Segment# 61 Seal Bch-Balboa-CoronaDelMar-CrystalCoveStatePK via Bch Trls/PCH 5_5_15

Start	Seal Bch, CA	N 33.74661  W 118.11269	S-N mi 13.3
End	Crystal Cove State Park	N 33.59589  W 117.88179	TrlLgth 23.6 mi Ride 31.3 mi

Ride hr   4:10   AVS 7.4 mph    MXS 28.5 mph  DST  31.3  mi  WSW 8 mph  TMP 61-63     KCal 1519

Although I did not ride from Long Beach to Crystal Cove in one ride, logistically it made more sense to jump on the Seal Beach Trail at the Huntington Beach Pier and ride to Crystal Cove through Balboa and Corona Del Mar. After Chris flew in from Iowa, the three of us I rode from Geoff's Long Beach home to Huntington Beach Pier.   

I planned segment # 61 as one long trip from Seal Beach to Crystal Cove State Park. However, I decided it would be nice for the three Maze's to ride together on an open day (Friday).  So I modified my plans and bypassed the Seal Beach to Huntington Beach.Trail segments (~11 miles) and. hauled my bike to Huntington Beach Pier.  From there I pedalled my Trek Fuel 7 southward to Newport Beach, Balboa Island, Corona Del Mar and finally Crystal Cove. Most all the trails I rode along California coastline were shrouded with a marine layer until noon or later, then like clockwork, the sun would poke out its head out and the temperature would jump upward ten or more degrees.

I am riding the Crystal Cove Trail next to Pacific Coast High-
way. When the bike trail ended about three miles from here,
I rode the bike shoulder on PCH. Not a safe way to go.

Most morning rides the temperatures were in the mid to lower sixties. With the wind blowing across the water, the "feels like temperature" felt like it was colder than Iowa in the month of May. This meant there weren't many bicycle, running, skate board or other trail activities on this trail.or for that matter, any trails I rode approximating the ocean. It is a different story when it warms up in the eighties, especially on the weekends when many trails are overpopulated. I am glad I avoided most of the trail congestion by riding in the morning and as little as possible on the weekend.

I had to download this picture off the internet because my

camera won't let me download the neat video I took. There

is something about crashing waves and cameras with me.

The most picturesque of the California beach trails I rode was the ocean, beach and cliffs at Crystal Cove State Park. I tried to insert a video here that I took of the cliffs and beach, but there was a problem downloading. While I watched the waves crash into the cliffs. I brought back memories of the beauty of the Azores Portugal where I was stationed in the US Air Force 1971. I was really into photography along with a couple other guys from the Hospital Squadron. We would go on picture shoots of flowers, cobble stone roads, white adobe homes, ocean ways and so on. One shot I got was of a man dressed in his Sunday best walking his pig in the village streets. This hog was a lot more manageable then the ones we had on the farm. The gentleman had one back foot tied with a rope and used a long stick to poke the porcine back on track or to stop it from rooting up someones garden. The picture I took with him and his pig was a favorite of mine. Years later when I displayed it in my photography class at UCLA, all I could get out of the instructor was, "interesting snapshot".  Once and only once I took Chris on a photoshoot along the shore where the waves crashed with dramatic force into the huge black volcanic rocks. Chris was trying to catch crabs scooting amongst while I was firing the camera at every wave that looked interesting. The waves had lost their steam about fifty yards ahead so I had no real concern about Chris or me getting wet. However, a rouge wave decided to roll in just when we were ready to leave. Boom! I got blasted and lost my balance and fell between the rocks. Chris fell deeper into the rocks than I did. I scrambled to assure he was alright, He thought it was fun to get ballasted but I was scared out my wits. Once I realized we were not hurt---just wet, I realized my camera was gone. It was ripped out of my hand along with the strap around my neck. I know I took some incredible pictures that day. But not unlike the fish that got away story, the damaged camera and wet film left me without an image of the coolest waves and rocks that I will ever see.

It was quite a trip down to Crystal Cove from Huntington Beach,  especially when I consider how lucky I am to still have  my Galaxy Note 3 ("Smarty Pants"),  Nature called when I was riding pass West Newport Park. How fortunate to find a porta potty by the handball courts. It looked like the gentleman handball league was having a tournament. The courts packed and numerous fellows hanging around. I shot into the potty and unfortunately shot out faster than I should have, I left Smarty Pants in the potty and didn't realize I had done so until I got to Harbor Island nearly three miles south of the park. Given it took me twenty minutes or more to realize my mistake and another fifteen to twenty minutes to get back to the park, I imaged that I was now smart phoneless. But I was handed a Salt Lake City airport experience and luckily found my phone right where I laid it. I guess the handballers didn't have need for a smart phone or they figured it belonged to one of the guys playing. Whatever, I got the phone back. To me it was a miracle comparable the time I left my wallet in the restroom at Salt City International Airport, only to get it mailed back to me in Iowa with all four hundred dollars intact. I attribute that miracle to descendants of  Joseph Smith (LDS). I confirmed the Mormon connection when I phoned the airport employee in Salt Lake. I have a soft spot for Mormons but not enough to convert. If I did, my dad would roll over in his grave a few more times.

Back to TAVrTO. The reason I remembered Smarty Pants as soon as I did was I had asked a local gentleman for directions to the ferry. As he was explaining directions directions he stepped backwards into the street, on line to get clipped by a speeding car running a red light. He grabbed the handlebars of my bike and pulled just enough to avoid serious injury. He was forever grateful that I was there and I had control of bike---"you saved my life,"he yelled. He wanted to have a picture of us. He didn't have a camera so I said I would take a "selfie". That's when I realized my blunder.

The Balboa Island Ferry is pulling into its landing site on
Harbor Island. Two cars (red & white) are visible on the
ferry. The ramp in the middle of the picture is where other
riders and I wheeled  our bicycles on and off the ferry. The
ferry ride was was a short yet enjoyable trip. 

After I rode back and got Smarty Pants, I rode around looking for the "lucky-one" to take a picture of two "lucky-ones." I couldn't find the Lucky One so I headed to the ferry to cross from Harbor Island to Balboa Island. The young man helping old folks like me board the ferry was especially kind so I passed forward my gratitude for him and Lucky One with a five dollar tip. Everyone was happy!

After reaching my target latitude and riding back to El Morro Elementary school to meet a taxi to take me back to Hunting Beach. The cab driver was a interesting fellow that seemed interested in my cross country trip. He wasn't a fan of Uber so I heard a litany of Uber comments; mostly "down in the mouth"  ones.