camera cargo carrier," etc. Since Andy and I were checking our large duffel bags, but bringing our bikes on board the plane as carry-on luggage, we did not want to pay bicycle fees on top of checked baggage fees, so we disguised our bikes by placing them in pouffy plastic bags and removing the seats and pedals with a wrench. We practiced our party line a couple of times before entering the airport: if asked, we'd refer to our bags as "sports equipment," and if really pushed, as "bicycle parts," a label that was technically correct since the Brommies were unrideable without saddles and pedals.
Once at the security line, we were momentarily split up, and I found myself alone as I hoisted my bagged bike up onto the conveyer belt to the X-ray machine. "What is that?" asked a TSA agent. "Sports equipment," I robotically answered. "Oh," he said, "I thought it was one of those folding bikes." His undertone hinted at admiration of this type of transport, and I was not so paranoid that I thought he was trying to trap me into admitting that I was packin' a bike (and I know he couldn't charge me a fee, anyway), but I moved on. To the gate and airplane we went, where the bikes fit easily side-by-side in the overhead bin.
We had made it to San Clemente, CA, which is technically Orange County, but an environment more similar to San Diego area, where sandy desert scrub pervades the land almost right up to the ocean--no lush orange groves in sight here! Our campground was in a dry little gulch, with a dirt bike/hike path going right up and over the surrounding hills and down to the ocean. In the picture below, we are at the highest hill summit on the path looking down into the campground; our tent is the little orange blob right in the middle of the picture.