We packed our stuff in Dan's car and Joe's Truck, then headed off. At the bottom of Stagecoach Road, we left the vehicles and biked up a dirt road with a long, gradual incline. After ruling out several false turnoffs, we finally arrived at what seemed to be the road described by the bike store clerk the night before. A "ROAD CLOSED" sign covered with mountain biking stickers confirmed the trail.

We reach the top of Stagecoach Rd, and prepare for the treacherous descent.

From this point, singletrack trail led a steep descent down the loose, rocky backside of the mountain. Scott had hyperextended his elbow in a basketball game on Thursday, but shrugged off any questions about it with "it's OK." He has front suspension forks, but they are barely functional, and I was concerned about the jolt of the rough terrain on his arm. Joe led the way down the path, and I followed, just before Dan and Scott. The grade was steep, and I was dodging and jumping rocks the whole way down. About halfway I stopped to check on Dan and Scott. Dan had lost a contact, but was happy with his new "Bomber" suspension forks, saying "I'd gladly trade sight in one eye for the Bombers on this trail." When questioned about his arm, Scott replied, "It's OK".

At the bottom of the trail we met Joe, and we all traded a few good horror stories about "this rock" and "that rock" of the path we had just descended. From here, the trail continued wider and smoother through Poly Canyon, but the sun beat down mercilessly, and the road was dusty and parched dry.

Several miles later, after passing some side roads, we weren't quite sure that we were following the right road. As we scampered over a fence and prepared to follow a railroad track, we saw a man and woman jogging along the trail, and flagged them down to ask directions. The woman, whose abdomen was remarkably well defined, indicated that we were still on the right track. After a short break to eat Powerbars, we continued. The road led through several cattle gates, and eventually we passed "Ab Woman" again on our way to the Cal Poly campus.

We zigzaged through the city blocks and bumped over street curbs and sidewalks to a burrito place that Dan remembered from his college days. Only now, it wasn't there any more. We backtracked to another place called Kona's Cafe, where I ordered a Teriyaki Chicken Canoe. A canoe is a long piece of bread open on the top and filled with hot sandwich makings. Dan, Japanese in heritage, took one look at my sandwich and said it was "sacrilege" that the title "teriyaki chicken" had been attached to such a thing -- but it tasted OK.

While eating outside, we met a man and a woman who knew the area, and directed us back to our cars at the base of Stagecoach road. We stopped at a Lucky's grocery store to refill our Camelbaks and drink bottles with water and ice. After a few more miles of city riding, and a couple of miles along the side of the highway, we arrived once again at the parked cars.

While mounting the bikes for transport in the truck, I noticed a man and two women cooling it in a little brook at the bottom of the hill. The man saw us and clambered up the hillside to where we were. He introduced himself as Eric, and holding a few crumpled dollar bills in his hand, he offered to pay us gas money to take the three of them back up the hill to their car. They had ridden down Stagecoach Rd on their bicycles, and were not prepared to ride back up in the blazing midday heat.

We refused the money, but agreed to take them back up the hill. After all, a couple of minutes drive for us would translate to over an hour for them on bicycles. Eric thanked us, and invited Dan to go SCUBA diving from his boat, "Got Lucky", which was anchored in the harbor.