The Last Ride.

So here we are at the end. The last ride. As if the universe empathized with my state of mind I woke up to cloudy skies and a forecast of rain. Great. I packed everything in plastic bags and headed out of Kernville expecting to get wet. The sky was grey and you could smell it wanting to rain. It didn't yet though and I pulled off the road at Lake Isabella to hoon around in the dirt a bit for one last time. I considered unloading the bike and really going for it, but I got worried that it'd be stupid to drop it right at the end of the trip, right before I wanna sell it. Also I realized I was being watched by a ranger. I got back onto the road and headed for Bakersfield, which Warren had raved about after he went there with Connie.

The road to Bakersfield was actually pretty cool. Later on Tucker told me there was a better, more twisty and remote one I could have taken. But considering what I was expecting – long straight roads, traffic, and rain – it was all good. The road was full of sweeping bends, there was hardly any traffic, and it didn't rain! I got to Bakersfield and rode around aimlessly for a bit trying to remember what Warren had told me was good about the place. I remembered something about the 'Buck Owens bar' and also a guitar store...

What a bloody goldmine! Front Porch Music in Bakersfield is awesome. Almost like a museum. It was hard on me though as I was on a motorcycle and also very close to totally broke. Hence I didn't actually spend very long there at all... I couldn't handle the temptation. Check out that Sunn stack!!! And just so many guitars. I coulda stayed there all day, but I would've ended up remortgaging the house and buying half the place.

I hit the road pretty quickly, partly because Bakersfield had a bit of a weird vibe, kinda dero', but also because it was really looking like it was gonna piss down. Big black clouds had been following me there and I thought if I took off again I could stay ahead of them...

It sort of spat a little here and there, but I got back to LA without getting wet at all really. When I arrived back at the Tucker compound James and Colleen were just about to tend to their bees, but James had been working on Joe's yellow DR. It looked amazing, like a new bike almost. The engine was spotless. I was amazed. It was funny seeing Joe's bike again, I'd really dug riding on my own but I sorta missed the boys again now.

I now had a week to spend in LA visiting people and doing work related stuff. Half way through the week these two young Norwegian guys showed up (you can follow their trip on ADVRider here) to begin their full year long trip. It kinda sucked watching them getting ready to go as I was only days away from returning to my real life – work, shitty house, terrible weather etc. They were great guys though and we had a good time all hanging out with the Tuckers. The day before we all were about to go our separate ways the Tuckers took us for a ride up into the mountains behind LA and to a great bar/restaurant called Newcombe's. It was an amazing and fast ride up into the mountains, and we were lucky enough to catch the last ten laps of the Spanish MotoGP there too.

We rode back to LA via a bunch of back roads that I can't remember and visited the San Andreas Fault. This seemed an appropriate way for me to end my trip given that I'm returning to a city that was all but destroyed by an earthquake 4 years ago now. Back in Christchurch things are feeling pretty grim to be honest. It's colder than I'd been expecting, work's stressing me out again already, the house needs soooo much work, and my sister's new dog died while I was away. So I set up a new account and put $600 in it towards the next trip... until then, it'll be back to business as usual around here I guess.

Yosemite to Kernville

I got up and left Yosemite National Park as soon as I could. Needless to say I guess, if you read my last post you know I wasn't really digging Yosemite. A shame, because it was beautiful, just too many fucking people, cars, buses, and rangers... who're basically cops. I mean I know they're doing their job, a good job, an important job, but... it's kinda killed it. Well for me it has. I was looking forward to getting the fuck away from the masses again, and today I knew exactly where I was going...

Today I was headed south to re-ride a road we'd done as a group about 4 weeks ago now, but in the other direction (north). That ride had been amazing, a highlight of the trip so far, and I was excited about both the ride and the kinda country I knew I was headed back into.

To cover some ground quickly I took main highways/interstates for a bit. I took the 41 to Fresno, got lost for a bit, went to Starbucks again, and found my way onto the 99 south to Visalia. From Visalia I knew I could find the quaint little back road we'd taken a few weeks back by finding the gas station we'd stopped at on the 198 which would take you up to Sequoia National Park.

I found the gas station, and stopped for water and to take my jacket off. This was the hottest days riding so far. I don't know what the temperature was but it was nuts! Way hotter than anything I'd experienced before. It was sorta uncomfortable but whenever I thought about the weather I'd be heading home to (cold!) I felt good and enjoyed the fuck out of it. We never get to ride in t shirts at home!

I found my road – Yokohl Drive. A beautiful little twisty back road that runs along the foothills of the mountains, past golden grass farms and ranches. My photos above start here, on this road. I was in heaven, and the rest of this day was to be certainly one of the best most memorable rides (probably?) of my life.

I was headed for the Pierpoint Springs cafe/diner in the mountains that we'd stopped at with Nick last time. I took Yokohl Drive to Springville, and then hung a left onto the 190 that takes you up into the mountains. This road – the 190 up to Camp Nelson – is motorcycle gold. A winding up-hill road where the bends are super consistent so you kinda get a feel for them and can just start taking them faster and faster. Dangerous probably. But fucking fun! The DR handles like a dream on these kind of roads. I'm really surprised by it's ability to corner. You can just keep tipping it over, and it's also super forgiving. You go in too fast, hit the brakes, and it just sinks into the shocks and absorbs your mistake, popping you out of the corner right side up! Brilliant!

Anyway, after a great ride up to the diner, I ate a big lunch and congratulated myself for how many miles I'd done already that day by downing a couple of pints of some local beer. I reminded myself when I left to take it easy. I was now headed into the wooded mountains that we'd previously camped in with Nick. There are dirt roads leading off in every direction up here. I chose one at random and decided to just see where it went... it went and went and went, and then ended at what I guess was a sort of free campsite by a massive meadow that just appeared out of nowhere from the forest of big trees. I was stunned by this sight and spent time just looking at it. These meadows amaze me, the way the just appear within these massive forests. I always imagine I'll see a bear cavorting in the sun and grass?

Not having seen any signs of anyone for a long while now I decided I risk leaving the dirt road and heading out onto the meadow. Real naughty I know, but fuck it, after Yosemite I just wanted to get as far away from humanity as I could! I rode the length of the meadow and then up into the trees beyond it. It was easy riding up through the trees and I went for  quite a while like that, eventually stopping and thinking about setting up camp. I was pretty stoked to be really in the wild now, and I sat around for a while and drank another beer. I started to get paranoid though that if I did get busted by a ranger up here I'd be pretty screwed. I also started thinking about mountain lions and bears. I mucked about for ages, unpacked my bike, procrastinated for a bit, and then repacked the bike. I decided to head back to the dirt road and find an actual campground. Especially since I knew there was no one at the campgrounds in this area, it didn't seem like too bad a compromise.

Riding down the mountains now it was evening but I swear it was getting hotter. I'd been riding in a t shirt all day, and it I was sticky and disgusting, so when I came out next to (what I'm guessing was) the Kern River it was too tempting to get off the bike and go for a swim. Even though it was about 7pm I think. I found a great swimming hole – deep! – and jumped in. Man was this a relief! The sweat and dust of the days riding were gone and the cool mountain water made me wake up again. I felt quite rejuvenated, and then sorta just kept riding... past all the campgrounds... to the pub at Kernville. We'd stopped here, at the pub, on the way up too. The beers were good, the food was good, and the locals had seemed kinda cool. I decided I'd do the same – have some food, some beer, and then ride back up and find a campsite. However once at the bar I started yakking to a local girl and drank too much beer. Needless to say I didn't end up camping but crashed at the motels right next door to the pub!

What a fucking day. I hope I remember this one on my death-bed.

Modesto to Yosemite National Park

I got up pretty early and rode quickly into Modesto thinking I'd get breakfast there. Once there though I decided I didn't really like it and that I'd find somewhere nicer and maybe smaller down the road. The downtown area of Modesto was pretty rough... like p-fueled barefoot pit-bull rough. I thought the road I wanted – the road I was already on, the 132 East – would just run through town. It didn't. And somehow I got lost. Again. I asked at gas stations and no one knew anything... again. So ended up at Starbucks on the outskirts of town using the wifi there to get my bearings again. Going to Starbucks or McDonalds to use wifi has become a real bloody habit. I did recently realize though that you can just sit outside and use it! Hence no need to buy anything. Genius!

Anyway I found the 132 again... called 'Yosemite Blvd' would you believe. Did I mention I'm on the way to Yosemite at this point? Yeah well, there you go. The road from Modesto to Waterford is pretty average, but once you're a wee way outta Waterford shit gets pretty good. Then you hit this really small cowboy kinda town called La Grange. It's cool. And then the road gets really really good. It'd also recently been resurfaced. There was hardly any traffic and it just rolls and turns through these beautiful prairie sort of landscapes, all ranches and golden grasses. Beautiful.

The 132 ends at Coulterville, which again is an old town, an old gold-mining town I think. It's mighty cool too and reminded me a lot of the TV show Deadwood. I thought I'd have to take the 49 up to the 120 to get into the Yosemite National Park, but the great lady at the info center in Coulterville pointed me up the hill to the J20, a beautiful little back road that takes you most of the way up and into the park.

After an amazing morning of riding I have to admit it was kind of a bummer to then be on the Yosemite road with all the attendant tourist traffic. I was pretty much wedged between cars for the rest of the ride down into the Yosemite Valley. It's stunning landscape, no doubt, but yeah just endless traffic... and it gets worse when you get into the valley proper. I felt like I was in the middle of LA or something. It seemed a bit nuts, and was certainly a buzz-kill. There's just people, cars, and buses everywhere. And when I stopped to try and take photos without cars in them, rangers would pop out of bushes and offer me stern warnings of infringement notices for parking outside of the official carparks. To be in such a devastatingly amazing landscape and to be so often clouted round the head by bureaucracy seemed amusingly ironic somehow, but was just depressing in the end. I had planned to have lunch at one of the food joints in the valley, but I ended up just wanting to get out of there as fast as I could.

I'd booked and paid for a campsite on my way into the park and I was now regretting it. My campsite was quite a ways from the valley floor though – Wawona – a good hours ride south but still in the park. I went to the Wawona store, bought some overpriced sandwich, and went to the campground to pitch my tent and drink some beer. That'd make me feel better. I was strangely pleased when I got to the campsite to find some people had left because they'd been "harassed" by a mountain lion and her two cubs the night before. Apparently mountain lions will try and get your kids and so some families had bailed. Fair enough I guess. Still there were too many people around for my liking. It reminded me of the night we spent in the campground at Malibu. Way too family oriented and not remote feeling enough. Also, like in Malibu, there were fucking boy scouts there. The scouts themselves I don't mind, but the older guys who're there 'guiding' them have done my head in every time. I can't stand them. They're total do-gooders, and vehemently Christian to boot. They say prayers before meals and that sort of thing and I can't help but feel offended and upset by the obvious brainwashing that's going on with these young kids. I went and drank some 40 ounce cans of beer in the woods and then went to bed listening for the mountain lion to come down into the campsite and kill her some boy scouts.

Wild animals are a real thing here. It's funny 'cause I guess it's just normal to everyone else, but I get a real kick out of it. I often photograph the signs that tell you what to do and what not to do around such animals. We don't have anything in NZ that'll kill you really, so yeah I find the bears, mountain lions, snakes, and whatever really fascinating. I wish you saw more of them actually... but there's more people than wildlife in Yosemite it seems.