Nothing But Fog

The taxi arrives at the hotel as scheduled. Once again there is no coffee so I will myself to believe the cold water is loaded with caffeine.

In the dark the driver lets me off near a windswept sand dune. It is cold. The light rain keeps me awake and alert for traffic, but there are no cars at this early hour. I admit it is a little eerie. At least sharks can’t make it to the road, I recall while walking faster. Just in case this city boy has it wrong,  knowing that the mind surfaces strange thoughts when you are alone, I walk faster.

Up and down and up again I fight the hills. When the sun rises it is hot and muggy. By noon I arrive at the little way side stop called Gordo Springs and am assigned a room on the second floor. It is a cozy little place. As the day wears on I busy myself by touring the cliffs which drop deeply into the roaring sea. Shortly after lunch the fog rolls in. It is thick, moist and cold. I learn that this is a common occurrence at this time of year. A few motorcyclists concerned about driving through the mist also decide to spend the night at the hotel. It was a good decision. The fog lingers throughout the entire night

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