Got a bit of a late start from Day's Inn in King City Tuesday morning because I had to replace the right front running light on the bike. This is somewhat of a big deal because you have to remove a section of the fairing in order to be able to reach a hand in and remove and then replace the socket in which the bulb fits. Jesse, my Ottawa mechanic, had replaced the left light before I left and had said: "Yeah, I don't know why but the RT's (mine is a R1200RT) go through a lot of bulbs; I don't know why". He's right both have been replaced a number of times and it isn't getting any easier to do it.
On the road by 8:30, I headed down 101 to Pismo Beach, which is right on the coast, and then followed the Pacific Coastal Highway (Route 1) to Santa Barbara. Along the way I passed some really large vineyards ( I mean vineyards bigger than wheat fields back home - in Eastern Canada that is), and big vegetable farms where workers, many wearing broad brimmed hats like the ones we often see on the field workers in China, in rows picking whatever crop was ready for market. There have to be thousands of these individuals doing this kind of back breaking work so that we have inexpensive fresh produce on our grocery store shelves.
On this first picture you can see the clouds reaching down into the mountains of the Coastal Range. I rode through this cooling mist.
In Santa Barbara, a beautiful and very touristy ocean-side town, I stopped for lunch at the
My Mahi mahi toasted sandwich with tomato, lettuce and fries, was excellent; and what made it special were the wasabi cream sauce that the waiter obligingly brought to me, even if it was usually served with another dish on the menu, and the toasted light sourdough bread. But not toasted in a toaster mind; but rather made perfect on the red hot elements of a stove or something. It brought to mind the taste of just-burnt-enough toast at camps many years ago.
I continued down the coast to the Santa Monica Pier where a nice lady took this picture of me with my feet in the Pacific Ocean and the pier behind me. The pier is the end of Route 66 for some, while for others, like me, it's the start of journey back home. I had traveled 6,900 kilometers since leaving home on July 7th and it was time to return before the Cascadia earthquake struck this region.
After the obligatory walk on the pier I rode for 2 hours in stop-and-go expressway traffic to the Motel 6 in Baldwin Park which is somewhere in the middle of LA County which goes on forever, and then a lot more then that. The locked gate to the parking area at the motel, the security camera above it, and the many police cruisers patrolling the neighborhood are all reflections of what people think about personal safety in these parts.
This morning I found Route 66 and began following it. what with realignments, closures and whatnot its not as easy as it seems. Sometimes the route is clearly marked, at others it's pretty much a guess. After a while on a clearly marked section I stopped at this wacky place. I had seen pictures of it in guide books before. There are hundreds of works, all made with steel trees with bottles placed on all the stems that extent from the trunk, and other stuff. Go ahead enlarge the pictures and see what you can pick out.
Route 66 is a very little used route. There are long sections where you're all alone for a long stretch; nothing coming, nothing following. Just me, my bike, and my thoughts.
And some iconic landmarks, like the Ludlow Cafe where I had lunch.
Further down the road I saw these dust devils in the distance. They were many. I wondered how big they got and how powerful they might be. Enough to pick up a Guy and his bike? Didn't happen, so I don't know. Maybe a prairie friend can answer?
Between Bagdad and Amboy I stopped at the Amboy Crater, a National Natural Landmark formed by a volcano that last erupted some 10,000 years ago. Oh, I forgot to mention it was 42.5 celsius at this point.
And so the day ended in Needles California at the eastern edge of the state. Tomorrow the adventure continues as I cross the Colorado River into Arizona.
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