Sixties through the night with spasms of light rain. The early morning view from the bedroom was like a Japanese painting –- a few tall feathery pines silhouetted against the grey fog.
It was quiet in the fog, but nearby a pair of woodpeckers with an exemplary work ethic were plying their trade. The colors of the Cardinals pair were muted by the gray, but their song was very insistent.
We wandered along the beach until the sun burned through. There are miles of beach with nothing but nature and a few early risers searching for shells.
Back at camp, we unhitch, unfurl the canopy and set up for PANCAKES WITH FRESH STRAWBERRIES.
Glad we brought the electric grill. Pat likes cooking outside away from the noise of the exhaust fan and our breakfast nook is perfect -- 65 degrees with a gentle breeze, birdsong and Monarch butterflies flitting thorough.
“Shouldn’t you guys be in Mexico by now?”
With the sun out, but still perfect weather, we biked all the park roads, stopping to inquire after some of the local hangers on at the Marina.
In the afternoon, a haze formed an
d chances for a tropical sunset diminished. We cleaned up and headed in to appraise the offerings at …and we were NOT disappointed! The pizza lived up to all the superlatives and the place was refined and very well run. For the second time this year a small town pizza place has lived up its rave reviews. We are believers. Riding home in the dark, mellow tunes playing , we counted ourselves fortunate indeed.
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