Sunday was our last day to ride, and another foggy day in S.F. We rode to the beach for the official water ceremony, which would involve collecting some water from the Pacific Ocean, which we will introduce to the Atlantic Ocean at a later date. We hadn't given much thought to the process of collection, and it was proving to be a bit awkward without getting wet. I summoned a passing surfer to help us, and he was very obliging.
That mission accomplished, we had a little more time to kill so we walked up to the Cliff House restaurant/bar/gift shop/historic site, and took a look around. Then it was a couple blocks ride to Paul's place where we would leave the bikes to be picked up by a shipping company.
Once the bikes were in the garage, and we'd had a chance to ogle Paul's collection of bikes, BMW R75, Honda VFR, Honda TransAlp, Ducati 916, we headed into S.F. for the afternoon. It turned out that S.F. was not prepared for the traffic on Labor Day weekend. Paul had offered to drive us over to a beer garden/hiking club type of place in Marin, but we couldn't get over the bridge because the traffic had come to a complete stop. We bailed on the beer garden idea and found a place to have lunch downtown. After lunch we ran into the same traffic problems, couldn't get anywhere near Lombard Street or the Wharf, so we gave up on the notion of seeing the tourist sites and went back to Paul's. Martha had been preparing a great meal for us, tacos with lots of different options, and we had a great dinner at their place.
The next morning we caught the shuttle to the airport, and submitted ourselves to the TSA and the airlines for the next 15 hours.
Vermont plates at the beach drew some attention from a few passersby.
Not exactly beach wear...
The bikes parked outside of Paul and Martha's place.
Paul and Martha, expecting their first baby very soon.
The total miles according to the Garmin. It's probably the most accurate over the two bike odometers.
Well, I've obviously left out a lot of the trip. I still have some of the songs running through my head that snuck in there on the slightest suggestion, and stayed for days. Some great moments on the road and in hotels, gas stations or park gift shops.
Thanks to Sandy, Hannah, Scott, Bill, Uncle Richard & Sandy, Paul & Martha, and friends who helped outfit us or work our shifts.
To paraphrase a great quote from a WW2 GI, I am one lucky son of a bitch.