I spent a lot of time on Highway 90 from Fredericksburg to Alpine and eventually to Deming, New Mexico. Highway 90 took on several meanings, 90 miles between gas stations, 90 border patrol trucks, the road kill count, the de facto speed limit.
By the time I got to Chandler, Arizona I decided to cancel all my upcoming reservations and drive as directly as possible to the Pacific Ocean. Thus I ended up taking Interstate 8 and found a beach between La Jolla and Del Mar to park myself for the rest of the day yesterday.
It was such a lovely day that I actually went swimming, and that is saying something for the Pacific in December. I watched surfers get clapped in giant closeouts (some of the best would launch backwards out the back, just in time). I did not paddle out with a surfboard, above my pay-grade.
I attempted boon-docking right there for the night, just a full sized bed with me, two surfboards, cracker crumbs, and sand from two different oceans. Believe it or not, I couldn’t sleep.
By 9pm I gave up and decided now was a good time to get the southern approach to Los Angeles out of the way. Would you believe I still had a +16 minute slow down in traffic? Once I was through that patch, though, it was smooth sailing to a hotel on Hermosa Beach, where I type this post.
People drive craaaaazy here so I am waiting until checkout time to hit the road, but I am more than happy to hang out here for as long as possible. I am in a 1923 building called the Vurpillat. The manager, Jay, gave me a nearly-identical speech about the hot water that Valerie, at Hotel Cazan gave: “yes we have hot water but you have to wait several minutes.” They even both said, “once you believe in it, it arrives faster.”
Too bad I cannot filter my hotel search by this, I think I prefer buildings where hot water takes > two minutes.
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