CALIFORNIA

DAY 14 continued - May 25, 2001
400 miles
Total miles: 3792

After a stop for gas I quickly locked in behind a couple of cars doing 90 (figured one of them must have a radar detector) and made it to Barstow at 8:15, which worked out to 188 miles in 2-1/4 hours. I pulled up at a Coco's (basically a Denny's) but this funky old guy happened by and started talking about Boeing taking their corporate headquarters out of Seattle. Then he happened to mention a couple of BMW riders at Denny's up the street, so I popped up there to check it out. They were Californians out of the San Diego area, and were on their way home after a loop through Idaho and Utah (sounds familiar). They weren't really all that friendly though, and come to think of it, the Harley riders I'd been waving to since entering California hadn't been waving back much. This was uncharacteristic of most of the road since leaving Seattle (Seattle Harley riders don't wave to us other bikers much either).

I headed southwest from Barstow, intending to ride an interesting looking road through the San Gabriel mountains. I pulled over at a gas station to grab some water and when I came out, there were four guys on sport bikes (well, three sport bikes and a BMW R1100RS - the 2-cylinder version of my bike). They were heading north to ride in the mountains throughout Memorial Day weekend. And they happened to be going along the road I was looking at, so they were happy to have me follow along. I asked "you guys aren't too crazy, are you?" "No," said Jim (the BMW rider), "we're only riding at 40-50%." Reassured I set off after them.

[That's either Steve or Mark on the left and Jim on the right. I don't know the bikes' names, but they went really fast.]

Well I can only say I'd hate to see their 100%. These guys were fast - really fast. They took corners at speeds that defied my sense of reason. I had to back off in the curves - with all the extra baggage weight on the bike I would have had to lean much farther over to do the same cornering they were, and I wasn't ready to trust my tires to that degree. But I did manage to catch up in the straighter sections. And I learned what the bike and I are really capable of. It was terrifying and exhilarating and I can't promise it'll never happen again...sorry mom.

I broke off from the really fast guys at Palmdale and continued south and west into LA. As I descended toward the ocean I felt like I was sinking into a brownish white soup - LA's famous smog, mixed with fog. The freeways were full and everyone was bombing along at 80, which made me nervous. It's one thing to do speed on empty rural 2-lanes, another to do it surrounded by semi-attentive drivers who don't always signal when they're going to change lanes. But I managed to survive and at about 1:30 I arrived in Oxnard, just south of Ventura, where my cousin has her house.

Nobody was home - predictable at this time on a weekday - so I rolled to a local pizza joint and spent some time eating and reading the LA Times. The paper had an interesting pair of articles - one praising the new movie "Pearl Harbor", right next to one completely tearing apart the Disney-produced media event surrounding the film's release. After lunch I rode a couple of miles into downtown Oxnard to look for a couple of bike accessories: a gel seat pad and some cushy handgrips.

The need for these items points to the two most significant physical problems I have had to deal with on this trip. The previous owner of my bike had a custom seat made and while it's much better than the stock seat, it still isn't perfect - I don't think any seat could be perfect for day after day of several hundred miles.

But the bigger problem is my hands, especially the right. Since the throttle is controlled by the right hand, ordinarily that hand must be in a nearly constant position all day long. The trip would have certainly been impossible without the throttle lock I installed, but even with it (which allows me to let go of the right handgrip for extended periods), constant throttle adjustment is necessary and it's more difficult than usual because the lock makes the throttle very hard to turn. I take the pain reliever Aleve every night and morning and try to massage my hand as often as possible, but it still hurts.

My left hand isn't so bad. All it has to do is work the clutch and that is rare on the open road. But for some reason the ends of my ring and little fingers have gone a bit numb on that hand, and have been for at least a week. I can still feel with them and they're not turning black or anything, but it's not normal.

So anyway, I didn't find anything useful at the bike shop in Oxnard and my cousin called to say she was in, so I left and went back to the house.

My cousin Elizabeth was born in the US but grew up in England with her brother and parents (her father was my mother's brother), so she is entirely British in speech and manner. She studied law in England and became a member of the bar there, then moved to California and did the same, eventually practicing law here. She met Chris Burdorf and the two of them were guests at my wedding in May of 1995. They were so inspired that they stopped at Mount Shasta on the way home and got married themselves. Now Elizabeth is a full-time mom to my godson Malcolm (with another baby due in October) and Chris is a programming wizard at Disney. I could tell you what he's working on but he'd certainly have to have me killed if I did - top secret stuff.

The rest of Friday passed in a pretty low-key way - hanging around the house, catching up, playing with Malcolm (who is a bit over two now and extremely cute) and snacking on good food.

DAY 15 - May 26, 2001
.1 miles
Total miles: 3792.1

Today's massive mileage total consisted of riding the bike out of the garage and around to the front of the house, where I WASHED it! It took two hours. The poor thing was so covered with dead bugs it looked like a porch light. Many of the bugs were so crusted on they required significant scrubbing to remove, not to mention all the tar specks on the lower parts.

I hadn't planned to wash the bike 'til I got home but being back in the civilized world, LA specifically, made me realize that I had to look good at least for a couple of days. And it was very satisfying. Also did a couple of other minor maintenance items and checked the tire pressure. Strangely, for the first time this entire trip they were low. The whole tire thing has been perplexing. With all the riding I've been doing I expected to be losing air every few days, but nothing - they stayed at ideal pressure the whole time. Now all of a sudden they're down several pounds. I shall keep a close watch on them from here on.

The day actually started with Chris and I going for a run on the beach. This was the first run I'd taken in probably a month and it was a good thing we kept it at a modest pace, because I know I'm going to be feeling it tomorrow and I'd be feeling it even more if I'd gone full tilt.

In the afternoon we visited an old house built in the 1800's by a couple of ex-Mexican army soldiers who were granted several thousand acres after 17 years' service. The house had been restored and furnished in the style of the period, and was quite interesting. We also got the full attention of the German woman who was acting as tour guide for the day - more attention than we really wanted. She insisted on showing us everything, including the historical fuschia bush growing out front.

[Chris, Elizabeth and Malcolm outside the west gate to the courtyard.]

[This is a short doorway.]

[The parlor.]

[The tour guide. Okay, thanks, we can find our own way. Thanks.]

[The upstairs balcony. No really, we can find our own way.]

[Malcolm, lookin' cute.]

After our lovely tour we went to an excellent Mexican restaurant in Ventura - entirely necessary as we hadn't eaten much all day and it was now 3:30 in the afternoon. Then back home to wash the bike.

Besides being a software wizard, Chris is an avid lifelong surfer (he grew up in Southern California). He decided to head to the beach to check the waves and I tagged along, carrying Malcolm. Chris's arms are permanently wasted from carrying Malcolm, who is pretty darn big for being just over 2.

[At the beach. Not much sun here.]

Then back home for a light bite and some website work, and so here we are.

DAY 16 - May 27, 2001
147 miles
Total miles: 3939

I set out today at 10:30 in drizzling rain to meet a friend in Santa Monica. Stephanie Nye moved to LA from Seattle (via New York) and is working as a web designer, most recently for the American Film Institute. We met at The Lobster, a very nice white tablecloth place right next to the famous Santa Monica Pier, and had some superb seafood. She related the time the AFI snuck her into an event honoring Barbra Streisand with a Press pass. She stood at the edge of the red carpet with a little digital camera, amongst the paparazzi with their Nikons, shooting the rich and famous. Some of the shots ended up on the AFI website, so her "cover" ended up being the truth.

[Steph at The Lobster.]

After lunch I headed back north (sans rain) and decided to detour up Sunset Boulevard to see what could be seen. The first few miles are deliciously curvy, with a great road surface, so I made the most of them. The road passed through Pacific Palisades, Brentwood (where OJ lived), Bel Air and Beverly Hills before reaching Hollywood. Signs everywhere advertised Star Maps (maps to the homes of stars) so I figured I'd better get one.

[My star map guy. He very pleased to be photographed.]

I drove past dozens of what are probably landmarks, including the Whisky-a-Go-go, where many a rock band made their mark. The road wound eastward and the neighborhood became more ethnic and less wealthy, blonde hair and Mercedes giving way to barred windows and check cashing joints. Eventually I decided to return, turtle-fashion, to the sea. This time I kept the camera at the ready:

[L. Ron Hubbard Street, just outside the Church of Scientology. I'm pretty sure I saw Tom Cruise.]

[The Beverly Hills Hotel. Perhaps somewhat better than some of the places I've stayed.]

I drove into Bel Air just to see what I could see - mainly lots of high hedges and walls, and a few huge houses beyond. I didn't bother pulling out the star map. It didn't really matter to me who lived in which house. And then suddenly, there was Julia Roberts, who invited me in for a drink and gave me a foot massage. And one of the sentences in this paragraph is not true - guess which one, you may win a valuable prize!

[Leaving Bel Air. Bye Julia - my feet feel great!]

Traffic was mercifully light the whole day - thanks to this being Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, and to the weather being so gray. The ride home was uneventful (though I did meet a guy at a Chevron station who said he used to race motorcycles in the Gran Prix circuit, including the famous Isle of Man race.) But it was cold - low to mid 60's. I was glad for the heated handgrips on the bike (didn't mention that before, did I!)

Finally got back to Oxnard at 6 pm. Elizabeth had taken Malcolm to see Sesame Street Live (with hordes of screaming kids in attendance) and was fast asleep. I was ready to collapse too - only 150 miles today but it was like shopping; always looking around, dealing with lights and traffic and everything - very exhausting. So we popped out for a quick bite, came back and watched the Simpsons (a rerun but a good one) and now I'm preparing to hit the sack in anticipation of an early morning departure tomorrow, to Carmel.

DAY 17 - May 28, 2001
281 miles
Total miles: 4220

A pretty light day, mileage wise, but lots of time without cruise control on the Pacific Coast Highway, so it was hard on the body.

Today the plan was to get up at 5 am, but when the alarm went off I discovered how to sneak it back 10 minutes, then 10 minutes again, so when I finally got up it was 5:30. I ate a quick bite and packed the bike quietly so as not to wake my hosts, but fortunately just as it was time to go they got up, so we had a chance to say goodbye with nobody feeling guilty.

I began the final stretch of my journey northward at 6:45 and continued on until 8:30, where I stopped for breakfast in Buellton ("home of split pea soup"), at Ellen's Pancake House. This was per the recommendation of the attendant at a Chevron I stopped at.

Breakfast was indeed good and afterwards I continued north, now off Highway 101 and onto Highway 1, the famous Pacific Coast Highway. I was expecting some pretty dramatic twisty road but so far it was mostly gentle sweepers. Then I reached San Simeon, home of Hearst Castle. I decided to stop for a look at this famous landmark, though I was aware of the possibility that, being Memorial Day, this well-known stop could be thronged. It was, so I satisfied myself with a walk through the museum and a look through the telescope.

[My designer friends will appreciate this familiar scene. This was from a display chronicling the making of a book about Hearst Castle. This photo shows a set of Quark printouts with piles of Post-Its™ strewn around. Plus of course a couple of FedEx boxes.]

[You know those cheesy metal telescopes that cost a quarter? The ones that say you can jus hold your camera up to them and take a picture? Well this is what you get when you do (and enhance the living crap out of it in Photoshop - they don't tell you THAT do they?!)]

Soon the road began to twist more tightly. Ordinarily this would be great, but due to the presence of Memorial Day, the road had quite a bit more traffic than usual, and much of it was RVs and minivans. Thus the occasions to truly carve up the turns were fairly limited. But at least the scenery was good.

[Somewhere not too far south of Big Sur.]

The gas tank was down to fumes and so was my stomach when I stopped in Big Sur. This stretch of roadway pulls away from the coast a bit, passing through forest land with lots of camping. I stopped at a motel/campground/store/restaurant and ate a delicious but slowly-served meal. Afterwards I talked with a couple of BMW riders who had ridden up to Idaho for the long weekend.

[Didn't get their names. Guy on the left has the 2 cylinder version of my bike, and one year newer.]

Another gentleman joined us, a Kawasaki Ninja rider of many years who also sells tires (whether motorcycle tires or not I do not know). He knew a lot about the local roads and recommended a couple of rides that I would be sure to enjoy. Given time tomorrow I will take them.

[The man known only as "The Guide".]

After lunch I set off north but quickly got bogged down behind a slow RV. The road poked along until I was very close to Carmel. Suddenly the SUV behind me started honking and motioning for me to pull over. I did, and it was The Guide, in his Mitsubishi Montero. He said he'd lead me into downtown Carmel, since he lived there and he knew it could be tricky.

Wary of possible kidnap/white slavery attempts, I nevertheless followed this mysterious character and he did indeed drop me at the head of Ocean Avenue, the main street leading through Carmel-by-the-Sea (not to be confused with Carmel or Carmel Valley).

I arrived shortly at the Adobe Inn, a very nice place.

[My cushy room at the Adobe Inn.]

After checking in, I stepped out, scored a latte and saw what I could see. Carmel is dense with boutique shopping, much like (and not to sound like a snob) Santa Fe, Park City or Aspen. This kind of place is neat the first time, and will certainly separate you from a comfortable amount of money, but commerce is commerce. The real trick is to gently unfocus your eyes so you see the quaintness of the town without seeing all the merchandise. Try it - it works!

[A small slice of downtown Carmel-by-da-Sea.]

The real beauty here is the beach. Just follow Ocean Ave. to the west and you'll hit the beach.

[Looking northward along the beach. The green area at background right is Pebble Beach golf course - the big bucks play there.]

[Climbing the sand hill off the beach, back towards the road.]

[A sweeping view southward along the beach.]

All this time I'd been checking out menus at restaurants, looking for a place to eat. There were some nice places but none really inspiring so I decided to go to a place the hotel manager had mentioned - the Mission Ranch restaurant at the south end of the street my hotel is on, owned by Clint Eastwood. I figured I could say "hey, I ate at Clint's restaurant".

Of course I packed no nice clothes, so I dressed in my best biker chic - black jeans and leather jacket, and rode to the restaurant. The hostess seated me and as I was getting settled...okay wait, first I have to add a little more info. About a half hour before, as I was cruising the streets of CBTS (Carmel By The Sea) I happened into a little Italianesque home decor shop and saw a cool sculpture of a motorcycle I decided to buy. I was almost out the door with this odd metal Harley model when the clerk pointed out another one. It was a model of an Indian motorcycle. Now I'm not a huge Harley fan (though I do admire the design of the machines) but I like Indians because to me they're more classics, and less about attitude. So I swapped for the Indian. This made me think of the American Flyers because one of the riders was the wife of the new CEO of Indian Motorcycles (I'd thought he was actually one of the riders but I was wrong - he hadn't been able to make that ride).

So anyway, I was getting settled into my chair and the woman at the next table says "Bob! Bob!" It was Barbara O'Connell from the American Flyers ride. And with her was the previously missing husband, Frank O'Connell, CEO of Indian Motorcycles.

This was too weird. Turns out they'd rented a house in Carmel, and I just rolled my way in here, and here we both were at this restaurant that was off the beaten (and touristy) track. They graciously invited me to join them and I spent my dinner in a most enjoyable conversation about motorcycles, life, motorcycles and life. And to add to the pleasure, they picked up the tab. They will certainly be getting the favor returned the next time they're in Seattle.

Dinner by the way was fantastic - definitely go here if you're in Carmel. Oysters and a martini, followed by swordfish (with a great chardonnay) and finished off with pecan pie a la mode and port. Mmm-mm!

And they mentioned something about an upcoming ride in Tuscany, Italy (hee hee!) I think I might have to wiggle my way in on that one.

[The ultra-groovy Frank and Barbara O'Connell. They have a lot of motorcycles.]

And now I'm back at the comfy Adobe Inn, ready to rest in luxury.

DAY 18 - May 29, 2001
279 miles
Total miles: 4499

Usually I start these reports from the beginning of the day, but today I'm going to start with a quick flash of the end. I am sitting right now on the stone patio of my suite at the Elk Cove Inn in Elk, CA. It's dark - 10:30 pm as I write - and the half moon is reflecting off the curling tops of the breakers as they roll in a hundred yards away. The only audible competition for their soft rumble is the frogs in the lagoon just inland of the surf line. I found this place by pure chance. The day was waning quickly into night - it was 7:30 pm and I hadn't found a place to stay yet.

My planned destination was Ft. Bragg, another 30 miles on, but I was freezing cold, exhausted from battling the Pacific Coast Highway all day and was being alternately blinded by the setting sun and thrust into shadow when the road swept inland into the gullies between the headlands. I had given up on Ft. Bragg and was looking for any decent place, anything besides the various Happy Nap Motels I kept passing by. Maybe I should turn back - there was a nice looking community 15 miles or so back. Then out of the lodging wasteland, was the sign for the Elk Cove Inn. I decided to take a look and by god, if you get a chance to stay anywhere on the Northern California coast, this is the place to stay. Just a few complaints:

Top Ten Complaints about the Elk Cove Inn

10. No barista supplied to run in-room espresso machine.
9. Surrounding headlands block wind to extent that it's easy to spend too much time on patio, even in dark.
8. Jacuzzi tub just short enough that it's difficult to get both chest and knees under water at same time.
7. No small-of-the-back jet in jacuzzi tub.
6. While gift basket contains fruit, chocolates and local Mendocino Valley wine, it does not contain fine cigar.
5. Romantic oil lamps do not cast enough light to read in tub.
4. While complimentary decanter of port is tawny and not ruby (tawny is better), no age data is supplied.
3. No water glasses in bar sink area - forced to use red wine goblet.
2. Thick embroidered robes easily reversed by mistake - robes will not tie when reversed.
And finally:
1. Suite's charm and luxury make mustering motivation to continue with trip difficult.

[The dump called Elk Cove Inn.]

[More dump.]

[Lookit that faucet go.]

Okay - so what about the rest of the day? Well I got a late start out of Carmel - didn't actually get rolling until 10:15. The day was cool and I was wearing the full cold-weather suit, with the outside temperature about 65. I headed north to San Francisco. Along the way I passed a tanker truck belonging to a candy company. The placard on the back said "Caution: Gummies on board." I wondered if this meant the truck was packed with assorted gummy creatures, or was it just the liquified form of one of the colors - red perhaps, or green?

I decided to continue through San Francisco rather than stop for lunch beforehand - I am generally crisper of mind (though more irritable) if I don't eat. Highway 1 turned to a busy city street that wound through the west part of the city, ending up in Golden Gate Park. I kept wondering when I was going to hit the bridge when all of a sudden, I was on it. The thought that first crossed my mind was how amazed I was. It's one thing to gradually approach something like this and see it grow bigger and more detailed, and quite another to turn a corner and bang - there it is towering above you. And what a bridge! The design is absolutely beautiful. This is no minimalist function-before-form construct - the builders of this bridge knew they were making a thing of beauty. And to look to the right and see all of San Francisco Bay spread out - the city, Alcatraz, the Bay Bridge - it was literally breathtaking. I found myself wishing I'd pulled over at the beginning of the bridge to shoot some pictures, but instead I pulled over at the end.

[Some bridge I think.]

As usual I ran into a group who needed a picture taken, so the deal was made (see Arizona, Grand Canyon).

[Unidentified tourists at some bridge.]

After my photographic curiosity was satisfied I knew it was time to eat, so I continued on a very short distance to Sausalito, where I lunched on some excellent rare ahi at a restaurant right on the water. At the table next to me was couple with a very cute baby. They were speaking what I thought was French but turns out it was German (though very softly accented). I took a picture for them and would have worked the deal but in an effort to look unencumbered (this WAS a fairly nice place after all) I'd left the camera on the bike.

I didn't get back on the road 'til 3:30 and I knew making Ft. Bragg was going to be a push. The first few dozen miles on Highway 1 didn't help much - very tight and slow twisties - but the surrounding countryside was spectacular, with steep grassy hills rolling in all directions and the road carving through them like a car commercial waiting to happen. This was a very slow road - even pushing hard through the turns it was impossible to get much speed, the curves were so tight. As I climbed and headed north I saw hawks soaring on the thermals that slide up these hillsides. One paralleled me just a hundred feet away for about a quarter of a mile - I took it as a good omen.

[Yeah, baby, yeah.]

The road continued on, sometimes fast and sweeping, sometimes slow and tortuous, but always highly enjoyable. The only concession was that in order to drive the road to the level it deserved, most of my attention had to be on both the immediate surface (to avoid gravel and bad spots) and the stretch of road ahead (to prepare for curves and oncoming cars). So the beautiful hillsides and rocky cliffs were absorbed in quick snatches and through peripheral vision. I think the only way to truly experience the sheer quantity of scenic viewing on this road is to either walk it or travel as a passenger in somebody else's vehicle. Otherwise you're just too busy staying alive.

But it was cold near the water. It had been roasting in Sausalito - in the high 70's - and I'd packed my cold suit in the saddlebags, switching to the leather jacket and riding jeans. This was fine for the inland stretches but at the coast the wind blew (alarmingly at times) and the temperature dropped to the low 60's. By the time 7 pm came along it was down in the 50's and with no immediate prospects for a place to stay I pulled out the cold suit jacket and put it on over the leather.

[Stopping to layer up.]

This was much more tolerable and since the road had mostly straightened out now I was able to get in good chunks at 70+ mph, eating up some of those uncovered miles. And the rest you know. I discovered the Elk Cove Inn just in the nick of time, visited a little Irish pub a half mile away - with Guiness on draft (one, please) and some high-quality fish & chips - returned for a long lazy soak in the tub and now here I sit, listening to the breakers and frogs, watching the moon inch across the sky and wishing I didn't have to leave tomorrow.

Oh yeah - the fireplace has remote control.

DAY 19 - May 30, 2001
360 miles
Total miles: 4859

Ahh, the sea air. I slept like a rock. The bed was just right - Goldilocks could not have asked for more.

[The morning view from my room.]

I took advantage of the espresso machine before strolling over to the main house for breakfast. On the way I stopped for a look through the outdoor telescope (this one didn't require a quarter). Through the eyepiece I saw a pair of deer foraging in the lagoon.

[Hey, it's Bambi.]

Breakfast was a buffet with an incredible array of items - scrambled eggs with veggies, several cereals, all the usual meats, apple crumble and a whole lot more. Asta the wire-haired fox terrier made the rounds of the tables, looking for attention but unbelievably NOT begging for food. I hit the road at 9:45, back on the now infamous tire and clutch wearing Highway 1. The morning was cool but sunny, with temperatures in the high 60's and low 70's (that's as specific as I can be - in this area the temperature can change 10 degrees within a couple of miles as the road winds inland and back out to the coast.)

[Stopped here to use the loo.]

[One of the surplus items available. 125 kilos of chutney. That's about 275 lbs.]

About 100 miles into the ride Highway 1 ended at Highway 101, the bigger, busier and faster main coastal corridor. Right at the intersection I stopped at the Drive-Thru Tree:

[Whee. The Tree.]

Wonderful as The Tree was, there were miles to be covered so northward I went. This is redwood country, and the big trees lined the road. Funny - I was not as impressed as I expected to be. They were big, sure, but from the outside they look pretty much like the western cedars found throughout the Northwest. And I've seen plenty of those. Oh well.

I stopped for lunch about 2 pm in Arcata, CA, home of Humboldt State University. I knew I could find both espresso and a decent lunch (as opposed to fast food or some greasy spoon - the typical fare in the typical coastal fishing/logging town.) Back on the road at 3:15 pm, I still had 170 miles to cover to reach my intended destination of Coos Bay, Oregon. If the road was going to be anything like Highway 1, that translates to about 4 hours of riding. Fortunately it was 101 all the way, and it was easy to keep it at 70 most of the way, not including the occasional construction site and gas stop.

[Mmmm - gotta love those gas prices. Hooray for 50 miles per gallon.]

I did however pause briefly at a northern California landmark famous for its bumperstickers (usually wired on) - Trees of Mystery. I expected to see some black-clad commando types bumperstickering hapless vehicles, but I guess they finally got fed up with being attacked by angry motorists - no commando action here.

[Wow. I finally made it to Trees of Mystery.]

"Trees" was just another tourist trap, but they did have one interesting (and free) sight to see.

[Giant Paul Bunyan and Giant Babe the Anatomically Correct Blue Ox. I did not know Babe was a boy ox.]

At 5 I crossed into Oregon - one state away from my final destination!