by Liz

Day’s mileage : 51

Running total : 1,762

The Big Sur coastline is a hard act to follow, and as we left it behind this morning, today’s ride felt slightly insubstantial. We cycled 51 miles and saw some wonderful wildlife. I tried to savour every mile but suddenly we had 45 miles behind us and I was still waiting for something – the day to begin properly, the sun to come out, or I’m not sure what, to be honest.

Before we left Ragged Point we were treated to three hummingbird sightings, a Californian quail squawking on the fence outside our room, a newly emerged ceanothus silk moth by our front door, nesting swallows darting all around, and several pelican line-ups heading up the coast to fish.

Clue: the hummingbird, with its red throat and crest, is in the centre of the image.

In the first ten miles we saw a small herd of elk, four deer, a bald eagle on a rock, and for the first time, elephant seals. We heard their strange, echoey, drain-like noises first, then spotted two males sparring for dominance. Shortly after that first sighting we found they were all along the beaches for several miles, hundreds of them. Only the males have the big noses.

The star of the day was our best yet sighting of a whale, just north of Moonstone Beach. A humpback was spouting and repeatedly slapping its huge fin on the water, black on one side, white on the other. It continued its activity for several minutes and we were willing it to breach but no such luck. But even the fin was a treat.

Clue: the whale’s fin is on the right side of the (not very good) image halfway between the seaweed and the horizon. 

It was overcast today and the tops of the hills were hidden in mist. I was back in my down jacket. We stopped briefly in San Simeon, a tiny place with a curiously large pier and a grove of eucalyptus trees where the Western Monarchs overwinter each year. We passed through Harmony, population 18, which I remember well from my ride in 1987 – I’ve never forgotten the memorable name and setting, nestled in the yellow and russet hills on this beautiful coast.

This evening we’re staying in a quirky converted garage in the Los Osos Valley, which I thought meant the valley of bones, but it turns out it actually means bears. Less macabre but we’ll keep our eyes open if we go out later.