Driving to Boise

I waited too long to make flight reservations to Boise (only crazy expensive seats remaining), so I set out by car at 5 AM for the 10 hour/31 minute drive to Backwater Ave for the 4th of July weekend. It was surprisingly pleasant except for the long stretches without radio reception between Winnemucca and Boise. As Adrienne remembered from an earlier drive to Boise, there are also long stretches in Nevada without filling stations and with ominous signs reading:

PRISON AREA
HITCHHIKING PROHIBITED

But I arrived without problems. Had a great Subway sandwich in Winnemucca and enjoyed the changing scenery from Sierra forest outside Reno to Nevada cowboy country to Boise farmland. Bathrooms were also few and far between and it was truly a sitcom moment when I pulled into the only gas station in Jordan Valley, Oregon - first gas in 100 miles -- to find three SUVs with signs that said Ramirez Family Reunion and seemingly all 18 of the extended Ramirez family in line for the only bathroom.

I tried to scribble down some of the interesting street signs on my way into Boise, but it was becoming a driving hazard, so all I have is "Chicken Dinner Road" near Snake River.

The Great Escape

Lost my job last week, but set a new distance record on my motorcycle -- 200 miles to Garberville. Henry and JT took the coast route all the way from Pt. Reyes. Don and I took 101 to Cloverdale before cutting over to the coast (128 to Mendocino). From there it was a windy ride to the Lost Coast turnoff to Leggett (home of the Drive-Thru Chandelier Tree, which we drove through on the way back). The stretch of Hwy 1 between Westport (on the coast) to Leggett (inland) was eerie. Beautiful, peaceful, windy road with no cars or houses in sight.

We stayed at the Best Western Humboldt House Inn in Garberville, a historic building with all the modern amenities -- including cable TV, so I could watch World Cup Soccer while waiting for everyone else to get up the next morning. We had dinner at Calico's, a great diner on the main drag. The guys took the fast route home -- four hours on boring 101. I took the coast route again because my head feels like a bobblehead doll at speeds over 55 -- 6 hours including a lunch stop in Mendocino. JT has lots of ideas for souping up my bike -- including a windshield and a luggage rack so I can carry more than a toothbrush on these excursions. (JT is already talking up a trip to San Simeon in July and Death Valley in November...)

Planning and Recovering from Trips

I am in training for my version of a marathon – a motorcycle ride from SF to Garberville. Although we are staying overnight at the beautiful Humboldt House in Garberville, the drive each way will be 5 times my longest ride – the commute from SF to Palo Alto. On the positive side, the view along highway 1 will be great and we have all day to get there. Our trip leader (Jim, who helped me find my motorcycle in March 2009 and delivered it to SF when I wasn’t experienced enough to make the ride myself) promises many sights along the way, including (in his words):

1. Breathtaking scenery on Highway 1 (and plenty of time to look at it because the road is twisty, i.e. you won't be going very fast).
2. Above Fort Ross there are frequently cows in the road. Remember, do NOT slap the cow as you ride by . . . the little guys kick!
3. Passing thru Fort Bragg is boring but if you're thirsty, there is a great coffee shop almost directly across from the Railroad Depot, home of the Skunk Train.
4. The Leggett Hill is besought with logging trucks. Fortunately it isn't a long stretch and there are few, if any, on the weekends.
5. If you've never seen the Tunnel Tree (Leggett), you should. It costs about $2 and takes a few minutes. You can drive your bike thru the tree and one of us can take a picture.
6. The Benbow cutoff is a nice 3 mile loop, paralleling the roadway and taking you alongside the river. You rejoin Highway 1 just after the Benbow Inn. Garberville is two miles further up the road.
7. Just north of Garberville is Phillipsville and the start of The Avenue of the Giants. This is WELL worth the time. Silence reigns and the light filtering down thru these magnificent trees softens everything. Stop, take off your helmet and listen . . . you can almost hear the trees growing. Park at Founder's Grove and hike past a 370 foot tree that toppled over a few years ago . . . amazing place. The tallest tree IN THE WORLD is along Mattole Road, near Founder's Grove.

But first I have to recover from tripping down the stairs at home. One toe on my left foot is strangely discolored and may be broken... hard to change gears this week. With all the talk about motorcycles being dangerous, they never warn you about the hazards of walking down carpeted stairs...

Naked Bikes and Wacky Wall Decor

Before we set out on our motorcycle ride to El Granada yesterday morning, I suggested to Don that we change the name of our bike gang from the Safety First Bike Club (as I've been calling it) to the "Naked Bike Gang" because that is the only thing our motorcycles have in common. His is an elegant Italian bike that looks like it should be in the Smithsonian. Mine is a dual sport that looks like it should be bouncing over moguls on a dirt trail. (I just consulted Wikipedia and a "naked bike" is defined as a bike that is stripped down to its most fundamental parts.)

Although we were fully clothed, I did make a spectacle of myself very early in the ride by dropping my bike at the corner of 25th and Geary. Not sure what threw me off balance from a dead stop, but I was trying to open my face mask without taking my left hand off the clutch. Don gallantly pulled into a driveway and got my bike upright. No damage this time thanks to my new hand guards.

The trip to El Granada was so quick (about 25 minutes), that we kept going down the coast to Half Moon Bay, up over the hill on 92 and down Canada Road to Buck's Restaurant in Woodside. It was fun to introduce Don to a bit of Silicon Valley culture. Woodside is home to people like Apple CEO Steve Jobs and Oracle CEO Larry Ellison and this restaurant is a wacky museum of oddball art and collectibles hanging from every inch of ceiling and wallspace -- blimps, surfboard, squash racket, a case of harmonicas, 6 foot Statue of Liberty...and wall to wall green alligator carpeting. Legend has it that this is a meeting place for tech industry entrepreneurs and venture capitalists, but they must have put us in the kid section, because I didn't see any deals going down. After our breakfast of burritos and home fries, I took backroads back to SF and Don hopped on 92 back to the East Bay.

Strangely enough, the Buck's menu was titled Naked Lunch options...

"Brake In" Period

I asked Don to take a look at some black goo that was seeping from my motorcycle at the rate of one drop per ride. He diagnosed it as grease from the kickstand and not a problem, but thought the chain seemed loose and I should take the bike in for adjustments. While there (Mission Motorcycles in Daly City), I asked if hand guards would cut down on the frost bite I was experiencing on early morning rides. Thicker gloves for my birthday had not made a difference. Four hours later -- the chain tightening had been estimated at 15 minutes -- I left with a properly adjusted chain, new front brake pads, and WARM HANDS! The hand guards were not designed for my bike (although the color was a good match), so I gather the guys in the back room enjoyed kludging a solution.

Four hours is a long time to spend pacing between the showroom and the service center, but I heard some interesting stories -- about trucks backing into parked bikes, a motorcycle cop who spent his days and nights patrolling the projects on a dual sport that was a larger version of mine, a guy with a large bandage on his bald head, another guy with his arm in a sling and a damaged bike outside ... hardly anyone seemed there for an oil change or a tune up. Meanwhile, an overhead TV showed stunt riders doing handstands and other tricks while spinning their bikes with the front wheel in the air.

I bring my bike to Mission Motorcycles because the people are so friendly. They describe themselves as bike enthusiasts, and it shows. I always feel a bit intimidated pulling away after getting the bike serviced. It's not like a car dealership where you can anonymously drive off. There are always a few biker dudes smoking out front as you put on your gear and prepare to ride off. Inevitably, something trips me up and someone has to offer advice or assistance. This time the bike wouldn't start because the kill switch was off... And so begins my second year in the saddle.

Above the Clouds

It was stormy last Friday and rain is predicted for tomorrow, but it was gloriously clear and sunny on Sunday (yesterday), and the Safety First Motorcycle Gang (Don and I) held our first ride of the season: a trip across the Golden Gate Bridge and up a winding two-lane road to the top of Mt. Tamalpais. We passed many bicycle riders on the way up, but they had the advantage on the way down, approaching speeds of 35 mph and negotiating the tight turns more easily than I could on the motorcycle.

The view was spectacular at the top -- similar to what you see looking out the window of an airplane, with a layer of clouds below. A tourist from Dijon offered to take our photo and Don struck up a conversation in French! I can't improve on Don's trip report, so I'll just provide a link to his blog.

Fog City

It was supposed to be a beautiful day on Saturday, and I knew it would be, if only I could make it through the fog and up to Skyline where I was meeting Alix to see her "new" 2005 Ninja 250, which had been lovingly souped-up for racing by its previous owner.

The fog was so thick in San Francisco that pedestrians I passed on Sunset Blvd. were huddled under umbrellas as they waited for the bus. Water was dripping off my helmet, which I wore visor up so I could see out. I did not feel safe at freeway speeds on the slick roads and without a visor, so I slowly made my way down Mission Street through Daly City, which becomes El Camino. Eventually (in Millbrae) the sun burned through the fog and started to dry out my leather jacket. The ride through the Redwoods was great once I turned off 35, which was already backing up with traffic heading for the pumpkin patches in Halfmoon Bay

Visiting Alice's Restaurant, the biker hangout on Skyline Boulevard, was quite an experience with Alix because she likes to stir things up. Never mind that the regulars who frequent the parking lot across from Alice's were decked out in full leather regalia and had elaborately decorated Harleys with 5X the horsepower. She would say, "How do you like my bike?" and you could see them momentarily at a loss for words before quickly warming to her obvious enthusiasm for her new sport.

Goodbye Dali

It was time for my 4,000 mile motorcycle service, so I used the occasion to have my brake lever replaced. After gently dropping the bike twice (during what has literally been the bike's break-in period), the lever had become so curved it was difficult to reach. Don, a glass-half-full kind of guy, described it as something out of Dali. My new brake lever is less artistic, but more functional, and I took two city rides yesterday to celebrate the easy riding -- one of the rides was around Lake Merced where Ty will be competing today in his third cross-country meet.

Noticing all the barriers blocking streets in our neighborhood, I realized that the Nike Women's Marathon/Half Marathon would be passing nearby so I walked out early on Sunday morning hoping to see Amber in her first race since Cole and Wilson were born in mid July(?!?). There she was among the elite runners (about 8 miles into the race at 8 AM), looking fit and joyful as she chugged up the hill through Seacliff on her way to Ocean Beach.

Alice's Restaurant

The "Safety First" Biker Gang (Don and I) rode to lunch at the famous biker hangout in the Redwoods made famous by the Arlo Guthrie song from the 60s "You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant..."

After a very blustery Saturday night, the weather was crisp and clear on Sunday morning as we set out on our adventure. The journey took us along the beach, through Daly City and Pacifica, along the reservoir and golf course in Hillsborough (my usual work route), but then into the redwoods after a brief stint on 92 toward Halfmoon Bay. This popular biker route was remarkably clear during our ride -- possibly because there was a 49er football game that afternoon -- so the only real challenge was avoiding tree branches that had fallen during the windy night.

We pulled into the biker lot at noon and walked across to the restaurant in our biker "armor." It's nice to go to a restaurant where almost everyone is wearing variations on the same fashion theme and sharing the picnic benches with their helmets. This is actually a family friendly biker joint that doesn't take itself too seriously -- menu items include things like Redneck Benedict and hamburgers named after different bike manufacturers. Don was disappointed that they didn't have an Aprilia burger. I later heard from Henry that Harleys park in front of the restaurant and "other" bikes park across the street. We were in compliance, but only because the Harley side was on an incline that didn't look suitable for parking.

This was our longest trip so far -- 80 miles round trip for me, which is exactly my work commute. I got back to SF in time to catch a few acts at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass event -- a huge concert in Golden Gate Park that is put on for free every year by banjo loving billionaire Warren Hellman. I also got to hear a few sets on Saturday because Ty's soccer game was in the polo field near one of the concert stages.

Completely Okay

Last week I logged over 350 miles on my motorcycle -- riding to work 4 days out of 5, which is a new record. You would think that practice would make me more perfect, but while meandering through a new neighborhood this morning (the Upper Haight), I dropped the bike -- while traveling zero miles an hour -- at the corner of Java and Masonic. There was a blind corner to my left and a downhill stretch to my right. As I was cautiously easing out for a right turn, a car came around the blind corner. I put on the brakes to let it go by and realized too late that the bike was leaning over too far to the right.

There did not appear to be any damage to the bike, but I was struggling to get it upright on the slight incline when a mother of two young boys (watching from across the street) asked if I could use some help. Without a moment's hesitation, I said "Yes!" After making sure that the younger boy didn't follow her into the street, she walked over and helped me hoist it up and asked if I was okay. I said I was "completely OK," just inexperienced as a rider. I felt glad for the boys that they had a Mom who so readily helped strangers and only slightly embarrassed as I rode off into the fog and overheard the older boy asking his Mom, "Was she completely OK?"

Cheeky Birds and Falling Bikes

The wind was still whistling through the trees on Sunday morning, but I braved the Golden Gate Bridge and 7 miles of 101 North for our second "bikers brunch." Our destination was Guaymas, on the waterfront in Tiburon. (Also popular with cheeky birds that swooped in for tortilla chips at the tables nearest the water.)



The ride out -- with Don riding along as "wingman" -- was pleasantly uneventful. Riding back, I slowed down when I saw brake lights up ahead and started scanning the road to see what was causing the delay. Suddenly I saw two tangled racing bikes in the fast lane and two frantic guys crossing four lanes of traffic to retrieve them. The bikes had apparently fallen out the back of a truck that was parked on the side of the road. More evidence that it's not possible to worry about the actual thing that you might need to deal with on the road -- in this case, dodging a flying 10-speed (or are they 20-speeds now?)

Wicked Wind

It's been a foggy summer in SF, but last week there were three days when it was clear enough to ride my motorcycle to work.

I have to make the decision at 6 am, when it's still dark outside, so the question is whether I can see the moon overhead. If yes, it's clear enough to ride. The only problem with this decision tree is that it doesn't take into account the wind, which was keeping the sky clear of clouds, I guess, but making it challenging to steer. Especially at high speeds on the freeway. At one point, the front tire did a weird shimmy and I decided to take surface streets the rest of the way to work so I could face the wind at slower speeds.

Making a virtue of necessity, I took El Camino Real the rest of the way to Palo Alto. (El Camino Real is the famous 600-mile road that connects 21 misssions in California and runs all the way from SF to Palo Alto -- with stop lights every few blocks and speed limit of 35 mph when traffic allows.) On the return trip, I took El Camino from Black Mountain Road, where my usual route feeds onto the freeway, to San Franciso and discovered that El Camino becomes Mission Boulevard. It added 30 minutes to my commute, but I survived to consult my motorcycle book about riding in the wind.

I was relieved to find that the shimmy was not a problem with my motorcycle. As the author described it: "When riding through crosswinds, you may get some strange feedback from the front wheel..." The proper response, he says, is to "concentrate on countersteering to make the motorcycle go in whatever direction you wish, and let the tires swerve around under you."

Yikes.

After dinner on the evening of the windy ride, we watched a documentary about the making of four Broadway musicals (Wicked, Caroline or Change, Taboo, and Avenue Q). The star of Caroline or Change shared a favorite quote: "Things always works out in the end, so if things aren't working out, it's not the end." Maybe I should think about that when I'm riding through wind.

The Bottom Line

After 3 months and 1600 miles in the saddle, I invested in some real motorcycle pants – something friends had been urging me to do by sharing stories of accidents where the right material in the right place saved serious injury. (In one story, a rider is saved from abrasion by his thick wallet – which wore away, along with the pocket of his jeans, except for the leather side nearest his bottom.)

My new pants (Alpinestar Street Cargo) aren’t leather, but they are made of a space-age material that claims to offer better protection than jeans. More importantly, they have an ingenious design that replaces the saggy seat characteristic of motorcycle pants with a stretch waistband in back covered by stylish panel of material that blends in with the rest of the pants. This means you can bend over while riding without showing your backside. They look like cargo pants but have heavy duty armor in the knee/shin area, which is removable for washing.

Catch a Wave

Being a conscientious new rider, I was aware that my bike was due for a chain lube. I understand that this is something one can do on one's own, but I was apprehensive about doing it wrong or buying the wrong goop, so I asked Henry to assist. (Deborah quipped that I had gone from novice to Navas.)

I collected some important new information in the course of the visit. Henry lives on a hill and he told me to turn the front tire uphill when parking on an incline. Apparently the bike can roll off the kickstand if it is pointed downhill... So much to learn.

I have ridden to work a few times since the time I dropped the bike in the parking lot. One time I stayed on the freeway all the way and it was faster and easier than my usual scenic route. I still encounter plenty of challenges -- just this morning the bike skidded as I went around a corner near home because of wet ground from morning fog -- but I must be getting more confident because I am starting to notice "the wave" you get from fellow motorcyclists -- and even take my left hand off the handle (briefly) to wave back. Wondering about the significance of different waves, I found some funny YouTube videos on the subject. Apparently there is no wrong way to wave, but some techniques seem more sophisticated than others...

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Yesterday's biking challenge was getting my 250 pound vehicle upright after dropping it in the parking lot at work.

The ride to work had been uneventful and I was backing into a parking spot; bike in neutral, engine still running. I'm not sure what happened to upset the bike's equilibrium, but it started to fall over to the right and all I could do was try to ease it down so it would crash from a lower height.

The bike was still running from its prone position, so I turned it off, got it upright, and began to assess the damage (relieved that no one was in the parking lot at 7AM to witness my mishap). I noticed that the mirror was loose, the brake lever was curved in a new shape, and there was fluid of some kind on the ground. I didn't see a leak, so I hoped the fluid had escaped in some natural way from the bike being sideways for a few seconds with the motor running. I took it for a test drive around the parking lot to see if the brake still worked. All good except the mirror, which couldn't be tightened by hand...

I consulted with Henry by email and decided it was safe to ride as far as the Honda place where I bought the bike two months ago. A friendly mechanic named Murray tightened the mirror and said the brake lever would work OK if I didn't mind the new shape.

Another learning experience: When I set off to get my bike repaired, I forgot to switch the fuel lever from OFF to RUN and learned that the bike will run for a few blocks before the engine dies. Fortunately I was able to turn into a parking lot when I felt the bike start to lose power and I figured out the problem fairly quickly -- after worrying for a few seconds that the loss of power resulted from damage in the fall...

All went smoothly during the ride home, but I decided to drive to work today to allow time for all the lessons to sink in.

Blow, winds

Yesterday's riding challenge was Highway 101 on the way to work and 20mph winds on the way home.

Seeking to avoid fog on the coast, I joined the early morning rush hour stream down Oak in SF and merged with freeway traffic at Octavia. The speed limit is a sensible 45 or 50 through South San Francisco, so my main challenge was keeping an eye on merging traffic and not freaking out as cars whizzed past me on both sides. At 380, I cut over to my familiar route on the reservoir roads that run along 280.

Riding home I was enjoying the warm temperature when I began to feel a strong headwind and occasional gusts from the west. I began to wonder how this would feel on the freeway when I would be traveling at higher speeds ... Then I noticed fog along the coast and decided to stay on 280 instead of taking the foggy Pacifica loop. Between the wind and the rush hour traffic returning to SF, it was another educational ride and I spent some time reading about "dang wind" in my riding book...

Fog Fest

Rode to work again today. The fog was so thick from SF to Pacifica that I had to stop several times to wipe the condensation from my glasses. Eventually, I took my glasses off and rode with the face shield up because it was the only way I could see where I was going.

This time the freeway was the easy part of my commute because it was the only stretch where the fog lifted and the sun shone through.

Mission Motorcycles

Six weeks after buying the motorcycle (slightly used with 134 miles on it), it was time for the 600 mile "break-in service." I debated whether to take it back to the wonderful dealership where I got the bike (Mountain View), but the location was inconvenient -- near work but not near enough to get to and from work while the bike was being serviced. Golden Gate Cycles was the most convenient location -- and I felt like I owed them some business after researching different types of Dual Sport models in their showroom -- but Yelp (online) reviews were terrible. Story after story of inflated prices and impersonal service. The last place I considered had everything going for it -- reasonably close to home, positive word of mouth, adoring online reviews -- but I had scouted the location by car and was worried about navigating the hills and busy intersection surrounding the shop. Buoyed up by my ride to work, I decided I could handle this new challenge, so I made an appointment at Mission Motorcycles for Saturday morning (yesterday).

Rain was predicted, but didn't fall beyond the mist level during my ride along the beach to Daly City at 9AM. I pulled up to the Service Entrance as the mechanics were rolling several bikes out of the shop and into a line on the street, facing outward. (I later figured out their system, I think. Bikes facing out are waiting to be service. Bikes facing in are done.) A friendly mechanic greeted me by name and indicated by gesture that I should add my bike to the line. I haven't had much practice backing in, so he helped by pushing the front of the bike back for the last few (slightly uphill feet) to the curb.

I left most of my gear at the shop -- they have a rack where you can leave your helmet, gloves, etc. -- but left my kneepads and shin guards on during the walk to the bus stop. This turned out to be a good thing because I slipped on a metal manhole cover during my walk. One more example that you can't plan for every dangerous situation... but my armour protected me from a skinned knee.

I have no way of judging the skill of the mechanics at Mission Motorcycles -- the bike was running great before and after the service -- but the customer service was great. No up-sell during the checkout. Just some friendly advice that I should turn the fuel line OFF between rides -- something they advised during my motorcycle class but that JT said was unnecessary. I should have asked how they knew that I wasn't doing that, but the fact that they correctly surmised it made me think that it somehow was affecting the mechanics. Need to ask my more experienced rider friends about that... The final nice touch is that they turned my bike outwards while I was paying for the service so I could gracefully ride away without muscling it into position (there is no "reverse" on a motorcycle).

The Mosquito Has Landed

Rain is predicted for the weekend, so I decided to take advantage of the last sunny day of the week to ride the motorcycle (aka "Mosquito") to work.

It was exhilarating to cruise down Highway 1 past Ocean Beach and onto Highway 35 South knowing I wouldn’t be heading back until the end of the day. Not many cars on the road at 6 AM, when I set out, so I didn’t feel like I was slowing anyone down as I barely maintained the speed limit (which varied from 35 to 55) on 35. Sooner than I expected, and without much warning, 35 fed onto 280 and I was sailing along in the slow lane between 60 and 65. I tried to remember Don’s guidance about maintaining a loose grip on the handlebars to avoid the “sail” effect as I floated down the freeway stream. I was happy to take the Black Mountain Road exit and return to scenic 35 as it wound around the reservoir. At 92 I took a left onto Canada Road with the feeling I was on the home stretch.

The most challenging stretch came after Whiskey Hill Road (the transition from Woodside, where Canada Road ends, to Sand Hill Road) when I had to face commute traffic and blinding 7AM sun. I am actually looking forward to the return trip when temperatures should be 10 or 20 degrees warmer.

First Road Trip

Today was the biggest challenge yet -- a trip across Golden Gate Bridge to the Marin Headlands, a hilly area just across the bridge that is popular with hikers, cyclers, hawks, and other bikers.

I would not have braved the bridge (yet) without Don, a more experienced biker who has a wonderful blend of caution, confidence, and zest for adventure. He also has a spectacular and rare bike (the Aprilia Shiver) that dazzles everyone we encounter, including the two Harley riders we met at the first scenic lookout point.

The round trip was only 21 miles (for me), but it felt like traveling to another world. There were many spectacular views of the city, but the most dramatic scene/moment was heading down Hawk Hill, a steep one-way road that led down to Fort Barry and Point Bonita Lighthouse. Along the way, Don was flagged down by a cyclist who had a flat tire and needed to convey a message to his friend at the bottom of the hill who had a bike pump. I'm not sure how they could spot the Good Samaritan behind the full-face helmet, but he obliged.

There were so many new experiences during this ride: merging with freeway traffic, going through a toll booth (not easy to fish for money with gloved hands and armored jacket), waiting our turn at a one-lane tunnel that changes directions every 5 minutes, but the best part was being part of a "gang" -- knowing that someone else is experiencing the same sights, smells, crosswinds, views, and dealing in their own way with the same gravel, potholes, speed bumps, stalled buses, and oblivious golf carts that suddenly pull into the road.

We celebrated with lunch at Angelina's, which I now consider my "biker hangout," and started plotting the next ride.

Leader of the pack

First bridge crossing!