RT66 Day 20: The End.
Perfect conditions marked the end of a journey that has spanned five years and the birth of two children. The only question that remains: what’s next?
Santa Monica Pier: The End of Route 66 and a 5-year journey from Chicago to Los Angeles.
Day 20: Rancho Cucamonga, CA to Santa Monica, CA; 66 miles, 1,348 feet elevation gain
Day 20: Planned on Ride with GPS (Part 1) | (Part 2)
Intraday Stops: We have returned to civilization with coffee shops, restaurants, and services available throughout Los Angeles.
There isn’t much to say. We woke to one of those perfect Southern California days: 76°F, sunshine, no wind, and, since it was Sunday, no early morning traffic. Sara had an afternoon flight, so we raced to the pier and made it there in just over five hours.
This is one of my favorite photos of Sara from the ride. Cool as a cucumber, she made the ride seem like a pleasure cruise through the desert and a muffin ride through LA. In this photo, she is on the phone, negotiating the sale of her house. I am, as usual, eating.
We dropped our bikes at a local shop, The Bike Shop Santa Monica, and they graciously boxed everything up for us. Tomorrow, before I head to the airport with the family, I’ll pick up the bikes on the way. We stayed at Shutters on the Beach, and I highly recommend it— it’s within walking distance of the pier, and the customer service is excellent.
My husband bought the Route 66 cycling maps as a gift in 2015, before our wedding. Back then, I hesitated to get married because I didn’t want to grow up. I suppose the maps were his way of showing me that I never had to.
In the end, I didn’t begin the first half of the ride until 2019, before my older child had even been conceived. The day I finished that ride, I pedaled through pelting rain, a flash flood, thunder booming, and lightning flashing all around me. It felt as though the heavens were celebrating the end of my journey with every epic firework nature could muster. It was a dramatic conclusion to the first half of a dream ride.
They say the days are long but the years are short. The last two weeks have been amazing but I’ve missed every moment without them.
I decided to undertake the second half in 2025, after my younger child had been weaned. This time, the journey ended quietly and without fanfare — what I now recognize as the marks of a well-planned, successfully executed, and luck-filled trip. How time has tempered my ideas about adventure and reshaped my priorities over these ten years. I’ve only been finished for an hour, and already I’m so thrilled to return home to them.
My mother-in-law once described life as an evolution from “me,” to “we,” to “them.” As I pack my bags to head home, I certainly feel the pull toward a supporting role in my family — how traditional. But now that I’ve become master of my body again, I feel an insistent pull toward adventure unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s as though my spirit knows this season of adventure may not last forever, and I have to squeeze in as much as possible while I can.
Stay with me until next time, when I’ll share the highlights of the trip and what I’d do differently.
I took this photo in 2019 at the History Museum on the Square in Springfield, MO never knowing when or if I’d ever ride the second half.