| Golden State 400 October,2001 |
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Kevin narrates the fun and excitement . . . |
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| Friday night the garage
looked like a panic zone, stuff everywhere. "All I have to do is jump on Old Reliable and go" . . . wrong. Couldn't decide what to put in the tank bag, the four pack of Guinness, or tools. Then an insulated bag was spied among my tools and then the plan was to put the Guinness in the insulated bag with blue ice packs, then wrap that in paper and put that in plastic. Works for me. I did manage to cram a change of clothes and the necessary toiletries; after all I was rooming with Joe and I'd have to take a shower. The pockets on the side were filled with batteries, a bottle of water, the digital camera and a couple of very old cigars. You got to get your priorities straight. The Video camera had been mounted since the night before. Looking at it I decided that it needed a little more securing. The tri pod mount that was added to the bracket was secure enough but the thumbwheel that attaches the camera to it looked like it could vibrate loose, so a zip tie was added to keep it from completely falling off i.e., hitting the ground at 0 plus mph. Frank had so generously allowed me to mount it up and returning it in a million pieces wasn't my idea of gratitude. I was ready and couldn't go to sleep; and just like a kid on Christmas morning I was up before Santa slid down the chimney. Shower, clothes, helmet, gloves, feed the animals. Pace back and forth. "Gotta be at Joes by 7 and can't be late". Sandra was up as well, she was excited about painting the house and was gathering her stuff together. Since I wasn't going to be around to make a production out of things, she could actually get something done. I still had to get money and gas and headed out the door. After hitting the ATM the gas station was in order. I fed a 20 into the machine, filled the tank and hit the freeway forgetting my change. Figured that cost me five bucks a gallon. A block away from Joes I stopped to adjust the Video Camera so it was pointing in the right direction. It would not have been good to have a video of the street. It was dead, no lights or anything. Ok, head up the street into Joes driveway. Joe appears on the balcony in his bath robe. "Your an hour early" "Huh" says I? I guess I underestimated the time it would take me to get money and gas... He waves a coffee cup and says "Come on up" and disappears. I first want to change the batteries in the video camera, and soon discover that the main power switch was off. I put my helmet back on and ride down the street and turn around to document my "arrival" at Joes. With that done I wander upstairs to the kitchen and help myself to coffee and cake. Ellen appears "your early" I apologize and wish her good morning, and thank her for the delicious chocolate bundt cake. Soon enough Joe has his gear on, we wish Ellen goodbye and go down to the garage. After a brief conversation with the neighbor Were Off! It's a bit hazy, but getting lighter and there's still a little chill in the air. Perfect for riding. The 15 is as busy as any non rush hour moment and cars hurry around us. I bet there not going on a trip. The drivers got their Saturday morning go to work scowls on. We putt along (Joe goes da da da dada, I ringg dinng dingg) and soon Escondido and the Wagon Wheel is upon us. A couple of bikes, Norton, Honda and Ducati and many cars are there. The Jaguar contingent is well represented with an XK140, XKE and a few XJS models. MGs and a Nash Metropolitan as well as a Shelby Cobra decorate the parking lot. Hydrocarbons perfume the air with a hint of race gas if not, certainly high test. Several other bikes arrive. Norton, Triumph, Harley Davidson, Moto Guzzi and Kawasaki. What a mixed bag, this is sure to be a great time. The waitresses finish us off in no time as the locals are looking a bit worried. What are all these motorheads doing here? The car people, a they were referred to left sporadically, and all of us biker types left together. For a bunch of individuals we sure do stick together. I try to shoot all the action shots I can. Bikes streaming by an me passing the group. I stop ahead and get the group in a turn. This is a blast. After the straights and sweepers of the frontage road and 395 Lilac road is the first main turn. Twisties abound as we head toward Bonsall. At River road and the Mission toad area there's some confusing directions. Is it .06 miles or 6 miles. Stay on Old River road? At last a look at a real map and were off, as well as a few classic cars streaming by...Two lanes each way full of cars we motored up to Fallbrook. Pico turned into De Luz road and the countryside turned rural. Up and down left and right. Up and left right and down. What a pleasurable ride as well as a lot of shifting and clutching! Sure to test your riding technique. I hit the record button on the camera whenever I could think about it. I was pretty busy. Shaded tree roads and bright sunshine hilltops. Avocados and the smell of various farm types filled the air. Temecula appeared below on the left and then in front as we dropped into the Valley. A brief respite in the middle old town Temecula was refreshing. A sunfilled touristy kind of day. People shopping and talking. Sunday drivers in their cars and hotrods, even some kind of trike with a trailer and a Batman theme with a bubble machine paraded down the street. What kind of combination is That? It takes all kinds to make a Temecula. Some refreshments were in order and the gang chewed the fat with the car types for a while. Gas up and go, a few of up got separated but we came together and made for 79 to Route 3. Temecula behind and Hemet ahead, Sunshine everywhere. I have never seen a countryside so dry, but beautiful. The roads through Sage were as twisty and narrow as any. It looked as it needed a bit of maintenance as well. Bits of blacktop had broken out of the middle of the road and kept your attention piqued. Sand and loose dirt in the corners and across the areas where the road crossed the washes. Windblown and treeless the area was brown. If not for seasonal rain this countryside would be desolate. We passed by the Sage Volunteer Fire Department. If you didn't see the sign you'd of thought that this was a fire truck and ambulance wrecking yard. No order to be seen. It was as if someone just parked them here and there on a hillside and started picking them apart, like a buzzard would carrion. The scenery flatten out a bit and Hemet stretched out ahead. Stoplights and stop signs were a sure sign of civilization, but still rural in flavor. A right on 74 put us through Downtown Hemet. The epitome of any midsize town in the USA. Signs like "Save Our Hospital" and closed down stores, and then big new hardware stores gave the flavor of life here. There was a slow pace here and a hurried bustle there, but soon we were headed to what makes the area beautiful the magnificent forests and hills. The Alpine scenery was upon us with the constant slow sweepers as we gained elevation. Live oaks turned to pines as we crested and went toward the Desert. At the crest the Joe pulled off for a "Kodak Moment". Some of the car types went by as we snapped a few photos. I got a good video clip of the Shelby Cobra rumbling by with it's throaty V-8 and it's tuned everything. On down over the crest an Alpine valley stretched out before us. Miles of straights and pastures, and a few narrow bridges. Still brown from the lack of rain made the few green patches of grass and trees that much more beautiful. Before we knew it the lunch stop was right there...stop now! It was already close to 1pm and I could see if we didn't keep up the pace we'd be at the Barbara Worth until after dark. Lunch was leisurely and good. The conversations went from cars and bikes to jokes to Afganistan and back to bikes and cars. The "Car People left" first which sent the invisible signal through the motorcyclists. It had been getting cooler so I put the liner in my jacket that I had removed in Temecula. We were off, Down through the high desert in long sweepers and some twisties led to switchbacks above the desert. The Scenery below was incredible. Stark mountains and huge patchworks of green separated by arid landscapes. The sage and fragrances turned to warm dry air and that liner I'd put in my jacket was now too warm. Pulling the zipper halfway down brought a cooling effect, but also had a lifting effect on my helmet and my chin was constantly in contact with the helmet. I tried to pull on my chinstrap, but I couldn't get a good enough grip on the end to pull it any more snug. I thrust my jaw forward, back with no effect. I zipped up the jacket and that solved that, but then I really started to sweat and heat up. Finally Indian wells arrived and a gas stop. It was only moments before the jacket was off and liner removed. Indian Wells is to say the least upscale. Rolls Royce seemed to be the preferred mode of transportation, and coordinated tennis outfits the secondary mode. But as we motored toward the agricultural centers the middle and poverty stricken class became readily apparent. 111 South was a pain. Stoplight after stoplight came and went. After a while the group got separated by stoplights, but then we got the timing right and hit mostly greens. It wasn't till after Indio when we began to make good time. For the desert it became particularly humid. Canals and farmland produce many different bouquets. Fresh cut hay, cauliflower, fish ponds, and fertilizer scents wafted into the helmet. I bet those Car People missed most of it in their air conditioned environments, well those who had air conditioners. Sometimes it was like having ram jet scents crammed into your sinuses and other times just a hint, but always changing. Occasionally at first you could see between the growth the Salton Sea stretching out southward, and certainly you could smell it. the highway got closer and closer and then it was only feet from the bank. The lazy stretches and turns turned into long straightaway that seemed to reach the horizon. Only the highway following the contour of the sea broke it up. The bikes began to stretch their legs occasionally pinning the throttle on the smooth sections. As I was enjoying the high harmonic pitch of a three cylinder two stroke there was a pop and it changed to an unharmonic low rumble. There was no loss in power, but it came readily apparent that one of my exhaust baffles was hanging about one third the way out. That long high rpm stretch had dried out that oily coke in the exhaust and the baffle screw fell out. There was no shoulder to pull onto. Looking far ahead I saw a shape on the side of the road. It began to take form as we grew near. It was a Honda Goldwing accompanied by Ken holding up a beer. This would be a good place to stop. The foresight of Ron Caudillo having a box of tools and bailing wire was a baffle saver. A pair of needle nose and coil of bailing wire appeared so fast you'd have thought he was on a British bike... but I was the one who needed it. A few pieces of wire and twists of the pliers and I was back in business. The stragglers caught up with us having been separated by the lights in Indian Wells. The group was wandering around in the humid salty air sipping beer and sodas. I pulled out my four pack of Guinness, which had survived quite nice and cool in its insulated pack and distributed them among the willing. We wandered down to the seas edge about 25 yards away and enjoyed the scents of sea air and the hints of fertilizer. There were some dried fish on the shore looking like they had been abandoned by the sea birds. Too salty even for them. A few SUVs came from a Picnic Area? a hundred yards or so south and got on the road towards Mecca. Children and dogs with their noses on the glass studied the eclectic group of riders on their way past. That was enough for us. There was at least 75 miles to go to the Barbara Worth and the sun was about to fall below the mountains. My butt was getting a bit tender at this point and I found that if I slid back on the seat, crouched and brought my knees together a more comfortable position could be had. For the rest of the trip I varied positions like that and made it slightly tolerable. It got dark fast as we sped southward. it also got buggy. gnats came in waves. the first wave caught me unaware and I got a mouth full of salty gnats. Not surprising as they came off the sea and toward my headlight. I tried to get ahead of the pack so I could do a U turn and Video everyone streaming by. Then I lost another baffle. I was so close to Niland, but I pulled over and I had a little spare piece of wire left over I waved people by and a few stopped anyway. We got to the gas station at Niland and I added some more of Ron’s wire. We had been passing the same truck and a bus. Me first cause I was out ahead and had encountered the truck full of mattresses well behind the bus. By the time Chris caught up the truck was right behind the bus. As Chris went to pass the truck pulled right out in front to pass as well, causing Chris to slam on the brakes. Well who do you think was gassing up in Niland. That guy hid in the gas station for at least ten minutes. I felt kind of sorry for him... 13 angry bikers. He apologized and we were on the way again. More bugs and it got darker and darker. There were no street lights and a bit of cloud cover. Joe was suffering from a bit of Dim Flicker and Off, and Ken on the mother ship took the lead. Since the first wave of bugs hit I had pulled the protective cover over the Video camera. I don't know how he knew where to spray, but there was a crop duster busy above and to the right of us. Apparently the wind was drifting southwest and he would swoop to the northeast and let the spray drift over the field. There was a hint of Malathion in the air so I don't think he was spraying the cars with smallpox. I thought this would make a good video clip and just when he swooped I turned it on. Perfect timing, except for the cloth bug protector cover which was over the lens it would have been a good shot. Except for a last minute wrong turn we soon made it to the Barbara Worth. the 'Car People' had arrived long before us and gave us a round of applause. they soon invited us for Champagne in the parking lot, and a round of motorhead trip talk After checking in and "freshening up" we met in the bar. Excellent company and food followed at dinner at 7:30 which was a Prime Rib buffet. After several trips we headed out to the parking lot to enjoy a cigar and a chat before checking in. I was up before dawn, but didn't venture out for a while. Joe stirred about the same time I did and we agreed that the beds were as Joe put it "like sleeping on a stack of magazines". In Ellen’s defense, Joe does snore, well more like a snort now and then. It had rained a bit and the bikes were a little damp. I took a towel. much to the Hotels dismay I’m sure and wiped the bugs off my helmet and leathers. The salt and bug smell brought back instant memories of driving past the Salton Sea. Nothing like sense memory to bring it all back to you. I used another towel to dry off my seat and wipe the bugs from the headlight. I was tempted to wipe the fork tubes as well, but they were a little oily, and that would not come out in the wash. I used an old rag from under the seat for that. Breakfast at the hotel was very good, but service was soo sssllloooowww. The French press coffee was very tasty, but you could only get a cup about every half hour. We had a seat outside and they were setting up for a golf tournament from SDSU. I was hoping for some co eds to be walking around, but alas there were none. It was once again Riding Time! Bikes were gassed up the night before and as usual on this trip the Car People got away before we did. Mike had a great suggestion to modify the initial route to keep us away from Downtown El Centro. More long and straight roads divided by farm land separated by a jog left right now and then till we gassed up in Westmoreland. For whatever harebrained notion I had I thought everyone was ready to leave and I headed out with about 6 bikes. I thought we hadn't hit 78 yet so I proceeded North. A beautiful road ensued with a few jogs and then a big right sweeper that continued east toward the horizon. Thinking that we were going toward 86 I continued, but then as I was deciding to stop and check the map, Pierre zoomed up along side saying something about Joes bike. A U turn ensued and we powered it back to where Joe was off to the side of the road. Beer thirty was declared as Joie explained what went wrong. He had been having an occasional power problem then he heard a huge bang and the motor stopped. He thought the worst, but when stopped the bike had compression with no clanking or other dangerous noises. Gas was ok, then Ron proclaimed, “your light's not on". A fuse was suspect and then a battery wire was found to be melted. Joe surmised that he had pinched it with the oil cap. A replacement was fabricated in short order and Joes bike was kicked to life. During the repair Chris pulled out his map and showed me the error of my ways. We were headed for Calipatria; the opposite side of the Salton Sea where we were supposed to be. When we had stopped for gas we were already on the correct road. Back we went and 20 miles later we were back on track going up the west side of the Sea. More long desert highways, but this time the wind was blowing from the mountains to the sea and we got desert smell instead of Sea smell. There was a bit of moisture in the air leftover from the T storms. this was a four lane road so we shared it with the desert rats coming back from the dunes. Their trucks and trailers hauling all sorts of machinery from tiny three wheelers to the most tricked out sand rails. Some with only a sleeping bag and a cooler to full on forty foot motor homes. All had the same look, that look of 'back to work tomorrow and I'm beat from powering over the desert". Salton city approached and that meant the left on S22 to Borrego. What a fun road. Except for the first half mile which has more whoop de doos than the back side of a moto cross course. After the initial half mile standing up ride the road opened up with sweepers galore. Loong straights were finished with perfectly banked sweeping turns that begged to be exploited. there were only three cars in a 27 mile stretch. We were zooming and passing, swaying and braking slightly; constantly setting up for the next set of turns. Next thing it was all over too soon, but time to relax a Christmas Circle. The refreshment wagon arrived right on time. At this point the group decided to take different routes, although everyone agreed that the girl riding the bicycle up the street in spandex and calf high horse riding boots looked a little out of place. She did stop and give Pierre’s MotoGuzzi the once over, must have been that sexy Italian look. Gene, Ken, Ron and Barbara decided to go south and go up Banner grade and then over to 8 while the rest of us decided to go up Montezuma grade. Pierre was going to do Mount Palomar (where did he get the energy?) the rest of us were going to follow the route and at least have lunch at the Lazy H. Jim and Mike left town first, followed by Joe, Chris, Pierre and I. Halfway up the grade Pierre pulled away on his torque monster never to be seen again presumably to hit Palomar. The "Glass Elevator" as Montezuma grade is called by some is always a pleasure to ride up or down. the vistas are incredible. Sheer drop offs of two to three thousand feet break away from the road just past the guard rail. Exhilarating! On top is purported to be the coldest place in the county, Ranchita, and it didn't disappoint either. Of all the rain we didn't see on the trip it had to sprinkle and be cold there. It is a straight road out of there so it didn't last long and we made the right on S-2 toward 79 and Lake Hodges. the air was still cool and moist and the Suzuki responded. We hit the power and diced back and forth. I pinned the throttle like never before and it stretched it's legs. After a good long I backed off and immediately the power collapses to nothing. I switched to reserve thinking the main got plugged. I hit the kill switch and it really died. turning it back on it started to rumble and kicked back to life. I had run it so hard that I had drained the float bowls. Very quickly we were at the intersection of S-2 and 79 with a very sorry sight. Mike and Jim were off the road accompanied by two CHP's. I was going to turn on the video camera, but I had covered the lens during the sprinkle in Ranchita. I circled them in the dirt parking lot to offer support, but Jim surreptitiously waved us by. I took his advise and motored away at a conservative speed. From then on I thought there'd be a cop on every corner. Following the roll chart we past The Hideout where the requisite 100 or so Harleys were parked, don't they ever really ride those things? Then down the road to the Lazy H for lunch. The Car People were still there! Even though there were now only three of us they gave us a warm welcome. they had only been there for a half an hour. I think they were trying to make us feel good. That little restaurant has real good food at reasonable prices. Great place for a lunch ride. There was still more exciting roads in store. Lunch gave me that second wind and Cole Grade road offered the scenery and twisties to boot. Up and over and through Valley center it went. A right on Lilac and then a left on West Lilac Rd. I thought I'd seen it all that weekend, but that West Lilac road is twistier than a reggae lock of hair. Five and ten mph turns abound over and over again, at last some downward sweepers and toward Old 395 and the end of the Golden State 400. We pulled off and documented on video that we finished the route. What a route it was and our congratulations to the planners for another fantastic Golden State 400! Kevin J. Sisterson 11 2001 |
At the Wagon Wheel
Between Fallbrook & Temecula
Stop in Temecula
South of Hemet
Flying Buffalo
Salton Sea
Hooligans by the Lake
The morning after
Stranded . . . briefly
"Sparky" helps out
Pierre passes the Duc at warp speed
Salton Sea to Borrego Springs
End of the Trail (never over 55mph!)
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