Sunday 30th June: Alive Again

My hangover was gone and we had hotels to swap. Having packed up we checked out the bus route to La Jolla which it transpired would take us two hours. We booked a taxi. I'm not sure it even took us this long to cycle that distance on the way down.

Pulling into La Jolla we started to recognise roads we had cycled along a week ago. The hotel was on La Jolla Blvd and as such a distance from the centre of the village which would require a car to bridge the gap. 15 minutes of walking later we disproved this theory.

Even if there was such a gadget as the human rack for panniers, moving our belongings in such a manner had reached the point of impractical. It was time for a trip to REI to purchase a bag big enough to keep up with Tim's uncharacteristic spending urges.

Adamant we were going to use public transport to facilitate this task we went in search of the visitor centre for some bus knowledge. We were met by a doddering pair of silver haired American ladies - I'm thinking Dallas meets the discovery channel, both of whom were keen to help, although with one focusing on the impracticality of using public transport in America for such a trip or indeed any trip. Undeterred and armed with a route map we decided we needed more daylight hours to implement our plan.

Exhausted, we lay on the grass above la jolla cove as a guy considerably older than the pair of us did 50 tricep press ups - for the majority who probably have no idea what one of these is, we couldn't muster even one between the pair of us. Wandering back to the hotel we passed two restaurants in a line of houses. Well trained in spotting a well loved local spots we ducked into a packed pizzeria shunning the empty Mexican to shovel in huge plates of pasta. Maybe tomorrow we would address the impending doom of still consuming at cycle touring rates.