West Coast Loop, Part 1 ... September 1994Summary7 days, 2540 milesRoute: L.A. - New Cuyama - Morro Bay - Big Sur - San Francisco - Boonville - Ft. Bragg - Eureka - Grants Pass - Eugene - Portland - Bend - Crater Lake - Mt. Shasta - Susanville - Reno - Lake Tahoe - Yosemite - Fresno - L.A. Obstacles: Heat, cold, wind, bugs, stupid cagers (naturally), a broken camera, a wayward retaining bolt, and health problems. :( Speeding Tix: None. (I tried, honest...) What follows is an account of my big summer vacation and first-ever major moto tour. Eleven whole days to get away from L.A., from the graffiti and obnoxious vegetable-delivery trucks, away from my raving twit of a boss, away from a mildly dysfunctional relationship that needed some away-time. Besides, I had bought my Yamaha Seca II in July, with 7000 miles on it, and thought I'd find out how it worked as a touring bike. (Not badly, as it turned out.) The pace will strike many of you as slow, if not positively geriatric. Well, if you're going to take a pleasure trip through the country's most beautiful scenery, why rush? And as you'll see, the timing, at least on the way up, allowed me to spend a couple of nights gratis. So much for introduction and justification. Here's the trip report. Day 1Los Angeles (Hollywood) to Morro Bay, CA237 miles After a leisurely 1:30 pm start, I headed north on the 101 Freeway into the hot and smoggy San Fernando Valley. Within 10 minutes I was heading up the Newhall Pass, past the CA 14 interchange recently renamed to honor the moto-cop who plunged off it moments after the earthquake, and ten minutes after that I passed Magic Mountain, which effectively marks the end of the L.A. sprawl. A word about today's route. The most direct route from L.A. to the Central Coast is US 101. However, it is very congested for the first 100 mi. and has long stretches of annoying expansion joints. So in the interest of getting out of L.A. fast, I decided to head north and then west. And get out of L.A. quickly I did. After Castaic, the road ascends through the Angeles National Forest toward the 4200-ft. Tejon Pass. Suddenly I felt like I was on the I-17 in Arizona. A weird sense of spatial distortion would come to me throughout the trip... California's diverse scenery recapitulates so many different parts of the U.S., so when I mention other states, it's by way of shorthand. At Fort Tejon I got off the interstate to look for gas and a cold drink. To my immense irritation the exit consisted merely of some stupid historical park, a school, and a mini-mall containing a video store and a post office. Plus it took me about 3 miles in the wrong direction. I wanted to stop before entering the sizzling San Joaquin Valley, but my butt remained firmly in the saddle and I coasted down the north slope of the mountains, losing 4000 ft. and gaining about 20 degrees F. A bit later I pulled off at Mettler, watered the Seca and myself, and adjusted my leathers for the now 105F heat. Then I got on the 166 westbound. Now I was in Oklahoma -- flat, dusty, hot, windy, and speckled with oil wells. After about 20 mi. of perfectly straight, flat, and fast (75 mph) roadway, rolling hills began and the road ascended toward the bizarrely named Grocers Grade Summit. Here the scenery consisted of rounded, golden hills, and the road turned into a series of fun, high-speed sweepers, with miraculously little traffic. After coming down off the pass, the road enters the broad, arid Cuyama Valley. I had heard about a motorcycle campground located in New Cuyama, but saw no trace of it. I just about blew through town, but glimpsed, out of the corner of my eye, the (in)famous New Cuyama sign, which reads: Population 562 Ft above sea level 2150 Established 1951 TOTAL 4663 I had figured on finding a sylvan glen or bosky dell in which to have a drink of water and some trail mix. But CA 166 is notably short on glens, sylvan or otherwise. Lone trees peppered the shoulders, but all possible stopping places were sealed off with electrical fencing, for the benefit of the considerable bovine population. Interestingly, the fencing continued even when the road entered the Los Padres National Forest. "Land Of Many Uses," huh? By the time I neared the coastal plain, the temperature had dropped to about 70 F and I was getting seriously cold. But luckily, Santa Maria soon hove into view and I decided, since I was about an hour early for my rendezvous in Nipomo (just up the road), to have a strawberry shake. Then I headed up to Nipomo, to meet my dinner companion at Jocko's Steakhouse. I got there at 5:30, and he wasn't there yet, so I gassed up and went back to wait (nearly getting creamed in the process, at what I thought was a 4-way stop sign). Six o'clock rolled around, then 6:30, finally 7:00, by which time I was growing just a tad irritated (not to mention hungry!) To pass the time, I chatted with an ex-moto rider who had quit because it's "too dangerous" (sigh) and befriended a very mercenary cat, who had me convinced I was its best friend in the whole world till someone left the restaurant bearing leftovers. Finally about 7:10 he showed up, and we were told to wait another hour for a table. When we got seated and the feedbag was tied on, all annoyance vanished. Jocko's motto is: "Jenuine Oak Coals Kooks Our Steaks." The filet mignon was sublime -- probably the best piece o'dead cow I've ever eaten, and the meal was worth every penny of the $20.00 tab. After dinner, all that remained was the 20 or so miles to my SO's mom's house in Morro Bay. It was about 10:00 when we left, and there was already dew all over the bike. I bundled up as best I could, but the 55F blast (on a full stomach, no less) nearly had me hypothermic by the time we got there. But all's well, etc. and after a couple of beers I was feeling all toasty warm. Home - On to Part 2 |