Guess what? We are expecting a sunny day on Monday. But the rest of the week is looking pretty ordinary, weather wise.

It was into the wet weather gear again this morning as we prepared to head north from Crescent City into Oregon. We packed away the helmet video camera and still camera, not expecting them to get any use today. We took off on 101 and 21 miles later crossed the state border. The road was fast, even in the rain, and we soon passed Brookings which a travel guide tells us "basks in weather patterns that foster some of the warmest temperatures on the coast". It was 9 degrees Centigrade (48 F) at the time.

What we could see of the coast through the rain was beautiful and wild. In spite of the weather we averaged 44.7 mph over 185 miles - the fastest so far this trip. No matter how beautiful the scenery, we weren't in any mood to stop or detour to take in any sights - we just wanted to get to our next destination, which nominally was Reedsport.

After a couple of hours we reached Port Orford, our legs aching with the cold, and stopped at the Paradise Cafe for coffee, which tasted wonderful. Wanda decided to have some French toast, too. Now, in Australia, we can't call our sparkling white wine "champagne", because only wine from the Champagne region of France can legally carry that appellation. I can't imagine what the French will do when they find out about "French toast", but if they have any culinary pride that will act swiftly and decisively and insist it be renamed. French toast is basically toasted soggy sweet bread, dusted with icing sugar and cinnamon, and served with a lump of butter and the choice of maple or raspberry syrup.

It was obvious we would get to Reedsport quite early, so we set our sights on Florence, another 21 miles further on. Wanda suggested it might be Venice by the time we got there. However, as we travelled on, patches of blue sky appeared and the rain became more sporadic. North of the industrial sprawl of Coos Bay we stopped in clear sunshine at an overlook and got out the cameras to document this aberration in the weather forecast. We even managed a smile for the camera...

Azaleas and rhododendrons have followed us all along the coast. They soften the roadway as well as the houses.

We got into Florence in time for a late lunch. Being dressed in wet weather gear and carrying helmets, it was obvious we were bikers. We were asked by a local if we had come to town for the "Rhody Festival". A few questions later we discovered that this festival was being held this weekend, and that amongst other activities, tomorrow the main street of the old town would become a sea of motorcycles, with more than 5000 expected. (Just like Biketoberfest, only earlier, and in Oregon, not Florida). All the way up from Crescent City we had hardly seen a single motorcycle, but we almost immediately saw (and heard) a steady build-up of Harleys. It was suggested that if we wanted to get a room for the night, we should do it sooner rather than later, so we took off up the road and stopped at the nearest cheap-looking motel. We got the last room there at an exorbitant price, with the promise of the owner that everywhere else would be more expensive - if they had a room left.

We rode back down into the old town and each had a large bowl of clam chowder for lunch. We wandered about the old town for a while and sampled some of the many tent stalls set up around the sideshow alley to sell everything from jewellery,  T shirts and fast food to, the oddest of all, a man selling violins he made for $100 each. When we showed curiosity about them, he was absolutely determined to sell us one. Now I don't know Jack about violins, but they looked really chunky. I got the strange impression that the people who bought them probably never played them and only used them as decoration in their homes.

By late afternoon there were lots of bike rumbling around town, and it was obvious the bars would do good business tonight... We were happy just to stay in our cosy motel room.

Back on schedule

The day dawned bright and cold in Weaverville. Clean crisp air. The mountains behind us looked as if they had another dusting of snow last night.

Our itinerary said we should be taking a grand loop up through Mugginsville (I kid you not!), Happy Camp and Orleans before rejoining the coast at Arcata - except that it also said we should have spent last night in Orleans, which means we are 140 miles behind schedule. Darn blabbermouth itinerary! Fortunately we had the option of heading directly back to the coast from Weaverville on road 299, and a rough check of mileages suggested that if we did that, we could make Crescent City, our scheduled stop for tonight.

Road 299 reaches the Trinity River valley 8 miles west of Weaverville, and follows it for 56 miles to Willow Creek. This is a spectacular gorge and we enjoyed the ride along a generously surveyed road that allowed for a good turn of speed in most sections and made for an exciting and enjoyable ride. There were very few caravan sites on the way, some residential. A mixture of pines and deciduous trees covered the mountains.

When we reached the coast at Arcata we turned south for about 10 miles to Eureka, another old Victorian town with beautiful period buildings, the most impressive being the Carson Mansion (now a private club) and the Carson home (built by Carson senior as a wedding present for his son) across the street.

We stopped there for lunch before setting off north on 101. This was initially freeway, but soon reverted to a scenic two lane road. We diverted from it at the Redwood National Park to spend some more time walking through forests and standing in awe of the trees that soar over 300 feet into the sky. There were several trees with hollowed out trunks that you could walk inside - one of them big enough to hold 30 people by all accounts, but we couldn't find enough tourists to check it.

Huge wooden carvings of bears, indians, eagles, fish, horses etc. appeared in various small towns during the journey.
        
                                                     
The rest of the run up to Crescent City was on good fast roads - much like we have enjoyed all day, so that for the first time on our journey we have averaged over 40mph and come 195 miles, which means we spent 5 hours on the bike. It also means that we are back on schedule for just the second time.

After checking in for the night on the outskirts of Cresent City, we found some sea-food for dinner. It couldn't be fresher. A walk along the beach was relaxing. The sand is a volcanic grey but packs well. It is very fine and soft on the feet.  Very few shells. The huge pieces of driftwood in one corner were amazing. The water is still very cold.

Making Hayfork while the sun shines

The forecast today was for more rain and when we woke up, there it was, right outside our window.

We got straight into the wet weather gear and headed back into Ferndale to see Marc Davis again and spend a bit more time exploring the town. The rain was mostly just a drizzle, but there were some ugly wind gusts that blew us all over the road, especially on the very exposed bridge over Eel River

Ferndale is a very well preserved Victorian town, with beautifully preserved period buildings. The great highlight for us was when Marc introduced us to the Blacksmith Shop and Blacksmith Shop Gallery, decidedly one of the best collections of forged iron and other works by a variety of artists, including Peter Fels, whose distinctive work we recognised instantly. For more info see: http://www.ferndaleblacksmith.com/

We had to get going, so we said our farewell to Marc and headed back across the Eel River and south east onto Highway 36 heading for Hayfork and thence Weaverville where we planned to spend the night. The traffic going in our direction was very light, so we were able to amble along at a relatively slow and comfortable pace given the conditions. The road wound up a picturesque valley with stands of giant redwoods and climbed across some high ridges until we reached Dinsmore where we stopped for coffee and a break. Despite the apprehensive start of wind and rain we were protected from the worst because we were riding through the forests. Only on the crests did we feel a sudden rush of wind.

(That's Chris and our motorbike at the bottom right corner of the photo.) At one stage the road narrowed to a little more than a single lane with no centre line marking, and it was prudent to keep well right on blind corners. There were sheer drops overlooking pine covered mountains on the other side. On several occasions we encountered on-coming vehicles, when our caution was rewarded.

From Dinsmore the weather briefly deteriorated, but as we approached Hayfork it slowly improved, with patches of blue sky becoming more frequent and larger the further we rode, so by the time we got to Hayfork the sun was shining and the road dry. We stopped there for a late lunch before continuing the final 30 miles into Weaverville where we settled into the 49er Gold Country Inn for the night. This is a pretty town, surrounded by mountains - with those to the east still snow capped. The crisp, cold  air came with the scenery.

Another great day

We started out today from Gualala under a sunny sky, and made good progress up California 1. We have run out of superlatives for describing the California coast: it is so beautiful, so varied, so rugged; so raw...

One moment you can be riding fast on wide sweeping corners along a windswept coast and within seconds be plunged into a dark forest with 10, 15 and 20 mph corners. We went through a series of pretty towns and houses sitting on cliff tops above the rocky coast line. There were rugged valleys running down to the coast and impossibly beautiful landforms.

Our first stop was in Ft Bragg, where we started a conversation with a local bloke almost as soon as we got off the bike. While we were talking his wife and little girl joined him, We introduced ourselves to Robert and Angelica and learned their daughter was named Ava. We all went into a cafe together and continued our conversation. Just before we left, we went out back to the bathroom and while waiting in line met Bill, an American who has travelled extensively in Australia on business. We eventually went back inside, said goodbye to Robert and Angelica and rode off. A few miles up the road I realised I hadn't paid for our coffee, so we did a quick about face and high-tailed it back to town to pay. When we got there the waitress said Robert had paid for us, and left. I was absolutely mortified. However, when I went back onto the footpath I saw them 50 metres up the road, and was able to catch up with them, apologise profusely and repay them. They were so nice about it...

We had an excellent ride up to Leggett, but unfortunately my helmet mounted video camera did not record it. Indeed, I have been having all sorts of problems with it. It has a "soft" switch to turn it on and off, and perform other functions according to how long it is held on. With the helmet on my head it I can not see if it is on or off and so I have missed recording some great rides. Another problem with it is that it sometimes seems to cut out and restart randomly. Our communicator continues to have hissy fits, and twice today had to be rebooted - for no apparent reason.

Our second stop was at Leggett, where we visited the Drive-through Tree, a giant living redwood with a tunnel cut through it. To our surprise, Bill ( who we had earlier met in Ft Bragg) arrived a minute or two after we arrived. The Drive-through Tree was an easy fit for our bike, but very snug for SUVs.

California 1 (a superb road) joins 101 at Leggett, and for a short time we found ourselves on a fast freeway, but that quickly reverted to a two lane road for a few miles and then back again to a freeway. We stopped in Garberville for lunch and a few miles later turned off 101 to ride the Avenue of Giants, a 20 mile corridor through a majestic redwood forest. For anyone with a botanical interest these are a privilege to ride through.  The floor in some areas probably get no sunlight.  The trunks are huge.

At the end of this road we turned off towards Honeydew on a narrow, windy and very rough road. It eventually improved as we got further towards Petrolia, but in climbing over a series of high ridges we found ourselves on steep roads with multiple 10 mph hairpin turns going both up and down. After a brief stop in Petrolia to stretch our legs, we pressed on to Ferndale. Initially we made good speed along the coast, but as we approached Cape Mendocino, we could see the road ahead of us climbing steeply up the headland. When we got there it was a scary climb up the steepest road we have ridden since Baldwin Street in New Zealand (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baldwin_Street,_Dunedin), and unlike that, it had hairpin turns on the way up. From the high, grassy hilltops we saw the river valley below with the sun shimmering in the ocean on the other side.  The road deteriorated to a very rough and often pot-holed strip of tar winding up hill and down dale, so that the remaining trip into Ferndale was fairly hairy, not made easier by our being quite tired after 9 hours of travelling. The rough road ended abruptly onto the perfectly straight streets of Ferndale. The beautiful buildings would give it so much character if it was not so pristine. Elegant art galleries, shops and businesses, perfect gardens and lawns.

A friend we met last year at the metal artists Shindig in Ohio, Marc Davis has just moved to Ferndale and is setting up a gallery here. It was after 6 pm when we arrived at the gallery, not expecting anyone to be there,  when to our surprise Marc walked out and casually asked if we were looking for someone. After a quick look at the gallery (which is co-located with other galleries and an arts cooperative) we left Marc to deal with the result of a heater exploding and spraying his bedroom with glycol.

We had dinner in Ferndale before riding to nearby Fortuna to find a reasonably priced motel for the night.

A superb days riding. We frequently felt as if we were far from civilization. So much space, forest , grassland; so many rivers, valleys and hills.

Murphy's Law: No optimism ever goes unpunished

Just yesterday we were so pleased to finally be back on schedule. Today we left San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge under leaden skies, with the weather forecast giving a 90% chance of showers to the north where we are heading.

We got caught behind a slow vehicle that didn't seem to understand what turnouts are for (unusual for Californians), and we followed it for longer than we cared. Just a dozen miles after we left, the showers started, so it was into wet weather gear. This is basically a big plastic bag, with elasticated cuffs and a long zip at the front with a few fancy flaps to seal it. It is every bit as comfortable as it sounds, especially on warm days when it is indistinguishable from a sauna.

Highway 1 north of San Francisco is prettier and less windy than the southern majestic Big Sur stretch of  highway. Once clear of built-up areas the road winds and twists its way along the coast, through beautiful valleys, along estuaries and through dark and foreboding forests... and it seems to go on forever. Even with the rain it was incredibly beautiful.

Unlike Peter's place, the coast is more accessible. If you built there you would not feel as if you were living on the edge of the earth, (especially when the mist comes in and you can't see the bottom - breathtaking and scary). There is a large variety of landscape. Just stunning all the way up. There was a wonderful looking place for sale. Sigh!

The further north we travelled, the heavier the rain, and it had seemingly set in for the day. We stopped at Point Reyes Old Station Cafe (an old world feel with up to date, friendly service)  for brunch and a break before heading off again into the rain.

Between the tight corners and the weather the going was quite slow in places, yet when the road straightened out (only ever so briefly) we could easily maintain 50 - 60 mph.

We continued on again until I tired, and eventually stopped at the Stewarts Point Store, (with a variety of home made delicacies) a timber structure dating from 1868, with many of the old signs advertising long lost brands. There was even one poster warning the ladies that "Women in low cut dresses will be looked down upon". It also had a 19th century silver dollar set into the counter by the cash register, a disappointingly modern appliance. The coffee was hot and strong, and we enjoyed the break. We must have looked like a pair of drowned rats because the people working there recommended we stop 13 miles further up the road at Gualala - especially since tomorrow's forecast was looking much better.

As we left the store I was feeling quite refreshed, but our progress was slow (so slow I had to keep pulling over to let cars pass). As the weather closed in we could no longer see much of the views, so we took their advice and found the comfortable and charming Gualala Country Inn at 2:30 pm. The spring flowers are gorgeous. We booked in and turned on the heater to warm ourselves and start drying our gloves and boots.

We only got half as far as planned today, so now we are 100 miles behind schedule after just one day on target. B*@@#r!

To sum up our day in just three words: rain, rain, rain. Or does that only count as one?

Monterey to San Francisco

From our motel in Monterey we rode down to Cannery Row, glitzy and expensive, and took a quick look around before heading to Old Fisherman's Wharf. We visited both these spots last year, when we had an amazingly good Alaskan crab dinner on the Wharf. We can't imagine why we didn't think of going there again for our anniversary dinner last night...

The Wharf's clam chowder is a must for a quick lunch. Although touristy it has a special atmosphere with genuine, fresh seafood and friendly sea birds.  You peered at people kayaking or diving around the kelp as you ate.

We headed for Santa Cruz and turned north to La Honda where Kurt and Cheryl Schaeffer live with their two sons, Pioneer and Simon. The road out of Santa Cruz started winding up into the mountains, (forests of soft trees inhibited our views of the valleys but were very pleasant to drive through) where we picked up the southern end of Skyline Drive, a single lane road used by traffic in both directions and with turns tighter than a hangman's noose. It was slow riding especially on blind corners, and we did encounter a surprising number of cars coming the other way. After a few miles the road widened out to two full lanes and with more open corners, so we were able to pick up speed again until we turned down Alpine Road with lots of tight blind corners. Our GPS took us unerringly to Kurt's front door, where Kurt greeted us enthusiastically. We soon realised that Kurt is an absolute bundle of energy and does everything with great enthusiasm. It's easy to understand how he manages to do so much creative work while working full time and raising two great little boys. Their house is on a large elevated block with fabulous views over the surrounding hills, a great place to raise their boys. It has wide balconies to take advantage of the forest views. We sat outside for a while but it was rather chillier than usual for this time of the year as the fog started settling on the mountains.

Cheryl and the boys were out when we arrived. We played with the boys after dinner, and Simon who is two years old started calling me "grandad". I quickly found I could get comfortable with that.

This morning we were treated to lumpy pancakes for breakfast, a real treat. Kurt then showed us his well-equipped workshop and some of the things he has made. He is quite a Renaissance man, with a wide range of interests and skills. He is an accomplished wood worker, metal worker, electronic gizmo maker and pretty handy with a sewing machine. The projects he showed us included an electronically controlled bench for moving tin cans under a punch which is used to make decorative patterns of holes in the can. These holes let light leak out when a bulb is put inside it. (I should mention he made the punch himself by making the patterns and casting the frame in aluminium). Another project was a cypher machine built from laser cut perspex, and another an X-Y axis table that moved a magnifying glass over a piece of wood to burn patterns on it. Kurt even had it programmed to compensate for the movement of the sun as the work progressed...

He then fired up the oxy-propane torch ready for a mini-shindig at which he introduced us to glass bead making. We had a great time with this - it is incredibly easy to get started, but clearly requires much practice to develop real skills.

It was soon lunch time, so we packed up our bike and followed Kurt and Cheryl and the boys up to Alice's Restaurant at Sky Londa (the intersection of Skyline Drive and La Honda Road). This is a well known destination for bikers on the weekend, and there was quite a crowd there when we arrived - together with some very nice bikes.

After lunch we said our farewells, and headed back down La Honda Road to the coast where we  picked up Highway 1 to ride into San Francisco. We headed for Union Square, an area we frequented on our stay last year, and found a secure public car park where we could leave the bike overnight (for $20). There are dozens of hotels in the area, so it was not hard finding somewhere to stay.

We are now travelling in sync with our planned itinerary for the first time since our journey began.

Big Sur

On Wednesday morning we slept in a little later than usual,before taking in a hearty breakfast at a Denny's Diner. We left Paso Robles heading south on 101 before turning west on 41 to Morro Bay where we picked up Highway 1 North to travel up the coast.

This is the fabled Big Sur coast road, but the interesting parts don't start until you get some way along. We stopped off 12 miles up the road at the pretty town of Cambria where we bought some coffee at a Mexican cafe. $2 each got us a huge cup of coffee which I have to say was very good, proving at last it is possible to get a decent cup of coffee in America.

From Cambria the land is initially quite flat and treeless. Gusty winds coming in from the sea were blowing us around and had us backing off the throttle a bit. We passed the entrance to the Hearst Castle at San Simeon, and the elephant seal colony a little further north, knowing we were coming back the next day to see these attractions.

From Ragged Point the road begins to climb as it hugs the hills that drop straight into the ocean. At the very top of the road we reached the home of Peter Fels and Pheobe Palmer. Pheobe had cooked us a wonderful lasagna dinner that we washed down with fermented beverages. After dinner conversation was lively and far-ranging before we eventually retired for the night, We said our farewells to Pheobe who had to take a two day trip into Cambria starting early the next morning.

On Thursday we slept in again, and were in no particular hurry to drive the few miles back to San Simeon to tour the Hearst Castle. This is an amazing complex built high on a hill overlooking the ocean. William Randolph Hearst amassed a huge collection of art and threw it all together here. The Neptune swimming pool is flanked by Greek columns and pediments, while the backdrop is a Roman marble structure. The walls of the main house are clad in places with choir stalls from a 14th century cathedral. It has tapestries that were owned by Catherine De Medici, and a huge collection of Greek, Egyptian and Roman marble statues. It is quite bizarre with its crash of styles. It is so far over the top that words simply fail to describe it... See http://www.hearstcastle.org/ to learn more about the place.

We made a short trip back into Cambria to pick up more beer and wine for the evening, and stopped for a while at an Internet cafe to download emails. Here we met John, who was impressed at how many beers could fit into a BMW top box, and we started chatting. He rides motorbikes and has travelled to Australia, so we had plenty to talk about. The cafe was about to close for the afternoon so we said farewell and headed back north where we spent some time watching and photographing the huge elephant seals that literally covered the beach. At times some of them would make make sounds like dogs barking, at others like people belching.

While we were at the seal colony we met Dana (I hope I spelled that right), a Harley rider who was interested in our bike because he is thinking about getting a touring bike. We had quite a conversation before taking off up the road together.

When we got back to Peter's he fired up the barby and Chris cooked the meat. Again, we had a wonderful meal and night chatting about all manner of interesting topics while downing a very pleasant (and large) bottle of wine.
 
This morning we were awake before the alarm went off. Peter was a bit later getting up because there had been a ruckus in his yard in the middle of the night involving his dogs and cats that cost him some sleep.
 
The fog over the ocean was particularly thick and persistent this morning. A couple of times it seemed to be clearing, only to thicken up again. While we were waiting for it to clear Peter offered us more lasagna for lunch, which no reasonable person could pass up, so it was around 2 pm when we finally said goodbye to Peter and headed north.
 
Further north the views became more dramatic and the road more exciting for motorcyclists - unless you get caught behind an RV or convoy of slow moving cars. We passed many motorcycles going the other way. Over here bikers tend to acknowledge each other more than in Australia, but then it's easier - because we are riding on the right side of the road. The standard "handshake" is to drop your left hand off the hand grip and extend your left arm outwards horizontally from the elbow.
 
We stopped at the iconic Bixby bridge to take photos and give our legs some exercise by walking around for a few minutes. We planned to stop in Big Sur, but it is less of a town than a series of buildings spread out along the road for several miles, and we were past it before we cottoned on.

We stopped for the night in Monterey at a motel we found on the Internet earlier today advertising $55 rooms, but when we got there the cheapest room we could get was $74. Grrrr!
 
Today is our 39th wedding anniversary, so we bought a bottle of bubbly and went for Chinese take away. The shop we went to marketed Chinese food like a burger chain, with set packages of one, two or three different serves along with a choice of fried rice or chow mein. When we went to choose the three serves, we had the choice of chicken, chicken or chicken. We may yet look back on it as the most memorable anniversary dinner we have ever had!