Ride Report: Parkfield (3/30/2002) Part 1
Apr. 1st, 2002 10:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tugrikIt's been years since I last had this feeling. It's 6:45am, on a Saturday morning, and I'm both tired, and awake.
The day before, I'd stayed up way too late fussing with photoediting work, and then homework from my day-job. A mere 3 hours of sleep before returning to the office led to another long workday. I got to sleep on time Friday night (before midnight, that is), but that only barely caught me back up. I'm awake, and I'm tired. The good news is that I'm awake because I'm excited; today is going to be a Trip, in both senses of the word.
I don't know what made this particular day-trip any different. Previously by car, and nowadays by motorcycle, I've done this kind of thing many times. I won't go so far as to say it's old hat by now, but I've gotten used to them enough that the feeling of this is going to be exciting! has been long absent. Maybe the secret was the fact I didn't know if I'd be capable of actually completing the trip, thereby lending feelings of challenge and apprehension to it.
The target for Saturday was Parkfield, California: the so-called Earthquake Capital of the World. The goal was to ride down there on some beautiful backroads and have a casual lunch with others from the ADV Riders forum. The route back was as yet undetermined; a range of options existed, each with their own merits. I planned on picking a route after lunch, so I'd have more data to go on. As my ex-roomie Sean was supposed to come with me, I was counting on his input in making the return-route decision.
As I said earlier, I was worried about being able to make it at all. I'm semi-new to motorcycling, though I've been near it for a long time. While I'll save the whole of my motorcycling history for another journal entry, I'll leave it to say I've only been serious about having two wheels under me for about 6 months now... and that's on my GoldWing. I've had barely 15 days on this new bike, the BMW R1150GS Adventure. The 'Wing is a bike that's designed to cross a few state lines in a day. The GS, on the other hand, is designed as a go-anywhere bike, with a higher emphasis on stability and traction in about any conditions, at the sacrifice of some rider comfort. Sure, they can be modified to be nice and cushy, but they'll never be the RV-on-2-wheels that my 'Wing is. :) The lack of comfort plus the newness of the bike means that after about 50 miles of riding I'm ready to get off, stretch my legs, and rest a little. And here I am, about to keep up with a group of hard-core adventure bikers, for how long? Yes, I was worried.
I overpacked a little, on purpose. I'm a bit of a boy-scout when it comes to trip preparedness; I blame it on indeed having been a boyscout, and my questionable habit of going to Burning Man every year. Short of a crash, the worst thing that could happen to me would be to get down there and not be able to get back -- either due to equipment failure or rider failure. If that happened, I could simply get a motel room, and/or a tow back home, depending on what happened. Now the saddlebags for the GS hadn't arrived yet; they'll be another month... so I grabbed a simple duffel bag and stuffed it with a complete change of clothes, spare shoes, a first-aid kit, the emergency battery for the celphone, and one of those little travel wallets that carries insurance and contact data. After a few moments thinking about it, I tossed in a fleece jacket and a set of sweatpants, just in case the weathermen lied to me and we didn't reach 80 degress as predicted. A bit of folding and stuffing, and it all fit in the zipped up duffel. This got bunjee-strapped to the tail of the bike; an arrangement that proved hard to access, but nicely secure to the frame.
In the magnetic tank bag went the alternate gloves (for colder weather), sunscreen, a spare set of sunglasses, 5-minute flare cyalumes and 12-hour normal cyalumes. I have a big stock of both, once again thanks to my desert-festival days. Handy little things. Trying to be just a little safer, I also wedged in a 2nd first-aid kit I had lying around, and my beat up Garmin eTrex GPS. This left just enough room for my D30 camera in its little travel-case, the 28-135IS lens fitting in nicely.
A quick trip to the drugstore got me a cheap California map, which I marked the route on and folded into the clear map-pocket atop the tankbag. That part made me smile. There's something about a map-topped tankbag that just screams We're going ADVENTURING when one looks at it mounted on the bike. It actually turned out to be quite handy, and I plan to leave it on the bike instead of tossing the map-pocket back on the garage table like before.
After both front and back bags were done, I popped open the seat and checked the undeseat toolkit. All parts accounted for, along with an extra tire-repair kit and inflators. I added in a nifty steel-cased 6LED Flashlight of Indestructableness, and reassembled the seat. A standard rider-check made sure that I had the leather jacket, leather boots, riding gloves, good jeans, helmet, and sunglasses all ready to go. My gear is slightly substandard compared to what I should have; a long-term issue I'm still working on fixing. Again, an entry for another day. I rechecked everything just once, and went to bed. 12:30a... not bad.
----
beep... beeP... beEP... bEEP... Okay, so I'd stared at the ceiling for 15 minutes. 7AM had arrived, making my little celphone alarm go off. Roll to the feet, shake the head, get moving... okay, it's not that bad. Tiredness is mostly in the mind, folks... get yourself moving and an amazing amount of it simply goes away. A call to Sean while getting dressed gave me no response. I figured he was oversleeping, and I'd try again later. As I finished a re-inventory of things to make sure I had it all, he called. With a gravelly voice he ground out some words about not being awake and feeling terrible. I told him to gear up and ride the block and a half over to the house (while an ex-roomie, he's still a close neighbor) and see how he felt. He agreed, and hung up. The call from Jocflier, the Menlo Park ADVRider who'd invited me on this trip, confirmed he'd be there at 8:30a sharp. If we weren't ready to go within 5 minutes of his arrival, he'd be gone and we could just meet him down there for lunch. He also informed me his pal wasn't going to come along, nor were we going to meet anybody else on the way... it'd just be us two, and Sean if he chose to go.
Sean showed up, and looked better. However, he claimed Montezuma's had gotten him, and that he'd rather not commit to a long ride if he was going to have to take half-hourly outhouse breaks. For a change I didn't give him any heck about this. While it's normally my lot to tease him when he bails on something, it just didn't feel right. As we finished the obligatory "naah, it's cool, really, go rest up" friend-talk, Jocflier pulled into the driveway. He stopped long enough to get off the bike and shake hands, and then was ready to go. He was back on the bike and half clutched-out by the time I'd even got mine wheeled out of the garage. An air of impatientness hung over this guy... which proved to be an indicator for how the social part of the day would go. I hurredly got my act together, and followed.
For all how nice it was supposed to be... it was grey and cold just then. A bit of fog, a bit of chill. I regretted not putting on the fleece under-jacket. The plan was to go the first 50 miles to Hollister and gas up there. I figured that I'd use the stop to slip the jacket on under the leather. I didn't think I'd need the sweats, but I'm glad I brought them along just in case. Those 50 miles were the only truely dull part of the trip. A simple hop down 101 to Gilroy, then the last 12 or so miles across and into Hollister itself. By the time we pulled into the gas station, I'd gotten used to the air temp, and the sun was burning off some of the foggy haze anyway. No need for fleece.
A few pennies in the tank (I'd filled up the night before), and we're all set. Trying to make a good impression on Jocfiler, I'd pulled up aside him with a "Ready to roll!" as fast as I could. He gave me a rather snappy reminder of "do you have water? There are no services until we get down to the 198." Guess what? I didn't. For all three checks I made of my equipment, the one thing I forgot was my trusty Camelback water backpack. Grr. I felt like such a noob. A jog into the store procured two 1-L bottles, which I awkwardly wedged into the hind duffle near the shoes, and a 16oz'er that I put up front in the tankbag. I also sneaked in a quick chocolate bar, for road-nibbles.
---
Leaving Hollister, we started down Highway 25. This road truely shows what motorcycling is all about. Sure, I'd done many backroad trips in and around the bay that had already put me in awe... but this one showed me what I'd been missing. Sweet, smooth, open asphalt... well cared for. No traffic in sight. Not a sign of gravel or grit on the twisty parts... amazing views on the straightaways. A dozen thoughts went through my head while I road this 60-mile stretch of motorcycling heaven, each one a paragraph for this entry. None of them would really express how I felt. Most strikingly I'm left with the desire to mount a camera to the bike, so I have a way to show segments of this and other roads to my friends. The problem with taking pictures on a ride is just that -- when you're photographing, you're not riding.
Long straightaways had me testing the limits of my bike's upper range. Smooth sweeping turns with full visibility from apex to exit had me in full leans, seeing how much the TKC80 knobbies could hold of this pavement; little gasp-making slips let me know the edge of their grip. These eventually gave way to tighter twisties, with little rises and dips inbetween. Foothills turned to meadow, and back to foothills again; gentle rises and falls, each giving a new vista that would make me just feel beautiful inside.
Some of the elation rode off, however, when I noticed Jocflier was nowhere in sight. The more challening turns were home to him; he'd been on this road many a time. He also had Tourances on his GS -- a much more road-worthy tire in comparison to the onroad/offroad knobbies mine had. A dozen or so more years of motorcycling experience weren't lost on him either. All these factors added up to one heck of a gap between his bike and mine. Well, I knew how to follow a map... so I figured I'd just meet him there. A little disappointing; some faith lost in a riding partner.
A few miles later, around a long curve that dipped into a new valley... there he was, waiting atop his bike, on the shoulder. He saw me approach, and was on the road and up to speed just as I got to him. I felt better knowing that he'd waited for me... it's something a good ride leader should do. If I'd crashed or gotten lost, I'm pretty sure he would have gone back to look for me after a while. That lack-of-faith feeling faded a bit. This turned out to be the norm for the entire trip down there: Jocflier getting far ahead, enjoying his speed and skill, only to wait for a few moment's rest while I caught up. The only thing that got to me was that he never gave me the chance to stop. The moment I caught up, he was back to speed. I started to get this selfish feeling of "hey, what if *I* need a rest, huh?". Pretty soon I realized what a dumb feeling it was. I could have stopped any time; he'd have figured it out and come back. And... to my surprise... I was not only doing well on the bike, I was enjoying it. My worries of having to get off to rest hands, legs, and backside were unfounded, it seemed.
Finally, the road came to an end; the junction to 198 brought a T-shaped stop to these many miles of fluidly smooth Highway 25. Pulling up behind Jocflier's bike, I hopped off for a quick rest, and for the first time pulled out the camera. A quick click of the bikes, looking forwards, and then looking back at the road we'd just come from.
-------
A quick note about the photos in this and future reports: The actual images are hosted on my images site, found at images.fbrtech.com . If you go there directly, you'll find folders from all my ride reports and photo projects. Clicking on any picture in these ride reports will take you to the web-page for that image, which should give you more data and an 800x600 version. Clicking on that image will give you the original frame. If you're bandwidth-deprived, be careful; some can be very large.
To keep each entry to a more reasonable size... I'll continue this report on the next journal entry.
The day before, I'd stayed up way too late fussing with photoediting work, and then homework from my day-job. A mere 3 hours of sleep before returning to the office led to another long workday. I got to sleep on time Friday night (before midnight, that is), but that only barely caught me back up. I'm awake, and I'm tired. The good news is that I'm awake because I'm excited; today is going to be a Trip, in both senses of the word.
I don't know what made this particular day-trip any different. Previously by car, and nowadays by motorcycle, I've done this kind of thing many times. I won't go so far as to say it's old hat by now, but I've gotten used to them enough that the feeling of this is going to be exciting! has been long absent. Maybe the secret was the fact I didn't know if I'd be capable of actually completing the trip, thereby lending feelings of challenge and apprehension to it.
The target for Saturday was Parkfield, California: the so-called Earthquake Capital of the World. The goal was to ride down there on some beautiful backroads and have a casual lunch with others from the ADV Riders forum. The route back was as yet undetermined; a range of options existed, each with their own merits. I planned on picking a route after lunch, so I'd have more data to go on. As my ex-roomie Sean was supposed to come with me, I was counting on his input in making the return-route decision.
As I said earlier, I was worried about being able to make it at all. I'm semi-new to motorcycling, though I've been near it for a long time. While I'll save the whole of my motorcycling history for another journal entry, I'll leave it to say I've only been serious about having two wheels under me for about 6 months now... and that's on my GoldWing. I've had barely 15 days on this new bike, the BMW R1150GS Adventure. The 'Wing is a bike that's designed to cross a few state lines in a day. The GS, on the other hand, is designed as a go-anywhere bike, with a higher emphasis on stability and traction in about any conditions, at the sacrifice of some rider comfort. Sure, they can be modified to be nice and cushy, but they'll never be the RV-on-2-wheels that my 'Wing is. :) The lack of comfort plus the newness of the bike means that after about 50 miles of riding I'm ready to get off, stretch my legs, and rest a little. And here I am, about to keep up with a group of hard-core adventure bikers, for how long? Yes, I was worried.
I overpacked a little, on purpose. I'm a bit of a boy-scout when it comes to trip preparedness; I blame it on indeed having been a boyscout, and my questionable habit of going to Burning Man every year. Short of a crash, the worst thing that could happen to me would be to get down there and not be able to get back -- either due to equipment failure or rider failure. If that happened, I could simply get a motel room, and/or a tow back home, depending on what happened. Now the saddlebags for the GS hadn't arrived yet; they'll be another month... so I grabbed a simple duffel bag and stuffed it with a complete change of clothes, spare shoes, a first-aid kit, the emergency battery for the celphone, and one of those little travel wallets that carries insurance and contact data. After a few moments thinking about it, I tossed in a fleece jacket and a set of sweatpants, just in case the weathermen lied to me and we didn't reach 80 degress as predicted. A bit of folding and stuffing, and it all fit in the zipped up duffel. This got bunjee-strapped to the tail of the bike; an arrangement that proved hard to access, but nicely secure to the frame.
In the magnetic tank bag went the alternate gloves (for colder weather), sunscreen, a spare set of sunglasses, 5-minute flare cyalumes and 12-hour normal cyalumes. I have a big stock of both, once again thanks to my desert-festival days. Handy little things. Trying to be just a little safer, I also wedged in a 2nd first-aid kit I had lying around, and my beat up Garmin eTrex GPS. This left just enough room for my D30 camera in its little travel-case, the 28-135IS lens fitting in nicely.A quick trip to the drugstore got me a cheap California map, which I marked the route on and folded into the clear map-pocket atop the tankbag. That part made me smile. There's something about a map-topped tankbag that just screams We're going ADVENTURING when one looks at it mounted on the bike. It actually turned out to be quite handy, and I plan to leave it on the bike instead of tossing the map-pocket back on the garage table like before.
After both front and back bags were done, I popped open the seat and checked the undeseat toolkit. All parts accounted for, along with an extra tire-repair kit and inflators. I added in a nifty steel-cased 6LED Flashlight of Indestructableness, and reassembled the seat. A standard rider-check made sure that I had the leather jacket, leather boots, riding gloves, good jeans, helmet, and sunglasses all ready to go. My gear is slightly substandard compared to what I should have; a long-term issue I'm still working on fixing. Again, an entry for another day. I rechecked everything just once, and went to bed. 12:30a... not bad.
----
beep... beeP... beEP... bEEP... Okay, so I'd stared at the ceiling for 15 minutes. 7AM had arrived, making my little celphone alarm go off. Roll to the feet, shake the head, get moving... okay, it's not that bad. Tiredness is mostly in the mind, folks... get yourself moving and an amazing amount of it simply goes away. A call to Sean while getting dressed gave me no response. I figured he was oversleeping, and I'd try again later. As I finished a re-inventory of things to make sure I had it all, he called. With a gravelly voice he ground out some words about not being awake and feeling terrible. I told him to gear up and ride the block and a half over to the house (while an ex-roomie, he's still a close neighbor) and see how he felt. He agreed, and hung up. The call from Jocflier, the Menlo Park ADVRider who'd invited me on this trip, confirmed he'd be there at 8:30a sharp. If we weren't ready to go within 5 minutes of his arrival, he'd be gone and we could just meet him down there for lunch. He also informed me his pal wasn't going to come along, nor were we going to meet anybody else on the way... it'd just be us two, and Sean if he chose to go.
Sean showed up, and looked better. However, he claimed Montezuma's had gotten him, and that he'd rather not commit to a long ride if he was going to have to take half-hourly outhouse breaks. For a change I didn't give him any heck about this. While it's normally my lot to tease him when he bails on something, it just didn't feel right. As we finished the obligatory "naah, it's cool, really, go rest up" friend-talk, Jocflier pulled into the driveway. He stopped long enough to get off the bike and shake hands, and then was ready to go. He was back on the bike and half clutched-out by the time I'd even got mine wheeled out of the garage. An air of impatientness hung over this guy... which proved to be an indicator for how the social part of the day would go. I hurredly got my act together, and followed.
For all how nice it was supposed to be... it was grey and cold just then. A bit of fog, a bit of chill. I regretted not putting on the fleece under-jacket. The plan was to go the first 50 miles to Hollister and gas up there. I figured that I'd use the stop to slip the jacket on under the leather. I didn't think I'd need the sweats, but I'm glad I brought them along just in case. Those 50 miles were the only truely dull part of the trip. A simple hop down 101 to Gilroy, then the last 12 or so miles across and into Hollister itself. By the time we pulled into the gas station, I'd gotten used to the air temp, and the sun was burning off some of the foggy haze anyway. No need for fleece.
A few pennies in the tank (I'd filled up the night before), and we're all set. Trying to make a good impression on Jocfiler, I'd pulled up aside him with a "Ready to roll!" as fast as I could. He gave me a rather snappy reminder of "do you have water? There are no services until we get down to the 198." Guess what? I didn't. For all three checks I made of my equipment, the one thing I forgot was my trusty Camelback water backpack. Grr. I felt like such a noob. A jog into the store procured two 1-L bottles, which I awkwardly wedged into the hind duffle near the shoes, and a 16oz'er that I put up front in the tankbag. I also sneaked in a quick chocolate bar, for road-nibbles.
---
Leaving Hollister, we started down Highway 25. This road truely shows what motorcycling is all about. Sure, I'd done many backroad trips in and around the bay that had already put me in awe... but this one showed me what I'd been missing. Sweet, smooth, open asphalt... well cared for. No traffic in sight. Not a sign of gravel or grit on the twisty parts... amazing views on the straightaways. A dozen thoughts went through my head while I road this 60-mile stretch of motorcycling heaven, each one a paragraph for this entry. None of them would really express how I felt. Most strikingly I'm left with the desire to mount a camera to the bike, so I have a way to show segments of this and other roads to my friends. The problem with taking pictures on a ride is just that -- when you're photographing, you're not riding.
Long straightaways had me testing the limits of my bike's upper range. Smooth sweeping turns with full visibility from apex to exit had me in full leans, seeing how much the TKC80 knobbies could hold of this pavement; little gasp-making slips let me know the edge of their grip. These eventually gave way to tighter twisties, with little rises and dips inbetween. Foothills turned to meadow, and back to foothills again; gentle rises and falls, each giving a new vista that would make me just feel beautiful inside.
Some of the elation rode off, however, when I noticed Jocflier was nowhere in sight. The more challening turns were home to him; he'd been on this road many a time. He also had Tourances on his GS -- a much more road-worthy tire in comparison to the onroad/offroad knobbies mine had. A dozen or so more years of motorcycling experience weren't lost on him either. All these factors added up to one heck of a gap between his bike and mine. Well, I knew how to follow a map... so I figured I'd just meet him there. A little disappointing; some faith lost in a riding partner.
A few miles later, around a long curve that dipped into a new valley... there he was, waiting atop his bike, on the shoulder. He saw me approach, and was on the road and up to speed just as I got to him. I felt better knowing that he'd waited for me... it's something a good ride leader should do. If I'd crashed or gotten lost, I'm pretty sure he would have gone back to look for me after a while. That lack-of-faith feeling faded a bit. This turned out to be the norm for the entire trip down there: Jocflier getting far ahead, enjoying his speed and skill, only to wait for a few moment's rest while I caught up. The only thing that got to me was that he never gave me the chance to stop. The moment I caught up, he was back to speed. I started to get this selfish feeling of "hey, what if *I* need a rest, huh?". Pretty soon I realized what a dumb feeling it was. I could have stopped any time; he'd have figured it out and come back. And... to my surprise... I was not only doing well on the bike, I was enjoying it. My worries of having to get off to rest hands, legs, and backside were unfounded, it seemed.
Finally, the road came to an end; the junction to 198 brought a T-shaped stop to these many miles of fluidly smooth Highway 25. Pulling up behind Jocflier's bike, I hopped off for a quick rest, and for the first time pulled out the camera. A quick click of the bikes, looking forwards, and then looking back at the road we'd just come from.
-------
A quick note about the photos in this and future reports: The actual images are hosted on my images site, found at images.fbrtech.com . If you go there directly, you'll find folders from all my ride reports and photo projects. Clicking on any picture in these ride reports will take you to the web-page for that image, which should give you more data and an 800x600 version. Clicking on that image will give you the original frame. If you're bandwidth-deprived, be careful; some can be very large.
To keep each entry to a more reasonable size... I'll continue this report on the next journal entry.
