Several years ago I took part in a Vampires scavenger hunt that is part of their annual Dampened Spirits Ride. The theme was coffee. Our team rode all over in crap weather in search of coffee-related things in order to win, and as a coup de grace I bared my bosom in front of a bunch of coffee beans and had a picture taken. With bated breath I waited for the announcement, but alas, a bunch of punks who had merely made a trip to some out of the way coffee hut in the hills managed to snag the victory that should have been mine. I was assured that my chesticular region was up to par, but that that cup of joe was a taste of heaven. The coffee's origin was a place called Nepenthe in Big Sur, and I told myself that one day I'd have a mug of the stuff that had put my ta tas to shame.
And here we are in 2010... The boy and I had fallen on some difficult financial times last year. We managed to have work most of the time, but together we had five different jobs and a short bout of unemployment. Making ends meet was tough, let alone saving for trackdays like we normally do. Instead of tear-assin' around T-hill this Spring we decided to take the few extra dollars we'd managed to squirrel away to take a brief moto tour of this gorgeous state of ours. Naturally we made Big Sur our destination. We only wanted to take a couple of days and that was about as far as we thought we could go if we avoided freeways. And I had a cup of coffee with my name on it waiting for me.
On Saturday morning we loaded up. Walking shoes, some clean skivvies and socks, and my girlie things were all we packed.
I put together a little picnic lunch for us, too. Homemade cookies, sandwiches on rye bread that I'd made myself, some dried and fresh fruit..
Our first leg of the trip was Redwood Rd. It's about 10 minutes from the tenement, and it's gorgeous right now.
The old Duc and me...
Redwood spat us out in San Leandro, land of stop lights and strip malls...I swear it took us 30 minutes to get to the next section of road and most of it was spent waiting at red lights. We kept going and wound our way down Palomares. I stopped on Niles Canyon Road to put more clothes on...it was a tad chillier than I'd expected. A theme that would stay with me for the entire trip. But I'm tough. Sort of.
Onto Calaveres Road...little did I know it, but we passed a couple of BARFers on their push-bikes battling up the hill. I discovered that later on when they both texted me. A short jaunt on a couple of freeways got us to the mouth of the fabled Highway 9. I've ridden this road quite a bit, but it's always different. We had a bit of luggage and a loooong ways ahead of us. I kept our pace pretty mellow and decided to save my legs for the rest of the trip. I got us seriously lost at one point, but it was a "good lost". Eventually I hooked up with Bonnie Doon after cruising Empire Grade, Jamison Creek and a few other goaty trails. Bonnie Doon spit us out onto 1 South just after Davenport and I finally felt like our trip had officially begun. So naturally it was time to stop. And eat. We pulled up to a nice looking beach where the park ranger demanded $10 to park per motorcycle. We turned around, parked 100 yards up the street with everyone else and found a picnic bench with this view instead. Not too bad for "free".
Looking at my written down route, I figured that we didn't have a whole lot more riding to do that day. Big Sur and Nepenthe were an easy hour or so away and we still had plenty of day left. We took our time winding down the coast. People were great about pulling over for us so we didn't have to do a lot of sketchy passes and we managed to keep sort of close to the speed limit.
We came up to Big Sur and Nepenthe after a while, but we wanted to get checked into our overnight accommodations and get cleaned up for dinner. We rode past the restaurant that housed the coffee that had belittled my boobs years ago and kept riding. And riding and riding. Past the last remnants of civilization we rode and past a gas station that said "Last gas for 40 miles". I looked at my tripometer and noted that we'd gone about 75 miles. For most bikes that's not a big deal...but I'd gone a little mod-crazy several years ago and put a big bore kit on the big red beast. She was already inefficient, but adding another 44 cc's to her made her suck gas like an alcoholic slurps gin at last call. Nervous and noting the fading daylight we pulled over to check a map and make a phone call.
I suppose there are worse places to be stranded...
The boy's phone had died...I guess having it search for service all day had worn down the battery. We had mine, but no one answered. We had an address and a whole lotta nuthin looking up and down the coast. We got back on the bikes and half-figured we'd be in Santa Barbara before we'd see anything that resembled civilization. We crossed old mudslides that had left potholed gravel and went around cliffs that had dumped large rocks in the middle of the road. It was still some of the best riding of the day and I picked up the pace to try to beat the sun going down. Just as I'd nearly given up hope, we found it...a place called Treebones that overlooks the water. We'd rented a yurt (something like a really nice tent) for the night. It had a bed and an oil stove in it. There were hot showers in the main lodge, a hot tub, and a restaurant. We decided to "make camp" for the night and save the coffee-tasting for the next day.
Here's a view from the 'tub.
Here's one of the best photos I've ever taken in my life--I was trying to take one of those cute shots while holding the camera myself. I don't know how the MySpace kids do it. All I got was this IZ_ picture of my eyes with my skull cap that I wore in the hot tub. Sexxxayyyy, I know.
After a big meal, too much wine, and a soak in the tub we crashed at about 9:30. We woke up at dawn-ish. Here's what our yurt looked like.
More yurts.
The view from our yurt.
A person can also stay in this stick structure called "The Nest". Looked kinda pokey and uncomfy to me, but there were a couple of bodies in it, so I took a couple of quick shots and bolted.
There were horses and a garden there, too. Say, "Hi Horsey."
After too many waffles smothered in peanut butter we took off a little further down the coast to Hearst Castle. We couldn't come all this way and not see it.
The outdoor pool. I have one just like it at home.
The indoor pool. Yep, got one of those too.
Mr. Hearst's office--funny, mine looks *just* like this.
A view from inside one of the bedrooms. Kinky...
No well-decorated home should be without a stag light.
