The first week is over... and thank Christ for that! It's been a real roller coaster in so many ways from the weather to the route and even in emotional terms. Our bodies have been through a lot and not even the daily cups of tea and endless hours of sleep seem to be enough to fully recover.

Setting off at 5:30 in the morning on 9th March from sleepy Caudete, Spain, little did we know we were about to get the jump on Trump and sneak quietly under the Corona virus radar into the United States of America, just before the world seemingly started to shutdown. We high speed trained it to Madrid where, scooting around the metro system while tying up lose ends from our lives there, the constant contact with the rush hour "infected" seemed so everyday that it took some while for the realisation of our imminent departure to dawn, delayed even further by passing by my office to pick up our carefully packed bikes and say goodbye to my lovely colleagues. Although these city moments would also plague our thoughts further down the line...

After the uneventful flight to LAX, left only with stains from the 'bocadillos' dripping with oil that Ruth's parents had made us in the absence of free flight meals and impressed at the ease with which international flight can be made with a bike in tow, we assembled our faithful steeds in the airport lobby. Then jumped in at the deep end and entered night time Los Angeles for an hour long cycle to Rich's house; our first Warm Showers host.

We thought California was all sunshine and smiles but from our first few days it was clear the sun was taking a holiday. Thankfully Rich and Allison kept the other half of the dream alive with smiles and hospitality aplenty, even after a "fender bender" experience... keep in there Allison we hope you're neck's doing OK!!

So instead of heading off out of LA as we had planned we took up Rich's kind offer of an extra night to see out the rain, although in our eagerness to get going we ended up cycling around in the drizzle all day anyway! Taking in some views from the Getty Center, mounted high up on a hill top, and strolling down Venice beach. A poodle down the walk of fame the next day would be our last tourist experience of LA as we took a short train out to the edge this city of endless bungalows to begin the tour for real. A big thank you to Rich and Allison for the company and advice!

Our target for this first afternoon cycling was a McDonalds most of the way up the hills surrounding LA. From our perspective as two unfit soles the word "hill" can translate roughly to "sod off mountain" and arriving in time for nightfall would only have been possible with the help of teleportation. We're waiting on that, but in its absence and to keep true to the term cycle tour we started looking for a spot to wild camp just before nightfall in the national forest we were heading through. So after walking up a dirt track for a while, all a bit conscious about the randomly parked cars dotted around, and the mental stability of their ocupantes, we spotted an ideal looking spot up ahead, getting closer I commented on what appeared to be a road works sign nearby. Maybe this dirt track was more well looked after than we thought? Not as such. It turns out it was the first of many makeshift shooting targets that were dotted around the hillsides! Well that didn't settle our nerves and the situation was making us more than a little nervous and stressed. So back tracking a little away from the hillside shooting ranges we put up our little tent and tried to settle in for a good rest, praying not to become the latest target peppered with bullet holes!

As we're still here to tell the tale it's clear everything turned out fine! So we awoke desperately early the next day, probably due to the lingering fear, and set off up the old route 66 to McDonalds and beyond, joining the "rim of the world scenic byway". I can tell you that writing that sentence makes it seem easy but ask Ruth if she thinks it was and you'll get a different answer! Difficulties were exasperated just near the top where the heavens opened! A storm we hadn't expected or prepared for drenched us to the core, even Ruth smugly hiding under her new cycling rain poncho got a fair soaking and I felt like I'd just took a very wrong turn in an aquarium. This some what quickened our pace, to get to a campsite, dry off and pump some muscles to keep us warm! Finally we struck gold at a campsite with warm showers and a covered picnic area to hide under!

After the set backs of the day before we decided to take it easy and cycle the short distance to Victorville and stay with our next warm showers host Anita and her dog Archibold, where we could dry off and share some company. Anita was fantastic, kind and helpful, although we were left wondering how she gets anything done between the countless stories she had to tell! This matched well with the countless houses that made up the town and the countless pies that Anita had fingers in! We were so grateful for the hospitality, so grateful in fact that Ruth broke down crying with happiness on her accepting our invitation, and rejuvenated for the next day's travel; all stocked up with chocolate and beer (Thanks Anita and Archie!)

So there it was, we headed out on day 4 of cycling, heeding the words from Anita that the road we were to take was a dirt track that the recent rains could have messed up. But with the wind on our backs we crossed the Mojave desert with relative ease, zigzagging down dirt tracks and avoiding the many dirt bikes and buggies that were out and about that weekend until we nearly got to the campsite... The day was ending and with knackered bodies from cycling and pushing bikes over the sandy roads that crossed cactus strewn landscapes we came upon the "wall of death"...

This is what I have just named the road up which our map was taking us, the issue being the near vertical 200m face and what appeared to be a recent landslide, bad times confirmed by some equally baffled looking guys who we saw drive up to it in their car (god knows why they felt the need to drive right up to it, you could sense the embarrassment on their face for being spotted) who let us know that even walking up it would be foolhardy.

So with a sad face we plotted the 15km route around the mountain to our campsite for the night and set off down the endless dirt roads, past many a cactus and many a puppy dog (we were attacked by about 50 little dogs that were being bred in a dodgy looking house in the middle of nowhere, Ruth likening it to a murder house...). Once night had set upon us, one small consolation was the many constellations! Wow the stars are a sight to behold out in the desert! This kept up our spirits to the long awaited campsite where after a few grumpy, tired moments our bodies could do nothing but call it a night.

And here we remain in Sawtooth Canyon Campground, with its infernal winds, cold nights and rock climbing. 3 nights of well needed rest and recuperation!