We left after a few days of resting. Well, it was all about resting, but it was major fun. Something I feel odd, that I never felt before, is that everytime I have to pack the bike after spending some days still it feels like I’m starting over again. That feeling of excitement, expectation and slight anxiety.
All good and jolly, we decided, mainly because of the cold, that we’ll carry on following the coast. Some dirt roads, some gates, some bypassed gates and more mud puddles. The floaters are nothing compared to those in Oregon, but for that we had some pretty good ruts to overcome. The most interesting was the ride towards the Lost Coast. The Usal road was closed, but we managed, barely, to ride around the gate and ride towards one of the prettiest sights that day. It was nice and warm and the spirits were high. Knowing the road is closed I had the same idea the potential dirt bike coming from the opposite direction would have. To twist that throttle and clean the valves a little bit. The memory of Danes subframe was still fresh, that kept reminding me to take it easy, but the trail was pretty fun and I got a bit too frisky. The slipsters didn’t help when I came around a corner to meet a nice, slicker patch of mud. That’s what I like from dirt bike crashes. 9 out of 10 will be just about getting dirty. This was one of them. We carry on till the scenery opens in front of us. WOW. There is not much more I can say about it. A magic place where I could easily just pitch my tent and stay for a week.
Further on, we join Highway 1. It’s like a road in Sardinia, similar to the Adriatic highway in Croatia, The road in southern Peleponnese in Greece, the hell, it looks like just any road along the coast. Well, not really. As any of these roads has something special and all of them have something special in common. I love riding next to the sea. Being a scuba diver, a wanna be surfer and generally spending most of my life next to this beautiful, unknown creature it really feels like joining the best of both worlds. Smell the salt, feel the breeze and usually you have a good visual on the next corner and the corner after that. Sometimes I wish BC1 would be a Beemer…
We end up in San Francisco where we get stuck. Instead of one night, we spent 3. This is my kind of town, where I feel more normal than usual, just because there is so many freaks. Mostly good freaks, fun freaks, the odd Irish illegal immigrant and lots of artists and well, people who are fun to be around. Spent our days cruising around the steep streets torturing our clutches, eating some very american sushi, sipping beer at the docks, sipping more beer on the roof tops, morning coffee and cigarette on the fire escape while shouting “Hello New York!”, listening to some great street performers. I’m gonna be back for sure. San Fran is my kind of city.