Words and photos by JK
Wed. July 2 2008, Point Arena California, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Point_Arena
I had a bad night. I did manage 31/2 hours sleep but I was doubtful of my endurance this day as I loaded my saddlebags onto the bike at 6:15am. Today, after 17 hours (12 of them in the saddle) I feel I've earned a small badge for endurance. Especially as the roads we traversed were the most exacting I have encountered anywhere in the USA. Fabulous is a pathetic word to describe today’s journey. We rode from the little town of Phoenix Oregon south over the mountains to the smoke hazed valleys around Redding California then across the mountains and through giant redwood forests to the Pacific ocean and south again through freezing fog until succumbing to cold and fatigue at Point Arena. The first motel we saw had to do. Hotel California I nicknamed it. Scary. In the 444.5 miles covered today we saw deer, smelled thick smoke from forest fires as California burns, rode our tyre edges ragged and ourselves more so on the twistiest, corkscrew roads I have ever seen, nearly lost both front and back on sand and gravel strewn corners, cooked in the sun and froze in the fog and stood in awe of the coastline as dusk descended. This land of northern California is without doubt the winner of the BEST PLACE IN THE USA award.
It was chilly as we left this morning and rode over the Cascade Siskiyou mountains. I was desperate for a coffee. Getting Garrett to glance around and actually SEE anything can be a challenge (well, it appears that way from my saddle) so we had quite a few miles covered before we stopped for coffee and fuel. Garrett enjoyed his McDonald's breakfast. I live on coffee until 9pm. He then donned his iPod and thoroughly enjoyed the roads as we swung left and right for mile after focused mile. The air was rich with the aroma of burning wood. I love that smell but it broke my heart as I looked at these magnificent forests and thought of the years it will take to replace them. I know good comes from forest fires but I'd still prefer to see forests that enjoy hundreds of years unmolested. We rode the I5 south as far as Redding and for an Interstate it was a beautiful run. We found the 299 west and began our roller-coaster day. At Douglas City we took Hwy 3 southwest through Hayfork to Rio Dell on the 101 and then off on Hwy 1 at Leggett to ride the coast road. I was hanging out of the saddle and whooping in the left-handers. I noticed that in right-handers my knee turned towards the bike instead of the road. Wierd. By day's end though I was enjoying right-handers just as much. I've waited over 3 years for that to happen after I crashed on a diesel-strewn right-hand bend at Farnham Castle in Surrey. I saw a deer and warned Garrett. I saw another on the other side of the road. A few miles on I saw a mother rush across the road as her tiny fawn wobbled on little stick legs to keep up. I braked hard and Garrett shot past and then stopped ahead. I grabbed my camera as the doe ran up the hillside. I knew the fawn could not keep up and would be trained to lie still in foliage (how does a doe teach that? Can they talk?).
I found the little darling obediently lying in deep grass, quite well hidden actually, and it looked at me with the biggest Bambi eyes I have ever seen. I got 2 quick snaps and it bolted for mummy. And so we rode on, ever twisting until we silently begged for a straight piece of road to rest our limbs. I saw a church with the sign "Carry the light. Ignite the whole valley!" with a picture of some eternal flame torch. Not a great slogan to have when all the 4th of July fireworks were cancelled and 1,400 forest fires burned in that State. We reached Rio Dell and within moments we decided to take Jay Hudson's advice (Jay is an ACC and experienced rider) to ride through the Valley of the Giants. Oh my goodness but this is fantastic. It is not a forest. It is a Cathedral of living wood. Sunlight flashed through the leaves between the trunks like a stained glass backdrop to enormous, dark, Gothic pillars. The sunlight ran down a bare branch like lightning striking me on the shoulder as we swooped through this monumental ode to giant living things. It is peaceful here and awe inspiring.
By the time we reached Leggett and headed westward and south on Hwy 1 we were hoping for some easy roads and not a little perturbed at the sudden change in air temperature. We were in California in July weren’t we? Sorry, but it felt like Iceland in March. I began to shiver and tense up with cold. Garrett was struggling with fog spray on the outside of his visor and his breath fogging the inside. He rode bare-faced into the cold, wet wind. The road got even more twisty in the tightest turns I’ve seen since the Dolomites in Italy. I wished for a supermoto. But the utterly spectacular scenes before us had us mesmerized. Brilliant sunshine floodlit huge fingers of fog that grabbed the coast and lay on the land with a soggy, cold grip. Shark-fin-shaped rocks eerily grew from these fog fingers in the shallow coastal waters far below the unguarded road as waves curled into the bays to meet wide rivers. The road always dipped and corkscrewed at these river mouths. We decided to call it a day and eventually we found a place. Hardly salubrious but better than freezing fog. Just. I grabbed a hot shower to thaw out while Garrett grabbed a cold beer at some local bar to chill out. We reviewed the day and realized it was the best ride imaginable. If only we had a week to do it over and over in bite-sized chunks…
Wed. July 2 2008, Point Arena California, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Point_Arena
I had a bad night. I did manage 31/2 hours sleep but I was doubtful of my endurance this day as I loaded my saddlebags onto the bike at 6:15am. Today, after 17 hours (12 of them in the saddle) I feel I've earned a small badge for endurance. Especially as the roads we traversed were the most exacting I have encountered anywhere in the USA. Fabulous is a pathetic word to describe today’s journey. We rode from the little town of Phoenix Oregon south over the mountains to the smoke hazed valleys around Redding California then across the mountains and through giant redwood forests to the Pacific ocean and south again through freezing fog until succumbing to cold and fatigue at Point Arena. The first motel we saw had to do. Hotel California I nicknamed it. Scary. In the 444.5 miles covered today we saw deer, smelled thick smoke from forest fires as California burns, rode our tyre edges ragged and ourselves more so on the twistiest, corkscrew roads I have ever seen, nearly lost both front and back on sand and gravel strewn corners, cooked in the sun and froze in the fog and stood in awe of the coastline as dusk descended. This land of northern California is without doubt the winner of the BEST PLACE IN THE USA award.
It was chilly as we left this morning and rode over the Cascade Siskiyou mountains. I was desperate for a coffee. Getting Garrett to glance around and actually SEE anything can be a challenge (well, it appears that way from my saddle) so we had quite a few miles covered before we stopped for coffee and fuel. Garrett enjoyed his McDonald's breakfast. I live on coffee until 9pm. He then donned his iPod and thoroughly enjoyed the roads as we swung left and right for mile after focused mile. The air was rich with the aroma of burning wood. I love that smell but it broke my heart as I looked at these magnificent forests and thought of the years it will take to replace them. I know good comes from forest fires but I'd still prefer to see forests that enjoy hundreds of years unmolested. We rode the I5 south as far as Redding and for an Interstate it was a beautiful run. We found the 299 west and began our roller-coaster day. At Douglas City we took Hwy 3 southwest through Hayfork to Rio Dell on the 101 and then off on Hwy 1 at Leggett to ride the coast road. I was hanging out of the saddle and whooping in the left-handers. I noticed that in right-handers my knee turned towards the bike instead of the road. Wierd. By day's end though I was enjoying right-handers just as much. I've waited over 3 years for that to happen after I crashed on a diesel-strewn right-hand bend at Farnham Castle in Surrey. I saw a deer and warned Garrett. I saw another on the other side of the road. A few miles on I saw a mother rush across the road as her tiny fawn wobbled on little stick legs to keep up. I braked hard and Garrett shot past and then stopped ahead. I grabbed my camera as the doe ran up the hillside. I knew the fawn could not keep up and would be trained to lie still in foliage (how does a doe teach that? Can they talk?).
I found the little darling obediently lying in deep grass, quite well hidden actually, and it looked at me with the biggest Bambi eyes I have ever seen. I got 2 quick snaps and it bolted for mummy. And so we rode on, ever twisting until we silently begged for a straight piece of road to rest our limbs. I saw a church with the sign "Carry the light. Ignite the whole valley!" with a picture of some eternal flame torch. Not a great slogan to have when all the 4th of July fireworks were cancelled and 1,400 forest fires burned in that State. We reached Rio Dell and within moments we decided to take Jay Hudson's advice (Jay is an ACC and experienced rider) to ride through the Valley of the Giants. Oh my goodness but this is fantastic. It is not a forest. It is a Cathedral of living wood. Sunlight flashed through the leaves between the trunks like a stained glass backdrop to enormous, dark, Gothic pillars. The sunlight ran down a bare branch like lightning striking me on the shoulder as we swooped through this monumental ode to giant living things. It is peaceful here and awe inspiring.
By the time we reached Leggett and headed westward and south on Hwy 1 we were hoping for some easy roads and not a little perturbed at the sudden change in air temperature. We were in California in July weren’t we? Sorry, but it felt like Iceland in March. I began to shiver and tense up with cold. Garrett was struggling with fog spray on the outside of his visor and his breath fogging the inside. He rode bare-faced into the cold, wet wind. The road got even more twisty in the tightest turns I’ve seen since the Dolomites in Italy. I wished for a supermoto. But the utterly spectacular scenes before us had us mesmerized. Brilliant sunshine floodlit huge fingers of fog that grabbed the coast and lay on the land with a soggy, cold grip. Shark-fin-shaped rocks eerily grew from these fog fingers in the shallow coastal waters far below the unguarded road as waves curled into the bays to meet wide rivers. The road always dipped and corkscrewed at these river mouths. We decided to call it a day and eventually we found a place. Hardly salubrious but better than freezing fog. Just. I grabbed a hot shower to thaw out while Garrett grabbed a cold beer at some local bar to chill out. We reviewed the day and realized it was the best ride imaginable. If only we had a week to do it over and over in bite-sized chunks…
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