5am - Southern terminus: I gently open the door of my miniature rental car. The wind grabs hold and rips it from my grasp, as if I were a child in need of a timeout. Blustery morning on the coast. The weatherman says this’ll all be a tailwind come time to smash the tarmac. Sunrise in the rearview to boot.
This route starts and ends with a foot in the ocean, so I inch toward the cliff’s edge and carefully crab walk down the steep, slick basalt.
Crustaceans appropriation - do as the locals do 🦀
I admire the moon as it illuminates the roaring water from a seemingly safe distance. A wave crashes atop my rugged perch and nearly sweeps me into Davy Jones’ locker. Hint taken - and with a soaked foot, I start the clock and get the hell out of dodge.
Ready or not.
It rained through the night and wasn’t expected to stop until dawn, so being drenched was in the playbook anyway. Not to mention the oncoming traffic waterboarding me with puddles like I was the main character of my own sad movie. Beats the sweltering sun and soul-sucking humidity I suppose.
I attempted to record a Strava activity on my watch and another on my phone, aiming to have a "plan b" incase one went haywire. Everything ended up being so soaked that both my phone and watch didn't work when I got to the finish line. For 5 minutes, I frantically tried ending the activity on each, while blowing in their charging ports and cursing the heavens. All part of the adventure