Today I was adamant that all I wanted to do was sit on the beach. Come rain or shine or fog (of course) or crowds the size of a football match, I was going to sit on the beach. When we got up at 8am for a run, the local news was reporting that all the parking spaces were full in La Jolla. I'm not sure what shocked me more - the content of the news, or the fact that all the spaces were gone - at 8am. When it comes to beaches and camping America and Germany follow mantra culminating in the same eventual outcome. Instead of leaving the towel on the lounger in order to return a few hours later, the Americans are there bright and breezy and partying away at 8am - chicken barbecuing alongside the marshmallows, chocolate and cinnamon grahams.
When we reached the grass above La Jolla Cove, there wasn't an inch to spare for gazebos, trestles and stars and stripes. Our run was more a jog, mired by the continual fight to combat the crowds. At 11 we finally dragged ourselves to Windansea Beach where thankfully a high tide and no visibility left us lots of space to commandeer.
A few hours later I had lost all desire to sit on the beach any longer. There was still a fog and quite frankly after so much cycling sitting still was now painfully boring. Even the army of ants Tim had moved to avoid were no longer interesting me after I realised the macro function on the camera couldn't pick them up. To be fair, sitting on the beach had been reminiscent of our days in Oregon - grey and moody. There had even been a couple of cool fathers and their kids body surfing what looked to me like sizable waves. There was even a fool who thought he could surf only to retreat to his camp ten minutes later having snapped the end of his board as he was thrown against the beach. You could tell his smile and whimpered laugh were hiding great pain to both his body and ego.
We returned to the hotel pool (a cliche we needed to do at least once) via Windansea Cafe which served us great bagels. To my great surprise the sun was out here and there I sat reading until I realised that actually sitting in the sun was too much for me. I felt like I had ants in my pants and found myself wishing we were cycling somewhere. How Tim survived sitting there is quite a mysterious achievement.
Independence Day in San Diego seems to be celebrated with barbeque's at your friend's houses. Friendless in the area, we instead headed to Bird Rock hopeful there would be at least one establishment open to feed us. We lucked out on a nice Italian restaurant before walking the oceanfront streets back to the hotel.
The joy of walking in America (when the sidewalk doesn't abruptly stop that is), as the sun goes down is suddenly appear to have heightened senses. There is no-one around and the houses I had walked past earlier in the day suddenly had details that deserved praise. Just reaching the crest of one hill, the sky filled with July 4th fireworks, and the streets again with jubilant children.
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