West 2002
 
 

Day 09

August 2

 
 

Coop is headed to Colorado to catch up with a childhood friend visiting there, so I wish him well and a safe journey. I'll miss his company on the way to Hotel California, but I understand the closeness and draw of old friendships. Doug and I jump on the slab, headed for the coast. We have mapped out some great roads to carry us to the coast, so I am looking forward to getting off of the slab and onto the back roads. The Interstates are great if you are in a hurry and need to get somewhere, but you miss the real character of the country when you travel them. They smell of sameness and plastic at every intersection that commerce springs up. We come to the California border and I stop for my usual shot.

  
 
 
 

We finally leave I5 behind after crossing the California border and head west on highway 96. I laugh to myself as one of my favorite roads back in Tennessee is highway 96 and it runs east/west, north/south. It proves to be a great road, running along side the Klamath River through places like Horse Creek and Happy Camp. Since traffic is light, we crank up the wick a bit and come to the junction of 299 almost too soon. It is some of the most enjoyable riding I have done on the trip and like a good friend, I hate to see it go. 299 is not bad and pretty soon we come to Blue Lake as my stomach tells me it's about lunch time. We get off and wander into town, looking for a fill up for our bikes and our stomachs. After several maneuvers around construction, we pull into a gas station. I notice there's an old fellow working on one of the gas pumps.

“If you was hungry, where would you eat around here?” I ask.

“Why, I'd just walk next door to BlueLake Burger Bar. There's a couple of real nice fellers there trying to make a go of it” he tells me.

“Food pretty good?” I query.

“Yep, sure it is” he adds..

I thank him and Doug and I pull across the parking lot and go in. 		 
 
 
  The old man is right on all counts. I get a great hamburger and meet the fellows running the place. We have the place to ourselves and get great service. I often say it's a shame that there's a generation of people who think a hamburger is supposed to taste like a Big Mac. The price is very reasonable and I make short work of it. Then it's back to the road as we head for the coast. As a poor kid who started out in four rooms and a path, I often dreamed of riding down the coast of California on a motorcycle. This was beyond my wildest imaginations, since I couldn't even afford a bicycle to ride and nobody from Lewisburg had ever been to California that I knew of. Some dreams take a while, but nothing is sweeter than living one after 30 years of waiting. Doug and I check our time and decide we can work in quick trip to Redwood National Park north on 101. So when we reach the coast, we head north instead of south. I really enjoy my first encounter with northern California coast and the gorgeous scenery. I spot a herd of what appears to be deer grazing in one of the inlets and just have to stop and take a picture.  
 
 
  We arrive at our destination almost too soon and find a place to park. The Lady Bird Grove is great place for quiet solitude, almost like a cathedral. Surrounded by the towering redwoods, the light is muted and the pathways are carpeted with the remains of trees long disappeared.  
 
 
  After a great stroll through the area, Doug and I head back to the bikes and retrace our steps down 101 toward Fort Bragg. As we continue back south, I keep an eye open for the signs to the Avenue of the Giants. Several folks have told me about this opportunity to drive through this forest of giant trees and I don't want to miss it. We make the turn and enjoy the relief from the heat of the day, gliding smoothly between these giants of the forest.  
 
 
 

We make a fuel stop at a little store about half way and take a break. A couple of fellers – one old, one young - are sitting on a bench out front taking a break. I can tell they are probably timber cutters, judging from their work clothes.

“You fellers work the timber around here?” I ask.

The younger one speaks up – “Yep, been doing it for the last few years.”

“Well, I've been on the business end of a chain saw enough to know it ain't easy” I reply with a smile. “How do you get the wood out?”

“Oh, we've got equipment to do it with” the young man replies.

“I didn't know with the terrain around here. Back home in Tennessee, they use mules in the steep stuff to snake out the logs. But I'll tell ya', a man can get killed pretty quick in the woods if he ain't careful.”

The old man, who had seen many a tree fall adds in “Yeah, we had a close call today but we came out okay” laughing the nervous laugh of a man who knows how brief life can be in the woods.

Time is slipping away, and we've got Fort Bragg to make, so I wish them well and Doug and I are off. We make the turnoff on Highway 1 and I realize that I'm actually here and riding the famous coastal highway. 		 
 
 
  The road just follows the coast in a never-ending series of curves and beautiful views. It becomes a real challenge to stay focused on the road in front of me instead of the vistas beyond me. I keep reminding myself that this is not the place to get a bad case of stupid and run off the cliffs. But I do stop and take a few pictures when a convenient pulloffs occur.  
 

 
 

We arrive in Fort Bragg to find a neat coastal town with a fascinating combination of old and new structures. On the south side of town, we finally come to Woodside RV Park, our home away from home for tonight. I dismount and walk into the office.

“Hello there, is Melissa around?” I ask the lady behind the counter.

She had given me her name as my confirmation number.

“That would be me. I recognize your accent but I don't remember your name” she replies with a laugh.

“Who me have an accent? I'm that old man riding a motorcycle with a couple of buddies who ain't here yet” I drawl out.

We both have a good laugh as she assigns us a camping site. It's in a nice grassy area and Doug and I quickly pitch our tents. Before too long, a couple of riders pull up, one on a ST another on a BMW. I figure one of them must be Dennis. The nice thing about STs is there's not a lot of them around so a chance encounter is usually slim. Dennis introduces us to Bob Bueno, his friend. They get their stuff pitched and we head out for a bite to eat. Funny how riding works up an appetite, at least for me. Dennis guides us to a great restaurant where they are serving my favorite – steak. Pretty soon, I feel like I've known Dennis for a long time. It's amazing how riders who have never met can become friends in short period of time. Having only exchanged messages on the board, it's finally nice to put a face and friendship with a name. We make our plans over dinner for the ride tomorrow to San Francisco and where Dennis lives. I thank him again for opening his house and heart to a couple of strangers and promise to be a better house guest than Guy. We decide we had better head back for the campground before the server starts charging us rent for our table. It's a wonderful end to a day that I will not forget – a day of dreams fulfilled and new friendships. As we head back to camp, we have no clue about the surprise events that will be waiting for us the tomorrow.