You know that feeling when you think you've screwed up and you want to quit but you keep telling yourself (and others) "just go a little further and it'll get better" so you keep going and each minute of second guessing you get further away from home and further into the deep? Yeah. That was the first two hours of riding.
The plan had been simple enough. A good friend is leaving the state in June and we wanted to have a going away ride for her birthday. OK no problemo, we'll just ride down into Northern California where it's warmer. Naturally the weather decided to punish us for our hubris and instead of the normally balmy early May weather on the west coast we got a freakin' winter storm. For weeks before the step off it was looking bad, with snow hitting a lot of the higher elevation areas. Then the days before I got to agonize over forecasts along our route.
That's where we get back to "just got a little further". It was torrentially raining and fairly cool. When I met the other riders there was a feeling of, "let's scrub the trip, this sucks". But we stepped off on the insist that the weather would get better once we got south of the Willamette valley. It did truly suck. Torrential rain, wind, truckers trying to kill us. We had a late lunch break near Roseburg and laughed about how our gear was soaked. Good thing I have heated gear! The shell of the Alpinestars "Drystar" gear I have soaked through and the outer pockets aren't waterproof but at least the sewn in rain liner mostly kept me dry and the heated gear kept me warm.
One problem though was visibility. I couldn't see. My pinlock was mostly fog free but the visor seemed to have some awful distortion that made the rain and spray worse. More on that later.
Usually having an attitude of "just go a little further and it'll improve" just means riding in the suck for further but this time it paid off. South of Roseburg the weather cleared and all we had to contend with was the heavy traffic and truckers trying to kill us. By the time we rolled into Yreka we were all pretty well mentally shot from the ride, but when you ask nicely many motels will let you park your bikes under the overhang. Taking apart my visor in the motel room I realized my vision problems were because I'd missed removing one of the protective membranes they ship visors with. Dummy.
The Mexican joint we had dinner at wasn't bad, too expensive, too much food. They had a cool chandelier made of Tequila bottles.
Day one was just getting into the area. Day two is where the fun began. With full fuel tanks we made our way through the canyon of highway 263 up to highway 96. At 96 I checked out. "See you in Happy Camp" I said. Not a lot of traffic this time of year and I made great time, lots of in helmet smiles besides the one construction stop with a flagger. Happy Camp only has regular so I brought a bottle of 92 with me to dilute it with. Not that it'd kill my bike to run on a half tank of 87, but why risk it. Naturally we had to stop for big foot pictures.
Also naturally we ran into the obligatory local crackhead that wanted to talk to us about how cool our bikes were and how he used to ride. Uh yeah, sorry bro, can't hear you with my helmet on. Ah crud, I can't hear anyways, but no point in telling a crackhead I'm half deaf, he'll just yell louder!
By the way, Pectah Mart in Weitchpec, California on highway 96 has premium, which is where I waited for my group.
Driving into Hoopa I got stuck behind a minivan that was slow as hell and kept crossing into oncoming traffic. Lazy, malicious, incompetent, drunk? Dunno. Couldn't get past the gonk safely though because of their weaving. Once into Hoopa my opinion of the place as absolutely awful was reinforced as we got stuck behind every tribal emergency vehicle in the Hoopa district plodding along at five miles an hour for most of a mile because they were escorting two firefighters taking a jog on the highway.
Then pizza and gas in Willow Creek which is marginally less awful than Hoopa. But premium there costs $6.84/gallon which is awful. Past Willow Creek on 299 eastbound we had moments of "this is awesome" and more than a few construction zones and slow people. I was able to get by the slowness enough to open her up and the only times I spotted highway pirates they were already busy defrauding other drivers.
From 299 we went south on highway 3 towards Hayfork. Light traffic, good twisties. Gas in Hayfork then back on 3 to 36. California 36 is pretty damn cool. You could say it's the cherry on the sundae of doing a tour like this. But we were getting kind of tired by this point so it was slightly less cool. Also slightly less cool when we hit rain and torn up road 50 miles from Fortuna. After a break to get my heated gear back on I bolted ahead to get to the motel. I'm crazy or stupid or skilled because I was able to keep up a higher pace in the rain and bad pavement than others, but whatever.
As the "tour director" I'd chosen the spot we stayed at in Fortuna for two reasons: they have a hot tub, and they are across the parking lot from the Eel River Brewery which has excellent food. We dined and embarrassed the birthday girl then went back to the hot tub for a good soak. No pictures of the post-dinner activities including birthday spankings for obvious reasons relating to terms of service on blogger and that what happens on the road stays on the road.
One of our riders had to split early so the rest of us had a leisurely breakfast then departed on highway 36. At multiple points on either end of highway 36 there are signs indicating it is not advisable for trucks, but what did we see? A couple of big rigs heading out there. Dangerous. We made it past them finally and got to enjoy 36 in the dry with fresh brains. The weather had improved a lot and it was good fun.
The weather started improving so much I stripped off the layers I could and opened my vents. It got warmer as we headed east. Around one corner high in the mountains we spotted a Multistrada parked with the rider sitting in a lawn chair enjoying the view! Down into Red Bluff and it got really warm. The Drystar gear doesn't have a removeable rain liner which makes it suck above 77 degrees. It was mid eighties in the valley.
Initially our route was supposed to go through Lassen but the road wasn't going to open up until June so we hopped on slab up into Redding to get back on 299 east. In Redding I got us lost again on the way to lunch, then we got lost trying to find a Cycle Gear to get oil for the thirsty Triumph. At Cycle Gear I had a moment of thinking "maybe I should buy some mesh gear?". Fortunately I didn't because 40 miles out of Redding the temperature dropped into the 70s again and since we were moving I was comfortable.
299 has some amazing views going up the hill which we didn't stop for. Once I broke free of traffic along with the birthday girl on her Triumph we positively hauled balls up into the mountains. You can't see much of a person's face but when we rolled into Burney and stopped at a light, I could see her eyes smiling through her helmet. Yep, me too. Nothing quite like what we're doing. At Four Corners we waited for the slower riders for the last highway of the day.
Highway 89 must have just had a major hatching because we got plastered in bugs in just a few miles. Regardless the European bikes jack rabbited ahead and hauled more balls at big-ticket speed out 89, occasionally admiring the views of Mt Shasta, through the hills on in to the city of Mount Shasta for our final night on the road. Once again we had a hot tub and the staff let us park under the overhang.
bugs!
Someone left their key in their bike overnight...
Although it didn't absolutely ruin our motel experience but the Best Western's coffee is just weak and yucky. I drank three cups and it didn't hit me at all. Mediocre. Their "grab and go" breakfast was pretty lame too; just a couple granola bars, an apple, and a bottle of water. I guess they don't want their "complimentary" breakfast getting the way of the actual restaurant they have on site. More or less we broke up at this point, the FJR and SV heading to visit one group of friends in Medford and the Ducati and Triumph heading to another group in Medford. From Yreka to the border we managed a 90mph average, which surprisingly still gets me 43mpg on the Ducati in sixth gear!
After a good lunch with friends we hit the slab home and somehow managed not to get speeding tickets!
Doorstep to doorstep for me: 1193 miles.
Now time to clean the dirty Duc, change the oil, and decide where to go next.
