As the rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, I knew what had to be done. I laced up my running shoes and went for a quick three miler. It felt good to get some miles in; almost like knocking out the pains that had settled in after the half-marathon and the days of sitting in the riding position. I didn’t push myself too hard because I knew what kind of ride I had in store for me later in the day. I’d mapped out the route and laid out my gear the night before, as any personal trainer will tell you to do. I’m not a morning runner, and I don’t pretend to be when I need to. The route took me into a subdivision behind the shopping mall that our hotel was placed near. The neighborhood reminded me a lot of similar areas around where I grew up in Illinois. Houses seemingly built by a large machine that dropped out cookie-cutter houses, one after the other — the only difference being paint color and the upkeep that had been taken place during the years since. Turning the corner I noticed a bike path that I’d crossed over on the way out, so rather than run along a busy street like I had planned I headed down the path. This afforded me glimpses into the backyards of the houses I’d just seen the fronts of. I saw a tree house, with a spiral staircase, that I would have killed for as a kid. A backyard that had been converted entirely into a vegetable garden. Unlike the fronts, the backyards were a world of different personal expressions.
After getting back to the hotel we geared up for the ride and headed out of Chico, California towards are new destination. For this route I relied entirely on the GPS and its software. I plugged in the destionation, Fort Bragg, California, and let it work it’s magic. I didn’t review the route, I simply hit the “go” button. We headed west on state route 32 through smaller towns, then hopped on Interstate route 5 south. I was surprised that it took us there since I’d programmed in an aversion to highways.
Leaving the interstate at state route 20 we again headed west. I’ll admit, and be scoffed at by my motorcycle buddies, to a little trepidation of the twisties ahead of me. After being blown around the day before, and being utterly unprepared for them I was anxious about them. We stopped for lunch in Clearlake Oaks, just before the bulk of the twisties would start. Leaving Clearlake Oaks, there are several resort towns along the edge of Clearlake that drop the speed limit so I was able to work up to faster speeds in the turns. When the speed did pick up I was ready. We zipped all the way up to Fort Bragg with no problems. Plenty of turn offs to let speedier vehicles by. My soured relationship with the California Department of Transportation was repaired as it seemed that all this road was well laid out, smooth pavement, and plenty of shoulder space. I didn’t feel like with one wrong move I’d fling Angie, myself, and the motorcycle off a cliff.
Passing by the Ukiah exit we both felt pangs of longing to visit Nick Twisp stomping grounds, but on we went. It would have added an additional hour to the journey, and a significant amount of backtracking to get on course again. We will visit there and have a donut in town.
Once we reached Fort Bragg, we stopped at a Starbucks to obtain some much needed caffeine to help propel me through the afternoon. While there we made the hotel arrangements for the evening. Angie had done some research the night before and found a couple of places. We went with the least spendy first. I sat sipping my coffee while Angie made the arrangements on the phone. I over hear the usual information: name, phone number, credit card information. Followed by some “OKs” from Angie. Then the confirmation of “So just park in the cemetery across the street. OK.” At which I turn and give her a “What?!” look. Angie hangs up and starts laughing at the face I apparently made. I counter with “if I’d known my bike could be attacked by zombies I would have brought my cricket bat” (esoteric reference to the cricket bat used in Shaun of the Dead). Well, I guess you just had to be there.
So the deal with the cemetery was that my new found friends in the California Department of Transportation were repaving a section of the road outside of the hotel’s driveway. There is some space in a cemetery across the street that we could temporarily park until they’d made a dirt ramp to get in/out of the parking lot.
We walked into town and poked around a bit. Had dinner at the Mendo Bistro. I had a very promising carrot soup, but the stuffed shells for the main course let me down. We wandered around town for a bit, and headed back to the hotel. By the time we returned, a dirt ramp was in place. I crossed to the cemetery and was relieved to find my biked unmolested by zombies. I moved it into the hotel’s parking lot and added oil since I was a bit low.
We were going to spend an extra day here in Fort Bragg, but I gotta say that I don’t think that there’s much to do here after walking around so we’re going to move on to our next destination where we’ll likely spend a down day with no riding.