In March of 2023 we took a road trip up the coast to the quaint seaside village of Cambria, California. I had never been to Cambria before, so when Marc suggested it as the jumping-off point for our March Gran Fondo, I was all in. Our monthly Fondo goal – to complete at least one 63+ mile ride (a metric century) – is a promise we make to ourselves to stay challenged, even when it means suffering a little.
Marc put together an incredible route through the Santa Lucia Mountains, the rolling hill and mountain range that runs between Cayucos and Paso Robles. After weeks of relentless rain in California, everything was bursting back to life. Hillsides glowed a vibrant green, and wildflowers erupted in brilliant displays of yellow, purple, and orange. It was breathtaking. But the rain also left its mark in more destructive ways: mudslides, overflowing creeks, and debris scattered across roads. It was a vivid reminder of Mother Nature’s raw power, and we were both equal parts excited and apprehensive about what lay ahead.
We stayed in a quirky, 110-year-old house perched on a hill along Main Street in Cambria. From the outside, it was tall and steep, with stairs leading up to an unassuming door. Inside, the house was decorated with a fresh beachy theme that made it feel cozy and inviting. But because it was so old, the floors rolled, and the walls leaned slightly, giving the whole place a funhouse vibe. Walking around felt a bit like being on a boat. We loved our stay in this historical home.
The best part of our arrival day was when we were relaxing on the couch, and I heard Marc exclaim, “You’re not going to believe what’s walking down the street!” Without missing a beat, I instinctively replied, “A horse!”—a response that was equal parts absurd and perfectly on-brand for me. As a proud horse girl with a rich history of equine adventures, it made sense. My love for horses runs deep, and none hold a more special place in my heart than my unicorn of a horse, Tommy. It was indeed a horse, and a real cowboy. I beckoned them over, and we enjoyed a meeting of love and appreciation together before he trotted out of town.
We had been obsessively watching the weather in the days leading up to our trip. Recent storms had hit Cambria hard, with the Santa Rosa Creek overflowing and taking out Windsor Boulevard for a day. Parts of Highway 41 were closed due to mudslides, forcing us to rework Marc’s carefully planned route at the last minute. I was nervous that our tough 70-mile ride could suddenly turn into an even more soul-crushing 100-mile trek if we hit an unexpected road closure and had to double back. Luckily, our timing was perfect – we arrived just after the last storm had cleared and just before the next one rolled in.
We left Friday morning to give ourselves plenty of time to settle in and explore before our big ride. After checking into the house, we walked the length of Cambria, grabbed lunch at a Mediterranean café, and attended a wine tasting, all before dinner. That evening, we ate at Indigo Moon, a charming little spot just across the street. Sitting on the patio surrounded by other happy diners, we laughed and chatted over delicious food. It was the perfect way to kick off the weekend.
The next morning, it was time for the main event. We set off with a mix of excitement and nerves, unsure of what the day would hold. We headed east on Main Street to start our route. As we pedaled out of Cambria proper, we were immediately in the legendary rolling coastal hills that central California is revered for. We stopped roadside along a fenced-in ranch property that was blanketed in eerie morning fog to the sight of dozens of huge wild turkeys! I’m quite a turkey myself, and in my best turkey impression, gave the loudest gobble I could muster. I sound pretty good too, because in unison, they all replied back, which kept us laughing as we continued our journey out to the Cabrillo Hwy (Hwy 1).
We are normally not fans of riding along high-traffic areas, but we knew if we started early enough, traffic would be minimal, and we’d reach our coastal turnoff without any drama. We took the coastal highway down toward Cayucos, a cute and quintessential seaside town that has a pier and a great cookie store. Thankfully, because we left so early, the store wasn’t open yet, but we took advantage of riding on the empty pier and befriending a seagull, who chattered to us and accompanied us in flight along that part of the journey.
There was a nice permanent bathroom available at the pier, so we took advantage of it before heading back out. It was an easy coastal cruise of another six miles to Morro Bay and our turnoff to head inland into the mountains along Highway 46. This turnoff started a 14-mile, 1550ft climb, that we were both somehow not totally prepared for. The grade was never so steep that we thought it was particularly difficult, and even reflecting back while journaling, we can’t put a finger on why we were so fatigued, but we were.
12 miles up the highway, we were diverted off due to storm debris and a partial closure of Hwy 46 toward Paso Robles. We had not planned for this, but saw where the traffic was patterning, so we followed suit. It took us up San Marcos Road, a beautiful and windy canyon road adorned with smaller ranchette estate properties. This four-mile detour was a welcome change, as it captured the true essence of cycling far better than riding on a highway. If we ride this way again, we will travel this road intently.
By the time we got to Atascadero, we were near the bonk threshold. We stopped and forced some nutrition in a hopeful attempt to right our imbalance and get us through the rest of the ride. We took Templeton Road and weaved through the flat farmlands turned vineyards. Some of California’s best wine is produced in this region, and it was fun to ride past these estates and marvel at the differing architectural masterpieces, which is a draw for wine connoisseurs from all over.
We willfully planned to get through this region before 11 a.m., when most of the wineries opened for tasting. We didn’t want to encounter distracted tourists on these roads, especially when they’ve likely been drinking, so if you plan on doing rides in this area, please keep these details in mind when planning. We turned off Vineyard Road onto Green Valley Road to head back toward the coast. This segment climbed 450 feet in three miles but allowed us a great panoramic view of the valleys on each side of the mountain range.
The highlight of our ride was the Santa Rosa Creek Road, a windy, non-maintained mountainous road that runs parallel to Highway 46. The road was officially closed to through traffic, which made it all the more appealing to us. We figured there wouldn’t be any cars – and we were right.
We quickly understood why it was closed. The damage was staggering: sheets of water were flowing across the road, which left silt, gravel, broken asphalt, and tree limbs everywhere. The first few miles were tough, with steep climbs and debris that made traction tricky. At one point, we hit a brutally steep segment – a “wall” of a climb. I had to get off and walk, not wanting to risk crashing while riding uphill. Marc impressively powered through to the top. Two local college students from San Luis Obispo zipped past us, laughing and full of energy. We couldn’t help but admire their impressive strength and performance—it was a testament to the discipline cycling demands. The early wake-up calls and tough conditions shape not just the body but the spirit as well. When we finally reached the summit, we paused to catch our breath and soak in the stunning view. One of the students kindly took a photo of us, capturing the moment with a cheerful smile, before they plunged down the other side of the hill and sped away effortlessly!
The 13 miles of descent back toward Cambria was the moment I’d been looking forward to all day. But the road was wet, muddy, and littered with potholes and gravel. I gripped my brakes hard, carefully navigating around the worst of the damage. My thumb abductor muscles were tense and starting to cramp, but I dared not stop the pump. At one point, we hit a section around a tight hairpin where the road had literally collapsed, shifting like tectonic plates. One part of the road was several inches above the other. It caught us off guard, but thanks to our mountain biking skills, we made it through without a crash.
There were moments when I doubted I’d make it without just walking. The descent was nerve-wracking and exhausting, but eventually, the road evened out. The scenery was breathtaking, with towering canyon walls rising on either side and the Santa Rosa Creek rushing alongside us in full force. The creek, still near overflow capacity, added a dramatic and awe-inspiring element to the landscape. As we emerged from the canyon and entered the rolling mountain ranches, we were greeted by old, weathered wooden barns nestled into the hillsides. These dilapidated structures stood as quiet reminders of the Old West and the once-thriving cattle ranching economy that shaped the region’s history.
As we approached the final stretch into town, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Cambria and its wild roads delivered in every way possible. This was exactly why we set these monthly Fondo goals – to challenge ourselves, embrace the unpredictability, and create memories that last a lifetime. Once back in Cambria, we stopped at the first pizza place we passed on the way home. It wasn’t fancy, but after a day like that, it seemed like it was the best pizza we’d ever had.
The day was nothing short of extraordinary—a magnificent blend of challenges that tested our strength and reminded us of life’s incredible analogies. Every climb, every push, every moment of doubt gave way to survival, growth, resilience, and a renewed sense of purpose. These experiences are a gift, teaching us to embrace the hard moments and find joy in overcoming them.
Sitting together afterward, devouring greasy slices of pizza and sharing stories from the ride, we couldn’t stop smiling. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the sense of accomplishment filled us with gratitude—not just for the journey but for the opportunity to share it with each other and with you. This is what makes it all worthwhile, and we hope it inspires you to seek your own adventures and discover the beauty in the challenges along the way.