Dali..... his part in our downfall, well almost

SAN FRANCISCO wow we made it here. How I would love to tell you I was sitting on the dock of the bay watching the tide on this loverly sunny Californian afternoon, but no, I am the Laundromat getting all our clothes washed and dried...... California dreaming is becoming a reality......not.

After we left Oregon and continued our way down the famous route 101 we stayed at a rather seedy set of motels in Arizona beach. Often called ?Mom and Pop? motels these places, past there prime, had obviously flourished once but now seemed a little run down. Saying that, the owners did all the right stuff and said the right things and we where made very welcome.


We settled in. I killed a big black bug on the carpet and that was that. Arizona beach must have been a hot spot at one time or another. It had a gift shop and the old milking shed, all sadly looking as run down as the motel and long deserted by both owners and tourists alike. The beach was lovely and Sandra and I caught some rays. I swam about 20 miles in order to stay in shape though it may have looked to the untrained eye that I paddled up to my shins and ran out the water yelling the Pacific is too bloody cold to swim in.

We decided to eat in town that evening a distance of about 15 miles. The sun was shining and it felt warm so not really any need for layers of cloths. We froze to death that evening on the bike. We may have looked cool (or maybe not) in short sleeves and shorts on the bike, but I could hardly think anymore when we reached the town we were so cold. We found all sorts of old clothes and thermal underwear in the panniers for the trip back and put them all on so looking cool on the way back was out of the question.

We left early the next morning in order to get some miles under our belt. We did 60. A whole days riding and we did 60 miles. Move over Ted Simon the Robinson are the new kings (and Queens) of endurance adventure motorcycling. It has to be said that we have lost a little of our pace at this point. We now stop more ,we look at things more and explore little side roads. This means distance suffers but the adventure is richer for it.

That evening was spent at a a beautiful little camp site by a river. Mainly RVs but a spot for tents too. An open fire and some home (tent) cooking made for a lovely but cold night.

We woke to fog, my God, this coast is a fog magnet. Its everywhere obscuring views and making life on the bike cold. The camp site was on a poor road and it was 16 miles of dense fog and poor single road till we popped back onto 101.

We were heading towards the famous red woods and these did not disappoint. The fog lifted, the sun shone and we made up some time. The red woods and astonishing avenue of the giants is a great biking road with lots of.... well red wood tress everywhere..... it was fantastic.

From route 101 we were planning to take route 1 to Fort Bragg then onto San Francisco. For those of you who ride bikes you will understand this road. You will know you have found one of the greatest motorcycling roads in the world. Enldess, and I mean endless, hairpins left and right tight corners in stunning tree lined soundings. For those of you who don't ride motorcycles I strongly and I mean strongly advise that you start and to get a bike a do this road.........

Now Sandra and I can do one thing well on a bike and thats twisty roads, the perfect pillion Sandra knows exactly what is required. The shed was fully fit after new tyers and new bearings (see last blog) and to be honest we caned the bike. We had unfortunately a couple of bikes in front of us much slower than ourselves but still refused to let us by. I even stopped the bike and waited a few minuets to let them get ahead so we could enjoy the road at our pace. But after a few minuets back on the road we had caught them and they would play there game of not letting us pass. Some careful if not safe action was required to get by and we left them for dead. It is not often we ride like this, we used to in our days of sports bikes in Europe but we both connected with the bike and road and it was incredible. I was absolutely wired by the time we reached Fort Bragg, Sandra was also grinning from ear to ear. I had a new respect for BMW's we had never pushed the shed like that but it handled beautifully.

Pizza and beer and a nights sleep at Fort Bragg saw another cold and foggy morning. Then off to San Francisco, which was about 165 miles away. Now given our recent track record of low millage I had calculated it would take seven weeks to travel this distance. We arrived at the Golden Gate bridge (which was covered........ you've got it, in thick fog) about 3 in the afternoon. The sat nav doing its job and taking us to the cheapest hotel in down. The Heritage Marine Hotel is only one stop away from being a hostel. But it's cheap and to be honest not too bad. The toilet didn't flush, the ceiling fan has a blade missing, the pool is a bustling community of plankton and other life forms but it was going to be home for the next few days as we explored San Francisco.

Now I have been a few times to SF. The last time was over 20 years ago, but it has always been my most favorite city in the world that is until Sandra and I walked down to Fisherman Wharf. What a shock. Not as I remembered it at all. Now I know memory can play tricks on you and time can distort things, but I can never recall fisherman wharf been such a tacky, cheap tat sort of place. I was very disappointed at the endless tat shops, the hard sell camera showrooms and altogether nasty feel.

Disappointed or what?

Anyway thankfully this was not to be the case for the rest of this wonderful city which ended up being much as I remembered it with lots of restaurants and places to eat and drink. We even went to one or two art exhibitions . One really caught my eye after we'd had a few beers (few to many beers as it turned out), a Salvador Dali exhibition. Dali has always been a favorite of mine so visiting the exhibition was a must. A bit the worst for wear after a night out we found ourselves, oddly enough, being talked into buying an original Dali for some astronomical amount of money. We were even left alone in the mood room with our potential new purchase to see (as the exhibit administrator explained) if would get along with it.

Now beer can do odd things to your mind and for a moment, it was just a moment, we felt we could buy this thing and only the advent of common sense and a nover full bladder on my part snapped us out of the Dali madness and we left.

We have done the tourist thing big time here. Alcatraz, cable cars, open top bus tours and clam chowder, its been great and I can gladly report that San Francisco remains in good hands, earthquakes permitting, and I would wholly recommend a visit, but stay away from fisherman wharf and go to Scarborough instead.