In Monterey. The farthest south we will set up the tent. Land-owners around here are chopping down their apple orchards to make way for the new GMO super-crop: strawberries. The anti-climatic 'final ride' from Santa Cruz was framed by strawberry fields in all directions. Of course I sang the song. In each field were twenty-odd Mexicans in brightly coloured clothes and hats, bent double over the ripened plants. The bumpy road was splattered with the sweet juices of exploded produce.
We're going for a short ride towards Big Sur (the most beautiful stretch of coast in California, we've heard). In two days, we'll box up our bikes and ship them home again while we while our time away idly in San Francisco's book shops. What a ride!
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