| California Cruising (on an FJR) - Page 1 |
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I left Phoenix early enough this morning so that I could get across the desert before it warmed
up. Yes, it's early May and many regions around the US are just coming out of their winter thaw,
but here in the desert we've already hit triple digits this year. Thankfully the weather forecast
said if I made it past Palm Springs by mid-morning then I'd avoid their high of 96 degrees today.
Webmaster Note: I have yet to be proven wrong and that includes a lot of miles following her around! It didn't take long once I was cruising (of course with my throttle locked) on the open road to notice almost every big truck was moving at a slower than normal pace. I briefly wondered if perhaps their speed was an indication that heavy LEO (Law Enforcement Officer) radar presence loomed, but then I figured out the answer was at the gas station I'd just left: $5.02/gal for diesel fuel. I'd say most truckers were running at least 10 mph under the speed limit, some even 20mph. Perhaps as gas prices rise, we'll also see more “Minimum Speed Limit” signs appearing in the future?
Since I wasn't moving along at trucker pace, it didn't take long to reach the California state line, which is about 130 miles from Phoenix. I've written in other Journey Reports about a certain structure at the state line called the “California Agriculture Inspection Station”, as seen here:
Well, today was one of the 5% times since I indeed saw someone manning the booth. Actually, as I
approached the booth all I saw was a waving hand with no body attached. As I passed I realized it
wasn't a mechanical dummy, but actually someone leaning over in the booth. I couldn't resist, I
had to stop and finally get the scoop on this place:
When I asked if he could explain the purpose of the grand structure he replied: “We check for fruits, vegetables,
and plants that may be contaminated.”
From the California state line to Indio is another 100 miles of open road, providing more time to ponder. I thought about how wonderful it is to be alive and able to explore, er, seize the journey. I also wondered about humankind's need to explore, to move about. Some of us explore more frequently and further than others, but I think we all have a predisposition to move about the world around us; look at any toddler who has just learned to walk for proof. Those who land on this web page thinking they were going to be reading about someone taking a motorcycle trip are likely confused. Peruse around the postings and you'll see this site really isn't about me and it's definitely not about motorcycles. It's about seizing the journey of life; I just happen to be spending quite a bit of time on a motorcycle. Actually, if not for a twice repaired Achilles tendon, I'd be posting Journey Reports from this:
Seems like each time I pass through Palm Springs the wind is simply wicked, and today was no different. Guess that's why they have these strewn all over the place:
A quick 100 mile ride from Palm Springs into LA. As usual, I had no trouble whatsoever going through LA thanks
to the privilege of lane splitting (aka “lane sharing”) that the state of California allows and every other state
in the US has yet to figure out is actually a great idea. While stopping to refuel outside of LA, a man at the
gas station walked past me and said “Great moose ya got there!”.
My ride today was broken into thirds. The first third being open road interstate, the second being navigating
through LA, and the last third being twisties. Going from LA north on I-5 was an unusual experience in that a
wreck just past the I-5 interchange shut down all lanes of traffic. I reached the front of the traffic jam by
lanesplitting, just as the CHP was reopening the road. I was first out of the gate and therefore had everyone
behind me and the entire I-5 interstate to myself for at least 30 miles. It's an odd feeling to be on a major
interstate with not another vehicle in sight. I imagined the southbound drivers were greatly perplexed as to
why there was only a solo motorcyclist on the road.
...then onward on more desolate backroads, like “Old Stage Rd” and “Mountain Rd 109”. I only saw one other
motorcyclist during the entire stretch (which I found odd given the simply beautiful weather and delightful roads);
I actually ran up on the rider about 10 miles before I pulled over to take the photo above. He had let me pass
him, which was rather surprising given his outwardly appearance of being a racer dude (full racing leathers, a
modified sportbike, etc), and while I was stopped he pulled in, rode over to me, turned off his bike, took off his
helmet and announced: “I can't believe I was passed by a chick with a moose on a loaded down bike... good thing my
buddies will never find out about this!!”
Here's a map of the twisty section of my ride today:
TO BE CONTINUED......
Continued On Next Page .....
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Whenever I'm heading west from Phoenix towards California, like I did today, I look forward to the
uninterrupted cruise on rural I-10 where billboards and exits are few and far between, and traffic
is practically nonexistent. The time allows me to settle into the saddle and let my mind wander,
which is certainly different than when I'm dancing on a motorcycle along twisty roads or wading
through urban congestion. The first real sign of civilization after leaving Phoenix is 250
miles away in Indio, CA (just east of Palm Springs), thus allowing a few hours to just lope along
and chew the cognitive cud. I do some of my best thinking blazing down the road on a motorcycle,
which is hard for some people, especially non-riders, to fathom. Hey, for some folks meditation
is sitting quietly in a temperature controlled room, while for some of us it's ripping down a road
piloting a screaming motorcycle in whatever conditions Mother Nature throws our way.
The 5th largest city in the US had not completely disappeared in my mirrors when my attention was directed
to the loose throttle lock (a cruise control like device) on my motorcycle (a 2007 Yamaha FJR 1300). After
pulling off the road I discovered that the zip-tie, which I had used last summer as part of a trial install,
had worn or perhaps succumbed to the recent triple digit heat thus rendering the throttle lock less than
effective.
Someone is thinking “You used a zip-tie?!”, but that “temporary” cable tie lasted over 30,000 miles. Not
bad, huh?
While roadside, I whipped out a fresh one from my tool bag, then zipped onward towards the Golden State with a
fully functioning throttle lock. As I blazed across I-10, this event encouraged me to think about “form
versus function”, and how much I lean toward the latter. You wouldn't meet too many people with less
interest for the materialistic (or “form”) than me. This isn't really an attitude as much as it is a
byproduct of living my life with the reality that I only have so much time to live. When (not if) you
reach this place in life, the value of “things” don't even hit the scale of importance, and certainly those
relating to something as insignificant as a motorcycle. For me, it's all about the journey, not the
parts or products used along the way.
My general plan for this jaunt is to spend 4-5 days on the road and around 1600 miles, mostly camping along
the way so I can do a shakedown of a few new gear items. My friend and webmaster always laughs when I
tell him my intended mileage and asks if I've adjusted my plan to allow for my severe case of “Detour-itis”
that seems to hit whenever I'm underway.
I can't say I'd bet against his prediction, that's for sure!
I imagine folks from the East Coast who have never been west of the Mississippi may not really understand what
I'm referring to when I say “open road”, those long stretches with no exit signs, billboards, etc. Here's an example:
I think I'll just repost here what I wrote previously so there's a bit of history to this story:
The orange cones might lead you to believe something is temporary, right? Well, it's been that way for
years. Secondly, with such a grand structure you might think grand seriousness takes place there,
right? In an attempt to provide an official answer here I put "California Agriculture Station" (the
large words on the sign) into Google Advanced Search and was rewarded with a grand total of 17 results of
which ZERO applied. So, I have no choice but to give you my answer of what takes place at this grand
station: Absolutely nothing! Seriously, 95% of the time I pass through the gates the signs say
"No Inspection Today" and the other 5% has a semi-comatose person waving traffic through. The Golden
State has these stations placed at highway and interstate entrances at the state line (so AZ, NV, OR) and
my understanding is the purpose is to prevent unwitting importation of fruits and plants. Diseases
and parasites from either could threaten crops so the state decided inspecting vehicles and questioning
drivers about the possession of fruits or plants. No idea when the inspections actually occur
though. You can see to the far right of the top photo that commercial trucks have their own lane.
A guy in a bright orange vest wearing an official looking uniform was nearby so I determined he'd probably
be able to finally offer up some real answers:
I said I was confused since, for one, the station is infrequently manned based on my experience, and two, I've
never seen any vehicle stopped or being searched except in the commercial lane. He said “We know what to
look for” and said so quite proudly I might add. I pointed to my bike and fessed that aside from a moose,
I was carrying 3 bananas and 4 apples, but how would he know? He offered that I was “probably not carrying
contaminated fruit”.
Let's just say I wasn't getting a warm fuzzy feeling from Mr Inspector, nor was I getting any real answers,
including to my question about why the station is infrequently manned. Perhaps the station is some
clandestine operation for something else, who knows; this is California, after all, and most people who live here
don't seem to understand what the government is doing anyway. As we were talking, I got a banana out of my
bag and ate it while he explained that many people are indeed confused when they approach the station (wow, imagine
that?!), and often times the employees are mistaken for Border Patrol Agents (um, perhaps replace those green
outfits?) and subsequently are greeted with “aggression and resistance.” (Geez, what a lovely work environment,
especially if you factor in the blazing summer sun). I'm sure these people do a fine service for the residents
of California, but I, for one, still have no real clear understanding what that might be. Nonetheless, I
genuinely thanked him for his time, deposited my banana peel in his trash, then headed directly across the road to
another sign so that Mo (my famous Alaskan moose passenger) could once again have a photo postcard to send back to
his kin: 
When I replied that my moose passenger “Mo” had joined me when I was riding in
“Mark” went on to ask me a few billion questions about riding and added that he was considering buying a motorcycle
given the recent skyrocketing gas prices. I imagine there will be an influx of new riders like Mark on the
road who will be opting for 2 wheels as an alternative source of transportation. If you are reading this and
are one of these people, please strongly consider taking a safety course first, such as those offered through the
Motorcycle Safety Foundation (also known as the “MSF”).
Classes are offered throughout the country and a good place to start your research is:
Nearly 500 miles after leaving Phoenix, I was more than ready to get off the slab of I-5 and hit the backroads, and
CA-178 towards Lake Isabella provided the relief. A quick stop at Lake Isabella to eat another one of my
non-contaminated bananas...
After another 100 miles of twists and turns, I called it a day (and a great 600 miles!) just east of Porterville,
CA at Lake Success:
Danny, here's your pic with your Mom and Mo:
