All I needed was when to go, and since it was the last week in June when I got back from the trip with Eric, I decided to leave early the next Monday, July 1.  I got up early, before daylight, and before anyone else was up, and put my stuff on the bike after gobbling down a good quick breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice.  I was out the door and heading south as the sun began to peek over the horizon.  The first mile and a half were on paved roads, weaving southeast through the housing tract known as Western village, then south up Holt Avenue, which then became the dirt road paralleling the highway. The next 4 miles was unpaved dirt and sand.  It was all familiar territory for me from all my rock hunting and lizard hunting and exploring by bike.  Then I took the paved Mojave-Tropico road which curved west around Mount Soledad and turned south, wiggling downhill through some hills where I liked to go hunt petrified wood and other rocks.  It would have been somewhat shorter to take the flatter paved highway but I preferred to avoid the traffic, which included a lot of large double trailer semi trucks.  The trade off was good.  Not a vehicle passed me in either direction.The road flattened out as it connected with the southbound dead straight 60th St West for about 25 miles where it started rising over the coast range a few miles past Quartz Hill.  There it became the long, steep grade up Godde Hill Road.  By then, it was heating up a bit, but I cranked on, and on, passing some kids pushing their unloaded 10 speed bikes up the grade.  The road steepened and became winding as I carried on.  Near the summit, I got really hungry, so I stopped and made a couple cheese sandwiches.  I used my pocket knife to open and slice the cheese, which by then was swimming in oil since the day had become so warm in the intense sun.  The sandwiches tasted good though, and after consuming half a loaf of bread half of the cheese and an apple, I was good to go.  I drank a lot of my water too.  The elevation had increased enough that it was not as hot as earlier.  I probably should have refilled my canteen when I passed the only gas station on that road.Over the ridge, the road ended in a T with Elizabeth Lake road where I turned west for about half a mile, and there I headed left onto the twisty Bouquet Canyon Road.  Miles and miles of orange groves with a 6 foot chain link fence topped with 3 strand barbed wire lining the road.  Traffic was frequent as cars passed in either direction every minute or so.  It became quite a bit warmer as I dropped lower in elevation and I was sweating enough to form a little salt crust on my temples.  Traffic had increased a bit more and I really had to use the bathroom, but the fences left no place private enough to do my business privately.  Finally, after several miles, there was a big concrete drain pipe under the road with some thick undergrowth growing around it.  I leaned the bike against the metal guard rail.  I quickly climbed over and down so I could get relief.  The last hour was misery!

I had run completely out of water for quite a while and was really thirsty when I saw an orange sales stand, and rolled in.  I asked how much for one and the guy, almost angrily said, “Just take one.” handing a big one to me.  It was one of the most juicy, sweet oranges I ever had in my entire life!  I thanked him and rode off, wishing I had gotten a few more.  Somewhere around Castic Junction, the road became highway 126.  I wasted a few miles trying to find a way past the freeway that crossed my path.  Signs were confusing, but eventually I found a way.With all the orange groves, there was no place to refill my clorox bottle canteen and I was starting to get little twitchy almost-cramps in my thighs.  It was a good thing the road was downhill.  I saw a sign that pointed to the right for the town of Piru, and turned, grinding slowly, slowly up the hill to the local park, where I drank my fill of water and refilled my canteen.  I was really thankful for a nice grassy, peaceful park with shade to take a break. 

I laid down in the under a pepper tree and suddenly a whole swarm of local kids about my age surrounded me asking questions faster than I could answer.  All of them were Hispanic, very friendly and wanted to know where I was from, and how many days it had taken to get there from Mojave, and on and on.  I felt like some sort of celebrity!  After answering questions, learning names and resting a bit, I rode over to the corner store and bought a can of kidney beans and a quart of milk for my supper.  After I ate, with a bunch of onlookers I then decided to hike and look for lizards.  With the gang coming along, I took my lizard noose and caught some western fence lizards that like to perch on top of exposed rocks, much to the amazement of the locals.  They had tried to catch them by hand, but rarely got one because they were so fast.We all went back to the park again.  There was a lovely sunset and as darkness crept inevitably over us, my new friends all had to go home.  I rolled out my sleeping bag under a pepper tree, crawled in and promptly fell asleep.