| June 21, 2007 - Santa Barbara, CA to Half Moon Bay, CA |
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And here's my “Free Spirit Salute” to the new day from atop the rock:
The free spirit salute came about recently when I visited the Barber Motorsports Motorcycle Museum
in Birmingham, AL with my friend Scott (that Journey Report is:
HERE). Outside
the museum were statues that I couldn't exactly figure out in context to the museum, and I remember
thinking I'd bet their creator was definitely a free spirit. Scott happened to get a photo of
me with these statues and since then it's been called the “Free Spirit Salute”:
I was on PCH in less than a minute after leaving the campground. I've literally ridden all over
this country in the extreme corners and along the coastal edges, and for me Hwy 1 is the king of all
roads for it's combination of landscape/topography and fantastic motorcycle riding. I entered
the road with the Pacific Ocean to my left (or south, depending on how your brain works) and I stayed
right beside it almost the entire day sans a detour for a quick canyon run. One section of Hwy 1
above Santa Barbara runs through agricultural areas. I looked out across one of the fields and saw this:
Regardless of your stance on migrant workers and immigration, those are people who are trying to
survive. I wondered how many American teenagers would go out there and do that type of work,
and I concluded that if Border Patrol or Immigration were to make a round up then we'd all be
paying $10 for a head of lettuce.
Rolling along this inland section of PCH-1, I came upon an unsuspecting sportbike rider who for
whatever reason, was riding below the speed limit. I'm not sure if his reaction was from
just being passed or from being passed by a bike with a tag reading “AGIRL” (or both) but as
soon as I zipped by, he responded as if the race was on. (This scenario is not uncommon
I might add). I always let “Ricky Racer” pass me (keep the idiots in front is my motto),
and I back down just enough so that he still believes the race is on and essentially becomes
my rabbit. This strategy has worked well in managing those with testosterone issues (ahem,
did I mention I've had ZERO lifetime tickets?!) Today when my radar detector alerted a
signal ahead of us, I wondered what the conversation might entail between the LEO (Law
Enforcement Officer) and Ricky once the rabbit was caught in the trap. When I got the
radar hit, I immediately backed way off and thought since I saw a sign designating Hwy 1 that'd
I'd just pull over to take a photo. Ricky Racer zoomed ahead likely not realizing I had
dropped out. Here's my photo (laughing not pictured):
After taking the pic, I walked around, ate something, and made a few phone calls. Once I
was back on the road, lo and behold, I see Ricky riding towards me. I'm assuming his
previous 20 minutes didn't go too well given Ricky's single digit gesture towards me as he
passed by. I didn't really understand since when I rode by the officer, he smiled at me.
I took one detour off Hwy 1 so I could run a canyon road called “Harris Grade”. (GPS
coordinates for the southern end of Harris Grade: N34 40.703 W120 27.347 and GPS coordinates
for the northern end that intersects CA-135: N34 45.984 W120 25.441) Last time I was on
this particular road it was being repaved, so I suspected it might be in fine shape for a lone
rider mid-week and mid-day. Sure enough, I didn't see another vehicle and the road
construction was complete. Due to the lack of turn-outs it was difficult to get a photo
representing the road, but here's a sample...
Nearing Cambria, Hwy 1 rejoins the coastline:
Here's where I had my lunch under the watchful eye of my critter friend and several of his cousins:
Just past the entrance to the Hearst Castle was a pullout that I decided to take since
it appeared I could walk along the edge of the ocean for quite a distance. I took
this photo before I started my walk:
... and while walking I noticed some of the “rocks” in the ocean appeared to be moving. Upon
closer inspection, indeed they were... in the form of Elephant Seals:
I do my best thinking when my body is in motion. My preference over the 38 years of my
existence has been for that motion to be self-propelled, but due to a Achilles tendon rupture
(actually twice
At one of the pullouts a elderly gentleman from Italy approached me and asked “Do you want me to
take a memory of you with your camera?”:
After the photo op, he asked where I was headed (actually, he said “Where might your destination
be?”) and when I answered “Alaska” he erupted with “Bravo!! Take many memories, young lady,
for those of us who are too old to make the journey!”. I gave him my card and invited him
to be a virtual co-rider. Something tells me I'll have an email from Italy before I get back.
Regardless of the chosen mode of transportation, if this road doesn't stir a person's soul then
they need to be checked for a pulse! Doesn't matter how many times I've ridden this road,
it's always a treat! Here are the photos from today's ride:
While riding today I noticed the front tire of the bike felt rather wonky.
Just to reiterate, the bike is JUST FINE.
For the second night in a row I have arrived at my chosen campground and been very relieved
to have made reservations for a site given the “Camground Full” sign displayed at the
entrance. I'm sure there are people who go into campgrounds after hours and camp
illegally and all sorts of such, but I prefer to have a restful night knowing Ranger Rick
won't be knocking on my tent door. Anyway, tonight's campsite here in Half Moon Bay
rivals last night's beach front site in Santa Barbara, though the waves and ocean are much
louder here. I'm trying to remember to take a photo of each campsite to help demarcate
events for me sequentially. Plus, the Matriarch really seems to enjoy seeing where I've
camped. So, here's tonight's camp...
I watched the sun set as I walked along the beach, and thought about how big this world is,
and how thankful I am to be alive and experiencing a small part of it:
AGirl
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There's something about waking up to the sound of breaking ocean waves and seagulls squawking at
whatever seagulls squawk about in the morning. It's been a while since I awoke to Mother
Nature's diverse roar.. Before leaving camp, I set off to explore a large rock across the
campground hoping I could find a way to climb it and then look back and get a photo of camp. I
indeed found a way up the rock, so here's where I slept last night:
Salutations aside, I had a great walk along the ridge overlooking the ocean. Though my thoughts
were as wide and deep as the ocean in front of me, there was an undercurrent of anticipation for getting
back on the road since I knew what was in front of me today: California's spectacular Highway 1 (CA-1)
aka “Pacific Coast Highway” or simply “PCH”. Before leaving the state park campground, I pulled
the bike up by the Ranger's shack away from the campsites so I could run my air compressor and add air
to my tires. While checking tire pressures, a man walked by me and said with great surprise
“Are you really from Tennessee?”. I thought he might laugh or smile or something but after he
didn't, it appeared he wanted an answer to his question. I thought a/b saying no, I stole the
bike, but decided to just say “yessiree”, and even then he still seemed confused. I didn't know
if he was having trouble processing that my license plate read “Tennessee” or “A Girl”, or maybe a
combination of both. He seemed rather dazed with my response and I didn't say anything else
since I thought if I had added “and I'm on my way to Alaska” he might have passed out or something. I'd
be willing to bet the poor guy must have a limited view of what is “normal” or “average” given the
difficulty he was apparently having processing that a female was riding a motorcycle solo across the
country. His question and response, or lack thereof, made me wonder what his life experiences have been.
By the way, the GPS waypoints for the Refugio Beach State Campground is: N34 27.901 W120 04.090
(El Capitan Campground is less than a mile south)
Perhaps Mr. LEO told Ricky he should never race “a girl”? I dunno, just a guess.
Just before the Hearst Castle I pulled off to find a spot to eat my lunch alongside the
ocean. I found a place to park, backed the bike in, and as soon as I turned it off,
a ground squirrel or some beach varmint creature runs under the bike and starts making
circles around my boot. I didn't know if it was rabid or hungry so I just watched
it, all the while wondering if my Sidi boots are varmint bite-proof:
) a few years ago,
that preference has shifted to motorized two wheels. Nonetheless, my cognitive experience
seems to reflect a combination of the type of road I'm on and the external stimulus/scenery around
me. Yesterday's ride through the desert was one of those times where I hit the cruise
physically and mentally, and let my mind wander about. Today's ride was the exact opposite;
I was very much in the moment and soaking up every breathe of fresh oceanside air, every view and
every turn that the glorious Highway 1 offers! Though I've been on this road countless times,
each time is simply grand!
Tire pressure checked out fine, but then I noticed the wheel weights had apparently taken
flight at some point along the way. (Maybe that Sidewinder snake took them off
yesterday?? Heck, they probably melted off in the intense desert heat!) In
Monterey I had the wheel rebalanced, weights replaced, and I was quickly on my way again:
Rebalanced, back on Hwy 1 and heading for Half Moon Bay:
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