Day Mileage: 60
Last night was low-stress. Sam Simeon State Park, despite its moratorium on showers, is a pretty nice little place. I did get a laugh at their choice of port-a-potty contractor, though:
Somewhere, a guy named Harvey had a reaaal solid chuckle over the name of his business. I'll be sure to follow it on facebook. I bet he's rollin' in the dough now with the state on high-drought alert.
Speaking of drought alerts, I stopped in Cambria to visit a bike shop (which was closed, unfortunately). I wandered into the coffee shop on their main drag, and got a big iced Americano to wake me up for the ride. Usually, in this situation, I ask if they'll top off my water bottles. I've never ever... ever seen or heard of a business say no to this. It's such a stupid/simple thing. The guy behind the counter said:
"Uhh... sorry, man, but because like... of the dought, we can't give away water."
(You can't be fucking serious.) "What, really?"
"Yeah, man... you can buy bottles, though."
"Nah, that's cool."
The gas station at the end of the end of the street let me fill my bottles up from the soda fountain. What a fantastic load of bullshit. May the owner slip and fall into a Honeyhut™.
You know you're getting really into your biking groove when you're flying up and down hills, daydreaming. The day's scenery was actually pretty boring, but I barely noticed as I was fairly preoccupied in my own mind. I didn't realize this until I looked down to see 30 miles had passed.
I was snapped out of it by shooting pain in my hands. I, tragically, lost my gloves somewhere before Big Sur. Those familiar with long bike rides will know that this, for some, can be a pretty big deal if ignored. I initially stopped into Cambria to pick up gloves, but the dude who runs the shop was out of town. (You can't begrudge the guy for wanting to leave, what with a town with a population south of 100, and the local coffee shop's proprietor being certifiably nuts.) Thankfully, in Morro Bay, the local shop "The Bike Works" had a pair handy. My hands still numb up a bit, but they'll sort themselves out in no time.
Unsure of what a Beer Rock was, I trudged onward, eventually coming across a strange sequence of highway signs.
Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the boredom of having just yesterday covered 70 of the best miles the United States has to offer, but I found these signs hysterical. A few short miles after the Men's Colony, I arrived in SLO. Shit was cash.
This town is off the chain. If I could stay longer, I would have. Sorry Trontz, I'll hit Firestone up next time I'm in town.
I, somehow, by the grace of a higher being, managed to snag more free water in SLO before getting to Pismo Beach. When I posted this picture to Instagram/Facebook, I learned that I have all sorts of friends:
Derpy friends:
...and friends with a decent sense of humor:
Soon after landing in Pismo, I realized my camping opinons weren't as plentiful as the guide spelled out. I popped over to this cool little Hawaiian coffee shop called "Red Dirt" in Arroyo Grande (Big Ditch), California. A state park employee happened to be around while I was typing this up, so I know exactly where to go tonight.
Tomorrow I'm going to ride into Lompoc. Hopefully, that'll be as enjoyable as today was.
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