Montara to Pigeon Point Lighthouse
My one and only dorm mate is a snorer. Earbuds in. It’s called music earplugs. The night is one long soundtrack with mood swings. The ground is soaked outside. I’m so glad that I’m inside and if I had any doubts, it starts to downpour. But it is brief and the sun soon hammers away the clouds.
I take my time, enjoying the views over a coffee/hot chocolate wonder beverage. I roll out at 10:45am and the terrain is relatively easy. I catch a coastal trail into Half Moon Bay where I eat half my bag of peanuts. I shell them one by one, thinking that this is a pretty close second to actually being at the game this evening. Despite being slightly full on peanuts I buy a sandwich at Safeway, figuring I’ll save some for later. I’m kinda inhaling it and then I look around to see if anyone is watching. Luckily, everyone else is busy with their own lives. It’s 1pm, my sandwich is all gone and I’ve still got 31 miles. Time to roll. And time to climb. I think about barfing during one of the climbs but I don’t.
You know how when you’re in need of water, you can’t find any? Several state beaches only net me stinky pit toilets. I start thinking about stopping at a house but they all have massive-stay-away gates. No biggie. I keep riding. There’s a big lighthouse in the distance. Hmmm….lighthouses are a thing people like to see, I think to myself. They must have water there. They must. As I approach the turnoff there’s a sign for a hostel. Dude, really? One dorm bed left for me.
Some things you just can’t plan. I thought I’d stealth at the diablo los osos visitor center but didn’t know if they had water or bathrooms or someone there to bust me. So when I arrived at the beautiful Pigeon Point Lighthouse Hostel, the decision was easy. A bed, a shower, a life of luxury. Tilted conglomerate beds, crashing waves, pelican sunset silhouettes.
I eat second dinner as I ‘watch’ the Giants game on my tablet. There’s a middle aged guy from San Francisco with his feet up on the other couch. He starts to explain to the blond German girl sitting next to me about Giants baseball.
“I’m watching it right now,” I say and show them my tablet.
“Ok, let me know if anything happens. I’m going to watch the game at a bar in Pescadero. It’s a big deal and there will be lots of fans there. Hey, you want to come,” he asks the German girl.
She doesn’t really commit but is friendly about it.
“I’ve had a busy day in Santa Cruz. I need to ice my back and chill out for a while. I’ll go in the 6th?,” he mummbles.
I wasn’t sure if he’d extended the invite to me too but something in me just wanted to stay and rest. About 20 minutes later, he gets up and the German asks if he’s leaving.
“Yep, you want to come?”
“No thanks. I’m tired,” she responds.
And out the door he goes.