So...
Checkout time was 11AM, and I only had 15 miles to ride. I really didn't want to arrive at the park at 1PM and then sit around reading at the picnic table until nightfall. I didn't want to eat camp food, either.
So, I rode 12.5 miles and grabbed a motel room in Pismo Beach. Spent the day flying my kite, ate steak and lobster, watched the sun set over the pier. Because that's what I felt like doing. So I did it. Felt good. Made me use fewer words.
Anyway...yeah, there's been a paucity of words on these pages lately...something like six entries since I left San Francisco. Some of that was due to the nature of the terrain around Big Sur: mountains on one side, ocean on the other, and curving coastline served to block reception, so that even my Kung Fu could not bring in the signal. Now, I'm able to get online just using the EVDO modem, without any of my gadgetry.
Which doesn't mean I've got anything much to say. The 25th would've been four months on the road (yes, the "On The Road: Week X" categories are wrong; I'll fix it later when I'm back in real space). I've got a couple of tough days ahead before it's all over, and I'm more focused on getting over a 980- and 1,200-foot climb than I am on What I Did This Summer And What It Meant To Me. That's for later...a later that's still a little difficult to think about.
