Out of order, getting toward the border

The next week was a cushy blur. Riding out of the California Valley was an all day affair.  The peak elevation of five thousand feet was achieved with in a few miles,  the rest of the day was along the ridge,  and into some valleys. An interesting bit from our perspective,  the caltran trucks were on the road plowing. It had snowed a little the night before,  but nothing that was still around. Yet the trucks would come,  some times in groups of three, plows down scraping off the road ,  a most terrifying experience as someone who rides on the painted white line.
Four pm found us looking out at the ocean,  with  nothing but a serpentine road and a few thousand feet to descend.  We cruzed into Ojai singing a round of Barrett's Privateers,  then down the Ventura bike path to our host for the evening. A bounty of Ojai oranges was found in a small orange grove by some oil dereks.