit-chatted with party-animal locals. (“You rode from where? Way to go, dude!”) Then, further down the beach, I sat on a cement wall, enjoyed the soothing surf, and ate a tasty chicken salad sandwich-given me by a picnicker at Leo Cabrillo State Beach earlier in the day.
According to the L.A. Times, an estimated 300,000 people had visited the beaches that afternoon. And no doubt another 300,000 were coming tomorrow. But there was only me tonight. Like a merry cat-burglar, I had bagged the city’s visual splendor without paying the standard price of frayed nerves. I pedaled off, suddenly sorry that L.A. was not larger, this splendid night ride not longer.
At dawn, I left behind one of the most pleasing stretches of riding I would experience in the entire l,000-mile trip-a stretch that I’d dreaded beforehand.
All of which illustrates a point about both bike touring and living in general: you shouldn’t let apprehensions of unknowns ahead detract from your appreciation of the present; after all, those mysterious unknowns can give you unexpected delights.
[…Or run you down like a deranged steamroller. Steve’s ride turned out great, but L.A. can be a very rough town. As an ex-resident, I’m not sure I’d recommend riding through the city at night, even on the Beachway. – Jeff.]
