Well, here it is, the last day of the trip. Some say it's tempting fate to finish a trip on Friday the 13th, but as I've said before, I'm not superstitious! My day began with a rude awakening at around 7:00 AM from the most God-awful racket imaginable. Seems the Harley bunch all decided to fire up their bikes and leave. There was at least 15 minutes of backfiring, popping, rough idling, and a lot of cursing at the ones that wouldn't stay running (no exageration). Wonderful ambassadors for the Bike-touring brotherhood, eh?? I skipped breakfast, made a little motel coffee, then went to check out. The clerk looked surprised and asked me, "How come you didn't leave with your friends? Is your bike broken?" After clearing up the fact that I wasn't with that group, we agreed that the morning blast off was just about the rudest stunt either of us had seen in a while. They woke up everyone in the motel. The motel is a u-shaped structure with the parking lot in the middle, so you can imagine the racket with the echo effect. She was quite upset about it, and said that she would prefer not to rent to bikers in groups like that, but that it was hard to refuse them.
The bike was due for chain maintenance after all that snow and rain riding, so once again I tackled that damned center stand routine. My ankle was still pretty sore, so it was tough. I gave it a good tug on the handle bars, then my right foot slipped, and before I could stop it, the bike fell to the right. Murphy's law being what it is, I was parked next to a brick planter. CRUNCH!!! My gas tank instantly went from 4.8 down to 4.7 gallon capacity. Wouldn't you know it? After 12 days of incident free riding through 4,500 miles or so, through the dirt, mud, mountains, valleys, rain, snow, buffalo's, buzzards, black cats, evil omens, you name it--- I screw it up putting it up on the center stand in a motel!!! (Sure am glad the Harley riders weren't there watching). Now, just so I don't get 10,000 e-mails telling me how to do it properly, I want you all to know that I have finally figured it out, and now have absolutely no problem getting Vader up on the center stand! Damn, it's so easy when you do it correctly!
Well, I did eventually get rolling. The California coast has got to be in the top 10 rides of all time. It's mile after mile of stunning beaches, redwood groves, and twisties, broken up by the occasional straight sections and towns.
Highway 1 is actually part of Highway 101 from the Oregon border until you get to Fernbridge, where it divides. The 101 section goes through various Redwood Parks. What used to be State and National Parks have all effectively merged into one bureaucratic entity, though thankfully the parks themselves haven't moved. I'm sure the government will figure out a way to do that, then move all of the trees into one park and raise taxes and fees to cover the costs of the "improvement".
One mile south of Klamath is a sign pointing to a "Coastal Road" which is apparantly part of the Park System. I took it just to see where it went. It circled the peninsula, offering views of the ocean, with many sections canopied by the tree cover. Great ride! There is also a historical landmark on that road. During World War II there was much fear about the Japanese invading California, so radar sites were built up and down the coast. What made these sites unique was their camouflage. They were fake farms! The radar equipment, communications equipment, and generators were housed in the "farm" buildings, and the antenna equipment was hidden in the trees. The Klamath river site is the only one that remains. That must have been real tough duty. I'll bet those G.I.'s were all upset that they weren't slogging through the swamps of Bataan instead! I took one smaller road that branched off from the main loop, then turned back after reading a sign stating that I was about to enter some sort of prison area and was subject to search. After snaking my way back to 101 I continued south.
I've read many Newsgroup posts from bikers which contained disparaging remarks about rude car drivers that they've encountered on Highway 1, but I never had a problem the entire day. Everyone was more than happy to let me pass, with many pulling right to make it easier for me. The only animosity I encountered was a biker on a (believe it or not!) Harley. I was doing 75 on a straight stretch of 101, traveling in the left lane, and he was doing around 72 or 73 in the right lane. As I went by, I gave a little friendly wave. Perhaps in my ignorance I flashed some kind of enemy biker gang signal, or maybe it's a secret code with them for "screw you, my bike is cooler", or some silly thing like that, but before I got 50 yards past him, he gunned that sucker big time, and went by me with his bike vibrating like a bad washing machine and his pipes blasting away. I watched him round a curve, barely holding his line, then he slowed up a bit. Passing him again I refrained from waving. That did the trick. No response this time. My theory about the gang sign must have been correct. Either that or he was suffering acute kidney pain from the shaking, I'm not sure which. Now, if I'm coming off here as some kind of Harley hater, don't get me wrong, I'm not. I actually like the way some of the models look, and I enjoy the sound of the pipes on some of the "unmodified" ones. The greatest bike image ever was Arnold (or his stunt double) tooling around on (help me here, was it a Harley Fatboy?) in Terminator 2. What turns me off is that a good portion of the owners think that they are riding around on some kind of magical machine which turns them into some kind of invincible, mythical, bad-ass biker dude. Give me a break! Most of them are funny to look at. A large portion of them can barely handle their machines (I know, I know, I dropped mine in a parking lot, but that will never happen again). Many are just Yuppies toying with the "image", who probably put all of 1000 miles a year on their machines, all the while talking about how great their bikes are, and how nothing else comes close. My bike was bought to ride. I will probably ride it 100,000 miles or more and wear it out within 6 or 7 years, keep it for parts, then buy another. It is smooth, has decent power, handles great, and I don't give a damn if I don't look "cool" or "bad" while riding it. Plus, I can buy three of them for the cost of one overpriced Harley.
I did the obligatory ride through the Avenue of the Giants. I've made that ride twice in the past, but never on a bike. Riding a bike through the giant redwoods took me back to Return of the Jedi. It feels like the chase scene on the Forest Moon of Endor. After a gas stop in Weott (45.4 MPG), I did a quick stroll through a couple of souvenir shops (no tacky stickers, but I did find a patch), then continued on down to Fernbridge.
The route from Fernbridge to the Coastal Highway (1) is the twistiest road I've ever been on. It's not often you find a road with that many corners marked at 10 & 15 mph. What a thrill. My line through the really tight corners was poor until I figured out that I was using too much brake. Reverting back to MSF basics corrected the problem (do all your slowing before the turn, then accelerate into the turn--duuhhh). That did the trick. From then on I was able to attack the curves more aggresively. It made the entire ride more enjoyable. Hell, I even managed to scrape my peg on a couple of uphill right 10 MPh curves. That's the first time I've ridden to that extreme. I'm sure you sport riders take your Ninja's, Duc's, and XYZ1000000's around those curves at 95 MPH, but this Newbie was happy to make 5 to 20 over the marked speeds. I won't be attempting to increase this in the future, it's not why I ride, but at the time it was fun.
The amount of bike traffic really surprised me. Groups of bikers (mostly Harley's) were migrating north the entire stretch of 101 & 1. It's a good thing most of them don't wave. My arm would have fallen off. I must have seen at least 700 to 1000 on my ride down the coast. Later I learned that the "Redwood Run" was underway. Being new to the game, I'm not familiar with the Redwood Run, or what it entails, but it is definitely a Harley magnet. Is it the world's biggest wet t-shirt contest? Is it a contest to see if your bike can make it in one piece? Are there prizes for the loudest pipes? The most tattoos??
Mile after mile of twists and turns makes one appreciate the straight sections. I never realized how much more work the twisties are. Two hours of that had me more than ready for a break, so I stopped in Westport for gas (42.3 MPG) and lunch. The local gas station was the local everything. General Store, Restaurant, you name it, they had it. The ladies there had the same twisted sense of humor that I had, and after a few macabre jokes about bikers, ptomaine poisoning, and other wonderful subjects, ordered one of their sandwiches. I ate it sitting on my bike and enjoyed the surrounding scenery. My upper back was getting a little sore in the shoulder area, along with my neck, so I just sat around for about 15 minutes and stretched it out. It was a refreshing break, and had me more than ready to tackle the remainder of the coast.
The rest of the ride down the coast was uneventful. After a while, it's a routine; curve, curve, straight, curve , curve, pass, curve, sure is a nice view, oops, slow down, curve, curve, etc. I stopped again for gas in Gualala (50.4 MPG). Believe it or not, there were two more broken down Harley's at the gas station, trying to get some help via telephone. We're not talking about 10 year old Sportsters, or old pieces of junk here. These were a couple of expensive looking, fully dressed, touring bikes. I can't see the loyalty to a company that for years has sold $18,000 bikes that leave you stranded on a percentage unmatched by any other manufacturer except for perhaps URAL.
Well, once again my incredible sense of direction took over, and I completely missed the fork in the road just south of Valley Ford. You're supposed to veer to the right to stay on 1. If you don't see it and keep going straight, you end up on Valley Ford Road, which takes you in to Petaluma.
Growing more weary by the mile, I wasn't about to back track. This route would still allow me to finish the trip crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, and pick up Highway 1 again in San Francisco, so it wasn't a big deal. I was happy to be nearing home, so even the Friday evening traffic didn't bother me. The ride across the bridge was typical. Strong wind gusts, lots of traffic, and a beautiful sunset. The ride through the city wasn't as intense as I'd expected. It was getting late, so the main commute was finished. Of course, that still makes it worse than prime rush hour in most places, so my concentration level was still set to maximum. In S.F., not only do you deal with the traffic, but also road hazards. You never know when a shopping cart is going to come rolling out, and the potholes are everywhere. I can't believe the residents put up with the road conditions. With the amount of taxes those folks pay, the streets should be paved with gold!
The sky was beautiful from the city all the way to Half Moon Bay. I stopped for gas (46.6 mpg), snapped a few sunset photos, then turned east on Hiway 92. By this time it was getting dark, and my vision was beginning to be a problem. It was a getting foggier by the minute, adding to my difficulty. Wiping my visor only made it worse. I didn't want to stop on the side of the road, since the traffic through the mountains there moves at a good pace, so I just did my best to follow the dim tail lights ahead of me. When I finally got through the mountain sections, it was a little easier to see, but not much better. Approaching the San Mateo bridge, I pulled over, EXCHANGED MY SUNGLASSES FOR THE REGULAR ONES, and voila!! Instant VISION! Perhaps I was more tired than I thought! I've been wearing glasses since I was 6, so having them on my face is as natural to me as having a nose is to you. I guess I've done it all now. How many of you have gone night riding in the fog on a twisty mountain road with your shades on? I probably drained my karma bank account on that ride! I finally pulled into the garage just before 10:00 PM, hugged everyone, and unpacked. My dog had multiple orgasms the minute she heard the bike arrive. I was told she just layed around looking depressed the entire time I was gone, barely eating. Hopefully in the future she'll remember that I returned, and won't be so anxious. Who knows? The best thing about dogs is that you can forget to feed them, leave them alone for days, treat them bad, yet when you finally come back, they are overjoyed to see you and all is forgiven instantly. Women? That's another story. If you could only put a Labrador brain in a women's body? OOPS. Sorry, I keep forgetting this is the 90's!
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