Mikes Take:
We got a relatively early start at close to 7 AM. The Bay area traffic wasn't too bad until we got to 580 and approached Tracy, CA. An 18 wheeler hauling bagged dog food had overturned spilling bags of dog food everywhere and the cab had burned to a crisp. I heard about the accident on the CB as traffic began to slow to a crawl but I never heard how the driver came out. We pulled off at an exit in Tracey to use the restroom and drink some water. When we got back on the freeway it had pretty much become a parking lot. I took the next exit while prompting the GPS to give us a five mile detour around the accident. Unfortunately, everyone else ended up looking for a detour as well so all routes were backed up. We ended up crawling along a parallel road for about a half hour until we finally got to Hwy 120 and things opened up.
From there we made our way to Hwy 49. It was tough seeing all the signs to Yosemite National Park, my favorite acreage on the planet. Originally I had planned to take Tioga pass over the Sierra's after passing through Yosemite but the late snow season this year had the pass closed. This turned out to be a pleasant disappointment as we ended up traveling some roads on the western side of the Sierra's that had much more to offer than that scenic ride down Hwy 395 on the eastern side of the Sierras.
Immediately after we caught Hwy 59 near Chinese Camp we rode for about 3 miles through some sweepers before I decided to pull off at San Pedro Reservoir to check in with Carole. After we pulled off our helmets Carole mentioned that she felt uncomfortable on the "twisties" and was hoping to get a better feel. I grew concerned knowing that most of our route would be these kinds of sweepers and feeling grateful that I hadn't planned on any twisty technical sections along the way. We took a couple of pictures, drank a lot of water and headed south.
A few miles later we found ourselves riding through an extremely twisty and technical section of Hwy 49, just south of Coulterville. I kept my eye on the rear view mirror as we rode along the side of a hill through some incredible canyons with switchbacks and twisties galore. Carole looked incredible accelerating through the curves and handling the switchbacks like an experienced rider. I picked up the speed just a bit to see if she was feeling comfortable. She followed right along. As I felt her comfort level increase I focused more on the road ahead and danced through the twisties with Carole close behind. It was a rush! When we pulled into Mariposa the GPS guided us to Happy Burger where we stopped for lunch. When Carole pulled off her helmet she was grinning ear to ear. I wanted to apologize for taking her through such a technical ride but I couldn't get a word in as she excitedly explained how exciting the ride was and how much fun she had. I explained to her that the roads were no less technical than the dreaded "Page Mill Road" and "Mt Hamilton Climb" in the Bay Area, roads that she has been avoiding, and she said "I know... wasn't that awesome!" As we were to find out later, that was just the first taste on this trip.
Happy Burger turned out to be a nice little find. Its a diner that boasts the most extensive diner type menu in the Sierras. The room we sat in had the ceiling covered with old record album covers taking every inch of space. We nibbled on Veggie Burgers while pointing out albums we used to own back in the vinyl days. After lunch we headed out to our bikes. There were several BMW 1150's and such sitting in front of the place. One of the beemer riders mentioned that there was a BMW Goldrush Rally going on in the opposite direction we were traveling. That explained why we were waving to so many BMW riders. As we were gearing up a German lady stopped by and chatted for us about our bikes for a while. We finally suited up and headed on down the road after getting some gas "just in case." (I didn't know what gas availability would be like as we continued on.)
We took a nice leisurely route over to Bass Lake where we intended to head south on Power House Road. The GPS and I weren't on the same page as it kept guiding me around the lake telling me I was off route, yet never telling me where I needed to turn. After about 45 minutes of back and forth riding along the shore I finally realized that the road made a turn that the GPS didn't call a turn. So we finally headed south toward Power House Road. As I was figuring things out along side of the road Carole began to complain that her left hand was really bothering her. She was feeling a numbness in her ring and middle fingers. I figured it was just a matter of her getting into riding shape.
We found Power House Road and began another extremely technical descent to a reservoir. Once again I was surprised by the level of difficulty the road introduced, and even more surprised at how well Carole handled it. Her ST begs for this type of riding. The scenery was just beautiful with wildflowers blooming everywhere and not another vehicle on the road. I kept the pace fairly aggressive but near the speed limit as Carole's comfort level appeared to be pretty high. After about an hour of laughing inside our helmets as we rode we exited the technical section and began a long straight ride toward Visalia.
Originally I had planned on spending about 100 miles playing in Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks but I could feel Carole's energy was beginning to wane. We had several days of riding ahead of us and I didn't want to overdo it on the first day. I was feeling sort of tired myself so I decided at our next stop to suggest we head straight to our hotel stop for the night in Visalia. We arrived at a junction where Hwy 180 heads up toward Kings Canyon National Park and pulled off at a gas station. The heat (90+ degrees) and Carole's numbness in her hand were taking its toll. I grabbed a couple of energy drinks for us and explained my change in plans while we re-hydrated. Carole thought that I was disappointed since I had been talking about Kings Canyon and the Sequoias for a few days. But honestly, I was feeling tired and knew that there was plenty of adventures in the days to come so I was ready to call it a day. She finally agreed so we headed on into Visalia. We wiped down the bikes, grabbed a pizza and beer for dinner right next to the hotel, and called it a night.
Carole's Take:
I just don't sleep deeply the night before a long ride. I guess I'm like a little kid, anticipating a great day ahead. The alarm finally buzzed at 5:30am, and I was glad to get up and get going! I double checked our packing because I'm anal, and I don't want to reach for something that I need and find that it's not there. All systems were "go", so we packed up Dori and Katia, geared up, and hit the road.
A beautiful sunrise greeted us on Highway 237 and morning commute traffic moved smoothly as we made our way onto Highway 880 to Mission, then we threaded our way through to Highway 580. Soon, the suburbs receded and we were in the sweepers. Without a doubt, I was on my favorite type of road. Smooth pavement, rolling hills dotted with California oak, the smell of dew laced grass, diffused morning light brightening the landscape... all of my senses were aroused and I felt excited and at peace simultaneously. My teeth were chattering, not because I was cold, but because I was physically reacting to sensory immersion. I just chattered away, unconcerned with the way my body was reacting, knowing that I would settle down eventually. It was so surreal to see Mike riding ahead of me as I rode my own motorcycle. She purred beneath me and I felt invincible.
I tried to make sense of why this was so easy. In the turns, I didn't feel the need to counter steer or lean. I just looked where I was heading, and Katia went that way (or so it seemed). She was like an extension of my body. I felt no buffeting as I passed 18 wheelers. I had no apprehension as we encountered slower traffic on our way past Tracey. I hoped that this feeling of confidence would prevail.
Up ahead was a string of red lights as far as one could see. I thought that there must have been an accident ahead and I wondered if Mike was checking the GPS for an alternate route around the roadblock. Sure enough, I saw his turn light blinking, and I followed him off of the highway. Soon we were zipping down a parallel path and I was certain that we would enter 580 well beyond the snarl of traffic. Boy was I wrong! Soon we were in the middle of bumper to bumper traffic, and it was getting so warm that I needed to stop and take off a layer or two of clothing. When we stopped, I realized how much I missed being able to communicate with Mike. It was great hearing the wind whistle in my ears, but I missed being able to share my thoughts with him as we rode, and I didn't care for not being able to hear truckers on their CB's giving the rundown on traffic conditions. We were definitely going to have CB communication on our next long trip!
More comfortable with the warm weather after stripping down to my tank top under my mesh jacket, we pulled back into heavy traffic. We rode about 5 miles, stop and go, until we could pull back onto the highway. During that time I had quite a bit of clutching to do and my left hand began to tire. I was relieved when we could get up to speed again and was anticipating my first technical road and my first ever driving experience through some tight twisties. We pulled onto Highway 49 near Chinese Camp and I loved driving through the town with all of its tourist traps. The road was a series of speed limit sweepers and I knew that I would be challenged very soon. I saw that Mike, once again, had his turn signal on, so I followed him off route to a turnout by a beautiful reservoir where we stopped and took our first pictures. I assured him that I was more than ready for the road ahead, so off we went! The turns became tighter and I played with my gearing. Was it best to take tight turns in third or fourth gear? Was I pulling or pushing when I counter steered through the curves? How comfortable did I feel while leaning around a corner? Where was my line of sight when I couldn't see around a curve? Was I sitting up too straight, and how did it feel when I dropped my chest a bit? Was I in tune with the rhythm of the road? Was I thinking too much and feeling too little? All of these thoughts and more were tumbling around in my brain as I made my way through this section of road, and before I knew it, the road straightened out and I wondered how it had passed so quickly! We stopped, and I was elated! Mike had nothing but praise for my riding and I was feeling pretty pumped. I made a mental note to enjoy the next technical encounter more and intellectualize it less.
In Mariposa, we stopped at Happy Burger for lunch. I loved that place and I can't wait to return someday soon. The dining room ceiling was covered in old album covers, and, as Mike was ordering our meal, I ticked off all of the albums I had owned at one time or another. I don't think we looked down much as we ate and we had a lively conversation about what we were doing in our lives when this or that album was on the Billboard charts. As I ate, I noticed that my left hand was not functioning properly at all. I kept trying to shake it into life, but to no avail. I silently hoped that the weakness I was experiencing would not impair my riding ability since I knew we had a couple of hundred more miles to go and a lot more gear changing to do. Other than my stupid hand, I was feeling great. My body is wired for endurance, and I felt more than ready to experience what was around the next bend in the road!
I was more than ready to continue our journey as we headed out of Mariposa to Bass Lake. It was such a beautiful day, and the sun danced on the water and through the butterscotch pines as we zipped along. Memorial Day vacationers were descending on this patch of earth in droves, and I could see why. It was simply beautiful! The road was full of altitude changes and curves and again, I felt one with Katia as I wound my way around the lake. I was following Mike closely, and at one point he decided to do a U-turn on a hill on the two lane road we were driving. There was a shallow turnout, and he executed the turn smoothly. I chocked. I was so scared that I was going to dump the bike or be hit by an RV. I was in first, but had a hard time getting her to go forward as the hill tugged at us. Finally, I moved a bit and began my turn. I knew that I needed to get my feet up, but they just wouldn't get on the pegs! I awkwardly duck walked her around the curve, holding my breath, mentally recounting Hail Mary's until I was safely facing the right direction. We rode back the way we came then pulled into a General Store parking lot a few miles up the road. Mike reprogrammed the GPS and we started out again. A few miles later we stopped again... for some reason we were missing a turn off, but Mike thought he knew where we needed to go, so once again we turned around and headed off. Sure enough, there was a slight turn to the right and we took it. Yes!!! The right way revealed itself to us and we were heading out and away from the lake!
Powerhouse road was a blast! One twisty after another... a roller coaster ride on two wheels! I was ye-hawing out loud as we took this road like we owned it! I had never had so much fun on Katia as I did that stretch of road. I really didn't want it to end!
It was late afternoon and I was beginning to feel pretty beat up. I knew that we had much more to do that day, as we wanted to drive through King's Canyon and part of the Sequoia National Forest before we stopped for the night in Visalia. I gritted my teeth and knew I could do it... after all, this was Mike's birthday trip and his pleasure was the most important thought in my mind. We stopped when we reached the end of Powerhouse Road to talk, and Mike said that he was tired and wanted to head directly to Visalia and our hotel. I didn't believe him for a minute. He knew that I was getting tired and wanted to get me to the hotel safe and sound. I told him that I was ready to head to King's Canyon, but he said that he would prefer to do that ride another day when we were both at 100%. That made sense to me, and I admitted that I was pretty much shredded. We still had a long road to travel to our hotel.
I love the Imperial Valley. Fruit trees, dairy farms, vegetable fields and BUGS. Lots of bugs pinged off of my full face helmet and windshield. I loved it! About every two miles there was a stoplight or a stop sign. I noticed that I was not shifting and braking smoothly, and I was skipping a bit with my foot when stopping. I knew that I was tired, but I was frustrated at not being able to stick a stop. I'm not good at understanding boundaries, and refuse to admit that I've reached a physical limit. I blamed my bumbling on anything and everything but the real reason... I was worn out physically. We turned onto Highway 99 and Mike was driving about 5 miles below the speed limit. I was sitting right on his back bumper and everyone was passing us. I was cursing like a sailor but I was the only one who could hear my tirade. Finally, we turned onto the road that led us to our hotel.
I almost dumped the bike when I stopped, but I gritted my teeth and got her steady. We checked in and Mike moved both of our bikes to parking spaces and we quickly unloaded. My entire body ached and my left hand wasn't working at all. I kept my mouth shut about how I felt, but Mike knew I had reached my stop point. He was very wise to beeline it to the hotel rather than ride Kings Canyon. After unpacking what we needed for the night, we decided to clean the bikes before showering. It felt good to wash Katia down. I was amazed at the number of bugs that she caught, and was immersed in the mundane task of cleaning her. Part of the Zen of motorcycling (for me) is the task of washing off the grime of the road. With each circular movement of the rag, I renewed myself. When she was clean and shining I felt stronger and refreshed. We showered and walked over to a pizza place for dinner and a beer. The pizza was good, but I didn't feel like eating much. That's normal for me when traveling. Eating almost seems like an imposition! At last, I slipped under the sheets and sank into a deep sleep. My last thought was about the thrill of my first technical ride, and about how thankful I was that I had a partner who loved me and introduced me to this incredible motorcycling world. I felt blessed!