Saturday, May 3, 2025, 5:00 a.m. — it was dark, overcast, and cool in San Luis Obispo. No stars, just clouds and anticipation. The temperature was about 57 degrees as I rolled out on what would become a ride I’ll never forget — my first 600k brevet, my first point-to-point route, the final ride in my first Super Randonneur series, and the first time I’ve ever taken my bike on a train.
It’s funny — they say you always remember your first time, and that turned out to be true in every sense. I felt more anxious before this ride than I had for any brevet before it. A lot of logistical moving parts were swirling in my head: What should I pack? Would I be able to finish? How do I get my bike on the train without damaging it? In the end, I took a minimalist approach. No street clothes, no pajamas — just my kit, my bike, and the basics. Everything fit into my 7-liter Restrap saddle bag, with a tiny drop bag (hydration mix, some extra food, a toothbrush, and travel toothpaste). The organizer said she’d never seen a drop bag so small for an overnight ride. I took that as a compliment.
The route began with a hilly inland loop: Cuesta Grade served up the first long climb of the day — a 3-mile slog at 6–7% that warmed the legs up fast. The scenery through Creston and Paso Robles was classic Central California: rolling green hills and vineyards, soft curves, and endless skies. I tried snapping photos, but the beauty never quite translates through the lens.
After reaching the summit of Highway 46 West, we descended back toward the coast and climbed north along Highway 1. That stretch to the elephant seal viewpoint was brutal — strong, biting headwinds that made me question my life choices. But the stop was worth it: rocky coastline, pale blue water, and elephant seals lounging like kings of the cove. I lingered for photos and a breath of ocean air before turning around and catching a delicious tailwind south.
The weather stayed cool and moody all day — overcast skies with dark clouds that teased rain but never fully delivered. Through Morro Bay and back inland to San Luis Obispo, then south along Highway 101 through Shell Beach and Pismo Beach, the terrain and towns passed in a rhythm. In Nipomo, I treated myself to a Starbucks breakfast sandwich that absolutely hit the spot. Not gourmet, but it felt like a feast.
After passing through Lompoc and returning to the coast again, the wind picked up — this time chaotic and unpredictable. Riding in the dark, buffeted by gusts from all sides, was unnerving. I stopped at a hotel in Goleta for a hot shower and a short nap.
Getting back on the bike after that nap was the hardest part of the ride. Not because I was sore or tired — my legs actually felt fine. But the mental battle between the warmth of the bed and the cold darkness outside? That’s where the grind lived. Still, I wanted to finish. I knew I could finish. And that quiet confidence is what got me up and rolling again. Once I was moving, everything else fell into place.
Sunday morning brought a peaceful sunrise ride along the coast — palm trees, ocean views, and a bit of warmth. Through Ventura and onto Highway 126 toward Fillmore, the ride felt more familiar. That shoulder on 126 is rough — I kept scanning for debris, remembering the time I broke a rim a few years back. In La Crescenta, with just an hour left to ride, it finally started to rain. Cold and misty, with clouds spilling down the hills like fog. I didn’t bother stopping to put on rain gear. I just pedaled through it.
I finished in Pasadena around 3:20 p.m., with a total elapsed time of 34 hours and 20 minutes. My moving time was about 26 hours and 46 minutes. I wasn’t exhausted, but I was definitely running on the fumes of adrenaline and satisfaction. That night, I fell asleep quickly — a rarity for me after a long ride — and slept straight through until morning.
It wasn’t until the next day, looking through my photos and video clips, that the full experience really hit me. There was beauty in every mile, from the vineyards to the seals to the final stretch through Pasadena. It was a monumental ride, not just in distance, but in what it represented.
One unfortunate postscript: my Garmin Edge 1040 Solar crashed multiple times during the ride. Most frustratingly, I had paused the ride and put the device in sleep mode during my hotel stop. Everything appeared fine on the display afterward — metrics were updating as usual — but when I uploaded to Garmin Connect and Strava, the last 130 miles were missing. Apparently, this is a known issue. Lesson learned: never sleep your Garmin mid-ride, and maybe consider a second device as a backup.
This 600k was a major milestone, and also a critical step toward my larger goals: I’m registered for the 508 in Borrego Springs this September (riding solo in the randonneur category), and I’m also planning to race the 24-hour World Time Trial Championships. This ride helped build the confidence and self-reliance I’ll need for those challenges.
They say you always remember your first time. I’ll remember this one — the grind, the scenery, the solitude, and the small tribe of randonneurs whose wheels I shared along the way.
