I had been communicating with lots of other GL1800 owners on a couple of different bulletin boards. I was always seeing where folks on the east coast, in the deep south, and in the central plains were getting together but I never saw any kind of meet and greet for the west coast riders. After a brief discussion with Carole I decided to try and organize a west coast get-together. I put some feelers up at the
Riders Rally web site and got a lot of positive feedback. So in early April some friends and I rode up to Fort Bragg to scope it out as a location. We worked out a deal with the Best Western Vista Manor Hotel in Fort Bragg and set the dates for August 5, 6, and 7, 2005.
The intent of this ride was just to put some faces to the names that we all had been communicating with. There would be no band, vendors, raffles, organized rides or any other types of events. It was simply an X on a map where folks could meet up and do whatever fit their fancy. I posted information about the get-together at several motorcycle boards hoping to have at least 10 or so bikes show up. As the early part of August arrived some of my friends started dropping out of the event. One had a death in the family, another had his bike in repair and un-rideable while awaiting parts, and yet another had his workplace change his plans. I began to wonder if anyone would show. I now expected to see maybe five or six bikes.
At the last minute Carole and I decided to make the trip to Fort Bragg via Hwy 1. We had both ridden all of Hwy 1 south of Santa Cruz and north of Mendicino. We figured it would be nice to fill in the gap. For too many years I've been saying, "We'll catch that section of road someday." It was time to experience it. So we rode out at 9 AM on Friday, August 5th and began our weekend.
Our route to Hwy 1 took us over the Santa Cruz Mountains via Kings Mountain Road and Tunitas Creek Road. This was the first time we had ever taken this approach over the Santa Cruz Mountains. Kings Mountain Road is a severely winding road that is well paved rising up through the eastern slopes of the small mountain range. Tunitas Creek Road is little more than a logging road that has rough pavement with no lines nor markings. The roads were our kind of technical treat! They were void of traffic and gave us the feeling of being the last people on earth. This was the most technical section of road Carole had ever piloted her ST through. After knocking out these roads there is no doubt in my mind that she is ready for Page Mill Road. The redwoods on the western slopes were beautiful, the temp was just right. All too soon we broke out of the woods and onto Hwy 1 just south of Half Moon Bay.
We stopped for a quick late breakfast at "Joe's On The Coast" and then pointed our handle bars up Hwy 1 toward the Golden Gate Bridge. The weather most of the route this far was a light fog that showed promise of allowing the sun to break through. When we got into San Francisco the fog became pretty dense. We wound our way through the city and onto the bridge. At about the halfway point across the bridge we suddenly broke into sunshine! I transmitted on the CB to Carole that we would stop at the bridge view turnout to use the restroom. While there we took a couple of pictures back at the bridge before mounting back up to head to Stinson Beach.
I was really enjoying the ride. I kept our speed down and enjoyed the views all around us. I had never been on this part of Hwy 1 and was drinking in the beauty. Mill Valley, Muir Woods, Mt Tamalpais, and Stinson Beach rolled by in rapid succession as we wound to the coast and northward. We stopped in Valley Ford for another "unload the coffee" break before winding our way into Bodega Bay. The traffic had remained surprisingly light. But then I remembered that it was a Friday and we would probably catch heavier traffic as the afternoon turned into the weekend commute.
After leaving Bodega Bay we worked our ways through the switchbacks that go through the next 40 or so miles of Hwy 1. I was amazed at Carole's riding skills. I thought back to only six months earlier, when Carole was really getting her feel for piloting a motorcycle. And here she was today riding along cliffs, handling switch-backs, and climbing hills like a dirt biker.... I was very proud. The rest of our trip to Fort Bragg was relatively uneventful except for one stall that Carole experienced on an uphill switchback. No big deal, she simply re-started the bike and gathered herself, then took her time figuring out how to get the bike going from a dead stop on a severe uphill climb. One car pulled up to her and offered to help. She declined, determined to get going again on her own. These are the experiences we all go through in our first few years of riding, but seem to forget. Once again, I was proud of her.
The day seemed to drag on and on. Hwy 1 had been foggy all ride long and the cold was beginning to get to us both. I could tell by Carole's tone as we talked back and forth on our CB's that the needle was dipping dangerously low on the fun-meter. But we both offered encouragement (through chattering teeth) through our last 30 miles into Fort Bragg.
We pulled into town at about 6 PM, two hours later than I had intended. We rode past the North Coast Brewing Company Restaurant and saw several Gold Wings parked out front. There were more bikes parked there than I anticipated arriving for the entire weekend so I assumed they weren't part of our WCR group. We arrived at the hotel and saw eight GL1800's parked there. Once in the lobby, Kwammie (the manager) handed me a note with my name on it. The note said that a lot of the folks for the WCR had already gone to dinner at the Brewery. There were more folks already in town than I had guessed would ever show up! We got the key and made our way to our room. There were five other motorcycles parked right outside our door.
We ended up meeting a bunch of great folks over the next couple of days. What I enjoy about meeting new motorcycling friends is hearing their stories. If I knew how to write, edit, and publish I would put together a magazine that would be filled with riding stories. Every person we met was upbeat, magical, and enthusiastic. I have about the lousiest memory when it comes to remembering names, so I won't embarrass myself in this report. Half of the folks I got to know by their first names, the other half I got to know by their screen names. But all in all, I wish we could have spent a week with each one of them separately. I didn't get to share nearly enough time with anyone. Oh well, as they say.... leave before you wear out your welcome.
My intent with the WCR was not to fall prey to structure. Everyone was on their own, encouraged to make the weekend what they wanted it to be. Saturday morning everyone broke into small groups to enjoy their own day rides. Snowman (Jeff) and his wife had to head back home on Saturday but said that if anyone was doing a short ride they would like to tag along. Carole and I decided to do a short 120 mile ride up to Westport, down Branscomb Road from Westport to Laytonville, up Hwy 101 to Legget, and back down Hwy 1 to finish where we started in Fort Bragg.
Jeff and Linda, Pat, Joe, Carole and I mounted our steeds and made our way through the fog to Westport. Carole had decided to ride on my back seat since she wasn't yet comfortable with piloting her own steed among a group of bikes. I couldn't blame her. Anyway, as soon as we got about half a mile inland the fog disappeared and we had bright sunshine with warm air. If you haven't traveled across Branscomb Road you need to. It is about as scenic as any road gets. The western end travels through the coastal mountains with every kind of tree you can imagine, including redwoods, and the road is technical enough to challenge all skill levels of riders. The second half of the road provides gentle sweepers winding through open fields and crossing several streams, all of it making me feel like I was back in east Texas. The temps had climbed into the mid 80's by the time we made it to Laytonville so we pulled off at a gas station to strip off our coastal-fog gear.
Since none of us were in any hurry we spent time taking some pictures and getting to know each other a little better. Before we geared back up I walked over to a recycle bin to toss my soda can. A Harley rider was sitting there so I asked him if he was enjoying the ride. He mentioned that he saw us pull in but our bikes were so quiet he didn't hear us. He asked, "How do folks know you're even coming?" All I could think of to say is, "They indeed are pretty quiet bikes." The after-market exhaust guys have definitely gotten people to swallow their Kool-Aid.
We eventually climbed on our bikes and made our way north to Legget on Hwy 101, then toward the coast on Hwy 1. In my humble opinion the section of Hwy 1 between Legget and the coast is the most scenic strip of the entire Hwy. It is extremely technical with lots of KYOA (kiss-your-own-ass) twists and turns as it winds down through the giant California Redwoods. Some of the trees sit right on the edge of the road, daring you to try and cut the curve too tight or swing too wide. I have never taken any pictures of this section of road because we are always having way too much fun riding it. Today was no exception.
As we got closer to the coast the air temperature again cooled considerably. We had just passed a camper when I realized that Jeff and I had stretched it out a bit between us and Joe and Pat. I wanted to see this section of road through their eyes so I pulled over and waited about 30 seconds for them to catch up, watching the camper go by. Jeff took the lead and we soon passed the camper again. As the temp got cooler Jeff pulled over at a turn out so that everyone could get out their warmer gear. I saw the camper approaching us again and shrugged my shoulders apologetically to the lady driver as she went by. Soon we were all geared up and headed down the road again. Yup, soon enough we were behind the camper again. Knowing that we were just a couple of miles from the coast I intentionally hung back from the camper so the lady wouldn't feel stressed. But as soon as she could she pulled over along side of the ride to let us pass. As we did I looked over and saw here give an enthusiastic wave to us with a big smile. She was enjoying the scenery as much as we were and didn't act put out at all. These small little interactions with people always stand out in my mind.
We arrived at the coast and pulled into a paved turnout to take some pictures and admire the view. A bicyclist that had ridden all the way down from Washington was standing around waiting for some friends to catch up so we asked him to snap some pictures with our cameras of us all around our bikes. A little while later a couple on a Harley Davidson pulled into the same area and we chatted with them for a bit. Then we got back on the road for the home stretch to Fort Bragg. Earlier in the day Pat had mentioned that there was an Italian restaurant in town that we might want to check out (since Carole was having a hankering for pizza). I asked him on the CB if he new exactly where it was. He guided us to it and we found it closed. No big deal, we had passed a Mexican restaurant that looked intriguing so we went back to it and enjoyed a late lunch (about 2 PM).
Afterward we said our goodbyes to Jeff and Linda and headed back to the hotel for a nap. (Carole nor I had gotten any real sleep the night before). When we got back to the hotel Carole and I asked Kwammie, the hotel manager, if he could put up a sign at the front door that we were heading out to Round Table Pizza for dinner that night at seven and we hit the sack for about two hours.
At 7 PM we met up with Joy, Ted, and Joe for a delightful pizza get together. It was really interesting to learn about Joy and Ted and their his and her silver wings. Both of them have been riding forever and have a passion about biking similar to ours. They have done some fun camping trips and journeys through Death Valley that could fill this web site in their telling. We hope to follow in their footsteps and learn all we can from them. After dinner we called it an early night.
Sunday was departure day for everybody. Folks that we hadn't had a chance to meet were still dropping by our table to introduce themselves as we enjoyed the continental breakfast in the hotel lobby. There were so many new names and faces we got to meet. I wish I could name them all but I'm just too lousy with remembering names. But I will never forget the faces and the good nature all of these people have as they share their passion for touring on the Wing (and HD Ultra's). Bob, Pat, Joy, Ted, Jim, Jeff, Orange Winger, Eagle Eye, and all the others.... THANKS!! It was nice to share the passion with such a diverse group. This beat the heck out of any club sanctioned event we've been to.
At 9:30 AM we mounted our bikes and headed out on our journey home. We decided to head inland and enjoy the warmer quicker ride instead of the cold coastal (yet scenic) ride home. But good scenery was still had as we rode took Hwy 128 through the giant redwoods and on over to Hwy 101. Carole took it easy through the Redwoods, feeling a bit pinched in by all the trees right up against the narrow twisting two lane road. She kept apologizing for slowing me down. I don't think she will ever understand that I love it when she slows us down... I really get to enjoy the vision from the road instead of just the sensation of the bike. I guess she'll understand when the day comes that we are guiding another "newbie" as a team. I truly look forward to the slower moments every time we are preparing for a ride.
Our ride home was uneventful except for a stop we made for gas just before the Golden Gate Bridge. We exited the freeway and came to a stop sign that was on pavement that was slanted sharply to the right. The surface slant was deceptive as Carole came to her normal stop with her left foot down to support the bike. Yup, you guessed it... the bike tilted to the right and over it went. No damage done except to her ego. A patrol car was right behind us and the cop asked if everything was okay. I gave him a thumbs up as I picked up the ST and made sure there was no damage. She started right up and we pulled into a McDonalds parking lot to rest for a moment and drink some water.
A short time later we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and wound the 30 miles to our door step. It was a great weekend, and one that will rest in a special place in our hearts forever.