The fog was so thick, I was wondering how the air around me could actually be inhaled. But no, I wasn’t drowning, so all was well, comparatively speaking.

I rolled along at a cautious pace, ever mindful of what I might not see, and alert to people who might not see me. Fortunately, my big “adventure” motorcycle (Yamaha Super Tenere) has an imposing profile, and four bright lights up front. Nicknamed “Teezer” (for constantly teasing me to ride it), the 600-pound yellow bike easily gets noticed; and in fact, I’ve also found people to be quite courteous, letting me proceed across intersections, pulling over for me to pass, etc.

FIRST TRY

I had embarked on an open-ended trip from my home near San Jose, up the northern section of the famed California Highway 1. I had traveled this route previously in my many decades of roaming the western states, but always using 4-wheeled vehicles. I was really excited about seeing the scenery from a motorcyclist’s wide-viewed perspective, immersed in the feel of the air and the space. My plan was to travel and camp for a bit along the coast, and then pivot inland to visit some friends before returning home.

But the vast sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean, azure skies, rock-jeweled shorelines — these were not to be my gifts on this trip. At first, I was a bit disappointed, but as I worked my way through the gray shrouds, I began to appreciate the uniqueness, and I came to see a special beauty even in the visually-cramped weather.

At times, the fog would lift slightly, allowing a “normal” riding experience — albeit with limited views.

And every once in a while, a small pocket of sunshine would expose a section of coast, like this estuary near Mendocino.

When CA-1 would occasionally turn inland, within a half-mile of the shoreline, sun would again light up the landscape. It made a wonderful dappling with this cypress grove.

So I traveled along, being extremely careful of the damp roadway and my precarious two-wheel balancing act.

At a place called Ocean Cove, I paid for a cliff-side campsite and set up a cold, damp, foggy, yet somehow charming and pleasant camp. I was only 50 feet from the edge of the ocean cliff, and the rush of the surf was ever-present. Seabirds worked the cliffs and the waves, searching for a meal. In late afternoon, the fog formed a blurry “lid” over the cove…

But only an hour later, with the cooling of the day, the lid dropped down nearly to the water level. It was strange, to look into the blank gray shroud, and hear (but not see) the occasional CA-1 traffic on the opposite shore. A bit surreal.

Eventually, an hour before nightfall, I could barely see across the campground.

I figured it was the better part of prudence to not take Teezer out for a dinner run. We stayed in camp and had a wonderful freeze-dried dinner. Well OK, more wonderful than <no> dinner anyway.

The next day, a gray 48F met me when I zipped open my tent. Until that point, I had planned to move, and camp farther north — but the fog was insistent, and I debated whether to go inland (where I knew that sunshine and warmth awaited).

After several arguments with myself (as always, I won), I decided to stay with the fog and continue to enjoy the nearness of the surf and sea. I made some great coffee (very little humility in my genes), but decided to skip breakfast and find some on the road. I think I pissed off the camp raven by not providing any cast-off morsels. He grumbled in typical raven-speak.

Like the previous day, the fog pretty much squelched any photo opportunities, but I still had a fine time seeing what I could see. I passed slowly through a construction traffic jam in downtown Fort Bragg, where everybody except me knew the shortcuts. Then, late in the day, I arrived at the northern-most camp on this section of CA-1, Westport-Union State Beach. From here, CA-1 turns inland to join up with US-101. The stretch of land between here and Eureka (where the road re-joins the coast) is known as the Lost Coast.  There is no highway along that incredibly rugged stretch, and none planned or likely possible.

When I explored around my new camp, the harshness of the coast was apparent. Seas and storms batter a relatively fragile and soft geology, wiping out many feet of shoreline cliffs, sometimes in a single season.

This section of the State Beach road was simply eaten away, never to be replaced. That yellow stripe was at one time the center line. In some places, CA-1 is only 50-100 feet away from the depredation of the Pacific. Soon, there will be some combination of road closure, reconstruction, and/or relocation. Mother Nature is inexorable.

I camped about 100 feet away from all this ragged destruction, again in a thick blanket of fog. The cover over the bike was really handy (sarcasm), because it allowed TWO layers of soggy dew to form, one on the cover and another soaking layer on the bike underneath. Sheesh.

And again, I had some nice (limited) views…

….all to be gently suffused with the waning of the day.

The next morning, I’d had enough of the bliss of the ocean to not want to put up with the gray of the fog any more. Packing up my sodden camp gear, I’m sure I put ten more pounds on my poor Teezer.

I headed inland to visit some sunshine-soaked friends. My ride went from 48F outside my morning tent, to 104F in Yuba City on the way to Sacramento. Yikes.

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The MIDDLE PART

In a different part of 2018, I traveled south instead of north. This “middle” section of CA-1 had been closed for nearly two years due to (perennial) landslides along coastal slopes. Enormous reconstruction and re-engineering had recently re-opened the road, and I chose this much slower route to ride down south to visit a friend near Ventura.

Quite different from the north coast — more barren along the shoreline due to far less rainfall — the middle coast is no less beautiful, and well worth traveling along. My ride went from the Monterey/Big Sur area, all the way down to Ventura. Some of the snapshots need a little narration — others speak for themselves…

I believe there are 32 bridges along the entire span of CA-1. Some are quite picturesque.

Point Sur, with the lighthouse.

Spotted all along the highway, albeit sparsely, are lovely places to stop and grab a meal, or a place to stay. For lodging, it’s best to get reservations. These places book up all year long.

It’s an eclectic area — with some eclectic vehicles to be seen.

The road is in a perpetual state of destruction and repair. Here is a rock-screen — those “little” steel rings are about the size of a dinner plate, cross-section as big as a broomstick.

As the road erodes away, the cliffs are <usually> cut back again and again. Sometimes, other arrangements are made.

[One of the beauties of riding a motorcycle is being able to stop in the middle of a no-shoulder-lane bridge and take pictures — without obstructing traffic.]

Kirk Creek campground (inside Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park).

Some angles make it really obvious how vulnerable this road is. The entire open reach of the Pacific is directly west, no intervening shoals or barrier islands. This coast just gets the Hell beat out of it every winter — sometimes better, sometimes a lot worse.

Another shore-side day-use area, one of many.

 

I stayed overnight at Cambria, in a motel along Moonstone Beach Drive that was okay but not worth recommending. Do some Streetview shopping if you want to stay there, because some of the lodgings have rooms with balconies right above the shoreline. Out front of the long row of lodgings is a great boardwalk and a superb beach. Well worth a stopover.

Previous visitors have built these little teepee structures out of driftwood…

The elephant-seal colony at Piedras Blancas is not to be missed. There is a half-mile of boardwalk, right above the animals, and you can visit year-round without disturbing them.

And of course, the west coast faces west (duh), right into the late-day sun. Sunsets and pre-sunsets are the stuff of fine art.

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NORTH COAST, SECOND TRY

Karin and I had chatted for quite some time about traveling together on Teezer. She’s not as wondrously captivated as I am by motorcycling, but she does enjoy an outing now and then. Eventually, we decided to re-visit the north coast (in better weather), but forsake the camping for the comfort of paid lodging.

Our trip started with the usual slab run up the Peninsula. We elected to skip the portion of CA-1 close to home; so we zipped up I-280 and experimented with some side streets paralleling 19th Avenue going north through San Francisco. Sadly, we didn’t find much in the way of “better” routes, but certainly the Great Highway and Geary are different scenery than 19th. Take your choice.

But the trip really starts when crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. No matter how many times I drive across that iconic span, I always have a grin on my face. But when I cross it by motorcycle, that grin pretty much wraps all the way around my head.

Riding up the coast, the weather was near-perfect, and all the blues and greens greeted us in splendid California fashion.

Our night’s lodging was simply wonderful. Cozy, quiet, easy/safe parking, a fireplace and ocean view. Fort Ross Lodge, highly recommended.

Our second day was more wonderful weather and great views of this gorgeous coast.

Running an already-heavy adventure bike, with two people and some traveling gear, tips the scales at about 950 pounds. Such a mass is absolutely no problem when underway, but it can be a bit challenging at low speeds, or stopping and starting. In fact, an abrupt stop at a road-construction site caught me off-balance and put all three of us (Teezer, Karin, and me) on our butts on the asphalt. Unsettling, but no harm done.

This top-heavy configuration, in combination with the generally shabby condition of the roadside shoulders, left us a little shy about frequent stops, and we ended up taking relatively few pictures. So, oddly enough, our journey in good weather provided fewer photos than my solo trek through the fog. Go figure.

Suffice it to say that the reputation of CA-1 is well deserved, and there are mountains of photos and web sites out there with which to do some “armchair traveling”. But really, you gotta go and see it in person.

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STILL CURIOUS?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_State_Route_1

https://www.visitcalifornia.com/trip/highway-one-classic

https://www.tripsavvy.com/driving-californias-scenic-highway-one-1473971

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