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The Lost Coast
???? The day had finally arrived to ride the Lost Coast.?Immediately upon being stationed back in Northern California I traded in my BMW RT 1100 for a 2008 KLR 650. What better route for an inaugural ride? After many years of "hotel" touring I was transitioning back to my "pack it light, freeze at night" mode of travel. The Usal Road and Lost Coast road conditions were an unknown. The winter months of 2008 had seen a lot of rain on the North Coast near Eureka California?and my research indicated that the roads could be impassable if wet.? Would the KLR be able to conquer what the King's Range and Sinkyone Wilderness threw our way in late March? To hedge my bets I packed two motorcycle tie down straps that could possible double as tow straps. My riding partner for this trip would be a college roommate from 19 years ago. Glenn had called the day prior with a cryptic, "I've bought something that will handle anything the road will throw at us." Cryptic messages are usually never good. Maybe the extra space the straps would take was cheap insurance. designer sunglasses on sale Where we were going Triple A would fear to tread.
Sunday's early morning start was delayed until 3:00 pm due to Easter commitments. The afternoon came and went. I received a call from Glenn that his new mystery machine would not start. Certainly a dark harbinger of things to come. The afternoon ticked by and 5:00 pm turned to 7:00 pm. Glenn limped into Rohnert Park, CA around 8:30 pm, cold, lost but armed with a hearty appetite and an equally hearty and upbeat attitude; definitely the kind of partner? and attitude you need when venturing into the unknown. The said mystery machine came in the form of a 1985 KLR 600! The $800.00 museum piece was a steal until the hard starting bike continued to flood the aftermarket two stroke carburetor and killed the battery (steal was the right term but only time would tell who the victim was). Ever resilient, Glenn fixed the problem that Sunday and forged ahead from Sacramento to Sonoma County. My mom was all too happy to feed the tired road warrior with a home cooked meal. We modified the game plan that night and decided not to ride the Trinity Heritage National Scenic Highway (also known as Hwy 299/3) and the Bigfoot Scenic Byway (Hwy 96) loop out of Eureka. The bikes were prepped and ready despite a little incident with my newly purchased mount.?I realized I shouldn't have procrastinated in purchasing a center stand. While filling the tires earlier in the day the bike fell over as I pushed on the stems with a bit too much vigor. To the KLR's credit, the new plastic radiator shrouds withstood the tip over and the "Bug" (as my daughter calls it) came away with only two minor scratches.
The next morning we headed north on Hwy 101 in the early Northern California chill, the two extremes of the KLR spectrum thumping along in harmony. At 8:30am we decided to pull into Cloverdale and have a quick bite at the local McDonalds. An old ray-ban sunglasses 2012 timer took an interest in our trip and told us how he used to race his Harley Davidson against the British invasion of BSA's back in 1949 but lost to the lighter, faster bikes when it came to cross country racing. Over coffee talk turned to younger days. We shared our experience in the Cavalry (Glenn a pilot in the Air Cav, I a ground scout, and Don a sixteen year old Horse Cavalryman back in 1938). Soon after his horse cavalry days Don was prowling the South China Sea. His new ride was the?USS Snapper, a 1928 era sub that made it out of Manila Harbor prior to the fall of the Philippines. He wished he could join us on our bike trip but his knee replacement was in a few days. Any adventure we would encounter paled to his depth charge experiences during the war. We thanked him for his sacrifices and service to country as we headed northwest.
The bikes made quick work of Hwy 128 to Mendocino as we fell into a smooth pace through the vineyards and redwood trees. At Fort Bragg we attempted to find a dirt route east towards Glenblair and back to 101 in order to shake down our load plans and bikes. We were thwarted by dead ends and gated?access but rewarded by the single lane dirt roads. Doubling back we proceed up Hwy 1 picking up the pace, energized by the crashing waves and redwoods. Passing Rockport we scanned for Hwy 435/Usal Road but were so enamored with this part of Hwy 101 that we were nearly in Leggett before we discovered we had missed our turn. Backtracking we found 431. If it wasn't for the fact that we knew it was at mile marker 90.88 we never would have found it. The start point looked like a private dirt drive. How this used to be a stagecoach route is beyond me. They must have gone through multiple teams given the steep hills and rough conditions. The views gucci sunglasses for men cheap were stunning as we peered down on the Pacific. Accompanying the breathtaking scenery was a chance encounter with a bear cub ambling across the road. Startled by the "Bug's" growl he ran back to mama and we continued our journey. The KLR weren't challenged by the roads and we thought the estimated 3 hrs to reach Shelter Cove was an erroneous estimate. We would soon learn 6 hrs was barely enough. I also discovered that years of "hoteling" had taught me to over pack my Givi top case. The first and only flaw of my KLR became evident when Glenn yelled for me to stop. Rolling down the hill was my Givi and half my KLR luggage rack! The tie down straps were pressed into service sooner than I had expected.
??????????? Soon we encountered the first of many delays. Mud, and lots of it. The KLR's could not make it through the think soup, rear ends spinning out of control and flopping on their sides. Glenn and I ported our gear when necessary and then manhandled our mounts, pushing and cursing the machines through the muck. At the worse point, after we found a bypass to a seemingly impassable portion of the road, Mark from San Jose (in a tricked out Jeep-the only other human encounter on the scenic roadway), destroyed the bypass (for bikes at least) as his Jeep chewed up the ground. Bouncing off a tree he succeeded but erased any notions of turning back. For better or worse we were committed. No further than 200 yards down the Usal Road we were forced to unload the KLR's again and push our mounts as the rider "paddled" along a foot and half wide path. A fall to the right and the bikes would disappear below the murky surface like the USS Snapper did to evade the Japanese warships seeking revenge. A fall to the left and the KLR's would tumble down the cliff face to the Pacific.??? Riding the bikes across the narrow path was too risky as the path itself was muddy and the tires could possibly slip. A few adrenaline filled heartbeats later, the bikes were safely across, loaded and moving at speed. Usal Road might support KTM Adventures and BMW GS's in the dry seasons but in the winter months anything larger than a KLR would be difficult to navigate the numerous mud bogs. The bigger bikes would be exhausting to manhandle through calf high mud. When we finally reached Usal Beach we were rewarded by pristine beaches. The ocean front was all but abandoned and the KLR's proved capable of crossing numerous streams as we explored the beaches. The "Bug" loved the fresh ocean air but the KLR 600 began to show her warts. On the last stretch prior to reaching Shelter Cove the KLR 600 quite running on one of the steepest parts of the route. Glenn rolled his chicken bones and sprinkled blood on the carburetor with no luck. Un-strapping one of the tie down straps from my Givi I hooked it to the 600 and the "Bug" transformed to "El Burro" as I towed the 600 up the hill. A day of many first. A quick dance to the motorcycle gods and the 600 fired up and we were Shelter Cove bound. The night at Shelter Cove was one of the most beautiful I have spent on the Northern California coast. The wind was totally absent and the stars shone brighter than the light in the decommissioned lighthouse. A couple of touches of Kentucky Bourbon made the night complete.