You know how when you check into a hotel they say: and complimentary breakfast is served starting at 8 am and then you get up, not hopeful but a little bit so, and go there and all they have is pasty pastries and cereal that looks like it's dispensed from dog food containers?
One cup of weak coffee later (would it hurt them to actually used some coffee?), that's how we ended up a block away, at the best breakfast place in town--our camper, parked at the service station. I made swift work of a robust brew, organic fruit, and kefir. And we ate in the sun.
Art checked with the guys, who were expecting the hose replacement soon, so we took off for a walk to look around Carmel. I liked this sign on a gate...
Contrary to Bruce's comment on the last Carmel post, I didn't find the town precious. In fact, I respect municipalities who work with businesses to tone down their garish signs. How about this Shell station?
The housing as we walked toward the water felt like Chicago's Old Town--tiny cottages (albeit a couple million dollars worth) nestled in the sloping hills. The sign on this one in part says "Strategies for living a rich life." Heh.
Lots of sweet intrigue.
The beach was lovely, if crowded.
We made our way back, thanked the capable service folks, gassed up, and headed for a campground just a few miles away in the mountains. The pool looked nice, but especially the sun. Hurry hurry, soak it up--it sets close to 3 pm on this edge of the mountain.
Dinner at the picnic table: grassfed beef, onions, olives, and spices atop fresh organic spinach and steamed broccoli.
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