We got a late start. We left Ann's at around 10:30 am but made good time on the El Camino, aka CA-82. In the city of San Francisco, we got back onto Highway 1. As I started up a hill, my chain came off and went into my spokes, breaking my derailleur and five spokes in the process. In retrospect, it was a rather comical scene, as parts of my bike fell onto the street over a period of several seconds. At the time, it wasn't too funny. I took all the gear off my bike, shortened the chain, and then set things up so I had only one gear in the rear. At least I could keep on riding until we could find a shop. 

We got to a bike shop, about 20 blocks away and they did the repairs. The whole incident took 3 hours but my bike was in good shape when the work was done. During the down time, we got to experience eating Pirogies, which are an Eastern European version of pigs in a blanket. They were tasty, temporarily satisfying our never ending appetites. 

Rolling once more, the afternoon was progressing and the commuter rush was ongoing. Due to my map reading error, we ended up on the freeway where we had one of the scariest rides of our lives. We had to go through a narrow and dark tunnel with cars speeding past before we could exit off the freeway and back onto surface streets. Paul's nerves were frazzled, as were mine but I couldn't focus on that when we decided to take a break on the grounds of Presidio Air Force Base. Paul took a breather while I tweaked my bike some more and took a better look at the map.

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We headed out again and made it onto the pedestrian walkway of the Golden Gate Bridge. What a tremendous view, we had from up there, of San Francisco, the Bay, the Ocean, and the land on the other side.

Once on the other side, we got confused about which road would be best to get into Sausalito. At that moment, a fellow wearing an IRA (Irish Republican Army) Beret rode up on a bicycle. He said he lived in Sausalito and that we could ride along with him. He stopped to show us a youth hostel that was a possibility for the evening lodging. As we chatted some more, his distinctive Boston accent gave his roots away. It turned out, he had grown up in the same town as had Paul. His name was Kevin, he was 38-years old, a union carpenter, who was traveling around and working. He ended up inviting us to stay at his place. We accepted.

Kevin and his two roommates, Mike and Lenny, treated us to Chinese food and we all sat around talking and laughing. Kevin and Mike were pretty rowdy but in a good way. Lenny was more laid back. As a group, they reminded me of hard working and hard drinking sailors but they treated us very well. We liked all of them. My notes say that they would be welcome in my home anytime, if I ever got the chance to repay the hospitality. At Kevin's place, Paul and I were able to properly clean up again... 4 days in a row... and we had a roof over our heads again for the night. Getting soft! 

Tomorrow, we're back on the road, hopefully without all of the troubles we had today. In spite of the adversity, we ended up smelling like roses... literally!