19.8 miles
After a brisk set of hills, from home in EastLake I ride via Birch Road, along the south side of Otay Ranch Town Center, to State 125. This is the toll road south toward the Otay Mesa port of entry at the US/Mexico border. It's also one of those rare routes where bicycles are allowed on the freeway--or not-so-free way in this case: I pay these people six dollars a day to abbreviate my automotive commute northward, connecting with Jamacha Boulevard out to college. But at its southern end bikes ride free. Speaking of freedom, the traffic southward from EastLake on SR 125 is light enough not to pose a threat to life and limb of cyclists. On a recent Saturday, for example, Don and I encountered three times as many cyclists as motorists.
After a short eight-mile cruise, a long descent into Otay Valley followed by a climb up the surprisingly beautiful--and surprisingly tall, surprisingly long--Otay Valley bridge, I turn west for a few flat miles on Otay Mesa Road (SR 905), culminating in a leisurely tour of the intriguing WWII-era streets of Brown Field.
Today the airport is a going concern, if one that caters feebly to rusting aviation of the type favored for crashing by fading rock heroes. But the historic airfield still exudes a shabby ambience befitting its 1940's origins and likewise the ramshackle architecture. Even the more recently built office buildings faithfully mimic the thrown-up-cheap look of barracks. And a tavern for pilots? Yikes! One might be excused for expecting to catch a glimpse of a P-51 Mustang, or better yet, a B-17 Flying Fortress, poised on the runway for a daytime precision bombing mission over the Third Reich. Or perhaps a glimpse of Gregory Peck of Henry King's Twelve O'Clock High, perhaps Robert Lansing of the weaker TV version, the one that kept me spellbound as a middle-school kid....
