The Hills are on Fire

Blog and Photos by Garrett Fulton

This blog title might sound like the name of a great Heavy Metal song by Iron Maiden, but its not. Entering into California, it was unmistakable how smoke laden the mountains were from the thousand fires which were still raging throughout the state. You could smell it, see it and nearly taste it as it hung low in the valleys all around. The ride was long, but breathtaking with nearly 12 hours actually in the saddle that day. We wound our way through forgotten valleys, devoid of all the plastic signs and trappings of American capitalism since the sparse population couldn't support it. Endless twisting roads and hairpin turns had me thoroughly worn out after the days travel. Judging by the houses we saw and the people we encountered, it seemed to me to be the dying remnants of the hippies, who had settled north in an area of nature and timeless existence. It seemed detached to me from western vices where a rocking chair, a porch and a jug of moonshine could while away endless days in warm sunshine. The previous day we found ourselves traveling amongst the giant sentinels of northern California, namely the vast forests of ancient Redwoods. It was as if we had suddenly been transported to some forgotten Jurassic age where everything was large and dangerous. The towering trees were so ancient and enormous that I half expected dinosaurs to come crashing through the vegetation. Finally after several days we hit the coast. What appeared to be thick smoke was this time an enormous bank of fog which rolled in and ruled the land. There before us was the Pacific Ocean in all its splendor, splashing against a ragged coast of rocks and jagged outcropppings. Riding along the coast of California was some of the best scenery I have seen anywhere. I was constantly shaking my head in awed disbelief at the imposing cliffs, the majestic trees and winding roads. It was spectacular. Unfortunately, even though we had done 400 miles of twisties the day before, one hairpin turn got the best of me and my front tire slid into an oncoming car leaving me with a broken collar bone. For me, this wonderful trip came to an abrupt end as I now needed time to heal. Its been a fabulous run however, and I'll be back on my bike once again soon to some other fascinating destination. I'll leave James in charge from here on. Greetings to Debra Keipp and to Roshelle Thomas who are looking on from Point Arena. Adios everyone!...

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