Our first day cyclotourists began navigating out of the traffic and the undulating streets of San Francisco. Heart in my mouth I began to breath again when I reached the comparative flatness of the Golden Gate Bridge, only to be confronted by human traffic. We took our time crossing, the view of the bay was a marvel of glittering light and white sails, half way across the tourists thinned and we flew under red cables of twisted metal then down down into the little seaside town of Sausalito.

It was a charming spot, we lingered to finish our second round of pastries from breakfast. Having left the lionshare of our luggage with the bike rental man I was mortified to be turned away from the breakfast table for having shorts too short, once I swallowed my shame it turned out in our favour being handed ‘to-go’ boxes that we stuffed to bursting. I’m sure those more refined among you are apalled, but anyone who has been a backpacker knows the buffet croissant in the backpack routine.

We met a lovely German woman outside a bike shop who wished us well, then we were off over bumpy timber boardwalks and wetlands into Golden Gate Recreation Area which we always mistakenly refer to Golden Gate Park and get bemused looks of locals imagining us hitching up tent in the middle of the city. There was no sound of traffic as we bopped over the rutted dirt path. Falcons wheeled over head doing a dance with the moon. After all was set up for the night I found the perfect log to sot and enjoy the sun, unfortunately it was a high security log and what I had dismissed as lush bushes surrounding it were secretly super nettles! I yelped and Dylan shook his head in amusement at my plight. Stings were forgotten when we took a ride to the beach for sunset. We were just a handful of souls lucky enough to be in this magical place. Couples perched on the rocky cliff base and strode hand in hand along the shore, ships bellowed their greetings and birds kissed with their pale bellies. Just as light dimmed to just a hum at the horizon, a helicopter swung towards us and came metres above our heads and a nebulous voice barked something crackly at people climbing off the path above us. Chastened and shocked by their hard core telling off they scrambled back to the designated trail. Excitement overflowing for the day we returned in darkness to our tent and the sound of owls and ships horns calling us to sleep.