The First Harley Trip, 2014 Part 3: California Coast

The First Harley Trip, 2014

                        Part 3: California Coast                       

 Sleeping in is a luxury I have not experienced in years. By the time a male reaches 58 years old, is done raising children, and has therefore earned the right to sleep in, nature’s cruel sense of humor has seen to it that his bladder will have entirely missed or completely ignored the “sleeping in” memo……hey, just sayin’.  Oh well, que sera sera.

By day break, I was showered, dressed, packed, tanked up on my four drops of complementary motel coffee, and…….wait a minute. A few words are needed regarding motel coffee. WTF is it with these maxi-pad looking coffee-stuffed packets that you place in the coffee machine and then it only makes 1 cup of coffee? This motel obviously doesn’t realize who I am and what I am capable of when it comes to coffee, especially my morning coffee! In that case, I’m outta here, makin’ tracks, on the road toad, gonna blind you with ass, and later on bitches!.......Seriously? One single cup of coffee. WTF. Give me a break!

Just a handful of miles north of San Simeon is the first “must see” vista where giant elephant seals make their way on shore to sleep. Once you get past the smell, the sight is amazing. They pile up against one another like giant sardines in a can. Again, it’s a “must see.”

For me, this is where the thrill of my first “15 Summers” adventure actually started. This is where the California Coast becomes spectacular. This is Big Sur, one of the most photographed regions of the California Coast. This is where the redwoods start, where the poets dream, and is Mecca for every unemployed tree-hugging new-age crystal-worshipping wingnut. That, and where gasoline costs $6.50 per gallon.

For years Liz had told me stories about her camping adventures in Big Sur. Her "must see" is a funky side-of-the-road establishment called Deetjens Big Sur Inn. In addition to historical cabins nestled amongst the redwoods that can be rented for the night (6 months in advance.) Deetjens has a restaurant too. Still in desperate need of coffee, and ready for breakfast, I pulled in looking forward to some pancakes, eggs, bacon and a caffeine fix.

Deetjens was packed and no tables were available. On the outside deck were several tables, all occupied. Seeing that the server could not find me a table, a generous offer to share her table came from a woman sitting by herself. Under normal circumstances, I would have politely declined and waited for the next available table, but I was in a coffee crisis mode. I graciously accepted her offer. 

She claimed to be an author of some sort or another and, although she was as pleasant as can be, this lady was the queen bee of wack-jobs. She explained to me how she had received some sort of cosmic or divine guidance and that she, her crystals, and her dream catchers were going to save the native Hawaiians. I never could quite figure out what she was saving them from and being that Kauai is my second home, I know that in truth, Hawaiians don't need mainlander's "help" or "saving" in the first place. Oh well, I was getting coffee and breakfast....... except for the pancakes. This was Big Sur after all. The closest thing to pancakes was French toast sprinkled with powdered sugar and crushed macadamia nuts. Real hippie shit. And it was delicious. 

Pleasantly tanked on coffee, which I have no doubt was roasted from some kind of mystic fair-trade shaman-blessed beans, I headed back on the road. Only about another 10 miles up the road was my next stop to visit another one of my favorite people on the planet. Frieda Belle. 

Frieda is like an aunt to me. Growing up, she was my mom's best friend. I spent much of my childhood playing with her children, Mark, Michael, and Sharon, and spending the night at her home. It had been several years since I had last seen Frieda so I was very excited to see her again. Over the years, she had remarried and moved into a home in Big Sur, high on a mountain that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. The road to her home was an adventure in itself. A winding narrow cliff-hanging road without guard rails meandered up the mountain and led me to her driveway. To my surprise, her son Michael was out waiting for me. As I got off of Dorothy, Frieda and her daughter Sharon came out to meet me. We spent the next 2 hours visiting and reminiscing about the days of my youth. This visit became a highlight of the trip. 

Back on the road again, heading north, my next planned stop was to visit my dad's cousin, Evelyn, and her husband Larry, in Monterey, Ca. It had been about 20 years since our last visit. Evelyn made lunch for the three us. It too was a short visit and so nice to spend a few hours with them. As much as I would have liked to spend more time with them, I had to make it to Half Moon Bay that evening and I still had to put in some miles. 

After heading up the coast on Hwy. 1, I ventured off on a wrong turn on some single lane road somewhere around Santa Cruz looking for a road that Liz suggested I needed to travel. If you take a wrong turn, stick with it!

The road, which I eventually found, more commonly know as Skyline Drive,  (Hwy 35) is a wonderfully secluded scenic road that took me to an iconic motorcycle gathering place called "Alice's Restaurant." Getting gas and a Diet Coke, I rested there for awhile, humming the Arlo Guthrie song of the same name, before heading on the last leg of the day's journey.

Skyline Drive is a beautiful rode that takes you on a mountain ridge and eventually drops you down into Half Moon Bay. 

After my obligatory afternoon Starbucks coffee break in Half Moon Bay, I made my way to my camp site for the night at the state park. I unloaded my gear, pitched my micro backpacker's tent, and then headed a few miles north to Barbara's Fishtrap for dinner. Barbara's Fishtrap has been a favorite of Liz's for years. Even though the boiled clams and sourdough bread is Liz's recommended favorite, I ordered the fish and chips......I probably should have stuck with the calms and sourdough bread. 

Returning to my tent, it was now dark, windy, and cold. The California Central Coast can get cold and damp in a hurry and tonight was no exception. When planning for the trip, I figured it would be wise to get the smallest tent possible considering everything had to fit in my saddlebags. After unpacking my tent, I discovered it was not much more than a cocoon. After putting in my air mattress and sleeping bag, there was little room for my body. After literally crawling in head first, I realized this tent was designed for a feet first crawl in since the tent tapered towards the back, it left no room for one's face. Ok switch positions. Once in, getting out meant crawling backwards on my belly out of the tent in the dirt until I could get my legs out of the tent far enough to stand. Just for reference, I've had 2 major back surgeries and double knee replacements meaning I don't crawl very well. Plus, because of the knee replacements, for some unknown reason, I often get very painful muscle cramps in my legs. So after finally changing directions and crawling into my sleeping bag and finally getting settled, my legs cramped up. Now picture a micro tent only 18 inches high at its tallest point, housing a grown man over 6 feet in height unable to maneuver very well and wrapped up in a sleeping bag trying to deal with leg cramps. From the outside it looked like Michael Vick threw 2 of his pit bulls into the tent and stood back to watch the show. Crawling out of the tent on my belly in the dirt was not an easy task but I had to in order to stretch my legs. Needless to say, it was not an easy, fun, or comfortable night. Plus, it gets really damp and cold on that Central Coast.