Ok, so this is a little late. Sixteen months late to be accurate. I started writing, then stopped, and just couldn't seem to get going again.
Of course after so long, details become a little hazy, despite a diary, tons of photos and hours of video. So for those who were on the trip, please feel free to correct, criticise, confirm and or generally take the piss. Those that weren't, this is what we did......
As everything was already loaded onto the bike, all I needed to take was my trusty tank bag and what I was wearing through the airport. Denise had bought me a courier bag for my iPad and such as a leaving gift, so with these two in hand I kissed her goodbye, and wandered through to Manchester's departure lounge to await my flight. An email from Chris had confirmed that my bike had been safely offloaded, and ridden to the motel. Only a slight brake light problem to report. Landing in San Francisco late on the Friday afternoon meant I was the last of the group to arrive, having cut the travel arrangements very fine. A shuttle bus leaves the airport for the Sonama area every hour, and my timing was just right to catch the next one. The driver radios ahead for anyone needing a taxi from the scheduled stops, but I got the one who was new and didn't know where the Hillside Inn Motel was! Luckily, a combination of his controller and my gps got us there only slightly later than expected at 10.30 pm. Gaz introduced me to Johno, who was sharing the room, and his non alcoholic beers. Collecting my gear from the bike, I gave it a quick pat on the seat in anticipation of tomorrows start. Kids on Christmas Eve would sleep better than I did that night, giddy doesn't even come close!
Saturday
Saturday morning bright and early I'm loaded up, kitted up, and raring to go. I nipped around to the nearest petrol station to fill up, and familiarise myself with the weird nozzles they have in California. The brake light problem was a twisted handguard, so easily fixed. Introductions are made to the other riders, whom I've only met once (except Gaz and Chris) by the motel car port. A healthy breakfast, and then Chris led us out into the traffic and on our way to Highway One and North.
Looking South.
I opted to ride at the back with Gaz, enjoying the elastic band effect on a bright sunny day. Highway One hugs the coastline, so there are lots of twists and turns, all the while with the Pacific on our left. Chris stopped us for a coffee at The Stewart Point Store, which seemed to sell just about everything. The lower bays had warning signs at the side of the road that you were entering, or leaving, a Tsunami danger zone! This is a warning I'm certainly not used too!
Me, "Tour Dad" Chris, Little Mark and Skygod's arse.
A small cafe in Fort Bragg was our lunch stop, but while we were there, an elderly gentleman tripped over the step and gashed his head. He was bleeding
pretty badly, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to help. Enter Gaz, and the massed ranks of the "British Biker Gang", as the old guy’s wife described us. Gaz patched him up quickly and efficiently, then we helped him back into their car. His wife said this was to be their last road trip, as he was too ill to manage any more. Quite sad really, but she took a photo of us all to show "the folks back home".
The Pacific
Towards the end of the day, Highway One led up into the hills, on a sinuous road which made a lie of "American roads are straight" predictions we had been given. Nearly an hour of third gear forest bends to play with! Turning onto Highway 101 at Legett we headed to the Humbolt National Park and stopped next to some giant Redwoods for photos, marvelling at the size of the trunks. Gaz had a momentary hiccup with his bike when one of the TPS retaining clips snapped, but a couple of cable ties fixed it.
Insert own caption here!
Eureka was our destination for the night, and we walked into town to a Diner for food and a couple of beers before a fairly early night. My first day on American
Tarmac had been a joy to ride.
Mark
Of course after so long, details become a little hazy, despite a diary, tons of photos and hours of video. So for those who were on the trip, please feel free to correct, criticise, confirm and or generally take the piss. Those that weren't, this is what we did......
As everything was already loaded onto the bike, all I needed to take was my trusty tank bag and what I was wearing through the airport. Denise had bought me a courier bag for my iPad and such as a leaving gift, so with these two in hand I kissed her goodbye, and wandered through to Manchester's departure lounge to await my flight. An email from Chris had confirmed that my bike had been safely offloaded, and ridden to the motel. Only a slight brake light problem to report. Landing in San Francisco late on the Friday afternoon meant I was the last of the group to arrive, having cut the travel arrangements very fine. A shuttle bus leaves the airport for the Sonama area every hour, and my timing was just right to catch the next one. The driver radios ahead for anyone needing a taxi from the scheduled stops, but I got the one who was new and didn't know where the Hillside Inn Motel was! Luckily, a combination of his controller and my gps got us there only slightly later than expected at 10.30 pm. Gaz introduced me to Johno, who was sharing the room, and his non alcoholic beers. Collecting my gear from the bike, I gave it a quick pat on the seat in anticipation of tomorrows start. Kids on Christmas Eve would sleep better than I did that night, giddy doesn't even come close!
Saturday
Saturday morning bright and early I'm loaded up, kitted up, and raring to go. I nipped around to the nearest petrol station to fill up, and familiarise myself with the weird nozzles they have in California. The brake light problem was a twisted handguard, so easily fixed. Introductions are made to the other riders, whom I've only met once (except Gaz and Chris) by the motel car port. A healthy breakfast, and then Chris led us out into the traffic and on our way to Highway One and North.
Looking South.
I opted to ride at the back with Gaz, enjoying the elastic band effect on a bright sunny day. Highway One hugs the coastline, so there are lots of twists and turns, all the while with the Pacific on our left. Chris stopped us for a coffee at The Stewart Point Store, which seemed to sell just about everything. The lower bays had warning signs at the side of the road that you were entering, or leaving, a Tsunami danger zone! This is a warning I'm certainly not used too!
Me, "Tour Dad" Chris, Little Mark and Skygod's arse.
A small cafe in Fort Bragg was our lunch stop, but while we were there, an elderly gentleman tripped over the step and gashed his head. He was bleeding
pretty badly, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to help. Enter Gaz, and the massed ranks of the "British Biker Gang", as the old guy’s wife described us. Gaz patched him up quickly and efficiently, then we helped him back into their car. His wife said this was to be their last road trip, as he was too ill to manage any more. Quite sad really, but she took a photo of us all to show "the folks back home".
The Pacific
Towards the end of the day, Highway One led up into the hills, on a sinuous road which made a lie of "American roads are straight" predictions we had been given. Nearly an hour of third gear forest bends to play with! Turning onto Highway 101 at Legett we headed to the Humbolt National Park and stopped next to some giant Redwoods for photos, marvelling at the size of the trunks. Gaz had a momentary hiccup with his bike when one of the TPS retaining clips snapped, but a couple of cable ties fixed it.
Insert own caption here!
Eureka was our destination for the night, and we walked into town to a Diner for food and a couple of beers before a fairly early night. My first day on American
Tarmac had been a joy to ride.
Mark
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