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Posts Tagged ‘Highway 101’

We rise from our hotel near the Long Beach Airport and called a cab to bring us to the nearby Long Beach BMW dealer where our bikes from MotoQuest Tours awaited.

Sean and Michael McDermott pick up BMW R1200GS motorcycles from MotoQuest Rentals in Long Beach, CA.

Lawrence our friendly MotoQuest rental agent greeted us and walked us out to our bikes. The next seven days will be spent riding identical BMW R1200GS motorcycles one-way from Long Beach, California to Seattle, Washington. A good chunk of the trip will be along the Pacific Coast on beautiful U.S. Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway.

The white giants (the Beemers) had around 400 miles on the odometer. Riding them along the Pacific Coast Highway should prove a decent break-in for these bikes of adventure.

Lawrence got us through the rental contracts within minutes and we began loading the SW Motech Traxx side cases. Getting bikes couldn’t be any quicker and easier. One-way motorcycle rentals through MotoQuest Tours is a new service and they treated us very well.

This is a trip that my dad and I had wanted to take for quite some time. At a young age, he lived in Long Beach. It was chance that our trip launched from this city. Childhood memories rushed back to him as the cool Pacific Ocean breeze cooled us from the 80+ degree outside temperature.

Monica, my wife and #1 pillion, will fly in around noon. So we have a couple hours to burn. We decide to get acquainted with the bikes with a short ride out to the beach. The cool breeze from the west pulled us in search of its salty origin. The bikes were easy to get accustomed to. The power band kicks in from about 3,200 RPM and pulls smoothly from there. The grips and pegs were in comfortable locations. In just a few short miles the bike begins to feel familiar — well, besides the silly BMW switch locations. The switch locations and rock hard seat are two things that won’t likely become better with time. The seat is downright torturous after an hour in the saddle.

We pick up my #1 Pillion, get her gear loaded into the Traxx cases and off we ride into the sunset. Well, at least that is how the numerous movie studios that we ride past in Los Angeles would paint the picture.

Highway 1/101 is a large and fast moving road north of LA. Things begin to slow down near Lompoc.

If we were deer, then our tails would have been high as we skirt through the millions of drivers along the interstate in L.A. The drivers through LALA land are down right dangerous to motorcyclists. Perhaps it is poor financing for driver’s education programs, but I blame the parents of these drivers. They must not have taught them to care for other’s safety. The roads are dangerous and we are happy to escape the traffic and 97-degree weather as we drop down into the aptly named Pleasant Valley.

The smells of the Safire American Grill lure us from the freeway in the bedroom community of Camarillo. The kind staff provide us with our own outdoor eating area. It was a fantastic way to enjoy the friendly service and decent food.

With our appetites suppressed, we exit the ‘burbs. US Highway 1 starts to come to life in the Camarillo and Oxnard areas. It is in Oxnard that we begin to skirt the Pacific Ocean. As we pull onto a more scenic route, next to the main road, we are afforded a spectacular view. We slowly ride past the endless line of

Monica celebrating the meeting of Hwy1/101 north of Los Angeles.

RVs that hog the view of the water. As soon as we get past the throng of gas guzzling condos on wheels, Monica’s voice comes through the Chatterbox XBi II headset with, “Dolphins, dolphins.” The excited voice throws me off my scanning of the road and I immediately pull across the on-coming lane on to the shoulder to stop and see what all the excitement is about. There are eight to 12 dolphins feasting and playing a few yards off the shore. It is an amazing sight to behold as these graceful mammals dive in to the water and come back up a short time later for air.

Almost as soon as we are skirting the coastline, the road goes back inland. It is nearing 5 pm when we have the option to route through Solvang or push on to Lompoc. There is a motorcycle museum that I’ve read about in Solvang, but it is likely closing time for them.

Pops poses with chained up T-Rex in Lompoc, CA.

We push on along Highway 1, through the odiferous strawberry fields near Lompoc. These glorious scents are missed by motorists with their windows closed up tight, music blaring and phone stuck to their ears. It is a true sensory treat. The smell is so strong that the salty pacific air must bounce off the mountains that occupy the horizon to concentrate the strawberry fields forever. Since scent is supposed to be closely tied with memory, this is a fresh, organic experience that will likely stick with us for years to come.

An enjoyable 50 miles later we find ourselves along the coast again in Pismo Beach. We ride around town to get a lay of the land and decide to get a room at the Ocean Breeze Inn for $109 per night. Our room is a block from the beach and several eateries. With the bikes parked for the night we find food and more importantly enjoy a couple beers.

Day one of our trip is complete. We are now solidly outside the rat race of Los Angeles and in the peace and quiet that is found along the Pacific Coast Highway. Scenery abounds from here on out. More of this trip will come soon.

Growing up we were often heading out on adventures. Sometimes the adventures would be intentional. These could be as close as a muddy spring trip along a trail on our “back 40.” Just preparing a fence line for our cattle to pasture on in Northern Minnesota could lead to a full weekend of trudging through the mud by tractor or truck, getting stuck and with many tools, getting unstuck.

Our life revolved around our cattle. In fact, each January we loaded our prized cows, calves and bulls to find our way through Minnesota’s infamous winter weather to compete at the National Western Stock Show in Denver, Colorado.

Fighting our way through temperatures of forty-below zero and downright lethal winds, we hauled our hearty Scottish Highlanders down the interstate highways. Often times the gates across I-29 in North Dakota would drop behind us as we hit snow drifts at 55 mph only to barely emerge from them with enough speed to escape into the wind-cleared pavement ahead.

It was often silly to be on these yearly pilgrimages because of the bad the weather. Add to that the fact that we were trying to grow our farm as a business and couldn’t afford a decent rig to haul our animals. The risk of attending these well-attended national events was great. My father saw it as a required risk in order to build awareness of our breeding program.

Imagine for a second the power of Mother Nature. The outside temperatures were cold to the point of brittle metal. The stock trailer was open to the wind and weather. Traveling at Interstate Highway speeds likely dropped the temps to nearly -100° F. Yes, 100-degrees below zero, 132° F below freezing. Very cold conditions to withstand for hours on end.

Mother Nature also created the hearty Highland cattle eons ago. Their thick hide, hair up to 12 inches long and massive horns made them tough. Their toughness likely saved their lives during our yearly trips.

One particularly cold trip caused a bit of stress. Several hours into the trip, we pulled in for fuel and to check on our prized load of animals. The 18-year old cow with her calf stood without issue when we encouraged them to get up. The five-year old bull that my father was particularly proud of for his 2,000 pounds of heft, square physique and docile nature were exactly what the breeding program intended to create. The bull refused to stand from the woodchip and straw lined metal trailer floor.

In a bit of a panic, both my father and I increasingly prodded and pushed until the gentle giant struggled to get up. The problem was that he stood up with his front legs and the rear stayed down. Bovine stand up rear legs first. This was not a good sign. He pushed with his powerful rear legs, but always got to a point when his well-muscled honches relaxed on the floor. Shining a flashlight we found the problem.

A bull has a very specific purpose in life. The bulls are recognized at a young age for demonstrating characteristics that could improve a herd of cattle. His genes pass through the herd to create better and larger quantities of beef for sale.

In his slumber the bull must have kicked the bedding away from underneath his rear end. His testicles rested unprotected from the frosted metal of the trailer. The skin was now glued to the metal like a kids tongue to a school yard flag pole. With empathy for the poor fella, we separated his main tool for him to fulfill his purpose in life from the trailer. An agonizing, yet sincere look of gratitude escaped his eyes as he stood tall. Now released from the clench of Mother Nature and the man-made steel trailer.

The evidence of this event was easy for the show ring judge to notice. The once healthy pink skin was blackened in an area the size of three silver dollars. A crowd of spectators dotted the stadium seats. With his microphone turned off, I watched from the sideline as the judge questioned my dad about the bulls condition. An obvious cringe came across the male judge’s face as he turned on the microphone in his hand, raised it to his mouth and addressed the crowd. They soon shared in the judges cringe.

The judge finished with, “This is an incredible example for the breed. He surely would have scored better than my placement in fourth had he not survived a bit marred and unlikely to spread his genetic strengths on in a breeding program.”

Our dreams and the reason for this entire adventure squashed with a fourth place bull. Perhaps we should have written the judge when that bull went home to breed 150 cows that summer.

Again my father and I are leaving on an adventure and this time, in the warmth of May and without hauling hooves. Along with my wife, Monica, we’ll ride BMW R 1200 GS motorcycles along the length of the Pacific Coast Highway.

Hopefully, nothing will get stuck to cold metal on this trip.

In the days to come, I’ll share the ride and our experiences along the Pacific Coast Highway.