The concierge this morning brought me another two-liter water bottle when he saw me throw away the one from yesterday.
I decided to head for a campground 80 km away, providing plenty of time to correct for its absence. I followed the coast, flat slowly turning to slow, rolling hills. I followed highway for much of the day, with a wide shoulder and lizards for company. With each city came another strand, with an associated cycle path along the boardwalk. A lovely slightly-cloudy day.
A number of cyclists passed me today, mostly sport but a few tourers as well. The path I follow I am not alone in choosing.
Cycling along a less than beaten track, a stick kicked up into my rear wheel. The rear wheel locked and I slid to a stop, only to find the stick had somehow managed to fold the rear fender into the tire. After removing the rear gear and rear tire, I unfolded the fender, and was back on my way again.
On lone deserted stretch of highway, I started passing single women by the side of the road, separated by several hundred meters. They dressed well, and usually sat on a milk crate or chair with a bottle of water. Often vendors sell fruit by the side of the road, but the women had no stand, and dressed a bit too brightly and upscale. They weren’t selling cherries.
The first campground looked to be down a long one-way descent, with no camping sign, so I passed it by. The second doesn’t open until June 8. But the third worked out. It took them a while to figure out their new Wi-Fi setup, but they permitted me 120 minutes free.
I came out from my shower to find my neighbor had left. Shortly thereafter everyone else as well. Sunday evening.
The receptionist just came by to say they will be spraying the trees between 5:00 am and 6:00 am. I should not worry, just stay in my tent, but not leave my laundry out. She also offered to store my bicycle so it would not be sprayed. Why do I not find that reassuring?