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Thu
Mar 18/04
Mike
It brought back memories of the Donner party as we Alaska Aired into
San Francisco and found ourselves comfortably ensconced in a Mustang
convertible on a sunny, low-80’s F afternoon in Northern California.
Why? The drive to
Turlock should have taken 1½ hours (at least that’s how long it took
Brian’s niece who drove home from College for the weekend about the same
time). Instead, Brian’s
insistence that “it’s always rush hour in the Bay Area” took us on a
seemingly endless drive through suburbia as we tried, with limited
success, to find some complicated back route he had figured out.
Of course, once we tracked and
backtracked enough, we did in fact find ourselves in rush hour, thus
defeating the entire purpose of getting up at an unconscionable hour in
order to arrive early enough to avoid it.
Brian grudgingly agreed that I “might be right” when I
suggested that we probably could have made it to Turlock in 1 ½ hours,
rather than the 4 that it took us had we simply stuck to the interstate.
With Brian, this is as good as it gets.
Flushed in this rare victory, I
was more than ready to emerge from motorcycling hibernation.
Too bad tomorrow is a scheduled flying day.
Fri Mar 19/04
Mike
Oh happy me!
It has been decided that my presence is not required in the
airplane today. Brian
and Don are going to go up and recon the last of the north coast while I
head out to the Bay Area and try to find some little pieces of twisty road
not yet overcome by development and traffic.
Even the trip out from Turlock on the interstates was eventful.
I can see how lane splitting-- which seems to me more dangerous
than boiling full throttle into a blind, decreasing radius turn complete
with gravel-- would take some getting used to.
I’m
told it isn’t long before you are bisecting traffic that is already
going 70 mph. I’m not there
yet. The thought of being
squeezed between two moving walls of semi-trailer is not the way I want to
cash in on my insurance policy.
Somehow,
I made it to San Rafael and slugged through suburbia to TE Point San
Pedro Rd, a magical stretch of road through China Camp State Park.
Changes are often sudden in California; a single curve can move you
from suburban sprawl into untouched hinterland.
Such is the case here as I ventured out onto the inter-tidal salt
marshes aside San Francisco Bay.
Then
it was off to TE Paradise Drive, a tight and twisty cliff side
drive to the funky little town of Tiburon.
I love these little places with a dash of history that have been
preserved and only added to in a tasteful way.
Certainly more tasteful than some of the garish mansions I viewed
trying to negotiate my way along the one-lane Beach Rd that extended
beyond Tiburon.
Ultimately
landing back at the 101, I enjoyed another one of these instant nature
experiences, blasting up TE McCullough Rd that turns off the 101
just north of the Golden Gate. I tore up the green slopes on a series of sweepers on
above-average pavement that wound me out to the surfdom of Rodeo Beach.
It’s a great road and if you want to add an interesting tag onto it, you
can come back along TE-ALT Bunker Hill Rd, travel through a long,
one-lane tunnel deep under the interstate and then wind down through the
gorgeous grounds of Fort Bragg before ending up in chichi Sausalito.
I
would have loved to have found a nice hotel in Sausalito within walking
distance of the promising looking restaurants along the waterfront, but
with the guidebook only showing deluxe to ultra-deluxe and my being on my
own, I felt I just couldn’t justify the expense.
So I ended up with the substandard motel experience of the
TravelLodge up on Redwood Blvd. $89.00 got me a room the size of a walk-in closet, a shower
stall I could barely squeeze in to and something I’ve never had to
experience before and hope I never do again-- 100% polyester sheets.
The
bright light to this dim motel was the restaurant associated with it.
The India Palace was packed and with good reason.
Despite its unpromising decor and long preparation time, I feasted
on chicken tandoori (supposedly voted the best chicken tandoori in the
county by somebody back in 1999), vegetable curry and rice. I couldn’t resist trying an Indian beer, a very large
bottle of some Millweiser tasting beverage called Flying Horse. Each bottle comes with a little card attached by a gold
thread that reads:
“Ideally, Flying Horse should be chilled
to temperatures of 8 degrees to 10 degrees C. and, when you’re sure that
the occasion deserves it, serve Flying Horse Royal Lager Beer.
Then sit back and drink deeply.”
So
I did.
Sat Mar 20/04
Mike
“How do you write women so well?” the
early twenties, doe-eyed receptionist asked Jack Nicholson’s character
in as As Good As It Gets. Jack’s
answer: “I think of a man
and then take away reason and accountability.”
I
had meant to get an early start to this day but in the morning I picked up
this movie (on one of only two channels that came in clearly at Bates
Motel Revisited) and stuck with it through the ensuing couple hours.
Probably the best romantic comedy I have ever seen.
A guy’s chick flick.
Back
to business, I set out on Hwy 1 and took the turnoff to Mount Tamalpais
and wicked my way to the top to take in what truly must be one of the
greatest city views imaginable: looking south over misty San Francisco and over to the East
Bay. No wonder every second
San Franciscan decided to drive up here today.
Resuming
my trek, I did manage to escape much of the madding crowd (if not the
madding cyclists) by checking out TE
Ridgecrest Rd. Acceptably
paved, more than acceptably curvy and incredibly scenic, this great trip
over the Californian Moors unfortunately ends at the junction of the
Bolinas-Fairfax Rd. Turning left puts you on a narrow one-lane bumpy goat path
out the coast. Turning right
puts you on a narrow two-lane goat path out to Fairfax.
Why anyone considers this a “motorcycle road” is beyond me.
It’s so steep you want to gear down from first to negotiate the
downhill hairpins.
Fairfax,
another of these old towns brought to life because of San Franciscans
fleeing the urban jungle, has a smattering of services.
The one that caught my eye was the organic food store and deli.
As I sat down outside to enjoy my organic brown rice and
vegetables, I couldn’t help overhearing a conversation between three
twenty-something beta-males reflecting upon the stages of their lives and
the muses that they were in tune with.
It was one curious “conversation vessel”.
Only the California State Penal Code prevented me from turning on
my dictaphone. But everything
you have ever seen depicted in movies about California’s Marin County is
apparently true.
The
day’s adventure was just beginning.
I headed out of Fairfax on the busy Sir Francis Drake Blvd, turned
right on the much quieter TE Nicasio Valley Rd, then headed up to the Petaluma – Reyes Rd
where I turned right again and then made another right down TE
Novato Rd.
Moderate
curves and moderate pavement made this easy ride quite similar to Nicasio
Valley but it’s more scenic and interesting since it not only goes
through the rolling California hills but also skirts some rock faces and
the shore of Stafford Lake. The
only downside to Novato Rd is that it’s a long trip through suburban
Novato to reconnect with the 101. After
some backtracking, I found a much better way of accessing it—turn up
Santa Clara Blvd and head out to the 101.
Heading east from here, the Atherton Ave connector is a no-brainer
bypass.
One
of the day’s motorcycling highlights was TE
Lucas Valley Rd. With
a lot of tight narrow curves through the forest and some steep sections,
this could have been a bad experience. But great pavement can make all the
difference and in this case did. Despite
it being Sunday, traffic was not bad.
Except for its ten-mile length, we’d have a certain Destination
Highway here.
Then
it was back down TE Nicasio Valley Rd, right on Sir Francis Drake Blvd and an
extremely traffic-filled and bumpy trip through the Samuel Taylor State
Park to Olema.
Rather
than continue with the armada of pylons on Sir Francis Drake, I turned off
onto the Bear Valley Rd and then TE
Limantour Rd, a sweepy, surprisingly well-paved dead ender out to a
lonely piece of the Point Reyes National Seashore.
This road was particularly inviting not only because of the rare
sweepers in a day of tight corners, but because the road rises up and
overlooks the coast before descending to it.
On
this day, the famous fog bank – the one that apparently had prevented
Sir Francis Drake from discovering the Golden Gate entrance to San
Francisco Bay on his visit here – filled the coastline.
As I dropped, so did the temperature and the visibility.
I ended up on a remote wind and wave-swept beach, desolate but for
the occupants of the hundred or so pylons filling the parking lot.
What can you expect on the first nice weekend of the year in
Northern California?
Riding
back to Hwy 1, I noticed a baseball cap lying on the road.
It made me look in my rearview to see how my own baseball cap
(which was velcroed on to the top of my soft luggage) was doing.
I couldn’t see it my rearview mirrors and so I reached back and
felt ...nothing. I pulled
over and turned around to see that my entire luggage pack was gone.
It seems the metal hardware brackets attaching it to my bike had
sheared right off.
The
thoughts that go through your head at moments like this are interesting.
The obvious one (after all the profane ones) being: “where the
frick could it have fallen off?” Considering
the last time I had seen it was some 2½ hours earlier, I wasn’t holding
out a lot of hope of recovering it. Next
I thought about what I had on me and what was in the luggage.
I had my passport. Good.
I had all my money, or at least most of it.
Good. The now-departed luggage had my personal diary and organizer
along with all my secondary I.D. Contact
lenses and glasses, also gone. Those
were going to be a bit of a hassle. One or two lost tapes were going to set me back a couple of
days. At the end of it all,
an enormous pain in the ass but it could be worse.
What really pissed me off was that a luggage system that I had come
to believe in and rely upon had failed. And I could no longer laugh at
Brian’s Givi travails.
As
I reflected over the past 2 ½ hours, it seemed to that the most likely
place the luggage would have bailed was on the bumpy Sir Francis Drake
Blvd. I could only imagine
what shape the bag would be in after being run over by all the vehicles
that travel that road, but it was the place to start. Since I had already gone out to the coast and backtracked, it
was unlikely that I had lost it on this last road and, besides, vehicles
behind me would have caught up to me by now and either handed it over or
told me they’d seen it.
Heading
up Sir Francis Drake Blvd, I saw a motorcyclist on an ‘85 Yamaha 250
pulled over on the side of the road.
Ty Davis from San Raphael and his girlfriend Tanya were to be my
saviors that day. I pulled
over and after having the usual conversation about my motorcycle and
camera getup, I asked if by chance they’d seen a large black object on
the road in their travels.
As
it turned out, Ty had seen what he thought may have been my luggage some
five minutes back in a pullout.
Since he was heading back he could take me right to it.
We went back and just as we were arriving, some fellow, I’m
certain with the best of intentions, was loading my luggage into his
Cadillac. While it had
suffered some road rash, everything inside appeared to be intact.
I even recovered the twisted metal pretzel that used to be my
bracket.
I
thanked my saviors profusely and promised them a free copy of Destination
Highways Northern California-- assuming my luggage would ever stay on my
bike long enough for me to complete the research.
I then bungy-rigged a way to transport my bags and limped back to
Petaluma where Brian and I had agreed to meet at the end of the day.
Days later I was still shaking my head and wondering, “what are
the odds?”
As
the next day was Sunday, there wasn’t much that we could do to deal with
my situation, so we decided to “base camp” it, which means leaving our
gear at the same motel with a plan to stay there a second night.
Ordinarily, we like to take all our stuff with us because we never
know where we’re going to end up. But
in this case, coming back to Petaluma was going to work well with our
riding plans, anyway.
Sun
Mar 21/04
Mike
The next day, we continued where I had left
off, slowly making our way northward between the coast and Hwy 101,
checking out the various side roads.
The highlight was the trip up Hwy 1 north of Point Reyes all the
way to Bodega Bay. The
sections of tight curves on perfect pavement in the bits of seaside
hinterland that remain between the small cottage developments that trickle
up the coast were heavenly.
In
Freestone, I nipped in to a bakery.
While there, I had a nice chat with John Bauer and his buddies.
It is always nice to meet those people who, as Brian says, in the
space of a few minutes “get it”.
That’s a reference to the fact that a lot of people take a little
time to figure out exactly what our books are about, how to use them and
what they do for you. John
was one of those guys who “got it” right away.
He was also kind enough turn me on to the parts manager at Mission
Honda in Daly City as being a likely source of the hard luggage I was now
determined to buy. Then
it was north on the variably paved, but consistently twisty TE
Bohemian Hwy through farmland, the town of Occidental and some forest.
We
got back late to Petaluma, too late to replicate our fine dining
experience at The Market restaurant of the night before.
No pork comfit tonight. The
Market was not alone in closing early Sundays.
Most places stopped serving at about 7:30.
After tearing around town like a couple of goofy-looking speed
walkers, we settled on our old standby, the local Chinese restaurant.
Usually the same. But
always a good fallback.
Mon
Mar 22/04
Mike
Monday morning.
Time to get on the phone. After
much calling around, it became apparent that there was no way I was going
to be able to find any new hard luggage today.
But as it turned out, maybe I wouldn’t need it.
I got a hold of Amy at Cycleventure, the distributors for my
Ventura Bikepack luggage system in North America.
She is the same one who had stayed late when I had ridden my new
VFR down to California last year so I could install the luggage system in
the first place. Amy was
accommodating as always, promising to have not only a replacement bracket
to the bike shop of my choice the next morning but also a replacement bag
for the one that had ripped.
It
turns out I am not the first person that this had happened to.
As a consequence, Ventura has redesigned this bracket to reinforce
the weak point. Wouldn’t
have minded knowing that earlier. And
had I not found my luggage, my reaction might not have been quite so
equivocal. In any case, I
certainly appreciated their efforts to deal with my situation
expeditiously and look forward to restoring my trust in the Bikepack
system.
In
Ventura’s defence, I should say that one of things I really like about
their system is that, unlike hard luggage, it keeps you narrow.
Unless you are accustomed to riding with saddlebags, it's hard to
have a sense of how wide you are. I
went down once using hard luggage in New Zealand for this very reason.
Against that background, the idea of lane splitting with extra
large haunches on my bike is disquieting.
The
bike shop I chose for delivery was in Ukiah, some 70–odd miles north of
Petaluma. Why go all the way
up there? Well, as it turned
out, my luggage problems had coincided with a distressing lack of tread on
my rear tire. I didn’t
really want to ride another day on it and this bike shop was the only one
nearby that was open on a Monday outside San Francisco.
What’s with that, anyway?
Even
with no tread and jerry rigged luggage, it was nice to be heading north on
Hwy 101 and getting out of the congested Bay Area.
It was also kind of nice to go inland where the temperature was a
little warmer.
After
dropping my bike off at the shop, I got myself a room at the Holiday Inn
Express just half a block away and dealt with a few work issues back in my
real world. I retrieved my
freshly shod mount it was 3:30 p.m, leaving enough time to check out TE
Eastside Rd through the Mendocino vineyards.
I found it to be a consistently sweeping road that was much better
than the guys at the bike shop had described it.
I hooked up with Brian in Hopland and, after some hops and malted barley,
we checked out the fantastic DH Old
Hopland – Lakeport (Hwy 175). Steep,
twisty up-and-down over the Mayacmas Mtns, it was one where the pavement
was so great—especially coming down the east side—that you welcomed it
getting as tight as this road gets. We
followed up with the winding, well-paved yet un-remote TE
Soda Bay Rd – Lakeview Rd along the Clear Lake shoreline, splitting
at the south end for Brian to head north and check out another possibility
while I investigated the Peninsula Rd out of Clear Lake.
Considering
its lovely lakeside location, the actual town of Clear Lake is a bit of an
armpit. As, frankly, is the
road which bumpily and narrowly jerks its way along the shoreline for
several miles before finally opening up along the peninsula’s north
side. There is a brief section which climbs along the coast which is okay,
but far too brief for the hassle of getting to. I spent far too much time dicking around with road names and
alternative routes for a road that turned out to be nothing.
And for this I was rewarded with a long, cold ride in the dark up
Hwy 20 back to Hwy 101 and into Ukiah.
This airflow-mesh Kevlar, great at 80 F, leaves a bit to be desired
at 52 F.
Tue Mar 23/04
Mike
Enough dicking around.
It was time to do some serious riding.
Accordingly, it was up and at ‘em on a beautiful sunny day,
blitzing the 20 or so miles down to Cloverdale and flipping inland on DH
Cloverdale – Boomtown (Hwy 128).
The great pavement on this brilliant ride seriously twisted up and
over a ridge and then down through a pretty valley.
We imagined that going out to the coast could only get better.
So it was disappointing when past Boomtown, the valley was spoiled
by a straight road and
development for many miles. It
finally recovered at Novarro when the development was replaced by tall
redwoods. They shaded TE
Novarro – Hwy 128/Hwy 1 Jct, a twisty, gorgeous piece of pavement
that winds out to the lonely coast. And
lucky me. Since I had to backtrack to check out TE Flynn Creek Rd – Ukiah-Mendocino Rd, I got to do it all over
again.
While
Flynn Creek Rd could not compare to Hwy 128, it was nonetheless impressive
to see reasonably good pavement in such a remote location.
It was far better than the initial segment of the Ukiah–Mendocino
Rd east of Comptche which had great engineering but was horribly bumpy.
Happily, the brand new pavement that took over at the top of the
ridge and took me all the way down into Mendocino more than made up for
it.
I
then rode down to connect with Brian at a mapdot called Albion.
Unfortunately, Brian’s idea of the location of this mapdot and
mine were slightly different and, as a result, we ended up waiting for
each other at different locations a few hundred yards apart for the better
part of an hour. Generally,
we have developed fairly reliable protocols for insuring we don’t lose
each other and waste a lot of time. It
tends to work much better when you are in area where there’s cell
service.
The
day ended with a delicious dinner and pleasant night at the Mendocino
Hotel. One thing about doing
the coast north of San Francisco is that you eat a lot better than you do
in northeastern California. We
also ended up staying in a lot of these romantic hotels, hard pressed to
find rooms with two beds. Unfortunately,
no matter how long I am out on the road and away from my girlfriend, Brian
never looks any better.
Wed Mar 24/04
Mike
This day began with another of the technical
problems that seems to have plagued this particular trip.
We rode south on Hwy 1 to just south of Manchester with a view to
doing TE Mountainview Rd and we
noticed that Brian’s power cable (from the bike to his gear) and finally
given out after some 36,000 miles. Fortunately,
we now carry spare parts and after a 45-minute replacement delay, we got
going again.
This road started off well
enough, with pretty good pavement ripping through some really lovely
farming terrain before venturing into the woods.
Then it got bumpier and narrowed into frequent one lane sections.
And it started to rain. The
perfect pavement which took the road down on the final 21% grade into
Boomtown was not enough to salvage what should have been a great riding
experience.
The
sun glinted through the clouds at Boomtown immediately to the west and we
therefore decided it was a good time to do DH
Cloverdale – Boomtown (Hwy 128) (the road we had done the day
before) in the opposite direction as we had some issues to sort out
between us regarding this road. And so we were back in the sunshine, riding through the
fields, vineyards and forests back to Hwy 101.
A
brew pub lunch in Cloverdale and we were heading south on the 101 again,
this time to Healdsburg and the source of the locally renowned DH
Skaggs Spring Rd. Although
it deteriorates into poor pavement after 27 miles, that 27 miles or so may
be some of the finest in California.
This
road is beyond description, so much fun that it was difficult to
concentrate on rating it. Wide
shoulders and baby-bottom smooth pavement the whole way as it weaves and
swerves up and down and around the hilly landscape.
But what’s with the 30-mph zone that smothers this road?
My strong suspicion that it relates to the number of motorcycles
that must scream up and down it every weekend during riding season. Still,
it will rate very highly, to be sure.
The
joy of Skagg Springs Rd was muted somewhat when we rode the balance of it
all the way out the coast, another 30-odd miles of bumps and not
particularly good engineering. The
bottom line is anyone doing this road would do the good part and turn
around again unless they had to get out to the coast for some other
reason. The first part of
this road you travel to, to journey on.
The second part you avoid.
It
was getting late and I headed up to check out a possible TE out of Gualala
and Brian headed south to find us accommodation.
He did very well scoring us a couple of rooms at the luxurious Sea
Ranch Resort where we enjoyed probably the best meal I have had in
northern California. After
dining, I relaxed in my private hot tub, looked out the window at the
crashing surf and reflected upon how much I love this job.
Thu Mar 25/04
Mike
Well, sometimes I don’t love it so much.
We woke up to steady rain. Keeping
two deluxe rooms at Sea Ranch a second night simply was not an option, so
we waded our way south on Hwy 1 in the hope that we could get far enough
south to get below the wicked front that was pouring buckets of water all
over the Northern Californian coast.
Brian, for some reason I have yet to fathom, had neglected to bring
his rain gear. Out came the
garbage bags. These, however,
are only so effective. But
still, we managed to slide, drip and shiver our way to Santa Rosa in hopes
of finding a hot tub. The
Holiday Inn didn’t have one but we stayed there anyway. Sometimes, the thought of getting back on a bike in the rain
is worth making a few compromises.
As
I stated earlier, one of the things about Marin and Sonoma Counties that
distinguish them from, say, Modoc County, is that there is no shortage of
fine food and wine. After
several fine dining experiences over the course of the past week, I would
have been quite content with a bowl of brown rice, vegetables and a little
shrimp for dinner. But no.
Brian’s enthusiasm for finding the best restaurant in any given
locale had not faded and we ended up at some vineyard restaurant that came
highly recommended in one of our CA reference books.
Perhaps
it was the rain, perhaps it was the service (as usual, we were seriously
underdressed) or perhaps we had just overdosed on rich cuisine, but this
meal was quite a disappointment given its $200.00 price tag.
Usually when we eat in restaurants this expensive, we at least
consider recommending them. Not
so this time.
The
day’s adventure continued as we blitzed to the nearest multiplex to
treat ourselves to a rare road movie.
Unfortunately, given the time we arrived, the only thing about to
start was Jim Carey’s new film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
The theater was mostly empty but it appeared that those that were
in attendance were expecting to see Ace Ventura Pet Detective Part 3.
No such luck. This
film was more like some surreal film noir shot with a handheld camera, the
rapid and jerky movements of which had me ready to lose my grilled
sea bass about 45 minutes into it. In
other words, exactly the kind of film Brian enjoys.
. 
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