Malcolm and Buffy wrap their hands with surgical tape to ward off blisters. 

I jot a few notes in my journal. Dawn, day three.

Sunrise over the Bay of LA. 

Two days worth of wear on a new knobbie. 

This is a real hoot. A surreal reminder of civilization. 

Lunch at San Franciscito. 

Bob and I were riding sweep and by the time we got to lunch, they were out of gas (regular and aviation). I talked these people who were down here vacationing into giving us some gas. They refused to take any money. 

Bob spotted this rattlesnake near the bathrooms. 

A guy from the US ground looped this plane the week before we arrived. The story being told was that he walked away and said he'd never fly again. The guys who came down to fly Mark out drained enough aviation gas out of the tanks to get over to the Mexican mainland where they could fill up and fly Mark back to the US. 

"Thank-you-Jimmy's" fluttering in the breeze. 

Bob talking with Kimber. We came across a couple of guys fixing a broken chain. 

The really strange thing was that both of these guys had popped their chains within five miles of each other. 

The lake coming into San Ignatio, a beautiful oasis town. 

Again, the vets always seem to get there first and be ensconced with drinks and prime spots by the pool. 

Malcolm in the paddock area at San Ignatio.