This weekend, Dan, Joe, Scott and I went mountain biking in San Luis Obispo. Dan went to school at Cal Poly, so he knows the area fairly well, or at least where everything was five years ago. He would serve as our guide for the trip. We left Friday afternoon and drove for three hours down Highway 101. We found a motel near downtown San Luis Obispo and left our bikes and stuff in the room. After walking a few blocks, we found a huge Copeland's Sports and asked a guy at the bicycle counter for some trail advice. He recommended the "Stagecoach to Shooters" run, and attempted to describe how to get there. Joe, Dan and I listened intently, and would later attempt to piece together the instructions from our collective memories. They locked the door behind us as we left Copeland's, for the store was closing. We continued on to a grocery store and bought milk, cereal, and fruit for tomorrow's breakfast. We also bought plastic spoons and Rubbermaid containers for bowls, since each of us could use an extra one at home anyway.

Scott was the first to wake up Friday morning. As I heard Scott asking for the TV remote, I cracked a sleepy eye open just in time to catch Dan's attention. Dan tossed me the remote, and I tossed it blindly behind the bicycles somewhere. It wasn't time to wake up yet.

I was the last one to wake up and shower. A few soggy frosted shredded wheat lumps still floated in Dan's Rubbermaid container. It was bigger than his normal cereal bowl, and he had overestimated the serving.

I would wear a Camelbak backpack for the day, which is a small backpack with integrated water supply for drinking. A tube and bite valve supply water from the pack to your mouth for hands-free drinking. The backpack also contains pockets, which I filled with tools, a patch kit, spare innertube, powerbars, cash, credit card, driver's license, sterile gauze, antiseptic, and a roll of bandage tape.