On Saturday morning, April 18th, at the crack of 10:30 a.m., we headed north across the Golden Gate Bridge. After a bit of nasty traffic just south of Petaluma, and a gas stop in Healdsburg -- where there were numerous hotties on display -- we glided into Cloverdale and had lunch at Pick's. Then we hopped onto Highway 128 for a pleasant run over to Fort Bragg. The first heat wave of the season was upon us, so even the coastal section of Highway 1 was pleasantly cool, as opposed to frigid, which it usually is this time of year.
Here we stopped for coffee before tackling the awe-inspiring 20 northernmost miles of Highway 1 heading into Leggett. I quickly lost Tom in the twisties, then pulled over to try to get some action shots of him on the bike. But I didn't figure out the "action" setting on my camera until it was too late.
Then it was on to Garberville and points north. We exited onto the Avenue of the Giants and pulled over to investigate a weird little roadside attraction, the Chimney Tree and the nearby Lord of the Rings-themed nature trail. It was overgrown and seemed quite moribund, but Gandalf was keeping watch anyway.
Then another stop a few miles later, to take in the redwoods and the late-afternoon sun.
By this time it was getting toward 7 p.m., so we made haste to Ferndale, where we checked into a very pleasant and spacious room at the Redwood Suites, and had a ridiculously overpriced meal at Curley's Grill just down the street, which despite the Three Stooges-ish name is quite a ritzy joint.
Sunday morning dawned warm and sunny in Ferndale. It was promising to be a gorgeous day. The Redwood Suites is just steps from the beginning of Mattole Road, which leads to the breathtaking Lost Coast and points beyond. But we didn't venture that way. At least not this time.
Ferndale was as quiet as a morgue on this Sunday morning. I wandered the entire length of Main Street looking for coffee and pastries, and saw that several businesses had "For Lease" signs on them.
Finally I found a little window behind which a young lady was dispensing lattes and coffee cake. Once fed and caffeinated, we hit the road. First a gas stop in Fortuna, then a quick jaunt down 101 to the entrance of Motorcycle Nirvana: Highway 36.
After twisting our way through several redwood groves, I stopped and broke out my camera, because I wanted to try to take a decent number of pictures. So out came the camera, and off went Tom.
There isn't a "twisties next 140 miles" sign like there is on the westbound side in Red Bluff, but this is still pretty cool:
Shortly after this sign, you enter a 10-mile section of one-and-a-half lane road, with tight hairpins and curves aplenty. Then you come to the microscopic town of Mad River. Here I caught up with Tom, and we stopped for a bit. There were several other riders around, all apparently heading east, as we were.
After Mad River, more twisties and sweepers. If you're ever looking for a place to "get into the zone" on a motorcycle, this is it. After the Highway 3 intersection, you ride on the edge of a long ridge, then you come to a nice big paved overlook.
The road into Platina consists of back-to-back high-speed sweepers. Perfect for scrubbing off those chickenstrips. At Platina we stopped for drinks -- it was getting pretty hot by now -- and chatted with a VFR rider who was also headed back to San Francisco that day, and with a rather, uh, colorful local chap who drooled over Tom's bike and speculated on how fast he could ride it.
The final section of 36, before Red Bluff, throws up one surprise after another. Wiggly bits along a creek, roller-coaster dips and rises, and the occasional poorly-banked 90-degree turn. Sheer heaven. But all good things must come to an end, and by 3pm or so we were in Red Bluff, where I snapped one final photo of Mount Lassen in the distance. Here, too, we ran into the VFR rider again and wished him a safe trip.
As if in penance for the earlier portion of the ride, which was almost continually perfect in every way, we then had to contend with 200 miles of hot, boring, flat, crowded freeway to get home. The less said about that, the better. Next time -- and there will be a next time -- we'll go the other way. And maybe we'll get some of our buddies to join us.
Total mileage for the weekend was about 660.