Photograph from From the Border to the Bay—and One Hell of a Hill — San Diego, California

A very good place to give the bike a rest and get the camera out. Photographs by Butch; prepared with Ari.

From the Border to the Bay—and One Hell of a Hill

San Diego, California · October 19, 2026

Ride date
October 19, 2026
Recorded distance
36.85 mi
Moving time
3:06:35
Elapsed time
4:35:39
Elevation gain
643 ft
Average speed
11.9 mph

Garmin Edge 1040 activity displayed by Strava. Start: 2:42 p.m. local time. Maximum recorded speed: 31.0 mph. These are the recorded activity totals; my closeout estimate was roughly 36–37 miles. The planned route was separate from the completed recording.

View the recorded activity on Strava

When I started getting ready for this one, I was south of San Diego looking toward the border fence with Tijuana. Not a subtle starting scene: tall steel, long shadows, and a reminder of exactly where I was standing.

I had a route planned in Ride with GPS and the bicycle ready to go. The plan showed about thirty-eight miles. The ride that eventually landed on Strava recorded 36.85, and by the time I got back I was perfectly happy calling it roughly thirty-seven.

Long metal border fence casting striped shadows across a gravel lane.
Long shadows from the border fence in the afternoon sun.

Downhill is a wonderful idea at the beginning

The early part of the ride supplied some speed. Strava eventually recorded a maximum of thirty-one miles an hour, which supports my report at the time that I was hauling ass.

It also supplied the usual variety that disappears when somebody reduces an outing to a mileage number. Rail cars and gravel. Dry hills and curving pavement. Fences, junctions, and the gradual change from dusty roadside scenery to water and reeds.

I’d come out to ride, but I had the camera with me. Those two activities have a long-standing agreement: the riding stops whenever something interesting turns up.

Beside the South Bay ponds

The paved waterside stretches were a very different world from the border fence. A yellow line ran down the path, reeds crowded the edges, and the water opened out beside it. In one photograph a pond has a pale pink cast. In another, my own shadow made it into the marsh foreground.

Paved bicycle path curving beside a pale pink salt pond, separated by a fence.
A smooth path beside one of the South Bay ponds.

The surface didn’t stay smooth everywhere. There were sandy stretches beside fencing as well as the paved path, and later the scenery included buildings, traffic, parked cars, and palm trees. This was a ride through a changing place, not thirty-seven miles of uninterrupted beachfront.

Sandy track running beside a chain-link fence and low coastal vegetation.
The surface did not stay smooth everywhere.

At one of my stops, another cyclist checked whether I was okay. I was. I was taking pictures. That little bit of good company stayed with me: somebody saw a stopped rider and took a moment to make sure nothing was wrong.

The ocean was hiding behind a big-ass sand berm

I tried to get a couple of ocean photographs, but there was a great big sand berm between me and the view I wanted. I could have looped around and gone looking for a better angle. I didn’t.

By the end of the day I was already wondering whether I’d wish I’d made that extra detour. Probably. But the bay had given me plenty to photograph, including a very nice place to park the bike against a railing above the water.

Sometimes the photograph you don’t bring home is simply a reason to come back.

Then Heritage Road wanted its payment

The return climb was another matter entirely. About a mile of uphill, as I described it afterward, royally kicked my ass.

I rode part of it. I walked part of it. I stopped, took pictures, gave my legs a little time, and continued. This was roughly my fourth ride since getting back into cycling, and the muscles were receiving a fairly direct reminder of what the job involves.

At one point the navigation still showed 3.78 miles to the terminal. My immediate concern was getting to the top of the frickin’ hill. The riding could become enjoyable again once the road stopped pointing upward.

Gravel bicycle stopped beside utility boxes on a sidewalk overlooking a road and distant hills at dusk.
A photography stop on the return climb. My legs appreciated it too.

There was a sunset behind all that complaining, and the road dropping away made a good photograph. The bicycle got its portrait. So did I. I maintain that stopping for pictures is an entirely legitimate part of the outing, even when my legs are delighted by the arrangement.

Butch in a red cycling shirt and red head covering with the sunset behind him.
The sunset portrait came after plenty of climbing and a fair amount of colorful language.

Yippee-ki-yay fucking Skippy.

Everybody wanted a charger

By the time I reached the top, I’d run down the headlight battery. I’d also been using that battery to keep the phone charged during the ride, along with a separate power bank. That turned out to be a poor arrangement for the part of the outing that happened after sunset.

I finished with the phone flashlight helping me find my way back. It got me home, but it wasn’t the lighting setup I wanted to finish with.

At closeout, the Garmin was dead, the headlight was dead, and the rear light had been working for hours. The electronic-shifting battery was already on the charger. Once the bike was put away, I had a small collection of devices waiting for their turn.

Still worth it

Despite that climb, I finished feeling good about the ride. My legs hurt, but I’d come off other rides feeling more exhausted and more sore than this. Mostly, I was glad I’d gone.

The border fence, the ponds, the bayside paths, the palms, the passing cyclist who checked on me, and the sunset were all part of the same afternoon. So were the walking, the stops, and the extremely opinionated commentary on Heritage Road.

The useful numbers are 36.85 recorded miles, just over three hours moving, and about four hours and thirty-six minutes elapsed. The difference between those clocks contains a lot of this story.

By the time I got back, the bike was put away and the next job was charging everything. The photographs could wait until another day. They’d already done their first job: giving me reasons to stop and notice where I was.

Explore 21 more photographs from this ride

Photographs by Butch; ARI-assisted image beautification. Twenty-seven selected photographs from the October 19 ride. Camera originals are preserved. Near-duplicate frames and the screenshot of the planned route are excluded from this actual-ride gallery. Faces, signs, bicycles and construction details retain their original photographic detail.

Gravel track beside rail cars and scrubland near the beginning of the San Diego ride.
A rougher start than the coastal-path photographs might suggest.
Tall metal border-fence gate with posted warning signs, photographed from the United States side.
The border fence near the beginning of the ride.
Paved road descending through dry open ground in southern San Diego County.
The ride started by giving me some downhill.
Curving road between dry grass, scrub and low hills on the San Diego ride.
Dry hills and a bend in the road on the way toward the bay.
Calm water beyond reeds and a chain-link fence near southern San Diego Bay.
Water and reeds replaced the dusty roadside views.
Road junction and roadside utility poles beneath a clear blue sky.
An ordinary road junction, part of the connection between the border area and the water.
Waterside fence and reeds beneath a blue sky near the southern end of San Diego Bay.
A look through the fence toward the water.
Coastal marsh and channels of water with the cyclist’s shadow falling across the foreground.
Even my shadow made it into the South Bay photographs.
Straight paved bicycle path with a yellow centerline beside marsh vegetation and open water.
The kind of stretch that makes stopping for photographs a regular interruption.
Low afternoon sun above a roadway and sandy coastal berm.
The ocean was over there somewhere, behind the sand berm.
City bus passing on a coastal road beneath a bright afternoon sun.
A passing bus and the late-afternoon light beside the coastal route.
Paved bicycle path beside a road and multi-story buildings on the San Diego ride.
The scenery changed again as the path passed buildings and traffic.
Paved bicycle path beside a palm-lined street and parked vehicles.
Palm trees along another paved stretch of the ride.
Waterside paved path beside dry coastal vegetation and San Diego Bay in the evening light.
The light was starting to soften beside the bay.
Butch wearing a blue cycling helmet, sunglasses and red cycling shirt beneath a blue sky.
Still out riding, still stopping for photographs.
Road construction area with gravel piles, barriers and a portable toilet at dusk.
The return leg brought construction scenery as daylight faded.
Traffic signals silhouetted against a low orange sunset near the return route.
The sky was changing faster than my remaining enthusiasm for climbing.
Orange road barriers and traffic lights at a road junction in the fading light.
A junction on the way back, with construction barriers in the foreground.
Road and sidewalk on a hillside at dusk, looking toward distant developed hills.
The return climb had a view, whether I was pedaling or walking.
Curving road and sidewalk beside dry hills and fencing as daylight fades.
A quieter-looking road than my running commentary would suggest.
Side view of the gravel bicycle beside utility cabinets and hillside fencing at dusk.
Taking stock beside the road before finishing the climb.

Written from Butch’s ride records, photographs and commentary, with Ari. Published with the date of the outing.

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