Anticipating a short day of about 20 miles by bike, we aimed for a mellow start to our last morning at Big Caliente hot springs. The main pool had mysteriously cooled to slightly warmer than bathtub temperatures overnight, so after a chilly breakfast and hot beverages we set off to explore the creekside pools. A short hike through the former parking area led to the trail to the debris dam; we followed a use trail across the creek. Volunteers have funneled the hot seep through a PVC pipe down the steep hill and created lovely round pools inlaid with shells and river-worn rocks.
After a soothing soak we packed up the remainder of our gear and set off. The first eight miles were familiar, since we had ridden them twice the day before. We paused at the pass for fifteen minutes of sun-drenched yoga before enjoying the descent. The slog through thistles was not as challenging as we feared and soon we were out of the worst of the road conditions at Indian Creek trailhead.
Not knowing the state of Camuesa Creek, which we would follow for the next nine miles, we filled water bottles at a river crossing and turned upstream. Our route meandered near an occasional trickle of water, algae-laden pools and dry creek bed. The canyon walls narrowed and the road disintegrated, eventually disappearing beneath thistles and jumbles of crumpled concrete. Riding was impossible and we resigned ourselves to a slog through the debris. I’m not sure who thought to build a road inches away from a flowing creek in a slot canyon, but it probably collapsed within months of completion. A culvert loomed five feet overhead, and the remnants of a bridge pushed skyward. We dragged, pushed, and pulled our heavy load, cursing our way through the thick tangle of cement, shrubbery and spiky plants.
But then the canyon walls dropped, we regained a wide dirt surface, hopped back in the saddle and started pedaling, all troubles left behind in the snarl. We enjoyed about ten minutes of trouble free cruising before the next major obstacle: another locked gate. We had passed almost a dozen and perfected our technique for passing them, but this one was too low to pass our tandem beneath, even tipped on its side. A full fledged yard sale ensued, followed by the desperate maneuver of passing the ten-foot-long, 50-pound steel tandem over the gate. Leonie held it steady, perched atop the gate, while Sean crawled underneath to complete the passage. Touring with a tandem requires cooperation and communication, not just while riding!
Fortunately the road smoothed out beyond this ridiculous assortment of complications. We climbed steadily, the road a thin cut hugging steep hills, offering sweeping views and a moderate grade. After a thousand feet or so of climbing, we arrived at a saddle perched 3000 feet above sea level. A short spur road led to Hidden Portrero camp, where picnic tables and a grassy expanse of flat ground beckoned. We were prepared for the lack of water, but surprised by the sweeping view of the Pacific Ocean from the saddle — after being immersed in chaparral and oak woodlands for five days we had forgotten our proximity to the sea.
The day’s toil was short, only six hours, but intense, so after setting up the tent and eating an early dinner we relaxed at the saddle, enjoying a spectacular central coast sunset before retiring to our tent for our final wind-blown night in Los Padres National Forest.