Today was one of our best for me in that - at last! - we came upon a proper biking road involving sharp bends, dips, hollows and the rest of that stuff which I have been sorely missing in this country of boring, rolling, endless 55mph roads.
It happened without any fanfare. Somewhere near the border of California and Oregon our route led us away from the legendary Route 101 on to a nonentity called, simply, Route 1. And suddenly everything changed. There was a wonderful, glorious little sign saying something like 'sharp unamerican bends for the next 22 miles'. And off we went - hurrah!
The official moniker for my bike is 'GS1200 Adventure'. Although this is perhaps more a marketing gambit, given the weighty teutonic nature of the beast, I have to report that it leapt willingly up the hills of Route 1 and we had a great sustained burst of cornering, to and fro, taking me back to happy days with Charlie in the Alps. Frankly riding a GS down 95% of the roads in America is like driving a Maserati in third gear: completely wasted and utterly frustrating. However, at last we were able to let go the leash (with a parting shot of 'Take care' from Nick in my headset) I went exploring. Fab!
What to say about Nick's riding on this section? First, Corinna would have been proud of him. Second, and to be charitable, the Harley isn't really designed for chucking about. It's ideal on the rolling open (spelt B L A N D) roads that seem to prevail in this country. That said, his skills and confidence (and, consequently, speed) are all gradually improving as the memory of that close encounter with a deer begins to fade and the warm Californian sun spreads its beneficence. I'm looking forward to having a go on big Sophie to see if she's as heavy as she appears.
Nick's version of the day's events follows but here's the Executive Summary of his thoughts about cornering:
"We all know what a bend is and roughly what to expect when we see a sign with that squiggle. Well, this section of Highway 1 was a constantly squiggly line with bends that were labelled with maximum speeds from 45mph down to 15mph. Experiencing them was an enormous challenge for me, and required 100% focus. it is not ideal Harley country: the bike is heavy and designed for geriatric curves and straight lines. Needles to say J's BMW was at its ruthlessly efficient best and I have no doubt that this will will be detailed with great relish in true Munich beer hall style."
Nick's unedited version in full (with apologies for my poor dictation speed typing)
Corners
Afrter a breakfast of cereal and coffee - Damion would have been horrified - J and I walked down the road called Avenue of the Giants - Miranda's only Main Street - and into a different world, a sort of hobbit half world where humans no longer mattered. All around us were these stupendous trees. So high you couldn't see the tops. Impossible to capture by camera any more than words. J walked round the largest - 26 paces. All as straight as telegraph poles and emanating their own special woody smell. We felt small as we emerged back on the AOTG, stopping off at Korbly Wood Products, the business of Bernie K "Make a good livin out of wood" who knew all about redwoods from whom we gathered a few 'not many people know thats', such as 1. the oldest, carbondated redwoods i nthe world are thought to be 2800 years old. 2. there is a max height of around 350 ft. 3. They are impervious to fire. Bernie would have given us a demo but was taliinga bout applying an oxy acteylyene torch to a trunk, that wouldn't so much go ouch!
Rejoined H101, trucking through redwood forests southwards, and still keeping to my resolution that Big Soph woul dnot be caught short again. This caused us to deviate at on epoint following signs to a small gas station. As I was swqueezing the lst drop into Soph's modest tank J discovered there was a spectacular redwood down the road which, for a few dollars, we could drive thru. Why not?
We followed signs and there it stood: the mightiest tree I have ever or will ever see. At least twice as thick as the granddad of earlier, and with a squarish tunnel. The whole place was overrun by japanese tourists , like a sort of reverse bonsai.
Back on H101, we were passing beautifal vistas on our own; huge seascapes of awesome emptiness. In my crashelmet I heard J say, 'This is what we came to see" and something like, '...one of your better ideas Nick'.
We were approaching the point where we would be saying farewell toH101, which continues south but away from the coast. Coastal progress is now taken over by Highway 1, which has a sort of bikers legend attached to it. As we turned on to H1 we saw signs saying SF 185 and more worryingly 'bends for 32 miles'.
We all know what a bend is and roughly what to expect when we see a sign with that squiggle. Well, the section of H1 was a constantly squiggly line with bends labelled with max speeds from 45 down to 15mph. Experiencing them was an enormous challenge for me, and required 100% focus. it is not ideal Harley country. the bike is heavy and designed for geriatric curves and straight lines. Needles to say J's BMW as at its ruthlessly efficient best and I have no doubt dthi will wilbe etileat itwith great reguoinglelshelwhwer in turye munich beer hall style.
By this time the bends were taking their toll and I was tiring. just as well that I spotted a vacancy sign swinging in the breeze on yet another viciousbenbd, the FortRoss hotel. I walked in and ,yes, we were welcome in a cabin lookiingover the pacifiic. The lady at reception was in her 60s, ghlasses, portly and dressed in an immaculatel ironed black uniform and black shiny shoes. To match this she somehow manaaged to ratle off five pages of info at us in about 20 seconds. The only part I tiredly took in was that our cabin had a stove with a supply of wood which we could use an dthere was more at £5 a load.
There was a deli acros the road that was about to close. Our SS receptionist told us that if we jangled our key she would make us some sarnies. We did this for redwod size sandwiches and antother bottle of sinffande.
After alll that you can be suyrew I didn't have anyting left. I hit the matress of myh queen zized bed and then theire is nothing.
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