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| It seems like a long time has passed since I’ve been
able to get out of the house and on to the bike. Work and weather
have conspired to keep my riding confined to commuting, so that when
another commitment fell through, I jumped at the chance to take the
Goldwing over to the coast. Living in the Bay Area of northern California has its good and bad points but the coastal range and the Pacific Coast Highway definitely count as part of the good. I pointed the Honda towards Hwy. 9 and started the climb into the coastal mountains headed for the ocean. It was overcast and cool (51 degrees) when I left the house, as it has been for the last week but I was dressed for it and was comfortable the whole trip. As the bike and I started climbing, the sun began to come out and by the time I was at the top of the coastal range (photo 1), it was sunny and bright. What a great way to start a ride, one turn building on another, just enjoying my easy chair saddle on the Goldwing as I look out over the mountains (photo 2). I traveled through all the small towns hidden in the nooks and crannies of the Santa Cruz Mountains. Boulder Creek, Ben Loman, and Felton, came in their respective order and in between the towns, the oak, pine, and redwood trees covered the roadways in a green and brown kaleidoscope of shadow and light, each part adding to the whole that made the one hour and forty-five minute trip seem much shorter (photo 3).
At Santa Cruz, I picked up a blue Kawasaki Concours at a stoplight. He told me what a fine ride my Goldwing was, and I complimented his Concours. Bikers and boaters love to hear nice things said about their ride. We heading north up the coast and I stayed behind him until I reached Davenport, a small town on the coast that used to be the home of Areolas Boat Works, one of the few small wooden boat builders in the area. It was getting close to noon and I stopped at a local tacoria for some lunch (photo 4). One of the nice things about living in California is that you can almost fall off your motorcycle and be relatively close to some good Mexican food. I enjoyed three tacos and then got back on the road. The Pacific Coast Highway here is a fine ride with wide lanes and open vistas. The Pacific Ocean looked blue and flat on my left with large, green fields producing truck crops even now. The day seemed to say, “Sit back and enjoy the ride, son, there’s plenty of time.” The road sneaks up and looks over cliffs (photo 5) and then plunges down to cross bridges crossing creeks (photos 5, 6, 7 & 8) that empty into the sea. There are almost always cars at these spots since the rivers create sand beaches and sand beaches seem to create people walking in the surf or watching the parasurfers (photo 9). I enjoy the activity before the road heads up the cliffs again, and so it goes.
Up ahead on my left, I could see Pidgin Point Lighthouse standing alone on a piece of land sticking out into the sea (photo 10). Shortly I made a left turn and parked the bike, got out the digital camera, and started the process of trying to figure out what would make the most interesting pictures (photos 11 & 12). I walk down to the point and find the lighthouse is closed for repairs and won’t be opened again for a year or maybe even two. Disappointing. I was looking forward to walking up that spiral staircase the complete 110 feet to the top. It’s a nice view and makes you wonder what it must have been like 120 years ago. Pidgin Point light is the second tallest light on the coast, after the Point Arena light. It’s tall and majestic but I must admit, it is looking a little tired after over a hundred years of service. I didn’t find out just exactly what was wrong with the lighthouse and why we couldn’t go up, but I guess all that really mattered was the closed sign out front. At least you could still walk around it and take pictures. I walk North on the frontage road to get a better angle (photo 13) and I meet another Ed, riding a light green BMW R1100RT, a newer version of my other bike. Since we are the only bikers there, we are soon chewing the fat, and I find that Ed has had the misfortune to hit three deer in the last couple of years on this same bike. In fact, he just recently got his bike back from the body shop after hitting two deer at the same time on one of the local back roads, Hwy 84 near Woodside, a popular road with weekend motorcyclist. He didn’t go down either time but it sure messed up his motorcycle. He tore off the right mirror and smashed up the left fairing. As I’m listening to him talk about what happened and how he didn’t know how he stayed up I’m starting to think of this as a WWF wrestling match between him and the deer.
In this corner, dressed in black leather, Ed the Beemer Bum and his famous Green Machine. It the opposing corner, we have Buck, Doe, and Whitetail, the Bambi Brothers dressed in brown suede, known for their tag team tactics and sucker punches. The Beemer Bum hits Buck in the ass with a powerful punch but not before Buck takes out the right mirror of the Green Machine. Oh, oh, Doe crashes headlong into the Bum’s left side and almost takes him down but not before Ed gives a serious body slam to the Doe, spins her around, and puts her down. The Doe is not finished; she wipes out the left side fairing of the Green Machine and breaks the Bum’s glasses and cell phone. Those Bambi Brothers are tough but it looks like the Beemer Bum and the Green Machine have won this round. I’m afraid the Bambi Brothers will be back friends, and the next time the Beemer Bum may not be so lucky. Anyway, you get the idea. It seems like poor Ed has all kinds of luck. Bad luck since he hit three different deer when some of us will never hit even one. Good luck not to go down, with no injuries except to his motor. Now you know why you pay for insurance. The motorcycle Gods were surely smiling down on Ed.
I continue north towards the Montera Point Lighthouse, a short little lighthouse sitting low on Montera Point. I pass Half Moon Bay but don’t stop, wanting to get some pictures of the Montera light since Pidgin Point is closed. Since Half Moon Bay is the closest town to Hwy 92, which crosses the mountain, there is a fair amount of traffic here and I have to slow down. A couple of miles north of Half Moon Bay sits Princeton Harbor, and I’m temped to stop at this fishing and yacht harbor for something to eat. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been that long since lunch so I continue north. When I get to Montera, I can’t remember where the lighthouse and hostel are. It’s not a big town so it shouldn’t be that hard. After poking the big Goldwing into some small places without seeing the light, I assume it must be further north and continue on, heading up over the Devil’s Slide area. Devil’s slide is part of Hwy 1, famous for washing out every couple of winters. There has even been talk of just bypassing the whole area and taking Hwy 1 inland at that section of the coast, but this idea is not popular with the locals who like to see their ocean. There are lights controlling traffic in both directions, not operating at the moment, and those instant barriers to keep the hill from sliding into the ocean, several hundred feet below, and the sum of all of this work looks more like a hope than a certainty. You get the feeling the whole mess could be gone after the next big rain. As I pull into Pacifica, I stop at a gas station/food mart to ask directions to the light. A lady there tells me I have to go back over the slide area and turn right after the Cliff House restaurant. I eat my candy bar and back I go. After carefully searching the side roads, I finally discover the road to the lighthouse. Much to my disbelief, I find a six-foot fence, closed and chained, with no entrance to the light. Damn! No signs why, nothing to tell you if it will ever be open again, just some tired looking signs that explained what used to be. I can’t even get in to take a picture of the light. Damn!
I came out today with the express purpose of seeing and touring and taking pictures of these two lighthouses and both are closed. I passed by other attractions on the way because I wanted to have time for these lights. Oh well, I’ve had a good ride anyway, and I try to remember that it’s the ride, not the destination, that counts. I head back to Princeton. No matter what the weather, Princeton Harbor always seems loaded with tourists. Since today is a good day, I have to pick myself carefully through the foot traffic, trying not to run over anyone while also trying not to stop and put a foot down. I park the bike (photo 14) and walk out on the pier for some pictures of the boats and fisherman (photos 15 & 16) . Crab season is in full swing and, so far, they’ve been catching them by the boatload. Every fisherman seems to also have a crab-pot tied off to the pier, hanging in the water below him (photos 17 & 18). I take a little time to sit and enjoy the sun and the scenery. Solitude is sometimes a welcomed thing. Back on the Wing, I now head south towards Hwy. 92 to cross back over the mountains, power up the coastal side of these rain catchers and hook a right on Hwy 35, Skyline Drive, which runs along the ridge of the coastal range towards Saratoga (photos 19 & 20). The shadows of the trees are making it so I can’t ride with my face shield down, since it’s tinted. That’s all right; I get to enjoy the rest of the setting sun. I arrive at Alice’s Restaurant (photo 21), a well known hangout for bikers on the central coast. Actually, most bikers stop at the small store right across the street from Alice’s (photo 22). I talked with a fellow motorcyclist the other day who have been up here for years and had never actually eaten at Alice’s. This seems to be more of a place to see and be seen for many. I parked right next to a Harley V-Rod with a custom Corbin seat with a sissy bar backrest and hard bags and I must admit, I liked it. This seemed to make it more practical and it still looked good. Hummm. Actually, I liked the clean, 69 Triumph Bonneville almost as much. Soon enough it was time to head down the hill to the Santa Clara Valley, (there is no such place as the Silicon Valley) and the heavy traffic that lives there. On the way down, a fellow on a Kawasaki KLR 650 duel purpose motorcycle, pulled up along side at a stop sign. I asked him the year of his KLR and he said 1992 and I mentioned that I like the color of his KLR better than the new ones. He took off ahead of me but just before we merge onto Hwy. 280 he motioned me over to the side of the road. We talked motorcycles for a while and then we exchanged names and numbers and he asked me to join him and some local motorcycle friends for dinner at a local restaurant. All makes and models are welcome so I’m going to take him up on the offer.
I jumped up on Hwy. 280 south cut over at Hwy 85 and then Hwy 101 south and home. The disappointment of the closed lighthouses is soon forgotten since this has been an almost perfect day for a ride, and I was out there. I guess that’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it? |
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