Monday, October 03, 2005

10/2/05 - Marin Headlands, Tomales, Pentaluma

Started out as a an absolutely perfect morning to stretch the legs on the FLHXI. (Which, by the way, I'm trying to find a shorthand name for. I not a blues guitarist, so a feminine name just doesn't fit, and I don't want to anthropomorphize it - but something more friendly than the H-D alphabet soup seems necessary. I momentarily considered "flixie" - but that runs into the aforementioned feminine naming problem)

Anyhow, back to the ride. I wanted / needed to rack up some serious miles, as I wanted to get the clock over the first 1,000 miles in preparation for this week's 1K Maintenance appointment down at House of Thunder H-D. Given that I've got the impending SoCal move coming up, I wanted to get that service out of the way before the move. So, instead of tooling around the "neighborhood" (Hwy 9 to Santa Cruz, etc.), I thought I'd head someplace I'd never seen before, the Marin Headlands.

Hitting the road at 7am, took the 280 up to S.F., and remembered that I need to buy a balaclava. My police-style highway jacket, while plenty thick enough, leaves the neck open. I had nightmares of talking like Lucille Ball all day afterwards, so I snapped up what flaps I could and powered on. Ah but wait! Hot coffee and warm donuts awaited at the Krispy Kreme in Daly City, so I popped in there for a quick fix, and then continued on through the city on 19th, and over the Golden Gate.

First stop was in the the National Park there just off the Alexander exit right over the bridge. While it wasn't suprising to find the old military presence, I had no idea it was so extensive. Kept climbing uphill to the largest battery I saw on the horizon, which I discovered was named Battery Mendell. Apparently, these were in place just after the turn of the century, and finally dismantled for scrap during WWII. Another good view of the installation is available here.

It's worth exploring around inside the placement (if not a little creepy). You can get down inside the magazine and surrounding spaces, but you certainly won't be the first. Not only is the graffiti widespread -- and some of it really creative -- some previous visitors chose not to use the suprisingly clean Porta-Poti out front, and left *ahem* other evidence of their visit. Watch your step.

From 101 to the Coast
After doubling back to 101, it's a short shot back up to Hwy 1, which breaks off the 101 just a couple of exits North. I decided to gas up and check the air in the tires here, and discovered that this area must have quite a few bikers. At the gas station, I was approached by no less than four different groups of people, asking me if I knew the area. The most entertaining of these was the pair of punk rock chics withi a U-Haul truck, asking me if I knew anything about Hwy 1 from this point on, as they were wondering if they could handle it in the truck. At that moment, I should have gotten a clue, and bolted for the bike to get ahead of them. I spent a good bit of the next 1/2 hour crawling in the backlog of traffic they created trying to snake up the very narrow road to the coast. Thankfully, they eventually pulled into a turn-out and the traffic opened up a bit, but to be honest, given the way the rest of the road was - I'm worried about whether they made it or not!

After roaring down through this valley, you wind your way through the hills and find yourself dangling over the Pacific. The road has definitely seen better days - lots of patches and sunken spots, but it still is breathtaking. More than a couple of times I had to catch my speed, as you'd come around a delicious curve, only to be caught on a horrible stretch of asphalt, with uneven surfaces and bad patches.

Tomales Bay
After about 15 miles hugging the coast, you come to some of the prettiest part of the ride, right alongside Tomales Bay. Meandering road (much better surface here) and the occasional Crane, or Heron, or whatever the hell those tall birds are. Connected anecdote: I rode right by one of these birds one time up in The Hamptons on Long Island, NY. The bird just stared back at me with a fish in it's beak. Same thing happened again yesterday, minus the fish. These birds are definitely tougher than you'd think, if the sounds of a Harley flying by doesn't freak them out. When I stopped to take this picture, it had warmed up to the point where I could ditch the leather coat, and just go with the t-shirt & vest.


Point Reyes Station

Continued on up to the town of Point Reyes Station, where I dediced it was necessary to stop for a "proper" breakfast, and sampled the biscuits & gravy at the Pine Cone Diner. Great coffee, good food, and outdoor seating where I could keep an eye on the bike. The staff was appropriately surly. Kind of went with the place, ya know? By the way, make sure you gas up before getting to this point in the route. Premium was $3.36 a gallon on 10/2/05, and there are no other stations nearby.

By the time I walked out of the diner, the sky had clouded over, and the wind picked up. It must have been 5-10 degrees colder - time for the full leathers again. (Notice the change in the sky in the pictures...)

Just spittin' distance up the hill from the diner is the junction for the highway to Pentaluma; missed it once as I was going by so fast. Once on the road, it's more good twisties without the horrible surface of parts of Hwy 1. It's just plenty of left & right sweepers, meandering through farm country. While it is almost 25+ miles to 101, it went by in a flash. Next thing I know I'm merging into the madness of 101 through Marin county. Nothing exciting here except dodging the cars.

Note: Until recently, I never noticed how many people are oblivious while driving and just chatting away on their cell phones - it really is shocking. Guess while I've been in my truck I never noticed it, but it's hard not to when on the bike; especially since you're watching out for the crazy driver.

Typical ride back; traffic slams to a crawl through Marin. Had to lane split the big ol' FLHX through - not like my other bikes, that's for sure! Only had two a**holes actually move to *block* me as I was scooting up between the HOV and 3rd lane. Don't understand those folks.

Anyhow, mission accomplished: 880 miles on the clock, and I'll easily burn the remainder before Wednesday's drop off at the dealer. But I don't have my sea legs (riding legs?) like I used to back in NYC for long-distance rides. After two days of hard riding, I was more than a little sore when I hit the couch that night. Nothing some ibuproffen and a beer couldn't fix, but damn, am I starting to feel my age?? I had some of the hardest, fittest sleep I've had in months, and dreaded the way I'm gonna feel on the trip to Sturgis next year!