The Meat Market (aka Myrtle Beach)

After yesterday's ride neither Sam nor I were hurting to any amount of concern, just tired and, well, going down stairs was rather entertaining.  There was a delicious breakfast at the Serendipity B&B and lots of friendly folk to chat with over eggs, muffins, freshly-baked coffee cake, and other morning treats.  There were even some fellow Canadians with whom to talk about hockey, the Vinyl Cafe, and other gems.

Thanks to the suggestion of a couchsurfer by the name of Cathy that I had emailed at the last minute for suggestions of things to do around town, Sam and I biked into the main area of town to find a suggested coffee shop for some mellow time.  Perhaps you can see a pattern of seeking out coffee shops on rest days.  I suppose I could try and argue that I am simply dragged along by my hipster companion who wants to sit and read Dickens with an espresso, but I really do appreciate sitting still in that sort of environment after being on the move so much.

I explored a little bit by myself in the afternoon, both on foot and by bike, and located some frozen yogurt along the way.  My alternate name for this place, as seen in the title of this post, was given that in the time between leaving the coffee shop and finding Sam for dinner I had three less-than-wholesome offers of places to sleep.  While the thrifty side of me was cursing the fact that I had even bothered to pay for a place to sleep, one of the offers was out of a rattling truck window while I tried to bicycle through an intersection with froyo in one hand and a gust of cross-wind.  Not helpful.

Cycling back towards the B&B and a hungry Sam, I came across a beautiful beach scene and a surfer-ridden area that was calling my name to gawk for a bit.  Not only was this spectacular to watch, but it made dinner at a recommended restaurant all the more delicious as us two bicycle riders, disguised in plaid and non-biking shoes, pondered life and trip routes over some tasty local shrimp.