Intro in Long Beach

Kinda funny that I consider Catalina Island such a nice camping destination in spite of (on paper at least) having several strikes against it: practically 0% tree cover during the ride, not a flat path to speak of just all-you-can-eat steep ups and steep downs, and not even a whiff of any fun single track diversions. The trade-off is the gorgeous views of the oceans and scraggly peaks, as close to no car traffic as you can find this close to Los Angeles, and unbeatable camp sites (with firewood delivery!!). This is the second time around for Paco and I, and we dragged along Steve for his first-ever bike camping.

Steve and I started the trip in Long Beach, meeting at the motel around 3 or 4 in the afternoon after I'd come up from Anaheim after a trade show. A trade show at which I chose to eat lunch of raw tuna pate - which enters the story again in the wee morning hours before the ferry ride. Anyway, as one does, we hit up several of the brewery/tap rooms in downtown LB. Everything we had was pretty good but I gotta give a special shout-out to ISM for their triple IPA which unfortunately goes down like a smooth regular IPA. In fact, I shouldn't be held to this believe in the sober light of writing this report, but at the time I told the bartender it was as good as Pliny the Younger in that respect.

Uncomffy guts

As we are older and more responsible, however, we did not let a handful of beers snowball into a bakers dozen. We actually got back to the room at a decent hour so we could watch a couple eps of Family Feud reruns before bed and still get a full nights sleep before the first day's ride -- which none of us were in excellent shape for. To my great delight, my insomnia kicked in a little before 1am which tortured me until about 5am when the tuna tar tar climbed its way back out the way it went in. By the time Paco called around 7, I had already spent several hours thinking about how I was absolutely, positively not going to make it through the day -- and planning how to throw in the towel on the whole weekend. But gotta give credit where credit's due, and the breakfast burrito at San Pedro port gets VIP status for bringing me slowly back to life.

Day 1

The boat ride was thankfully chilly, damp, and windy which fit my mood to a T. As we got close, we could see the island peeking through the mist while the sun did its part of burning away the clouds (and perhaps burning away some of my misery?). We de-boated, hit up the Conservancy Center for our camping permits, and got started on the long climb out of Avalon.

For me that climb seemed infinitely less gruelling than the first time I'd done it. Which is funny because not only was I probably in worse physical shape, mildly hungover, a little food poisoned, and had almost no sleep -- which I think it speaks to the psychological power of having lived through a trauma once, then the next time it isn't nearly as bad. It only got rough about 75% of the way to the top when some lingering low-hanging clouds kept the fire roads more mud than dirt. The orange-brown clay would stick in several-inch-thick-layers on the tires; grinding the rocks and dirt into chainstays and forks, and added a good amount of extra weight from the unwelcome stowaway mud. Several stops to de-mud, and a couple plodding hours later, we got onto the ridge line and made it all the way to the Hermit Gulch Lookout before stopping for lunch.

I'll note here once, and then be done with it, that I was unspeakably unhappy with Steve for choosing to eat his own dehydrated food instead of suffering alongside Paco and I carrying much less efficiently-cooked foodstuffs for the entire trip. I almost uninvited him when he refused to join in on any of the meals. For that first day lunch, Steve ate some bullshit rehydrated stuff or whatever; Paco and I had some Jambalaya with a little chorizo meat stolen from our planned second night's dinner.

With the toughest part of the first day's ride behind us, it was a pretty smooth ride from Hermit Gulch all the way to the Airport In the Sky, and down the long slope to Little Harbor. This time, we were treated to actual sunshine for the descent into Little Harbor which then gifted the gorgeous view looking down into the harbor from the trail. In fact we got in, set up camp, refilled water, and started preparing dinner all before the sun went down behind the Pacific. For dinner, we once again had our traditional thaw-while-we-ride steaks and some rice-a-roni for sides. Steve had some dry powder crap idk.

Camp at Little Harbor

We had 2 full bundles of firewood delivered and sat around the fire listening to Paco's random and varied stories until the last of the logs had begun turning to embers. We started to prepare for bed before the last of the heat was gone and it was only then that I noticed my sleeping pad had gone flat. It was far too late and I was far too tired for my ineffective leak-searching to yield anything useful. I refilled the air, laid down, and hoped for the best. I did not get the best - and after the previous night of no sleep and the gruelling exercise of the day, I was rewarded with sleeping on the cold hard ground. Exquisite.

Day 2

The next morning began with our classic pancake breakfast (which Steve did NOT participate in) and the easy ride from LH to Two Harbors where we planned to eat lunch. Unfortunately, the only buffalo we saw on this trip were one-ridge-over and all we could see of them was their distant silhouettes against the sky. We crossed the one hill that separates these two harbors with relatively little complaining (but we do really love complaining) but having worked up enough sweat to make the pizza and beer in TH feel well-deserved.

After lunch and (several) beers, we packed up some roadies and made off along the relatively flat and relatively easy ride from TH to Parson's Landing. We passed several of the coves that we had decided previously were almost certainly neo-nazi training grounds (why? I cannot imagine) before hitting the very last hill separating the flat path from our campsite in Parson's Landing. As we rolled up to the lockers at the 'parking lot' at PL, I got the sinking feeling in my stomach that I had not in any fashion seen news on which lockers our water and firewood was in and moreover what code might be on the padlock holding said items. Fortunately, Paco found a couple that not only knew what to do but also had some mobile signal. Turns out there's some fine print in your reservation that says to check in at Two Harbors and get the locker+code info before making your way to the campsite. I admitted my ignorance to the fine lady on the phone in TH, got the info, got the water, and avoided what would have been a very unenjoyable ride back the 7ish miles.

Camp at Parson's Landing

Anyway, the campsite itself was fantastic. I stayed up to 12:01 AM on New Years Day to log in and make sure I got site PL1 which sits off from all the others in a kind of personalized cove. Once you get in there, a rock cliff separates you from any other camper and lets you pretend you have the entire beach to yourself. We (Paco) cooked his classic chorizo y spaghetti dinner, enjoyed 2 more bundles of firewood, found 3 more holes in my sleeping pad that I patched with Steve's repair kit, and got a wonderful night's sleep with the view of LA's lights off in the distance.

Day 3

If I'm going to find anything at all to whine about for the ride on Catalina Island, it's that the beautiful campsites are all on the water. Which means every morning has to start with steep rides up from the water onto whichever ridge you're riding for that day. When you're still digesting your morning's pancakes, and your legs are a little cold and stiff from the day before, you're given no time to prepare and are thrown straight into climbing mode. I noticed that last morning, all 3 of us seemed a little more willing to get off and push on sections that may not have seemed as steep the days before.

Boat back to LA

All in all, it was another fantastic weekend on the island. We even got treated, at last, to a sighting of an island fox, sunbathing alongside the road. We got back to port in time to clean up at a hotel and make it to Damien's for the Super Bowl. And I think I can say with confidence that Steve now has the bug and this won't be his last time making it into the bike camping report.