Gremlin's Tall Stories

I wasted far too much time the previous evening watching movies I didn’t need to watch. Braveheart from end to end, probably for the first time along with a series of other stuff. This meant I didn’t get nearly as much sleep as I should have, so when the alarm went off at 7am… I didn’t want to get up.

Rolling over, I lost a few minutes, but got up anyway, jumping into the shower to wake up. I didn’t know what time the group was leaving, but presumed the same as the previous day, 8.30am (which is still ridiculous compared to my normal schedule ). Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case…. It was 8am.

Getting out of the shower, the room phone is ringing, and it’s Ken, the organiser, wondering where I am. Getting ready goes into hyper speed, taking 15-20min to get geared up, all my gear packed into bags, 3 trips down to the bike with gear and bits and bobs, large backpack stowed in the van etc.

8am, the guys are getting their briefing, I hear most of it, but regardless, I have my GPS. Handy to know where the lunch stops are planned etc tho. Thunder suddenly erupts in the Inn, with 10 Harleys (and a Honda ST1100) starting up and leaving. I stay behind, as there is a complimentary breakfast I need to pay tribute to. I hadn’t known if liquid would be available, so I’d already had a couple of cups of water.

Breakfast was a couple of bowls of delicious cereal, flakes and fruit of some kind and milk. Two cups of orange juice and a pastry… I was full, and almost rolled out the door to the bike.

Before leaving Morro Bay to catch up with the group I took on more fuel, taking advantage of the lack of other bikes to speed up filling. With a full load of fuel, a range in excess in 500km, I was all set to hunt down the other bikes.

Some 30-40 miles north of Morro Bay it was a quick stop for the Sea Elephants, and I was surprised just how close they were to the viewing platforms. You almost looked upon them, they were some 20m away. Now and then, two would challenge each other, shouting at each other, the occasional hit, and then one would retreat. Took a few pictures and then put the liners into my jacket. The sea fog was thick, and causing temperatures to stay around 14-16 degrees. A mesh jacket was not warm enough.

Almost immediately after the Sea Elephants, the road changed, get narrow, the hard shoulder disappeared and it became undulating. My smile grew larger, this was the roads I was after, and then it got even better, getting very tight and twisty, like a regular coromandel section or Takaka Hill. Just as I was getting used to throwing around the weight of the BMW, the Pilot Roads keeping the bike on track… I came across the entire group, parked up at a restaurant, having coffees. The toilet break had expanded (always does when you have almost a dozen bikes). I was full of breakfast, I don’t drink coffee… I wanted to keep moving.

I ended up chatting to a few, turns out I had missed sea lions and squirrels, but I hadn’t run them over either, so neither good nor bad. Eventually I extricate myself, but as I do so, the others are starting to gear up. I leave, with only one ahead, who I catch up down the road.

There would be a lot more shots of this coast, except the sea fog blanketed everything, so you’ll just have to imagine the tight flowing corners running along the coastline. The road surface was mostly good, but many sections were under construction, and these were rough. I think they are trying to fight a losing battle against erosion.

I continued to head north, the view changing between tree canopies and exposed grass, contrasting but equally beautiful. The sea fog lifted, and as it did, I came across an outcrop that had a stunning fog effect over it, so pictures were required. Continuing on, rounding each corner revealed another stunning vista, so I ended up stopping 5 times within 5 miles, every view spectacular.

I’m sounding and writing in an unusual fashion I imagine, but the pictures might explain just how much I was enjoying it, zig zagging along the coast. Definitely not typical American Interstate which goes straight through anything. This was more like NZ, cut into the terrain. A kind stranger driving a corvette took a photo of me with my bike, and asking if I was viewing the GP. The coming weekend (it was Wednesday) was the USA Moto GP round, just north. As my luck would have it, I would already be heading north of San Francisco by then, so no dice.

The rest of the group still hadn’t caught up, despite the frequent stops, so I decided to stop by Carmel-by-the-sea. Usually a luxury hangout, it sports 17 Mile Drive, a gated community you can pay to drive through. Motorcycles not allowed. It turned out to be a mistake going into Carmel anyway. Parking was full, vehicles everywhere, so I took a couple of shots at the coast (stopped where you shouldn’t ) and carried on.

The odds must be tiny, but while trying to destroy my clutch with the constant stop start in Carmel, as I got onto Highway 1, I saw the group just ahead, heading north. You rarely come across groups like this, as you move at almost identical speeds, but I tagged onto the end anyway. The 65mph limit means you can do up to 80mph and you should be OK, just don’t dive through traffic, as even doing 60mph would mean you get pulled up.

Sitting at 70-75mph gets you places pretty quickly, and we continued to Santa Cruz Pier for lunch. Parked is allowed on the Pier, but you pay $2 an hour, every hour, up to 3, then $3 an hour after that. Expensive, but iconic, so parked, took some photos and headed into the eateries for a meal.

I and 8 others made the mistake of trying a restaurant that subscribed to the ethos that making people wait for their meal makes them get more drinks. It only made us frustrated, as we had around an hour before we left. One of the guys went to tell the group we were still waiting, and eventually our food arrived. We’d even had suggestions like “Let’s ask for the fishing rods, and we’ll catch the fish for the chef”.

Consumed the meal far too fast, couldn’t even finish, leaving a few chips behind, but I really couldn’t eat anything more. I left the Pier last, and despite the instruction to exit left, and then stop on the right, the rest of the group had already gone. I seem to spend more time riding by myself than with the group… lucky I have the trusty Karen, the GPS. She’s fantastic with directions, meaning I always reach the lunch stops and (more importantly) the night’s accommodation.

Next stop is Half Moon Bay, but I stop enroute at the Pigeon Point Lighthouse to grab some pictures. Just before it, I spot a couple of bikes at a servo, talking to them later, they were down to the last few km of gas, and relieved to have come across it. On to Half Moon Bay, I have to screech from the fast lane to the hard shoulder, dodging traffic, when I almost spot the group in a servo too late.

Ken had changed the route into San Francisco to be an more interesting one, but I had ordered an evaporative vest from BMW San Francisco, which was near the accommodation, so it required the original route of 1, US 101 and I-80.

The route up 1 isn’t worth a mention, but navigating into San Francisco at 70mph and jumping between three roads was certainly an eye opener and high pressure. I managed each change, and thought it was going OK, until I hit bumper to bumper traffic and crawled into San Francisco like a snail. With luggage on, the bike is a good metre wide, so I handle traffic like a car.

Eventually I got in, sat on the city streets in traffic while the temperature hovered around 28 degrees. Finally I reached the dealer, collected the vest and got out of the traffic, taking some back streets and against the rush hour traffic, reaching the Best Western Hotel that was our base for two nights. As I entered the Hotel, the others were in varying states of arrival. The radar detector went off on the doors, my ear plugs weren’t in, and I just about fell of the bike from the loud shriek.

Managing to silence it, we parked in our allocated spaces, tipped the valets to take care of the bikes and checked in. Murray and I were sharing again, the rooms were well finished, very modern, with a black and teal tile pattern in the carpet. The foyer featured those egg shaped chairs as well.

Some of us ended up in the bar (even me, but I had a ginger ale) and eventually that led to dinner. Ken had been told about a new Thai place, so we headed there, which was a couple of blocks away.

Evening was in full swing, we’re only a couple of blocks from the CBD and I notice the number of homeless, beggars, and people generally filling the street, that are clearly less fortunate. Ken showed us a flop house, so named, as it’s cheap, $25 a night, with no toilet, shower etc. Literally a room for sleeping. We avoided one woman who said she needed money for a bus, others were straight out begging and reached the very clean and well-presented Thai place. The food was good, I had Beef Fried Rice. Ken did his best to eat a very hot noodle soup, needing a refill on his water in the process.

The temperature had continued to drop, so much that my polo shirt wasn’t enough, the wind blew right through, and I was freezing my arse off. Going up one street, we had a black guy come up and shout, “Look, 3 white people!” to which Ken replied, “We’re not white”. This seemed to puzzle the hell out of the guy and he left us alone. Rubbish and bins were in the street, some of them being rifled through by the street people.

Ken wanted to visit a bar and Murray joined him. I headed back to the hotel and tried to connect to the wireless, failing miserably. Ringing reception, they confirmed they were having issues, and I could try later. I headed to the shower instead.

Final act of the day was uploading the pictures of the day: https://photos.app.goo.gl/KuXHqZVvoJbhAJqq8