Tres Amigos

With Will's limited two weeks slowly ticking away, and a wealth of places to experience between SF and LA we decided to cut the city loose. We returned to a dejected and irritable Spot, who was far from pleased about being left in a parking garage for 3 days by himself. To make his point he completely ignored our ignition attempts for several minutes, but after a sincere apology and promise of Ultra Premium gas for lunch (his favourite) he revved up his engine and we were back on the road. We weaved our way through the deluge of crazy people wandering the mean streets of Tenderloin and then completed the infamous downhill slalom through Lombard Street.

Spot Spot

With Surfing playing a pivotal role in our plans for the upcoming week we stopped at Mollusk; a beautiful surf shop with their own clothing line and artist prints. Will explained to us the almost religious status of Mollusk within the surf community as we slipped in through its cosy entrance. Like kids in a candy store, Tom and WIll bounced around the custom interior picking up and inspecting everything within reach. Before long, the childlike enthusiasm of the two drew interest from the surf-bum shop assistants. The group sat and chatted about 'cutbacks', '5'8 quad fishes' and 'fat rails' for a brief minute before Mike, a non-surfer, wandered off utterly perplexed and killed some time in his normal fashion by buying a new pair of shoes.


 

We hit the road again, pulled into a nearby gas station and delivered on our promise to Spot by topping him up with the finest Petroleum money could buy. Cashbook as normal was not pleased, but still reeling from his solitary confinement a few nights prior, he knew better than to shoot his mouth off and instead sulked in the glove compartment. Having soaked up some Californian surf culture to prepare us for the upcoming week we headed straight for the coast and admired the Pacific ocean. We even let Will sit in the front for a few miles.

Proof these photos are ours

Toms new favourite bird, and by default, Mike's least

Spot flew along Highway 1 keen to spend all his excess energy from his days in storage. Before long, we found a campsite at Half Moon Bay; a classic Pacific beach resort overlooking the world famous Mavericks' big wave break. We sat in a trance as pelicans and seals frolicked (not together, obviously) on the beach then wandered to a nearby Mexican restaurant; Tres Amigos. 


It was the only restaurant the town had to offer, but despite the exterior fast food appearance we were in for a fine banquet of authentic Central American comfort food! We indulged in the filthy pleasure of super wet burritos and fish tacos before returning, several pounds heavier to our site. 


We set ablaze a roaring fire utilizing some firewood from our unsuspecting neighbors and washed down some toasted/flaming marshmallows with a flood of PBR's. With the cold setting in, Tom and Mike retired to the warm security of Spot as Will frantically tried to assemble his new tent in the dark. 

We awoke bright and early the next morning, with Tom setting off for a run down the beach as Will and Mike made friends with our camping neighbours who were enjoying a morning coffee next to their goliath motor home. They gifted us with a travel companion book of state parks which we suspect was a pity gesture, having seen our rather desperate attempt to recreate the RV experience with a 1992 Chevy Astro Van. We thanked them by returning a piece of firewood we had stolen from them the night before and left. On our way out we saw a squirrel/gopher/mole or something. It was too far off the road to run over anyway, so was hardly worth identifying.