A Great Father’s Day Weekend

Starting Out
How’s this for a great Father’s Day weekend: Load up “MyConnie” with camera and camping gear, point the front wheel north, and GO! Just me and MyConnie getting some quality time together since the wife and youngest son are away for a few days. I plan to update this post throughout the trip, so come back often to check it out.

Rest Stop
Thank God for Starbucks and lane splitting. Sitting still in 88 degree weather on the freeway is not my idea of a good time. Seems like everyone else in the world is escaping to Lake Tahoe. Well, at least a rider can get hydration, caffeine, a healthy snack and WiFi thanks to the Pequod’s chief mate.

Cooling Off
Possibly the best $29 I have ever spent was on an evaporative cooling vest. After a two minute soak in the bathroom sink at Starbucks (which was immaculately clean) the vest is “charged” with water. You then blot off the inside fabric barrier that stays dry against your shirt, and put it on under your riding jacket. I was then able to ride in complete comfort in 90 degree heat. Amazing.

Dark Territory
After stocking up on pita, avocado, bananas, water and a salad bowl at the Grass Valley Safeway, I headed north on Hwy 49 towards Downieville. This road is listed in the Destination Highways moto-map book as DH9 and carries a score of 81/100, and it deserves it. It is wonderfully scenic, twisty and empty of traffic. Downieville itself looked very cute, like a preserved gold rush era town. I decided to camp instead of finding a room, but on some future trip, I’m definitely going to stay in Downieville.

I timed my ride so that I could set up camp while it was still light, but only just. I use a great iPhone App named “Sol” that tells you times for sunset, dusk, dawn and sunrise wherever you are. This allowed me to keep riding until I found Chapman Meadows campground around 8:00 P.M.

Getting old is terrible. I remember when hotel rooms were $6.00 at Motel 6, so it makes it painful to pay $21 for one night at an unimproved campground. Well, at least it had “nice” pit toilets. The mosquitoes quickly drove me into my tent where I fell fast asleep straightaway.

Zero Dark Thirty
The great thing about traveling alone is that you don’t need to cater to anyone else’s schedule. So, at 4:45 A.M., I rousted myself out of my down cocoon, performed my morning ablutions, and started breaking camp. I got on the road a little before six and headed over the Yuba Summit to be treated to a gorgeous sunrise over the Sierra Valley. I left Hwy 49 a little before Sattley and turned north on Hwy 89, headed towards Quincy and Lassen Volcanic National Park beyond. Although I was bundled up in layers, winter gloves, and TurtleFur neck warmer, I was freezing when I arrived at the Express Coffee Shop. Nothing that a spinach omelet and 10 cups of coffee couldn’t cure. Something tells me MyConnie is going to get a few more RPMs now that MY motor is running.

The Pine Forests
Can you ever overdose on the beautiful conifer forests of the High Sierra? I think not, but you certainly get your fill traveling through the Tahoe and Plumas National Forests. But every once in a while, the trees are interrupted by a glorious body of water like Lake Almanor. I crossed over Canyon Dam and marveled at this man-made interruption to the Feather River. The outlet tower shown behind MyConnie sends the product of this 90 foot deep reservoir to two smaller reservoirs and others downstream to powerhouses capable of creating a total of 360 megawatts of electricity!

Mount Lassen
I had been to Mount Lassen Volcanic National Park years ago but wanted to experience it’s burbling mudpots and sulphur-spewing springs anew. So I checked my trusty map book and found that the roads to, through, and around Lassen are included in their lists of great motorcycle roads. Without any hesitation I pointed MyConnie north along the Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway.

One of the troubles of blogging “live” from my AT&T iPhone is how poor their rural mobile phone service is. However, after paying my $10 park entrance fee, I noticed this sign and for a fleeting moment hoped that the U.S. Park Service had embraced modern technology by installing WiFi thorough the park. Alas, it was the icon for an amphitheater I mistook for WiFi symbol. D’Oh!

The Kohm Yah-mah-nee Visitor Center shows a great 20 minute documentary film every half hour that explains the history and formation of the park which is the only place on earth with all four types of volcanos.

A mile north is The Sulphur Works where you can smell noxious fumes and see bubbling mud.

After that, it seemed that every quarter mile were increasingly beautiful places that beckoned me to stop and take a photo.

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Unfortunately, the walking trails to “Bumpass Hell” which take you right next to all of the bubbling water and mudpots were closed due to safety concerns. But the ride up and over the ridge at around 8,500 feet elevation was spectacular as was the ride down and around to the north end of the park.

The Road Home
At this point, I had enough of solitude and decided to head home. I took a few more “Destination Highways” that were perfect for motorcycles on the way, but most was spent traveling 75 MPH on Hwy 5 in 90 degree heat. Once again, thank God for my evaporative cooling vest and the many rest stops and convenience marts along the way.

Volcano Ride ‘n Photo Tour
I’m thinking of hosting a “Volcano Ride ‘n Photo Tour” for anyone who might want to join me. If interested, I’d be happy to share some tips on taking photos and “processing” them in the computer, as well. Please leave a comment if you are interested and I’ll start thinking about this for later this year.

As for this trip, I racked up 671 miles from noon Friday to 6:30 P.M. Saturday, a bit over 30 hours. Not bad for my first Father’s Day weekend solo trip. It’s not often I get so much “me” time to think about life without the distractions of other people (no matter how pleasant) or social media (no matter how addictive – then again, I am writing this post!). I might just have to make this an annual pilgrimage.

Note to fellow bloggers and those thinking about blogging: I took all of the photos above and wrote all of the text during the trip itself using the WordPress App for iPhone. This made ‘capturing the moment‘ much more spontaneous and added to my enjoyment of the ride. I went back later on my computer and added the sections below.

Ride Map: Click here for Google map
( Note to riders: map waypoints M through R are how to beat backed up traffic headed to San Francisco like a boss! )

Ride Report:
– Date: February 14 & 15, 2013
– Roads: Since this trip covered so much territory, I encountered: 20 miles of lane splitting to get around everyone headed for Tahoe, wonderfully engineered and paved roads, nicely paved but less well-engineered roads, and tight curves with limited sight lines on the roads between Shingletown and Dales.
– Scenery: What can I say, I have been living in California my whole life and I am still awestruck in seeing its majesty. If you are from some other state, COME HERE AND RIDE!
– Weather: The weather was absolutely perfect on this Father’s Day weekend, albeit a little warm at times (high 80s) at the lower elevations. The sky was a sapphire blue with those intense puffy white clouds you want to photograph because they are so perfect.
– Challenge: Intermediate throughout with the biggest challenge being not getting run over my a semi-truck on Hwy 5.
– Food: Plenty of choices along this route. I stopped at Safeway in Grass Valley and stocked up on healthy food and snacks this time – what a concept!
– Gas: There were no problems finding gas, but then again, with my 7.5 gallon tank, I could have done the whole thing on way less than three tanks.
– Rating: 5-stars (out of 5) for scenic beauty. with a few most excellent motorcycle roads thrown in along the way.

Destination Highways: 
For you aficionados of Bosworth & Sanders excellent book “Destination Highways of Northern California” this trip included these DHs & TEs:
Destination Highways:
DH9 (81.9/100 rating)
DH3 ALT
DH38 (70.7/100 rating)
Twisted Edges:
TE-A (from DH59)
TE-F (from DH9)

Note: I bought the Destination Highways of Northern California book at the last International Motorcycle Show I attended. It is pretty expensive at $60, but I have to say that it is absolutely worth it. I use it to plan all of my northern california trips to ensure I get the most out of my time on the road. Although it is pricey for a map book, they actually put in the time and effort to bring the value to the rider than exceeds your expectation. Highly recommended for anyone wanting to ride in northern california.

Additional Photos:
The following photos were taken with a d-SLR: Canon EOS Rebel XSi:   

A Trip to Virginia City, Nevada: Motorcycle Gold — Part One

For the third year in a row, my motorcycle buddies and I planned a trip to the High Sierras over the first weekend in October. We have found that this weekend the traffic is nonexistent, the weather is perfect, and the aspens are all turning gold over the mountain passes. This year, our destination was the old west town of Virginia City and we had something special happen. One of our group entered a raffle and won a brand new motorcycle!

Bocci wins a new bike!
Frequent readers of this blog know that my brother-in-law and frequent riding partner, “Bocci,” rides a Triumph T100 Bonneville that he bought in 2010 as his get-back-into-motorcycling ride. He and I have been all over California and Oregon on my 1,000cc Connie and his 865cc Bonnie. But a while ago, Bocci started to have a wandering eye, making true the sentiment that motorcycling has never really been about monogamy. Bocci was first thinking that a pair of KLR650s would be a nice addition to our stable, allowing us to wander farther afield down forest roads. But I knew that in his heart of hearts, he really has always wanted a Moto Guzzi.

Being a mechanical engineer by trade, Bocci was not afraid of exotic Italian iron and he has talked himself into how the Guzzi’s transverse vee-twin design would make engine maintenance a breeze. So we put the KLR idea on hold and Bocci started lusting after a dual-sport Moto Guzzi Stelvio NTX.

Some months later, and without mentioning anything to me, Bocci noticed that the Pro Italia Moto Guzzi dealership in Los Angeles was holding a charity raffle to publicize the opening of their new Triumph franchise. He bought a dozen raffle tickets for $10 each in hopes of winning a brand new Triumph that was a replica of the one Steve McQueen rode in The Great Escape.

As fate would have it, a week before our High Sierra trip, Bocci was washing his Bonnie and missed a phone call. When he noticed the missed call on his mobile phone, he saw that the area code was from Los Angeles. He told me that his hands started to shake a bit before he returned the call, and sure enough, he found out that he had won the replica Triumph, worth $10,000!

The only problem was that it was almost identical to the Triumph he already owned except that it was painted olive drab. Knowing that Pro Italia was also a Guzzi dealership, he asked if he could trade in the Triumph and put the full value towards the Stelvio. Pro Italia was more than accommodating and set him up with the Guzzi of his dreams for a few thousand more.

This hit Bocci like a ton of bricks because now instead of prepping the Bonnie for our annual 600 mile High Sierra tour, he was going to fly to L.A., get a motel room, arrange to be picked up by the dealership, pose for press photos with the replica Triumph, then do the paperwork to buy the Moto Guzzi. He was then going to pack up the Stelvio with his gear for the trip, swing his leg over a new and foreign bike, and head into SoCal traffic towards the back side of the Sierras where we arranged to meet him in Walker, CA the next day. What an adventure!

As for me, I hooked up with my moto-partner in crime, “Ace,” and we headed out to meet Bocci at a Walker barbecue place that we found online. Our fourth rider, Des, was coming south from Jackson and would meet us in Walker, as well.

As we expected for an October trip over the Sonora Pass, Ace and I had great pavement, no traffic, perfect weather and gorgeous scenery. But I got a little surprise when I followed Ace as he pulled off at the unmarked Donnell Lake scenic overlook to stretch. As we dismounted, two other riders joined us in the parking lot, both of whom had BMWs like Ace. So after a bit of Beemer-banter, we took a few photos at the quite spectacular overlook and started to mount up. Just then, another Kawasaki Concours rider rolled in. I stopped my gearing up to be neighborly to a fellow Connie owner when he came up to me and said, “Hello, P Radsliff.” Never having met him before, I was somewhat taken aback, and Ace was positively dumbfounded. As it turned out, the rider was a member of the Concours Owners Group (COG) and he recognized me from the many photos I posted on the COG forum and from my Me and MyConnie blog. Whereas I don’t think this was my 15 minutes of fame, I still rode out of the parking lot sitting a little bit taller in the saddle, lording my “celebrity” over my riding buddies whenever I got the chance in the following days: see video.

It was really great meeting “GF-in-CA” (his COG forum ‘handle’), whose posts I have read and whose opinion I have come to respect. I found out that he is a mechanical engineer and knows what he is doing with motorcycle maintenance. It was great seeing him roll in on his Connie and that it had a bunch of “farkles” on it — i.e. a loose acronym for owner modifications that stands for: Fancy Accessory Really Kool Likely Expensive. He was riding with his wife two-up which was also great to see. After more pleasantries and a promise to follow up via the COG forum, Ace and I headed east towards Sonora Pass.

As the road got steeper and twistier, we knew we were getting close to the pass. But before reaching the 9,624 ft. summit, we rode through a small valley with a dense copse of aspen trees that were all shimmering brilliant gold. We’ve seen this valley in its gold plumage in years past but it was no less breathtaking seeing it once again. It’s the kind of experience where you find yourself yelling “Oh my God, this is incredible” out loud inside your helmet just because you have to share it outside of your inner monologue.

In traversing up and over this formidable High Sierra pass, one can’t help but think of the first wagon train that crossed these jagged peaks in 1841. I wonder how different the roads here might have been if these mountains didn’t form a barrier between the gold and silver mines of Nevada to the east, and the international port of San Francisco to the west. All I know is that the many mountain passes that cross the High Sierras make some of the best motorcycle rides in the world, and they are all in my own back yard.

Ace and I continued down the eastern side of the Sierras into climate and country that is very different than the west side of the summit. Out here it’s all high desert scrub, not the verdant evergreen forests we just left behind. An interesting point of interest we encountered before turning north on Hwy 395 was the Marine Corps Mountain Training Warfare Center which is spread out on the left side of Hwy 108 at Pickel Meadow, CA. It’s not uncommon to see lots of military vehicles running around here, and aircraft as well.

Hwy 395 is a U.S. route that starts in Hesperia, CA about 80 miles northeast of Los Angeles, and crosses the Oregon border 557 miles later. It continues through Oregon and Washington all the way to the Canadian border. However, in California, state route 395 crosses through terrain that is arguably the most varied and beautiful in the state. Bocci was making the trek from the Los Angeles area up Hwy 395 so he was able to enjoy the stark but beautiful Mojave desert, followed by the spectacular Owens Valley which is just 60 miles west of famed Death Valley. The Owens Valley is framed by mountain escarpments that include Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States at 14,505 ft. The Owens Valley even features glaciers! Bocci stayed the night in Mammoth Lakes before heading north towards Walker and our rendezvous at Mountain View Barbecue.

We meandered alongside the Walker River which parallels Hwy 395 through deep canyon gorges and wide open high desert plains, eventually coming into the little town of Walker and our new rally point. We were greeted by a parking lot made from two-inch deep pea gravel which always makes for interesting maneuvers on a motorcycle. We saw two bikes parked at the restaurant, an orange Triumph Speed Triple that we knew belonged to Des, and a behemoth of a bike: the Moto Guzzi Stelvio NTX: see video.

Approaching the Stelvio from the rear was kind of amazing. With its aluminum panniers, it measures in at 42″ wide—that’s quite a bustle on its hustle! My first thought was that we wouldn’t be lane splitting anytime soon. As I walked around the bike, it was truly a thing of beauty—in a rough and tumble kind of way. Like a HumVee, but as if it were designed by Italians. The Guzzi had interesting angular lines with utilitarian bolt-ons, like the panniers and skid plates. As I walked around the bike, Bocci approached and greeted me by saying, “She’s a stout beast.” No doubt, I thought.

During our excellent BBQ lunch, Bocci regaled Des, Ace and myself with stories of his adventures: doing the winner’s photo shoot, packing the Stevio, and heading off into L.A. traffic. He told us about the Guzzi’s massive low-end torque and how well it handled for such a big bike. He bragged about its massive 8.5 gallon gas tank that gave him almost 350 miles range. I guess I can’t boast about the “measly” 7.5 gallon tank on MyConnie anymore.

But Bocci had a few problems, too. A snap-in turn signal cover vibrated loose and fell off somewhere along his ride. And he felt a strange vibration that he couldn’t tell whether it was intermittent, and/or even normal for this bike that was new to him. He also experienced first hand a characteristic that is prevalent with transverse vee-twins: rev the engine while stopped at a light and the bike lurches sideways from the torque. Still, nothing could wipe off the ear-to-ear grin from a guy who had just won the bike of his dreams. Damn! Attaboy, Bocci.

Ride Map: Click here for Google Map

 

Ride Video: Click here for the full 51 minute ride video over Sonora Pass from Donnell Lake to U.S. Route 395

Next Installment: Part Two – Virginia City

International Motorcycle Show: Oppa San Matean Style

Not many motorcycle enthusiasts are as lucky as I am in that I live five blocks away from the San Mateo Expo Center, home each November to the Progressive International Motorcycle Show. So each year, my riding buddies and I, pay homage to our favorite pastime by getting together to visit the show and see what’s new in the moto world. This year I make a point of taking a lot of photos of the show so that the readers of Me and MyConnie who weren’t able to make it to one of the shows. Hope you enjoy the photos…

Demo riders on a rainy day.

Sidecars galore in the parking lot.

A Connie like mine in the parking lot.

Nice Ural in the parking lot!

I hope I win it! The raffle Hayabusa.

The Twisted Throttle guys always have a great booth.

Lots of exhibitors

Nice to try on new helmets from many manufacturers for fit.

Lots of contests, as well.

Wild!

Chome-OUT

Looks like it’s from Toontown

That’s a lot of chrome

Let the good times roll!

Great detail.

You could ride a Harley inside the exhibit hall on rollers

Nice touch

Crazy fancy

Other side

Nice Ninja

Lots of MotoGP bikes. Neat to see them up close

Lots of chopper, too.

I’m a sucker for nose art.

More contests.

Fun for the kiddies.

I’m really thinking about buying a tire mounting setup.

All the major manufacturers were there.

I bought the book. It’s fantastic!

All the Bay Area Kawi dealers.

More inside demo rides

Red Bull stunt team

Driftin’

Crazy!

Backwards wheelies?!!

Incredible

A young man’s first motorcycle show tradition: booth babe photos

Bocci and the Geico Gecko

Tire changing contest

Cool Brit gear

A superhero themed bike

Dan-O is looking for his first ride

Ace tried on a few bikes for size

Everyone was getting into the act!

Now I’ve seen it all: a Warn winch on a bike

GREAT bike lifting demo

Success!!

Those Ducatis are sure sweet!

Des like the Ducs, too

Or maybe a Honda

But there is this guy selling a used Kawi Ninja…

Stones tries on a new Connie for size

Ace tries the Connie, as well

Maybe a dual-sport?

Another fun part of the show, the food vendors

The Twinkies sold out in a few hours after the announcement of bankruptcy

Kenny Roberts legendary Yamaha

About KR

It wouldn’t be a show without Flo’

Four Perfect Motorcycle Days

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Labor Day weekend 2012 will go down in my personal record book as the most epic of motorcycle trips on MyConnie…so far. Four days of motorcycle camping from San Mateo, California to Eugene, Oregon and back, taking the best motorcycle roads in between. This was by far the most ambitious and arduous trip I have made on a bike in my life, racking up 1,455 miles and more than 29 hours in the saddle over four days.

This may not sound like a lot to members of the Iron Butt Association, but these weren’t just flat-out highway miles. We went out of our way to choose a route that wrung the best out of our bikes and riding skills. We started by planning the route around four goals: 1) visiting my son in Eugene, Oregon where he is starting freshman year as an University of Oregon “Duck,” 2) going to my Dad’s property in Chiloquin, Oregon near Klamath Falls to put sealant on his roof prior to winter, 3) choosing awesome motorcycle roads that were recommended by Tim Mayhew of Pashnit.com, and 4) ending each day at a campground that had beer.

The third requirement was of particular interest to me because I am an avid reader of Pashnit’s California Motorcycle Roads website where I found that there were wonderful places in the state that I had never visited, all connected by roads that are great for bikes. The fourth and final requirement was at the request of my riding buddies who would go along with the interminably long days in the saddle, but only if they didn’t have to ride somewhere to have a beer and then ride back somewhere else to bed down for the night. SInce I was also trying to experience what motorcycle camping was like and cut down on lodging bills, this meant one thing: KOA Kampgrounds.

What’s not to love about a KOA? They have a store with ice cold beer, nice campsites, food within walking distance, online registration…oh, and did I mention ice cold beer? To top it off, the one we were going to stay at has an espresso machine and a gas pump. What more could three motorcyclists want?

We experienced some amazing motorcycle roads and some still more amazing scenery—learning a bit more about ourselves along the way. Here are the highlights of our adventure:

• Avenue of the Giants – Home of the giant redwoods
We decided to head north taking Highway 101 all the way to Fortuna and then turn east so that we could experience Highway 36 which drew raves on Pashnit.com. As we entered redwood country, we took a side-route called The Avenue of the Giants which parallels Highway 101 and crosses under it in serpentine fashion for about 20 miles or so. The scenery is absolutely gorgeous with massive redwoods trees, the largest living things on earth, lining both sides of the road. Here is a link to a brief video of us riding through the redwoods along The Avenue of the Giants.

• Highway 36 – One of the best motorcycle roads anywhere
250 miles north of San Francisco lies one of the most incredible motorcycle roads anywhere: Highway 36. This 150 mile long road connects the city of Eureka on the coast to Red Bluff in the central valley. Although highway 36 provides a handy connection between Interstate 5 and Highway 101, it doesn’t get much traffic. The lack of cars coupled with its near-new paving and perfectly engineered curves alone would make it one of the best motorcycle road I’ve ever ridden. However, its not just the banking and burning that makes this road THE best in my book, its the scenery along the way. Going from the coastal fog and redwoods, then through a tunnel of fern-like trees, then transitioning to rolling ranch lands, and then mountainous terrain would have been enough in and of itself to claim my top spot. But along the way you are also treated to absolutely idyllic sweeping views of high-country farms and ranches nestled in small valleys that butt up against steeply wooded mountains. The views were indeed breathtaking and highly recommended as a route you should plan to take someday.

One interesting item of note, at one point nearing the junction with Highway 3, we came across a sign that read, “Road Ends 500 Feet.” We thought, “What the heck?!” After riding about an hour and a half just to then find what seemed to be an impenetrable obstacle, we were dumfounded. As it turned out, the road wasn’t impenetrable, just incredibly nerve-wracking. There was road construction going on and for about a quarter mile. The asphalt had been removed and we were faced with what was essentially a gravel road. With no other real options, we sucked up our courage, stood up on our pegs, and let the bikes wiggle crazily beneath us as we drove slowly but confidently over the loose terrain. As it turned out, it was easy-cheesy, but something to remember for sure.

• Highway 3 – Gateway to the Trinity Alps
75 miles in from the coast Highway 36 connects with Highway 3 which heads north through the Trinity Alps. At the junction of the two roads is an unusually large triangular parking area right in the middle of the road which ended up being a nice place to stop for a brief rest. My buddy “Ace” found some previous hitchhiker’s cardboard sign and mugged for a photo expressing a sentiment that we all shared after seven hours in the saddle.

Highway 3 north through the Trinity Alps did not disappoint. Like Highway 36, it was a gorgeous road, both in ride-ability and scenery. It didn’t hurt that we were traveling during the time of day photographers know as “the golden hour” right before sundown. It was a strikingly beautiful day with the golden sun low in the sky at our backs or on our left, illuminating the mountains and small towns along the way. After winding an hour more along Highway 3 we rolled into the Trinity Lakes KOA “Kampground.” It was nice to find extremely pleasant staff, a well-stocked store, beer, ice, firewood and a nice little campsite for our three tents and bikes.

After a well-deserved meal at the adjacent food shack (pizza for me, fish ’n chips for Bocci and Ace), we built a fire and started settling in for the evening. The next morning, I woke before dawn to see if I could get any great photos of Trinity Lakes. It was a short mile walk to the shoreline, and I wasn’t disappointed when I was presented the setting moon over hills lit by morning glow.

I sought out a cup of espresso from the Kampground store, after which, we packed up camp, gassed up, and headed north up Highway 3 towards Yreka. We found that rolling through the Trinity Alps provided an entirely different environment than the rolling valleys of Highway 36. After emerging from the mountains, enjoying some wonderful curvy roads with sweeping vistas, we entered a very large flat high-altitude valley dotted with little towns. I had no idea that a mere 30 miles to the west of Highway 5 on the way to Oregon was this idyllic sub-alpine farming area. It was truly breathtaking to roll mile after mile through these valleys surrounded by mountains all around, and such a nice change from the monotonous drone of Highway 5, California’s main north-south route. I highly recommend taking Highway 3 if you are going from the San Francisco Bay Area to points in Oregon and can afford the extra time.

• Roseburg, Oregon – A quaint jewel along the Umpqua river
Nestled alongside Interstate 5 about halfway between the California border and Eugene, Oregon is Roseburg. This city of 21,000 was the waypoint we would use to head to Crater Lake the following day, but after many hours riding in 90 degree heat, we needed to find a watering hole somethin’ fierce. We could not have had better luck than when we stumbled into the B&M Tavern which was celebrating Cowboy Days. The people were friendly, the drinks were cold, and there was a huge spread of free food on the shuffleboard table. We enjoyed the funky cowboy-chic décor and cowboy songs being sung in the street outside for an hour and then saddled up for our last push towards Eugene.

• Eugene, Oregon – Home of the University of Oregon Ducks
It should not be left unsaid that Trinity Lakes to Eugene is a heck of a long distance—almost 300 miles, in fact. On the heels of a very long ride the day before, we thought that the run to Eugene would be a cake walk. It wasn’t. However, it certainly wasn’t a difficult ride. It was just 5.5 hours long, and 85 degrees hot. When we arrived in Eugene, we were ready to arrive in Eugene. Poor planning for that evening, though, left us in a no-tell motel in two “smoking allowed” rooms (yuck). We didn’t—I guess I should cop to “I” didn’t—prearrange a hotel room or campsite, and we happened to hit Eugene on a Ducks football game day. We were lucky we didn’t have to sleep in a park.

We had a great visit with my son after he got off of work delivering pizzas and he introduced us to Voodoo Doughnuts, an experience not to be missed. It seems like my 18 year old is settling into college life as a freshman nicely.

•

Oregon Hwy 138 – The Umpqua River Valley
After a more traditional yet excellent breakfast at Glenwood we got ready for our next destination: Crater Lake via the Umpqua River Valley. After copious goodbyes to my son, we rolled out of Eugene and down Highway 5 back towards Roseburg where we turned east on Highway 138 paralleling the Umpqua River.

I should mention that Oregon is a mecca for gorgeous motorcycle roads and we certainly spent too much time on Highway 5 when we could have been exploring other river valleys and redwood forests. But we only had four days and needed to accomplish certain goals, so we would just have to leave more Oregonian exploration for a later date.

Oregon Highway 138 towards Crater Lake through the Umpqua River Valley is a gorgeous route. There is a long section where the road is low, twisty and adjacent to the river, and other sections where we cut across vast forests at relatively high speed. All of this led us to the north entrance of Crater Lake National Park, but before we could get in, we found ourselves at the back of a long line of cars stopped dead on the highway. We were surprised at this, and decided that this many people must have the right idea, so we inched forward in line for 45 minutes just to pay our entrance fee to get into the park.

• Crater Lake – Deepest lake in America and possibly the most beautiful
The road to the crater is about ten miles that crosses pretty spectacular terrain. It leads up to the crater which rises above the valley floor and offers many vista points along its rim. We stopped at the first vista, climbed a sand hill, and found this waiting over the edge:

What a sight! We took a lot of photos at various points around the rim and then decided to skip the lodge as traffic was a mess. It was well worth the trip and the wait in line, though, for the sheer beauty of the lake. We stopped at the Annie Creek Restaurant and waited FOR-EVER for our food, which was mediocre at best. A much better idea would be to continue on to Highway 97, gas up and eat at the KlaMoYa Casino near Chiloquin.

Our goal in visiting the little village of Chiloquin was because I own property there which previously belonged to my parents, and their roof was in bad need of some sealer prior to winter. We quickly found that our bikes did not like the red rock road that led to the house as the Bimmer and MyConnie got stuck. So we hoofed it with my tools to the house and Ace—a contractor by trade—helped me out by shinnying up onto the roof without the help of a ladder and spread the gooey tar over the offending seam.

We finally extracted ourselves from the slippery red rocks by riding out into the meadow, working tenaciously to avoid the holes and cowpies that abounded under shin-high grass. It was already getting late in the afternoon and we had many miles to go to our next campsite, so we decided to leave a visit with the neighbors for my next trip and got back on the road towards Klamath Falls.

• Lava Beds National Monument – California’s overlooked pearl
We had reservations that night at the KOA in Mount Shasta but it was clear that we would arrive there many hours after dark if we stuck to our original route. So we elected to change our camping plans instead. We took Highway 97 down to Klamath Falls and then headed towards Highway 39 which eventually turns into Highway 139. We followed this in the waning light towards Lava Beds National Monument near Tule Lake now across the border in California. This ride would have been more enjoyable if we didn’t find ourselves racing dusk and trying to find the one campground listed in the odd lava beds park. It didn’t help that the visitor’s center and ranger hut were closed so we couldn’t even ask directions.

We accidentally split up for a short time and I found myself riding a causeway through the middle of Tule Lake trying to find the elusive campground. Do you know what you get at dusk next to a large shallow lake? BUGS! I don’t think I’ve ever tucked-in so tightly on MyConnie, trying to shield my helmet from this entomological onslaught.

After regrouping with my fellow riders, they led the way to the campground, but it was now very dark and we had to fumble our way around to find a site and then set up our tents. However, sometimes luck shines on the ill-prepared because we found a campsite that overlooked the lava beds area and were treated to a blood-red full moon, made that way by the smoke from many California wildfires raging in nearby counties. We came to find out from the campground host that this was the only site left, and it was the best of the lot. And although there was no store with cold beer, there was a nice, clean bathroom building and someone kindly left firewood at our site which Bocci quickly lit ablaze with some help from his camp stove gas. We dined on turkey chili, beef jerky and washed it down with hot chocolate—all-in-all, a nice end to a long day.

At dawn, the views were amazing. We came to find out that there are over 700 lava tubes in the national monument area, 25 of which are open to the public and have trails leading through them. Two campers on adventure bikes told us of one caves is 1.5 miles long with ice in the bottom! This is an area we definitely want to visit again to do some exploring. Not only to see more of this unique geology, but also to experience the incredible light of dawn over the lava beds one more time.

• The Modoc Plateau – California’s upper right corner
After our last night camping, it was time to head home. We split up with Ace leaving shortly after dawn and heading south and west towards the Bay Area via a more-or-less direct route. Bocci and I took our time breaking camp and headed out of the back side of the lava beds towards Highway 139. The road leading out of lava beds monument area is not often used, and although completely paved, has a plethora of potholes and cracks with vegetation growing through. It was no problem at all, but considering we hadn’t done this before, we were worried that we were heading down a rat hole and that we might not easily get out without backtracking. As luck would have it, we connected with Highway 139 and got to see some mule deer and bunnies along the way.

One disappointment was that we didn’t have time to get to Glass Mountain, an entire mountain made of large chunks of obsidian. Not only were we not sure of how to get there, but we knew that the last couple of miles to its over 7,000 foot peak were a dirt and gravel road. So we decided to “punt” on Glass Mountain this time, but affirmed our desire to return there in the not-too-distant future.

Turning south on Highway 139 led us on a high-speed trip through beautiful high country ranch land for quite some distance. We came to a decision point of whether to head west down Highway 299 towards Mount Lassen, or to head east towards Alturas and Highway 395. Bocci’s less-than-bottomless fuel tank on the Triumph made the decision for us as it was only 20 miles to Alturas, so off we went in search of gasoline.

We noticed on Highway 139 and then on the road to Alturas that most of the cars traveling in the opposite direction were all covered with white dust. I noticed this but didn’t think much about it until we reached the gas station. After refueling, I went into the store to buy a map. In walked a very attractive young woman wearing an abbreviated halter and Daisy Dukes. Most notably, she had a foxtail clipped to her backside and was covered with the same white dust that we had seen on the passing traffic. Hmmmmmm…what was going on here?

As I exited the store, we noticed a few other strangely dressed individuals and a large van that had the eastern-Indian greeting “Namasté” emblazoned across the hood. Finally it hit me, these people were all returning from Burning Man! I have heard a lot about this festival in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert where 50,000 people converge to create a sustainable “city” for one week and then leave without any trace that they had been there. I aspire to attend Burning Map someday, but the exhausted look on the white dust-coated people’s faces may make me rethink that position. My main regret now is that I didn’t have the presence of mind to take photos of these desertified miscreants before we left.

Rather than backtrack towards Lassen, we decided to run directly south on Highway 395 to Susanville and then head south and west first on Highway 36, and then on Highway 32 to Chico which sits astride Highway 99. One thing was sure, we were still a very long way from the Bay Area and needed to let our war ponies run.

The run from Alturas to Susanville leads across the Modoc Plateau, a mile-high expanse of lava flows, cinder cones, juniper flats, pine forests, and seasonal lakes. Highway 395 here is dead straight with only intermittent towns along the way. The flat, straight roads and 90 degree heat led to our decision to make the hundred mile run to Susanville a constant 80 mph. Never having been to this part of California before, I was struck with the immensity of the surrounding land and just how remote it was from where most people traverse the state. I’m sure the Modoc Plateau holds many more treasures that we will explore on future trips.

• The High Sierras – The mountains in my back yard
After reaching Susanville and having a very nice lunch at the Chinese Kitchen, we headed off to cross the Sierra Nevada mountains. We would have liked to have gone through the heart of Lassen National Forest, but different wildfires were still being contained so we consulted the California statewide fire map and devised a route around them because we wanted to avoid any entanglements with fire crews. As it turned out, we found a beautiful route back to the central valley passing by the north shore of Lake Almanor and then down through spectacular pine forests to the town of Chico.

• The “Back Way” Home – Taking roads less travelled
Because this was Labor Day, we were worried about hitting holiday traffic and therefore were seeking any alternate routes we could think of to avoid it. As it turned out, we lucked upon an absolutely great way to get close to the last jump into San Francisco without suffering holiday traffic and while enjoying beautiful scenery along the way. Here’s how: From Chico, take Highway 99 south to Yuba City. Then head west briefly on Highway 20, the Colusa Highway, until you can turn south on Highway 113. Continue all the way on 113 until the city of Davis, then you can hop on Interstate 80 towards San Francisco. You will love the rural beauty of this route which is surprisingly fast.

Bocci and I finally did run into holiday traffic at Vacaville where there was a big traffic jam. We did a little end-around using Google maps and surface streets and eventually got back on track. Our fourth day ended when I arrived home around 9:00 P.M. thoroughly exhausted but exhilarated as well.

Looking back over the previous four days I was just amazed at the different climates and types of geography we traversed. And this from a native Californian who has traveled extensively throughout the state and thought he knew most of its attractions. What I learned is that there is much more to the Golden State than what lies close to major points of interest such as Yosemite, Lake Tahoe and Disneyland. And for those willing to explore on two wheels, there is yet a wide wonderful world to discover within their easy reach while enjoying the journey as much as reaching the destination.

I find myself now less interested in planning for trips to faraway lands and intrigued instead with thoughts of Death Valley, the Salton Sea, Desolation Wilderness, Plumas National Forest, Glass Mountain, Lassen National Park, Big Sur and all points in between. We Californians are truly blessed to enjoy topography this spectacular and year ’round riding weather to keep enjoying it all.

I think I’ll now log in to Pashnit.com and start planning my next adventure.

_____________________________

Trip Stats:
Friday August 31st — Monday September 3rd, 2012
1,455 miles ( day 1 = 424,  day 2 = 293,  day 3 = 289,  day 4 = 449 )
The Bikes:
– 2001 Kawasaki Concours ZG1000
– 2010 Triumph Bonneville T100
– 1998 BMW R1100RT

Ride Maps:
Day One: San Mateo > Trinity Lake KOA Campground = 424 Miles @ 8.5 hours
Click here for Google map

Day Two: Trinity Lake KOA Campground > Eugene, Oregon = 293 Miles @ 5.5 hours
Click here for Google map

Day Three: Eugene, OR > Lava Beds Nat’l Monument = 289 Miles – 6.25 hours
Click here for Google map

Day Four: Lava Beds Nat’l Monument > San Mateo, CA = 449 Miles @ 8.75 hours
Click here for Google map

Additional Trip Photos:

Me and MyConnie: First Year, First 10,000 Miles

One Year Down, 10,000 Miles in the Mirror
This week I’ve reached the one year anniversary of my getting back into motorcycling with the purchase of a 2001 Kawasaki Concours which I named “MyConnie.” Over the past year I’ve learned many things. Not the least of which is how much enjoyment I’ve been missing in the intervening years since 1990 when I sold my Suzuki GS750LX. I thought this would be a good time to reflect back upon the last year and what I’ve learned about motorcycling…and myself.

What I’ve Ridden
I’ve only owned three bikes in my life: a 1967 Honda CL350 Scrambler, a 1979 Suzuki GS750LX Cruiser, and my current ride, the 1,000cc Kawi Concours. I’ve only ever ridden three others: a 2010 BMW R1100RS that I rented, an 80s-era GPz550 I rode at Laguna Seca during Keith Code’s California Superbike School, and my friend’s 2009 Triumph Speed Triple. But it was the advice of an ex-CHP friend of mine that steered me towards the Concours, and I’m so glad he did.

My limited experience with different motorcycles hasn’t allowed me to have much of an opinion about other bikes like v-twins, dual-sports, or the like. In fact, all I really know is Japanese iron with one luscious weekend on a German boxer. So when I reflect on the specs of the rides I have owned, it shows me the following:

What this also tells me is that in terms of power-to-weight ratio (HP/LBS), my Honda was loads o’ fun—something I already knew. But even at a more sedate PTW ratio of 0.16, MyConnie will still impress any Porsche Carrera driver off-the-line, considering their PTW ratio is 0.19. Still, comparing motorcycles to cagers is a fools game as any biker knows. What got me thinking about the past year’s travels was more what I’ve learned, where I’ve gone, and where I’m going.

What I’ve Learned
One think I learned was how healthy it is riding a motorcycle. You read that correctly…healthy! That is, of course, assuming that I keep the rubber side down and don’t get too near the surrounding traffic. What I mean is that when I’m on MyConnie, I’m not trying to make my commute productive by scheduling conference calls in the car. Nor am I stopping on the way to work at Mickey-Dees to get a coffee or whatever other concoction passes for breakfast. And whenever I’m riding, whether on my commute or on the weekend, with helmet on head I’m not likely to be stuffing my face. Plus being in a tuck in the cool morning air does wonders for my abs while burning calories to keep warm. All in all, I’ve found that riding is quite an effective weight management tool.

I’ve also learned that the old saying that “you’ll never see a motorcycle parked in front of a psychiatrist’s office” is really true. Spending a minimum of 1.5 hours a day riding to the office and back has given me the ability to shed tension like no other activity. Seeing the beautiful sights and smells when I take the back roads to the office has put me in the best frame of mind of my entire working career. I can’t even believe I’ve missed out on this for the past twenty years.

And I’ve learned—no…remembered—how great it is to take up an activity that has a huge learning curve with resulting stellar rewards, and also serious penalties. There is no greater learning than putting yourself in a situation where you will be tested. I think it is that, more than all the rest, that I enjoy the most. To challenge myself and see whether I will rise to the occasion, or fall down trying…only to get up, and try all over again. Call it my own “hero’s journey” of sorts. But one where there is no brilliant flash of heroism, only the warm glow of satisfaction that comes from mastering a complex endeavor.

Where I’ve Gone
I’ve spend the last year exploring the wonders of Northern California including the golden passes of the High Sierra, the windswept bluffs of the North Coast, and the twisty backroads of San Francisco Bay. The sheer magnificence of our natural surroundings is something that you take for granted when driving inside a cage of steel. Air conditioning masks the smell of eucalyptus, tinted glass dulls the glow of aspen groves, and soft suspension separates us from the hand-hewn roads originally carved by rough men across our great land. More than just a vehicle, my motorcycle has been the vehicle through which my five senses have been reignited.

How I Learned
I’ve approached re-learning the craft of riding through friends, through practice and by reading and watching the experts in print and onscreen. If I had the time and money, I would have preferred to take a Motorcycle Safety Foundation course…and may still. I would also like to repeat the course I took at Laguna Seca with Keith Code. But with the realities of budget and workload, I’ve settled for a do-it-yourself course of learning which has taken some discipline.

There has been an incredible amount of information that has helped me from an unlikely source, the Concours Owners Group. Besides being the quintessential knowledge bank for the Kawasaki Concours motorcycle, the group also represents hundreds of years of riding experience through its members who share their wisdom freely, with good humor and camaraderie. Their motto: “Join for the bike, stay for the people” couldn’t be more true. And besides the colloquial wisdom of serious amateurs, there is also a potent community of motorcycle professionals within the ranks of COG, both vendor companies like Murph’s Kits and regular people like Shoodabeen Engineering who have raised the level of home wrenching to an art form, and a business that Kawasaki could learn a few things from.

The Path Ahead
I have found in life that it is never good to drink your own bathwater. Meaning, all of the skill I have regained in the past year has really only served to make me more dangerous by potentially becoming too cocky. Now that a year has passed, it’s time to take stock and plan for the next year of learning, and trying to get rid of that last inch of chicken strip that defines my contact patch like bookends. A few predictions…

I predict that I…
– will watch Keith Code’s A Twist of the Wrist II DVD another 4 times…at least.
– will re-read David Hough’s book, Proficient Motorcycling to bone up on what I missed the first time.
– will continue to take my secret commute to Silicon Valley to work…every once in a while,  taking the long way.
– will start doing overnighter rides where I camp instead of staying in a motel.
– will do a dozen farkles to MyConnie.
– and I predict I will only increase my love for riding and hopefully my skill level, as well.

Until then, I’ll be the one flashing two fingers to you as we pass each other by…but only if you are on two wheels.

Let’s ride.

Ride Map: A Great Day to California’s North Coast

There is definitely something to be said for spontaneity. Last Sunday morning, I received this text message from my friend Dan whom I worked with back in the early 1980s:

I had been following Dan’s journey of getting back into motorcycling on Facebook with some interest, especially when he built his own café racer from a sweet ’77 BMW R100/7 which was featured in Iron and Air Magazine [ link to article ].

So when I received his text message, all I could think about was how fast I could install the new Motion Pro speedometer cable I got from Murph’s Kits and get on the road. I checked in with my boss (the wife) and responded to the text that I would meet him at a local watering hole parking lot in Novato in a couple of hours.

The previous Monday I had noticed that the cable had come loose from the speedometer gearbox on the front fork and apparently the inner rotating cable had fallen out somewhere along the road. So I temporarily reconnected the dangling cable but was left with no working speedometer. I read my Kawasaki and Clymer manuals and found no reference to the speedo cable, so I resorted to searching the Concours Owners Group Forum pages, where I should have gone in the first place. There I found a treasure trove of information that told me what to buy, where to buy it, how often it breaks, and exactly how to replace it. I have easily gotten more utility out of my $30 annual COG forum membership than what it cost for the manuals.

Having no indication of miles per hour made for an interesting commute that week. I found that needing to know my precise speed was largely unnecessary and interestingly…freeing. I could estimate my speed closely enough by reading my tachometer, following the flow of traffic, or just using the ol’ Mark I Eyeballs. But I also found that I was more relaxed and instead of fixating on maintaining a precise speed, I just kept my concentration on the traffic around me being sure to go neither too fast, nor too slow. It could be that I had been so intent on not getting a ticket that I had lost the feel for the road. That’s funny since I’m the guy who is always in the 3rd lane watching the other bikers fly by at 80 miles an hour in the fast lane.

Whether or not I would continue to monitor my speedo as closely as I once had, I followed the advice of my fellow Connie owners which made the new speedo cable installation a snap. After snugging up the new cable ends, I buttoned up the fairing, packed the saddlebags with various and sundry items for a day ride, and headed north.

One thing that must amaze visitors to the San Francisco Bay Area are its micro climates. I left my home in San Mateo where it was overcast and between 55 and 60 degrees. As I headed into San Francisco, it was positively wet from heavy drizzle…actually, very heavy fog. There were large drops of water dangling from the upper lip of my face shield and I had to use my forefinger as a wiper blade. Luckily, the MyConnie’s more than ample fairing kept my legs and torso dry as a bone. When going across the Golden Gate Bridge the weather could be best described as 50 degree sideways-blowing pea soup fog. And it wasn’t until Novato that it cleared back up to 60 degree overcast without any undue wetness. Soon enough, it would become sunny on the way to the coast, followed by a foggy coastline, and then 85 degrees and sunny heading through the redwoods back to Highway 101. Vacationers not use to these wild swings in temperature and wind chill have funded an entire industry of novelty sweatshirt manufacturers and vendors on Fisherman’s Wharf. But when on a motorcycle trip to Northern California, suffice it to say that a vented jacket with thermal liner plus extra layers in your saddlebag are an absolute must.

After an hour’s trip north through San Francisco and then through Marin, I arrived at Moylan’s Brewery in Novato, about 23 miles north of the Golden Gate Bridge. I filled up with gas across the street and then Dan rolled in and did the same. After admiring the touring bike he decided to choose from his stable, a ’70s-era BMW R100RS, we headed north on Hwy 101 towards Russian River Road. Or at least that’s what we thought.

Upon entering the freeway, we immediately ran into traffic that was completely stopped for as far as the eye could see. We later found out that there was a fatal accident from someone who ran off the road about five miles ahead, and the CHP were taking measurements and cleaning up the mess while holding back the traffic to a crawl. All I knew was that Dan made a snap decision, which was really the only one for us to make, which was to split lanes and head up the road. What he didn’t know is that I don’t really split lanes. MyConnie is pretty wide with her saddlebags, and I believe it just infuriates motorists to see motorcyclists make progress when they can’t. So I don’t like to create even more pissed-off drivers bent on killing me, therefore, I don’t split lanes.

However, in this case, I really had no choice. If I decided to not split lanes I would have lost Dan, left him waiting for an hour up the road, and been branded a moto-wimp worthy only of a Vespa. And, MyConnie would surely have overheated and then I would have been stuck on the side of the road in the midst of a five mile long bumper-to-bumper nightmare. So, I screwed up my courage and headed forward between the stopped cars.

What lane splitting looks like from another rider’s viewpoint.

What surprised me is that it was easier than I thought. I just had to keep a loose grip on the bars and stay incredibly focused on the obstacles ahead which included pickup trucks with dualie rear wheels, a bus, a truck, and innumerable SUVs with extremely wide mirrors. I found that the trick was to not move too fast in relation to the surrounding traffic. Also, to keep a keen sense of what the people in front of me are doing, like which ones will move left to see around the car ahead or the ones on their cell phones. This is what I usually do while riding on the freeway, but in this case it was even more important since I was less than a foot away from the traffic on both sides.

I made it through the entire five-mile jam without any problems and moved into a lane when I approached the CHPs at the front. Although lane splitting is not illegal in California, it is also not expressly legal, either. So, not being one to push my luck, I became a full member of the traffic jam for the last 50 yards. Once past the horrendous skid marks and crumpled guard rail, I saw Dan waiting on the roadside and we both continued on to Russian River Road.

River Road has a number of small towns that dot its length which are reminiscent of ’50s-era beach resorts. These are the resorts that San Franciscans visited to beat the summer chill (yes, you read that correctly) and many had second homes along the flood-prone Russian River. It was an idyllic ride with long sweeping curves, quaint and picturesque towns and sunny temperate weather. It took us about 45 minutes to travel the 29 miles from Hwy 101 to Jenner where the Russian River empties into the Pacific ocean.

Downtown Guerneville – photo: © Dennis Goedegebuure

Once at the coast, we took Highway 1 north along the Sonoma coast. This is a truly breathtaking road that will challenge your cornering skills while providing incredible views of the Pacific ocean far below the bluffs. On the day we made this trip, riding was made a bit more challenging with the addition of fog.

Highway 1 on the Sonoma Coast – photo: © Herb Lingl

However it wasn’t too soupy, and without any problems, we made our way to the Timber Cove Inn for a sumptuous lunch. After the requisite photo standing next to our bikes taken by a kind stranger in the parking lot, we decided to head much further north and cut back over to Highway 101 via Highway 128 through the redwood forests along the Navarro river.

Highway 1 along the North Coast is a combination of challenging curves mere inches from 100 foot cliffs and meandering roads through windswept ranch land. It’s hard to explain its rough-hewn beauty. On the few days that are without overcast, it is a wonder to see and a great place to gain further skill in cornering on a motorcycle. Recently, I purchased Keith Code’s “A Twist of the Wrist II” instructional DVD. It is nicknamed “the cornering bible” for good reason. Watching it before, and after, this trip helped me better my cornering technique and made me realize some things I had been doing wrong. Practicing and improving my cornering skills is one of the reasons I love riding the North Coast.

The other, is for the sheer beauty of the ride. I had never ridden north of Salt Point State Park, my favorite abalone hunting ground, so I looked forward to the next jaunt up past Point Arena to the Navarro River. What I didn’t expect was to be in the middle of a redwood forest on an idyllic motorcycle road. As this GoPro Hero2 photo of Dan on his R100 shows, the stately redwoods filter the light coming through the canopy and produce a surreal landscape.

As we continued on our journey back towards Highway 101, the temperature started to heat up the further we got from the coast. We passed through the cute little burg of Boonville and ultimately passed by Cloverdale on the way to Healdsburg to gas up our trusty steeds. Although Dan’s Verizon smartphone had enough service along the route to post and tag trip photos to Facebook, my AT&T iPhone did not. It wasn’t until I reached our gas stop that I checked in on my phone and found that a dear friend of mine saw the photo above of Dan and I at Timber Cove and he left me a message to come visit him in Sebastopol, a mere 30 minutes away. Dan and I parted company after topping off our tanks and I headed toward my friend’s ranch.

It’s funny the tricks that fate can play on a person. I woke up that morning without having a clue what the day held for me. Then a text message arrived and I found myself at the start of what would become a 369 mile ride. I also found myself enjoying the company of a dear friend I had not seen in many a year that by happenstance was going into the hospital to receive another course of chemotherapy the next day. The five hours I spent with him that night were very special to me and served as an important reconnection with a person who has been my advisor, mentor, dive buddy and friend. A person who has played a significant role in shaping the arc of my career. And to think I would not have enjoyed that reconnection without a text message, a photo tagged with my name, and a return Facebook message. This is the value of social media…along with the company of great friends, good roads and our two-wheeled thunderbeasts beneath us.

Ride Map: Click here for Google map

 Ride Report:
– Date: July 1, 2012
– Roads: Well-paved throughout with a few moments of interest thrown in for good measure such as expansion grates on the Golden Gate Bridge plus cattle grates and periodic handfuls of gravel mid-apex on the numerous180° turns throughout the North Coast section of Hwy 1.
– Scenery: Rustic towns along the Russian River, breathtaking views from the winding cliff roads along Highway 1, and sunlight-dappled redwood forests along the Navarro river. An amazing variety of scenery in one day.
– Weather: Highly variable between 55° with dripping fog and 85° heat–and everywhere in between.
– Ride: Nice sweeping curves along the Russian and Navarro rivers. Numerous and sometimes tight twisties above precipitous road’s edge cliffs along Highway 1. Be careful and ride within your limits!
– Challenge: Intermediate to advanced (doable for beginners but in parts you need to take it S-L-O-W)
– Food: Various towns make bringing your own food unnecessary, but a picnic on the bluffs overlooking the Pacific ocean can be a real treat.
– Gas: There is plenty of gas available in the small towns that dot this route. However, don’t push it—some stretches are 30 to 50 miles between gas stations, so don’t get caught waiting too long to fill up.
– Rating: 5-stars (out of 5) for overall enjoyment and variety. The ride is challenging but not overwhelming while being incredibly beautiful.
– Additional Fun: Points of interest along the way include the Russian River resort towns of Guerneville, Monte Rio, and Rio Nido–great spots for a dip in the river. On the coast, stop for a tour at Ft. Ross, have lunch at the Timber Cove Inn, or bring your snorkeling gear to stalk the elusive abalone at Salt Point State Park.

New shoes for MyConnie

Wow!

That sums up the new shoes I got for MyConnie. This is not news to any avid motorcyclist, but I would venture to say that the money I invested in new, stickier tires has done more to add to my enjoyment of my bike than any other investment. But getting to where I could make a decision as to which tire to buy was a surprising journey.

Which Tire is Best?
The first step I took was to read all I could on the Concours Owners Group forum (cog-online.org). There is nothing better than to have the opinions of fellow enthusiasts who all ride the same bike as me. However, as one COGer said, “Asking for opinions on the best motorcycle tire is like asking who is the prettiest girl at the dance, with as many opinions as there are answers.” One thing that made this a bit easier for me as an owner of a Kawasaki Concours is that the Connie has a somewhat odd tire size with 18″ rims on the front but 16″ rims on the rear. That limited my choices somewhat, and stymied me from taking advantage of a tire manufacturer rebate for buying two tires of the same model because they didn’t offer the rear for a 16″ rim.

One thing I learned when I rode a Suzuki 750 years ago was that new, stickier tires can make a huge difference in cornering confidence, not to mention safety. In the eternal balancing act between tire longevity and stickiness, I will choose stickiness every time. I remember reading a magazine article tire shoot-out way back then that also rated the tires for how much warning they gave before breaking traction, with some tires being ultimately stickier but more surprising when they eventually slipped versus other models where traction slip was more progressive. I wish I could have found that information when searching for tires this time around. That was one of the advantages of subscribing to five motorcycle magazines back in the day, there was always some great information being provided to the enthusiast motorcyclist.

In absorbing all the information I could find from fellow Connie owners, I came away with the following summary:
• Metzeler: Might be good tires, but don’t buy them because they are slippery when rolling over wet on-road painted letters and lines.
• Dunlop: Generally good feedback, the impression I get is more for touring, less for sport.
• Avon: Good feedback: good for sport and touring, but they don’t last as long.
• Bridgestone: Generally good feedback.
Of course, the above terse summary is almost ridiculous since each manufacturer makes different models that are designed for different purposes. Ultimately, I chose the Avons because there was so much good feedback and the only downside mentioned was that they don’t last as long.

The Avon “Tyres” (there is always something classy about using the British spelling) I chose were a Storm2 Ultra for the front and an Azaro for the rear. I would have chosen Storm2 Ultras for both tires, but Avon did not offer a Storm2 rear to fit my bike. Interestingly, my bike’s previous owner had deviated from the OEM sizing. The tires that were on my bike when I bought it were the Dunlop 491 Elite II at 130/70 B18 (front) and 160/80 B16 (rear). The OEM specs from the manual for the 2001 Kawasaki Concours is 110/80 VR18 (front) and 150/80 VR16 (rear). I chose to revert to the OEM sized tires and I’m really glad I did.

Where is the Best Place to Buy Tires?
I bought the tires online at Motorcycle Superstore and had them shipped to my office. Amazingly, I ordered them on a Monday and they arrived on the Wednesday two days later with free shipping and no tax, for a total of $292.98. I might have found them for slightly cheaper, but I looked a few places and couldn’t find the right size in stock. A special mention should be made to Murphs Kits, whom is always my first choice in online ordering for MyConnie since they are Concours enthusiasts. They initially had the tires on their site, but when they ran out of stock, they removed the listing so as not to disappoint anyone ordering tires for an upcoming trip. I had a few back-and-forth emails with the nice folks at Murphs, and it only reinforced to me that they are a great bunch of people who really care about their customers.

Where to Have them Installed?
There are a few ways to approach get the new tires fitted to a bike. I chose to have my mechanic David, from Autostrada RWC, put on the tires. It’s a good thing he did, because he also noticed a few other problems I will need to address in the coming months. I also found out that my favorite local motorcycle accessory store, CycleGear, sells and mounts tires, but you need to bring them the tires off the bike. The other issues with my bike caused a bit more time and money to be spent getting new shoes on MyConnie, so this go ’round cost $150 for the fitment. A funny aside was how I got to Autostrada. I bungied the new tires on the tail of MyConnie and rode it to his shop. I then took the bus back home, picked up my car and drove to work. I worried that the tires would be unwieldily on the rear, but there were no problems at all.

How Did the Avons Feel Compared to the Dunlops?
The first thing I noticed, was how differently the new tires felt the first moment I sat on the bike. The best way I could explain how the Dunlops felt versus the Avons is graphically depicted below. Admittedly, it’s a gross exaggeration to say this, but the new Avons made the bike feel like it was going to tip over every moment, and by comparison the old Dunlops felt like I could almost step off and leave the bike standing. After my first ride, however, this change was a very good thing. It made me understand how flat and unresponsive my old tires were in comparison to the new Avons. I have no idea whether this had to do with the tire design, or merely the difference between old tires and new, but the end result was incredible nonetheless.

I rode home from Autostrada and felt that the bike wanted to “fall in” to the turns. At first this concerned me, but after a bit of getting used to it, I realized that MyConnie had just become as nimble as the day it rolled out of the dealership. My mechanic commented on the bigger tires the previous owner had installed, saying that “people don’t realize that bigger tires make a bike slower.” Boy, was he right. Although it took a bit of adjustment, I started loving my new Avons and couldn’t wait to get MyConnie on the open road and into some twisties.

The First Ride with New Shoes
The weather was p-e-r-f-e-c-t the Friday afternoon I picked up my newly-shod bike. So I arm-twisted my brother-in-law Rich to dust off his Bonnie and we headed off down the coast to see my son’s band play at the Café Gratitude in Santa Cruz. Since it was Friday afternoon and getting late, we decided to go down the coast to enjoy the beautiful sunset over the Pacific, or so we thought. Although it was 85 degrees and without a cloud in the sky in San Mateo, once we hit Half Moon Bay, we found out that the coast was shrouded in fog. We donned our extra layers and headed south into 55 degree pea-soup fog. Although my windshield and helmet were dripping with moisture, MyConnie’s fairing kept my body warm and dry. Interestingly, our 60 mph run in the fog was completely devoid of cars. It was as if the road was opened up just for us.

After a great evening of jazz and organic food, we stayed overnight at the Inn at Pasatiempo on Hwy 17. The next morning, we headed back to San Mateo by way of the beautiful redwood forests of San Lorenzo Valley. Highway 9 has to be one of the best Bay Area motorcycle rides there is. The road is smooth, curvy and confidence-inspiring, with gorgeous views of redwood covered mountains all around. We stopped for breakfast at Coffee 9 in Ben Lomond and were treated to excellent fruit, oatmeal and lattés. The transition to Hwy 35 which connects Hwy 9 to famous Alice’s Restaurant on Skyline Drive provided an opportunity to open up the bikes to a 50 mph speed limit stretch.

Bottom Line
If you think it may be time for new tires, DO IT! Your safety, confidence and enjoyment will all increase from the experience. And, don’t be a cheapo – buy sticky tires that will wear out sooner. Unless you’re consistently earning an Iron Butt Association award, buying tires that will serve you well in the twisties will be a good investment in your physical and mental health.

Connie Fever?

I don’t know if I meant my blog to have this effect on people, but I received an email from an old friend of mine who said “he was looking to get back into motorcycling.” He was looking at a used Kawasaki Vulcan at a dealership because he wanted to not invest too much until he proved to himself that this was something he wanted to get deeply into.

I told him all about my adventures with MyConnie, including buying it without taking a proper test ride (see previous post), and the consequences thereof. About a week later, he told me that the Vulcan was sold out from under him, and that he found a Connie on CraigsList. A few days later, I received this photo of the red Kawasaki Concours with him saying, “In taking a lesson from you, I have purchased the bike sight unseen.”

Mike's Connie on the left, that's me on the right

Oh Lord, have I started a wave of “Buy first, ask questions later?” I certainly hope not. But I welcome my friend Mike to the ranks of Connie ownership and look forward to seeing his journey back into riding alongside my own.

Me and MyConnie: Abalone or Bust! – Part Two

[ Continued from Part One ]

BigRed back in his ab diving prime — circa 1982

It had been 25 years since I last dove for abs at Salt Point. Back then, it wasn’t a casual pastime, it was a major passion. Tom and I both worked for the same dive store and we took all of our classes to Salt Point for their first ocean dive. I had been ab diving at least a hundred times over the years and had achieved the ultimate badge of ab-diving honor: being an “Ace.” Becoming an “Ace” means that you could get your limit of abalone—it was four back then—on one dive. And in Northern California, than means on one breath because no SCUBA is allowed for Ab diving north of Point Conception. In truth, I was in much better shape back then, and last time I remember “Ace-ing” it was flat calm with great visibility and bright sunshine…in other words, perfect.

This trip was just about the exact opposite. Oh, the water was pretty calm. But the visibility was the worse I had ever seen. You literally could not see your fins if you looked down. There was a strange kind of particulate in the water that made Ab diving almost impossible. So much so, that I remembered the hard way to keep my arms in front of my face when diving into low visibility water.

“Haliotis rufescens” the elusive red abalone

Yup, I found the rocky bottom with my head first. But the worst part was how dark it was just ten feet below the surface. It was pitch black, like a night dive. Due to the heavy particulate, no doubt. So even if you successfully made it to the bottom where the Abs were, you had to stay there for a good 30 seconds to let your pupils dilate enough to see anything. I wish I had a flashlight with me, it would have helped a lot. Suffice it to say that even though I have “Aced” this day I was “skunked.” But I didn’t care. I wanted to know if I could still Ab dive, and everything went just fine (except for finding any of the elusive critters on this particularly low visibility day).

After a scrumptious abalone lunch (my best friend Tom wasn’t skunked!) we lounged on the bluffs until it was time to head home. We repacked the dive gear in MyConnie’s saddlebags, traversed the harrowing dirt and gravel road, and headed back down Highway One.

On sand, it’s fine. On a curve…trouble!

Not a mile outside of the park, we came across one of those incredibly deep turns that are common on the Sonoma Coast where the road makes a big hairpin curve inland ringing a deep cove inlet. At the apex of the first hairpin south of Salt Point, there was a long blade of slippery kelp right in the middle of the road! If you’ve never tried to walk across a rocky Northern California “beach” then you don’t know what slippery means. And slipperiest of all are rocks that have kelp (seaweed) on them. I swear it is slipperier than ice, and when placed in the apex of a hairpin turn, it can be quite exciting indeed. Luckily, MyConnie and Bonnie avoided the first instance of this banana-peel-o’-the-sea but we came across a few more. It wasn’t long before we found the culprit: a pickup with a kayak on top that was shedding kelp. We passed the offender and decided to eschew River Road and continue down the coast when presented the opportunity.

Abs and Bikes…mmm, mmm good!

We took the Bodega Bay road inland towards Highway 101 and were subjected to almost uncomfortable heat which enjoying the rolling west Marin countryside. The heat was made more tolerable once we reached Highway 101 and were traveling at freeway speeds. But it turned out that the heat, and speed, would be short-lived. Once we started climbing Waldo Grade on our approach to the Golden Gate Bridge, we were once more “treated” to 50-degree blowing fog, but this time it was more like light rain accompanied by bumper-to-bumper traffic. The San Francisco Bay Area is famous for its micro-climates and today was a perfect example of that. To go from a full sweat to bone chilling cold with only 30 miles and minutes in between is definitely an experience.

One parting shot before the end of our Abalone adventure was initiated with Rich pointing wildly at MyConnie and trying to tell me something. At the next light he said, “Your fins are gone!” I was momentarily crestfallen. I’ve owned my treasured duckfeet since the 1970’s and there are irreplaceable. At the next stop light Rich flipped up his helmet and told me he saw them fall of a few blocks back. I can only imagine what was going on in the minds of the drivers who saw a man in a blue Icon motorcycling jacket walking into traffic with hands raised in a gesture for them to stop—helmet in hand—to pick up his odd-looking, brown swim fins that were laying in the roadway. Yet in the context of all other oddities available for view in San Francisco, this was just another one added to the mix.

What started out as a lively jaunt to combine two passions—motorcycling and ab diving—ended up being a significant test of endurance. Most importantly, this attempt to recapture some favorite activities of my youth proved to me that I still have the endurance and skill to pursue these passions, and more importantly, that they were every bit as much fun as I remember. This day left me energized for my next motorcycling adventure and looking forward to the next time I could stalk the wily abalone.

Epilogue: Interestingly, the terrible visibility I encountered turned out to be an ecological anomaly called a “red tide.” This explosive bloom of toxic algae ended up killing hundreds of abalone and resulted in the state of California closing down abalone season for the rest of the year. So much for retrying my luck later this fall. I’ll just have to plan a trip next Spring when the season opens up again. Maybe this time I’ll invite all of my motorcycle buddies to come along for the ride.  

Map:
 

Me and My Connie: Abalone or Bust! – Part One

As much as I like thinking that I’m a trendsetter, somehow I don’t think that anyone following behind MyConnie and seeing my brown, super extra large, pure gum rubber, UDT-model Swimaster duck feet fins (circa 1961) bungied on the back would agree. Still, northern California skin divers of a certain age appreciate the spring of pure gum rubber, the lack of kelp-snagging strap buckles, and the thought that a wetsuit, weight belt, hoods, boots, gloves, mask, snorkel, float and towel will fit into the Concours’ saddlebags.

My Saturday adventure six weeks ago combined my love of motorcycling with my love of diving (sans SCUBA in this case) and the search for the elusive gastropod we know as abalone. I haven’t gone ab diving in over 20 years, so I was anxious to see if it all came back to me. As it turned out, the day held many challenges for my brother-in-law Rich (brand new Triumph Bonneville T100) and me (2001 Kawasaki Concours) —which my sister Nikki is fond of calling, “The adventures of Bonnie and Connie.”

First off, Newton’s Fourth Law of Organizational Dynamic states, “The time you planned for getting ready the morning of a motorcycle trip is inversely proportional to the actual time it takes.” That probably isn’t mathematically correct, but you get the point—things never go as planned. So we ended up meeting at the gas station an hour and a half later than planned putting us in a bit of a rush to meet my friend Tom who was running an abalone class for his dive store, Sonoma Coast Bamboo Reef. After topping off our fuel tanks and tires, we headed out of San Mateo on Highway 92, then north on Interstate 280 and on over to Skyline Drive towards San Francisco.

As it turned out, that was a big mistake. The typical morning summer fog (no…that’s not a mistake to those of you who have never visited San Francisco in the summertime) was so thick I couldn’t see the Bonnie 50 feet ahead of me. Not only was the visibility almost nil, but the air and road were dripping wet. So much so, that when I approached a red light a bit too fast, I skidded the last 20 feet. Who says coffee is needed in the morning to get your heart going. Try some pea soup fog and feeling your rear tire start to slip sideways—that will get your blood pumping!

Discretion being the better part of valor, I suggested we divert back to Interstate 280 and head away from the coastal route in favor of sunshine. Unfortunately, that was not to be. The City (meaning San Francisco to any out-of-towners reading this) was completely overcast and misty. So we headed through Golden Gate Park taking the back way to the Golden Gate Bridge. Feeling superior for knowing the beautifully twisty and much quicker “back way” towards the Marin side of the bay, we were taken aback midway through seeing a sign that proclaimed: “Caution, Loose Gravel” immediately upon which we hit loose gravel strewn all over the road.

Caution, Loose Gravel?! How about, instead, a sign a mile back that said, “Hey Motorcyclists, Up Ahead There Is Loose Gravel, You Might Want To Think About Another Way Around The Twisties Up Ahead Because There’s A Good Chance You Might Dump Your Bike.” I mean, what good does it do to tell me that I’m in the gravel once I’m in the gravel? I know quite well that I’m in the gravel by the pucker marks being left on my seat, thank you very much. Navigating a 600 pound Connie with an additional 45 pounds of gasoline sitting up nice and high in my overall center of gravity is a “pay attention” experience. Coming right after the pea soup ride on Skyline Drive, I could only wonder if this was an omen of things to come.

So after a mile of low speed no-lean cornering, we ducked through the toll plaza tunnel to the vista point merging into traffic going onto the most beautiful bridge in the world. At least it would have been except the crossing of the world’s ninth longest suspension bridge produced thick puffs of dense, wet fog blowing crosswise at about 30 miles per hour. This hounded us up and down the Waldo Grade on the Marin side after the bridge with the heavy overcast only giving way to sunshine 20 miles north once we hit the town of Novato. We then thought we were home free, and it felt so all the way through Santa Rose and even down most of River Road which meanders through the cute little towns that dot the Russian River. But once we hit Jenner-by-the-Sea in preparation for the windy trip north on Highway One, the overcast set back in and cast a gray pall over our adventure.

Highway One is one of the most incredible rides. Sweeping vistas, hairpin turns, great asphalt (for the most part)…oh, and…fog, 500 foot cliffs, 2 and 4-wheeled idiots galore, and…cows. Yes, cows. After dutifully avoiding being too angled when transversing the numerous metal cow grates, I rounded a corner and passed by what looked like a teenage Heifer chewing grass in a roadside ditch not a foot and a half from my elbow. I’m a firm believer that the cow knew what he was doing. Otherwise he wouldn’t have lasted a day with all the traffic going by. Still, worrying if a 500 lb. animal who turns its head at the wrong time will ruin my whole day—or life—can make a ride a bit disconcerting. Well, like many things in motorcycling, by the time my mind registered that lil’ bossy was there, he was way behind me. No harm, no foul I guess.

What followed was typical Highway One: twisties, twisties…followed by more twisties. I re-learned how to hang-off my bike to keep the pegs from scraping and to keep the rubber-side down. Although I’m far from being a knee-dragger, there is a rhythm and synergy that comes from hanging left, hanging right, then hanging left again in the chicanes that I had forgotten from when I rode daily years ago. Getting into the groove of this rhythm is one thing I really enjoy about riding Highway One. And, about 20 minutes up the coast, north of Russian River, the left-right-left tempo gives way to longer sweeping turns interspersed with straightaways—meaning Salt Point State Park is getting near.

Before reaching our destination at Salt Point we passed historic Fort Ross, which was the southernmost settlement of the Russian-America Company between 1812-1841, chartered by the tsarist government to control all Russian exploration, trade and settlement in the North Pacific. It’s a fun tour and chance to stretch your legs while overlooking the gorgeous bluffs and cove.

But we passed up the opportunity to pal around with any tovarich docents and decided to beat feet the 7.5 more miles up to Salt Point where we turned off the highway, paid our state park entrance fee, and then faced a 1/4 mile long road of compressed dirt and more gravel—ugh! I have since learned that my white-knuckled, stiff-armed, one-half mile per hour strategy to traverse this unpaved no-man’s land really was not the best technique. Since that trip, I have read David Hough’s book Proficient Motorcycling and have learned that I would have done much better to adopt a standing posture—thereby lowering my center of mass significantly—with loose arms and a light grip, expecting the bike to wiggle back and forth as it meanders over the dirt and gravel. Just like a dirt rider, except on a 1,000cc 650 lb. dirt bike.   : O

We finally arrived at the Ab Class spot at South Gerstle Cove and parked Bonnie and “MyConnie” (the new nickname I chose for my Concours) on the grass. Arriving late as we did, we met the divers as they were just coming back from the water. So after greeting my best friend and dive store owner, Tom, I unstrapped the duck feet from MyConnie, unpacked my gear from my saddlebags and got suited up.

[ click for part two > ]