Bumpy canyon roads twisted between stands of oak, brush and sage down toward the fertile vineyards of Napa. Old vines leaned on their training supports as if intoxicated from their own supply. I picked up a cup of coffee in Napa and stopped at the grocery store for some cereal. It was early in the day and I felt the pull of the sea calling me west.
The earliest light graced the still waters of Lake Berryessa at 5:45AM. I was slightly confused at the early hour until realizing that today was daylight saving's time and an hour had been "lost" the night before. I combated the theft of time by falling asleep around 8PM, the only impact being 9 hours of sleep instead of 10, no big deal! I quickly rolled up my dew-damp sleeping bag and pad and went for a jog through the closed campground. The coyotes that yipped and howled their hollow song through the night were quiet now, replaced by deer bounding away from my running footfalls. A short jog to move the blood around and prepare me for a morning of riding in the low 40's. I set out on the road, stopping at an overlook for a steaming cup of cowboy coffee and an orange sunrise over the eastern mountain range. Bumpy canyon roads twisted between stands of oak, brush and sage down toward the fertile vineyards of Napa. Old vines leaned on their training supports as if intoxicated from their own supply. I picked up a cup of coffee in Napa and stopped at the grocery store for some cereal. It was early in the day and I felt the pull of the sea calling me west. The highways between Napa and Petaluma were busy with Sunday tourist traffic. Zinfandel and Cabarnet leaves reflected a reddish tinge of fall, turning on the vine in these fading days of autumn. The seasons continue to change and shift as I careen through scenery and regional weather patterns, free to discover warmer climates as I head south. West of the foody/artsy main street of Petaluma, I plug Tomales Bay into the Garmin. Undulating pasture land overtakes the acres of grapevines, the distinct scent of feedlots and beef cattle overpowering the senses. 75 - 100 year old stands of evenly planted madrone and cypress shade the roadway, swaying in the WSW breeze off the ocean. Riding down Hwy 1 along Keyes Creek carries me to a memorable section of twisty pavement through the marh and into the Tomales Bay shore. Narrow twiting roads explore the contours of weathered gulches. The pace is interrupted every few minutes by the small waterfront oyster shacks and restaurants dotting the bay. Rows of cars are parked on the roadisde, tourists flocking from the bay area to enjoy BBQ'd oysters and Chardonnay on a perfect fall day. A kid tosses trash out the window of a white Audi SUV as it drives away. I stop, reach down and pick up the brown Whole Foods wrapper then continue on behind the Audi until he stops 1/4 mi ahead. The father rolls down the window and I hand him back the piece of trash. "Littering is a $1000 fine, you may want to teach your child." Off I ride. Point Reyes Station is bustling with weekenders touring the family-owned shops and savoring skillfully crafted gourmet dishes at one of the many eateries. I gas up for $4.04/gal, nearly $1 higher than the national average, happy I only take 1 gallon :) A few years back I had the opportunity of riding Point Reyes Seashore with another motorcyclist known online as the Darth Peach. Twisting along the waterfront behind her is a memory that stuck in my mind, so I decided to return for the experience.
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Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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