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| Couldn't get enough of the big sycamores |
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| Leo - you know Pancho to the Cisco Kid? Oh, come on, you remember! |
Rocketed out of Leo "Oh, Cisco!" Carrillo State whatever at 7 am and thus became the breakfast spot finder/picker.
The marine layer was onshore, chill and wet.
Cranking near the summit of Point Dume I noticed a complex that included something called Cafecito Organico I slid in to what I came in time to know as Point Dume Village situated at the junction of highway 1 and Heathercliff Drive.
On entering the shopping center I was drawn to the joyous sounds of 8 to 10 elderly gentlemen who had had probably more caffeine than was healthy. They occupied not the Cafecito but a smaller joint called Lily's. I staked out a spot there and signaled the fellows who soon (lol) arrived.
After a long time we left. With some sense of some of the neighbors of Lily and Lily's; it was a fine and diverse group.
Belted past Decker, Latigo, Trancas, Malibu, Flores, Temescal and finally I stopped at Topanga Canyon to see the old Culver place. Little more than a pile of stony cement and maybe a dying plum tree remained.
Met Roc's son Josh at Big Dean's on the beach path in Santa Monica. Day hot but Josh fresh although he had biked from Union Station in downtown LA.
Son meets Dad at the Santa Monica Pier right in front of Big Dean's taco palace
Headed south after, natch, a hardy luncheon. Cut along through Santa Monica, Venice and Manhattan beachfronts to reach our goal: a room for all of us in Redondo Beach; one room that would hold all four sweaty, dirty, tired manchilds and their bikes. We had a reservation but our physical presence outside caused the manager to deny all of us access to the building let alone the room.
Much street cogitation followed this twist.
Many Warm Showers hosts were solicited and no hits there. Got disgusted with B's adventure planning and Josh and I dispatched ourselves south on 1 to find rooms. Within the half hour we came upon the Dirftwood Motel which was very reasonable at $100 for 4 slightly homeless dudes plus four bikes in the room. Norita was her name and run-down but decent was her game. She had a sly smile and dark wit but a determination that she be obeyed or left alone. The clientele seemed relaxed and chill and enjoyed hanging in the parking lot. Good night. No signal.
Biked miles - 45
Roc's stealth tent at Carrillo camp, B's way to the back - lots of space, lots of shade.
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