Or: Now that's what I call a Monday
Or: The Rites of SpringA friend from LA called called late last week and said she'd be passing through SF on a road trip to Portland. She arrived on Saturday evening. Naturally I wanted to escort her up the coast on the S2R, freshly tuned up at Desmoto and with excellent new bar-end mirrors courtesy of Drunken Monkey's Magical Parts Wonderland.
Sunday morning was cold - but the roads were clear thanks to the storm that had passed and departed on Saturday night. Traffic was light. We kept catching up to slow cars, and I would pass them if an especially excellent section of road was coming up, but for the most part I stayed near my friend in her Mustang.
Just as well, too - as the sun got strong, it didn't get any warmer. By the time we got to Jenner my fingers were largely numb (I don't have any winter/heated gear) which really slowed my reaction time. We stopped at Fort Ross to walk around and have a snack, and continued north. By the time we got to Mendocino at 4pm, I was chilled to the core, and we decided to find a place to stay in Fort Bragg.
Cold, sure. Leathers, long-sleeved underarmor, a running top, and a long-legged base layer is my definition of winter gear and it hadn't held up against 7 hours of riding in 50 degree weather. But the road - yes. Highway 1 was perfect. It's in great shape the whole way, with only a handful of wet spots in the very shady areas, and basically pothole and obstacle free. I have trouble coming up with enough superlatives. 200 miles of awesome.
On Monday morning, my friend continued north towards Oregon, and I headed back south in search of warmer temperatures. The sun wasn't quite high enough to have heated and dried the shady areas on the road, so I pulled off and had breakfast in Mendocino. 30 minutes later the temperature had come up a smidge; I left at about 10:15.
Feeling a stiff onshore breeze, I decided to head inland on Hwy 128, through Navarro River Redwoods State Park. More fantastic scenery. I happily tailed a crazy local in a pickup, using his brakelights as advance warning on decreasing radius turns, since my fingers still couldn't make it from the throttle to the brake in less than half a second. The one downside to the giant redwood groves is that the sunny-shady transitions make it a challenge for your eyes to adjust. Pickup dude knew the road, though, and after 128 emerged from the trees and passed through Philo and Boonville, I sang praises to the sun and the S2R stretched its legs as the road got a little straighter. By the time I got to 101 my whole body was warm. The Arrows were full-throated, and my tires were sticky. It's like the Monster knew. I was 10 miles from the start of Skaggs Springs Road.
Poor planning meant I had to fill up with gas at the Lake Sonoma marina - most expensive ever - but then it was time. I pulled onto Skaggs and let loose a cheer in my helmet. There was nobody here. The sun was strong, and I roared up the mountain. Skaggs was just as I remembered: curves that seem to go forever. Wide, clean, grippy pavement. Crests over hills into hundred mile views and snow-capped mountains in the distance. I crossed the bridge, exhaled, and took a picture.
Caution: moto porn. Depending on how long it's been since you've been for a long ride, may not be SFW.
I turned around and headed back towards Sonoma. I've got no more adjectives for this ride. Lunch consisted of a sandwich and a Coke at the Dry Creek market. I got back onto 101 but immediately headed off to go to Guerneville, and took 116 back to the coast. No traffic and late-afternoon warmth combined to make Hwy 1 even better than the day before. With no car companion, I passed at will, and Marin's familiar roads flowed under the Ducati in a blur.
I'm ready for a great summer.
http://gallery.me.com/gulezian/100178
