My ride from the Golden Gate Bridge to as far as Carmel was wonderful. I was extremely happy to be wandering the roads of the world again. The three day ride tired me out so I decided to take a couple of days off to rest before heading to Big Sur which is a long tough grade but worth every pump of the pedal.
I camped in Veteran's Memorial Park. My first day of rest I made the mistake of walking further than I am capable of walking. I really can not walk very far at all. Just walking to the bathroom a few times a day uses up all my walking abilities. When I exceed my walking limit, my pain starts to skyrocket upward very quickly. The more I walk the higher the pain ends up going. It is crazy because riding my bike does not harm me the same way as walking does. Normally when I have just barely gone past my max walking distance I will get the pain but a good night's sleep will relieve it for the most part. This time I went too far and the next morning my pain was still so high I could barely waddle to the bathroom from my tent. I took some narcotics and rode down the hill to the Peet's Coffee to do my internet and try to get past the pain. Instead the pain continued to climb to a very high and dangerous level. I took 60 milligrams more of morphine and waited an hour. The pain was still climbing so I took another 60 milligrams of morphine. This might sound like a lot to the medical pros out there but remember I have been taking morphine for about twenty years now and my tolerance is high. My pain leveled off in the next hour so I rode my bike back up the 700' hill to my camp. I was tired from the climb and heavily medicated when I entered the camp. I checked in and paid my 6 bucks for the campsite then went to my tent to rest. I had to use the rest room and got up with great difficulty and struggled to walk over to the bathroom. I wanted to charge my phone a bit since it was almost dead and there was electricity in the bathroom. I hung out in the front of the bathroom trying to ease my pain with some simple stretching and the like. I felt better and wanted to eat something so I carefully and gingerly walked to my tent. That is when I discovered my wallet was missing. I tried to retrace my steps but did not find it. There were only about six other campers around. I then tore my tent apart bit by bit to make sure it was not lost in the tent. I had either dropped it when I used the toilet or maybe when I put it in my pocket I did not push it all the way in because I was a bit clumsy from the drugs, or maybe it was in my tent and someone went in while I was obviously going to be in the bathroom for a while. Whichever thing happened I don't really know and never will. I did know that everything I had for ID and my credit and debit cards were all gone along with a few hundred dollars in cash. One of the six people in camp had my wallet but I did not know which one. In retrospect I think it was the overly helpful one that helped me look for my missing wallet. I will never know. I was disabled and broke in agonizing pain with no ID two hundred plus miles away from anywhere I could replace my ID or cards etc.
I went to bed that night in agony from the pain but also disappointed that I would have to take a break from my trip to recover from this loss. I had to return to the Bay Area and restore my ID and money access. To get there I first of all was given my six bucks back by the camp director. Then I packed my bike up and rode to Monterey. I sold some of my Cliff Bars and a few other small items to some other bikers I met. I took that money and bought a bus ticket to San Jose and then got a free ticket to Fremont Bart Station from the driver of that bus. I then spent five bucks taking BART to Oakland and rode my bike the rest of the way to Karen's where I will be staying for a few days.
So some bad people took my stuff and some good people helped me out. I just wish I could catch the bad one or bad ones. I like to get even not angry. But such is life good and bad. I will be back on the road soon enough.