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"IN MEMORY OF MARY LOGSDON" - IN NOTE SECTION OF CHECK

JULY 24, 2006 - "GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD VIBRATIONS…" Beach Boys


Tonight, here in Monterey, I have truly sore arms for the second time on this trip. I am in the lobby of a Travelodge, because that is the only internet access sight in the motel - that does not have air conditioning. Grrrrrrr. Upon leaving Lompoc, California, and heading north on route 1, the road began to take on quite a different personality than the previous day. I noticed that the mountains were feeling the change too. New gullies and washouts began to slice the sides of the mountains again. As the road began to get twistier, the mountains reflected that in the depth and frequency of the knife cuts. It was as if the road and the mountains were fighting and the road edges were causing more damage.

To be sure, the mountains put up a great fight as evidenced by the number of places that showed hard proof of recent rock slides. One spot was hit so recently by falling rocks that the road still was bleeding gravel. This caused a situation for the motorcyclists in the traffic queue, because it meant that other than being effectively blinded by the dust of the preceding vehicle, it was very difficult to see where the safest path was through the dust and the gravel.

The 90 or so miles between San Luis Obispo to the south and Carmel to the north were easily the most thought provoking and emotionally intense miles of the 8,000 traveled so far. The PCH (Pacific Coast Highway), alternatively known as route 101 or route 1, has some of the most demanding curves known to the world of publicly traveled roads. As traffic heads north toward Big Sur (Big South), the road becomes a living mountain anaconda. It is working hard to get you and your vehicle off of its back. Sometimes it succeeds, and the evidence is worrisome. The State of California provides turnoffs every few miles and it is worth stopping at every opportunity to see some of the most ruggedly beautiful coastline on the planet.

Big Sur is THE ride of a lifetime. Two lanes of asphalt, almost all completely disallowing passing, require anyone on a motorcycle to be at 200% capacity regarding focus. More than once, a big sow of a motor home would come waddling around the corner JUST ahead, well into the lane I was occupying. I was not happy about that. By the same token, Motorcycles headed south were doing the same thing??? This provided for a very intense day of driving and "watching out for the other guy". I stopped more today in 90 miles than I have on other days of over 200 miles of travel.

To give some perspective on the drive today, the one gig card on my camera, which can hold 300 high resolution photographs, has only room for 100 left. Today, I shot more pictures than I have in a long time. California's Big Sur is some of the most enjoyable motorcycling I have ever encountered. One of the turnoffs seemed especially crowded today, so I pulled in thinking I would gawk at whatever was so important for everyone to look at.

Well, there was a herd of elephant seals on the beach and surrounding waters. Huge bloated carcasses of very powerful beings were either sleeping, throwing sand on themselves to cool off, or out in the surf fighting. I met a biologist who said that these were all males practicing for the real fights when the females arrived sometime in the next month - if the killer whales would let them. I took another few pictures and reclaimed my seat on the bike. As I headed north, I wondered about the hundreds of motorcycles I watched heading south. I seemed to be the only guy going the wrong way. It was strange. I finally found out that virtually every cycle seen heading south had been to Laguna Sea to watch motorcycle racing. So it was true, I was - for real - odd man out AGAIN…..

As Carmel approached ever closer according to the GPS, I again noticed the road getting even more "curvier" both vertically and horizontally. Sometimes lines of cars could be seen up on the higher sections of route 1, floating behind a motor home or pickup and trailer. This road is not for the faint of heart. I had a short learning curve while riding this road that allowed me to be patient. I knew that the big road rhinos would be overheating or the drivers would be getting too nervous. I was right, sooner than I expected the short stack of motor rhinos were pulling off a turnoff, to the delight of the rest of us. Just as the road was getting more difficult to handle, due to the bull work necessary to stay in the traveled portion of the roadway, I noticed that I was getting remarkably low on fuel. I was planning where to get the spare gas can opened when I saw a sign for a Chevron gas station. My MP3 player had been playing all classical music in the mountains and the snake back twisted road called the Pacific Coast Highway. When I pulled up to the pump and cut the engine, Bach was playing from the speakers. A fellow sitting under the tree said, "That's not biker music." I allowed that it was if you were a biker moving through these kinds of mountains.

A spirited conversation followed between Rick and me, with sometimes colorful additions from John, the fellow in charge of the gas pumps. We all shared a love of travel, motorcycles, and in the case of Rick and I, writing. I finally put myself on the bike and headed north toward Carmel.

Once I got there, I understood why so many like the place. It has more art galleries than the City of Southfield and Grosse Pointe combined. It also has a well rounded restaurant list, too. I found a cute little Italian place, and so did every other living soul in Carmel. It took me an hour to be seated. It was worth it, to be honest.

Tomorrow I will move on to Eileen and John's home. They have invited me to stay with them, and so I will. I also have to get in touch with Tessie, a classmate from high school who also lives in the area. She and her husband moved out here shortly after they were married.

I am exhausted this evening. My arms and thighs are sore from gripping the motorcycle in the hard left/up and right/up more switchback curves. With 35 years experience on motorcycles, I was still challenged by the road today. Such stark beauty and such brutal concentration needed to remain an upright biker took its toll today. I would love to do it all again tomorrow.