Home: America’s Best Value Motel
We spent the entire day laying in our motel room bed, watching TV, movies (Jodie Foster’s “Home for the Holidays”), and blogging. Well, I made two bike runs down and down back up hill for some Black Friday shopping (aka breakfast/lunch from Trader Joe’s, and dinner from Panda Express). I didn’t take a single photo. Happy post-Thanksgiving to us!
Home: Veterans Memorial Park hiker/biker campsite
We maximized our motel payment by staying to the 11am checkout as usual. And for those 40 hours we sat in that room, I still had to fight the nagging voice in my head saying “it’s a perfect day, and people in most parts of the country this November would want to throttle you for ‘wasting’ it by sitting inside.” And so I had to keep dutifully responding to that voice: “the entire last week was perfect days, the forecast says the next week should be equally perfect, and except for this day and a half, we’ll have been living outside for that two-week period. So gimme a break, Voice!”
The same illogical voice is also the one who has been nagging me about our 6-day/7-night Monterey stay. “You have to move on!” Why? “Because that’s what bike tourers do!” But we don’t have an end date like most bike tourers. “Then because you have to get south to get to better weather!” The weather has been pretty great, too dry if anything; that weather fear you have is some minor PTSD/habit that understandably got ingrained in you weeks ago, but no longer seems to apply. “Then because you won’t make it to Palm Springs in time for Christmas!” No, we still have plenty of time to cover the distance with reasonable mileage. “Then because you’ll find too many more beautiful places that you’ll want to stay at for multiple days at all of them too!” Hmm, I don’t have an answer for that one, Voice, but I’ll get back to you in a few weeks.
We ran into our fellow hiker/biker camper Sid outside Trader Joe’s (during our now-customary TJs run before climbing the hill back to the campground), and he’s the only other one here this night. Talking with him more at the picnic table, I’m starting to think he’s actually on a side of the line where the most-noble of travelers exist, far above us. He’s basically out here spending his time as best as he knows how, before Parkinson’s fully disconnects his brain from his legs that have taken him such great distances, but are now starting to ignore his brain’s commands. Despite his struggles, and despite people misjudging him, onward he goes, knowing, and accepting, that the end of his journey is not far.
So that means my campground bias today is focused on the car-campers next to the hiker/biker site with their barking dogs, who do little besides yell and curse at each other, and their dogs. We initially went to our previous spot in the hiker/biker area, but decided to move to the other end to get as far away from them as possible.
Rett took me on a hike even further up the hill above the campground, along paths that could have felt like Santa Fe, if not for the views down to the ocean and Pebble Beach below.
No other hikers or bikers showed up, so the night was down to just Sid (inside his minimalist camping tarp this time), and us.