Holy Crap!!! and my ride from Arcata to Sacramento (Day 34)

Thursday was riding day.  I'd been bedding up in Arcata for about 5 days and it was time to plan my decent on Sonora by the weekend, and I still had people to see in Sacramento and Tahoe.  The morning fog was upon me in the Arcata bubble, but it was hot and warm 15 miles south and through an enduring freeze, I just had to shoot for it.  I stopped in Eureka at a quaint little coffee shop called World Cup  to say hi to Josh and get some advice about a business in Arcata that I was lookin at.  So after a little visit and an earfull of good advice, I started looking at the time and I really had to roll.  I still had 5 hours easy ahead of me.  I made it out of the Arcata bubble, and into the sunny hot rewarding southern Humboldt weather.  This next two hours of
road is treacherous, speed treacherous, cause cops like to hide all over the shoulder shadows on this strip of 101 between Eureka and Ukiah, so it really pays to know the road and be able to watch the road way up ahead so you can get the spot on them way before their radar is effective.  This technique helps me a lot when I'm trying to make real time on a fun route.  [Riding tip: when you see a cop way up ahead just naturally slow by letting off the gas.  Hand and foot breaking is too obvious
that you're trying to slow down.  That's why its important to get the bead on a cop before they get one on you.]  Aside from the cop warnings the ride is fun.  It has large turns and winds you along picturesque views of the Eel River.   There are many places along this route where you can pull over and park to make your way down to enjoyably serene swim spots, deep pools, work on that tan, cast a line, and challenge your professional photographing abilities like I do via my phone cam. 
Not far down my route, maybe an hour in, "SMACK, CRACK" right between my eyes crashed something the size of either a giant Green Scarab Beetle or a Bumble Bee, which immediately following took me to thoughts of swollen eyes, sitting on the side of the road, picking shells and stingers out of my face.  Well none of those things happened, but my face was stinging for the next few hours easy.

One of the things I always look forward to are the dollar tacos in Garberville.  Yep, I always stop at the Chevron and go in to order a plate of 5 dollar steak tacos at the Aztec Grill inside.  Mmmmmmm!!!

A biker couple that I'd passed heading south, ended up catching up with me at the gas station, and we chatted it up for a few and shared travel stories.  After a few laughs and route sharing we bid our adieus and I rolled out.  From the 101 south, I jumped on the 20 east toward Clear Lake.  I had some traffic, but I wasn't really in too much of a hurry at that point.  I just had that peaceful easy feeling, and so I just...well...rolled with it.  So, there's something about this time of year when Clear Lake is extremely low and the south banks are exposed, bringing out what I figure are months of miserable excrement smell for miles along poor sorry inhabitants of south shore Clear Lake.  This is my warning to those of you out there looking to buy property or vacation on a lake called Clear Lake: avoid effervescing doom on your nostrils and do not buy or visit anywhere near the south shore.  I would have died if I'd stopped anywhere along that route, it was sooo bad.  I now call it Shit Banks.  Realtors obviously don't work during this season. 

The Bird: I escaped Shit Banks, formerly South Shore Clear Lake, and wound my way down the road to the 16, a small two lane country road that takes me through small mexican farmer towns through Guinda, Brooks, Capay, Esparto, and Woodland to the 5.  There is some road work going on so the roads are pretty course like they're in the process of paving the whole county.  It's a really tight crass windy road that takes you past things like Cowboy Camp, a no mans land casino, and surprise surprise...Monsanto.  In case anyone wants the address, just hit me up and I will disclose the location. (bruahahahahahaha, tapping fingers, evil grin)
Well, back to my ride on the 16.  I had come around a few corners, pastures and groves on either side, tree shaded straight-aways, and there was a flock of birds chillin on the hot black tarmack.  When I rolled by they flocked up and in a disorienting escape I found myself in a sloppy group of drunkardly flying birds. One of them hit my knee and then rolled into the cup of my lap.  Flying forward at 60, dazed bird in my lap, it tried to catch the wind, and rolled up into a cradled position between my elbow and upper torso where it paused for a couple seconds.  Realizing I couldn't exactly keep this bird much longer till it starts pecking the living crap outta my arm, I lifted my elbow and it flew away.  That remains to be the coolest thing ever, having a wild bird in my arms, the feel of its feathers on my skin, and an aching knee for the rest of my ride to remind me of how awesome that all was.
My gas light had been on for a long ass time and I wasn't sure if I'd make it to Woodland on the 5.  I pulled over and opened my tank cap and shook/rocked my bike, ear to the tank.  I swear I couldn't even get a trickle of noise outta that thing. So there I was at a shady little gas station where some old ass recycled pumps were making their due.  Not wanting to fill up all the way here, I picked out all the American coins from the pocket full of Canadian funny money that I still had on me.  I was able to muster up a mere 95 cents.  And as I waited for the registrar to count out my pennies, he reached over to the penny jar grabbed 5 pennies and said "one dollar."  I said "thanks man!"  I went and put that generous dollar worth of fuel in my tank and rode on the 10 miles down the road to Woodland where I found cheap gas and a good time to update my hosts as to my arrival.  This is when the trip gets even more interesting..

The Accident:  I was embarking on the 5 behind a line of cars and SUVs.  about 3 cars up there was a car that had kinda kicked up a brief amount of dirt on the shoulder but then rejoined the procession.  I didn't feel too good about the scene, even though it seemed as though the cars were all in control.  The SUV's and cars moved forward for a sec, moving into the left lane quickly and some still following the erratic car.  Well, I had slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, cause my gut just told me to do it.  There I was watching the cars move around and make evident a small sporty car, which had swerved again, and as I watched it all unleash before my eyes a few yards away, the car had somehow jacked it's wheels and flipped into a power pole, causing it to come crashing down in the roadway as the car then flopped smokily down into the embankment.  First thing that came to my mind was "WTF was that!!! OMG!  I almost died!"  Second thing that came to mind was "Go rescue that person."  One SUV and another car had pulled over immediately on the shoulder in front of the scene and a guy ran out and down the embankment.  Then in the median to the left, there were two road worker trucks who luckily were on the scene.  They flipped their lights and backed up to the location.  Realizing that everything was under control and all the proper responders were on their way, I reentered the roadway, rode around the downed power pole through the commotion and onto Sacramento replaying what I'd just seen in disbelief and narrowly missing my own death.

Sacramento: 20 something miles later, I arrive safely to the ghettos of Sacramento.  I was greeted by a very nice, yet awkwardly jittery landlord, who shared her tall can with me as we sat on the stoop waiting for my friends Michaela and Jeremy to get home.  We played neighborhood watch/commentary as we watched the hoodlums stroll the streets, yelling at each other, and cars screeching around corners in and out of alley ways without headlights on.

I slept well that night.

The next morning (Friday, Day 35) was a late morning.  But once we were all up and lunch was all guzzled, we rode our bikes over to the Vets club house where we had drinks and a few rounds of pool.  I had also realized that my tail lights were pinched in the on position, rendering me without break lights or turn signals.  So, what a perfect place to work on my bike.  I pulled off my right controls first, undid some rigged tape job and reassembled my right controls, which after that my break lights and signals worked again.  The club house was fun, the kind of place that just feels like home, and, well, it was getting late and I was trying to make Tahoe while the weather was still nice, so I hit the road.
I pulled over for gas in Placerville (aka. Hang Town).  This is historically where the people in the territory used to do all the hangings.  Remind me to never move there.

Tahoe: I got into Tahoe at a good hour of afternoon, to my friend Misty's place.  Misty is a buddy from my college days at Humboldt State, so I just had to come up and visit.  Aching to feed my giant hunger, we headed out for burgers and fries. Then we took a scenic tour of Tahoe.  Tired from the day we decided that some beers and a movie would be perfect, so off we were to the movie store.  She was kind enough to let me pick a movie even though I like romantic comedies and she likes gruesom horror flicks.  So I picked the raddest looking thing that caught my eye, it was called Date Night, with Steve Carrell and Tina Fey.  It was soooo damn funny!!!   I promptly wrote a movie review on my facebook page after watching it.  Yep, I gave it 5 stars.  It was that good.

Saturday Tahoe: Well, the next day the weather was interesting looking.  It felt warm, there were blustery winds, there were part thunder clouds and part beaming sun.  I wasn't in any particular hurry to do anything so I just kicked it around the house.  My buddy had to work, so I was making good use of my creative energies with the musical instruments in the house, which there are many: tambourine, a wooden frog, egg shakers, traveler guitar, full guitar, bongo drum, and I was entertained for hours.  Well, Misty's roommate Lisa ended up coming home and kicking it for a sec.  We talked about books on the shelf, philosophical and spiritual.  Earlier I had started reading a little bit of a book titled "Existentialism", one of my favorite subjects.  We had a little jam session of guitars and rhythm makers and after a while of that she invited me to her moms house for champagne and food.

We got to her moms house early afternoon, and I met her mom and friends, all whom were absolutely lovely.  I ended up sharing my travel stories, and eventually talking guitar theory with one of the guys who was living in San Diego, so we talked about the area and stuff, too.  The bubbly was flowing, and the conversations were rich.  I was in an awesome place with awesome people.  Misty was able to join us just in time for dinner, and when it was time to eat we went out to the back yard and sat next to a gorgeous meadow.  Great conversation ensued.  After we ate, Misty, Lisa, and myself jumped into the meadow with our wine glasses and enjoyed the meadow for all that it had to offer.


On Sunday, Misty and I headed to some hot springs down the 4 out by Markleeville about 45 minutes from Tahoe. (89 to the 4)  I was expecting to sit in a smelly sulfury natural hole in the ground with a few hippies, but it was harnessed into poolside antics and tourist trap allure.  But there's something about people that are drawn to hot springs in general so they usually end up being friendly.  Everyone was chatty and engaging.  Enough was enough.  I took a dip in the cool pool and then went to rinse off in the showers.  On the way back to Tahoe, my buddy Misty was just dying to do some fishing, so we stopped just off the 89/88 junction where she did some casting.  There were a bunch of locals at this spot by this bridge, all fishing for a snag.  The fish just weren't biting.

Day 25: why am I still awake?

4am, 2 David Sedaris albums, 2.5 black cherry Mikes Hard lemonades, flat heat, no breeze, sweats, and now resorting to Fiddler on the Roof for entertainment. Evidently there is a meteor shower that I'm missing due to the coastal overcast. But I've seen stars falling from the sky before, so I feel like I'm not really missing anything except sleep at this point. Wondering if my nighttime drinks and lots of pizza have something to do with my sleeplessness. Good thing I have a short ride tomorrow to Arcata and that I'll be riding at my leisure because I can pull over if I'm tired and chill on a nice lawn with a view. In fact I welcome it.

Today I had a hard time riding away from Portland. There was more reason to stay in Portland than to go, but it was in my head to hit the road and so I tried not to challenge my decision. The 5 was effortless. Time flew. It felt like I hadn't even been on the road at all. The miles seem even more and more effortless to cover now. The more I ride the shorter a long distance seems because I have conquered so many miles. I guess it's the equivalent to how the older you get the shorter a year seems. I've reached that or so it seems today.

Just 5 more days and I will have been on the road for a month. I have acquired many blessed things, and beings, knowledge, direction, decisiveness, courage, love, an owl feather from an angel, a foam cutout revolver, 3 rubber duckies, a high heel magnet, Michelobe patches, some iron cross tail lights, a Jack of Clubs prison card, a new front tire, I lost a shirt and gained a shirt, I gained the presence and experience of new people, enlightened people, freed people, and I'm growing exponentially by my experiences. I shall never stop until I've completed my lifes journey whenever and however that may be. Until then, be with me, go with me, let me enjoy you and you enjoy me. No regrets. Explore. Be. Challenge yourself, your knowledge, your abilities, your perspectives. Have fun. Love and be loved.

Birthday trip days 7 to 19 and a whole lot of catching up to do.

I left Coquille, Oregon on a clear sunny well rested morning. The towns folk were just starting to churn, and the cops weren't even thinking of putting those donuts and coffee down. So I figured why not beat em to the terrain. I made a couple figure 8's through the cozy streets of downtown then hit the main road out of town and headed east into the sunrise. He road was well maintained and the curves were sweeping and fast. I ended up having company with another rider that I'd caught up with, and so we took turns passing the slowpokes and racing each other down the straightaways. The route took me from the coastal countryside through Oregons forested highs and along picturesque streams. Where's my fly rod when I need it? I thought I was going to make some real time through the mountain to the 5, but there was some construction happening and so I ended up stuck in a little traffic and adding time to my trip. At my last long line of road work delays, amidst all the jealous glares and car honks, I shot up the right side of all those cars and trucks to the flourescent orange vested woman in front holding the stop/slow sign to asked her how much further the 5 was. She kindly told me how much further my route change was and switched on the green light to move, and I sped off to clear the 2 miles I had left to go until highway 5 where I figured I'd make up the trip time I'd lost over that last hour and a half from Coquille. I was now on the 5 and nothing was going to slow me down except fillups and suicidal bugs that meet my progress with futile resistance. The more inland 5 provided me with a pleasant skin melting heat town after sleeveless town, all which was contrary to the coastal 101 the day before which forced me to put on all the layers I'd packed and get creative with hot food like taco bell burritos on my face and drinking fire sauce. I gladly thanked the sun for making me pull over for things like icy beverages to quench the delightful swelter.
Portland was soon in my sights. 5 hours and a couple of smokeys on the sidelines gave me some close calls. Good thing my cop watch was in full effect cause I was fortunate enough to eliminate some potential hazards.


When I pulled into Portland my first stop was my buddy Kearys shop on 11th and Sandy on the east side. I rolled up on the sidewalk took my hat off and cruised in to get my first glimpse of the place. I was greeted by a lovely store gal who was aware of my expected arrival and told me Keary had just stepped out for food and would be right back. Upon realizing that this could possibly take days I called up my friend Nicole, wanting to make the most of all gaps in social opportunities and thus swiftly proceeded to her place. After all I figured it would be most important to connect with her as soon as possible upon my arrival since it was planned that I'd be spending the next few nights of my visit at hers. We ran off to some surplus and adventure stores to look for some rock-climbing shoes, and then we ran over to Kearys shop cause I wanted him to meet my friend. When we rolled up on the bike there were a bunch of people, drinks in hand, food, a good spirits going around. We hung partied out on the corner for a few hours and then Nicole and I ran off to go party at some ladies event down the street in the industrial district on the east side.
The night was nice. The place had a few neat nooks and crannies and what felt like a dark pirate balcony. I recall funky go-go dancers, lots of girls, a bathroom photoshoot and celebrating my birthday trip arrival in Portland.   After we shut the club down we headed for the infamous food courts where the food is expensive, cooked in trailers, and surrounded by late night suppliers of demand. I ate a hand held peach cobbler hot pocket thingy. Sure it was good, tart, and came highly recommended by Nicole. "Gobble gobble" went the food court patrons and soon the beer stopped flowing, the grills stopped sizzling, and the hatches on the sheds were battened. So the full-bellied roaches scattered into the night. Oh might I add that my rear light cover had fallen off in the road somewhere between the club and the food court and our friends following us were clever enough to have seen it fall off and picked it up which upon return we taped the light housing back on the molds with good old scotch tape, which is still there and working its tackily aesthetic charm.

Sauvie: My third day in town I went to a nude beach on Sauvie Island with Nicole. It was a beautiful country drive from pdx through peninsula countryside farmland. When we reached the gravel road to the beach I slowed down a bit to save my weary front tire from all the rocky abuse. A biker on the side waved us down and asked us for tools. Not only was this dude riding a giant bagger, but he had absolute no tools on him. I kinda gave him a friendly lecture on the importance of carrying tools and proceeded to wrench away on his bike to help him get to a set of keys that had fallen deep into the chassis of the bike. After a few cuts and sweat beads a key was retrieved, and so we headed on down the gravely road to our skinnying delights. Once parked and geared up and on the swampy wooded trail between the road and beach I stopped to shoot a photo which quickly proved itself to be a disasterous idea. Within seconds I was swarmed by mosquitos. I had no idea how bad it would be. I threw my camera in my pocket and started running down the trail which to no avail the mosquitos were relentless. Was I infact the first blood pumping creature this desolate island had seen in ages? The mosquitos sure acted like it. I even made it out of the woods and 50 yards to the beach, into the water, in the sun, and they were still swarming my body. I was appalled. At some point the vampires had melted in the sun and we were able to go on with our plan of nude public awakenings. The beach had lovely white sands and delicate trees creating a small tree line of privacy and shade. We got to behold the filming of some amature vixen superhero brawl in the waters off the shore not far from where we were camped. Very interesting indeed. That's going to be some editing job. Not moments after my clothes disembark my being, we spot and are spotted by some friendly fire. A nearby trio of nice looking gals made their way over to make acquaintances. Life long friendships is more like it, cause little did I know at that moment that we'd be all rafting a river together two days later. Behold the power of social connectedness. Well the day wore on and the sun cooled down so it was time to pack up and head home.  We had dinner plans that we needed to make by 8:30. We got suited up and armored on to beat the wooded trenches of the vampire zombie death swarms. We headed in. Poor Nicole was getting dive bombed and bullied by 20 easy. Even after we emerged from the thicket they swarmed us all the way to the moto, and relentless to get a suckle of blood. As Nicole kept up the squaking chicken arm flailing dance, I started the bike, and let it idle while I helped swat death and get Nicole suited for the ride. It was teamwork to say the least. I rode by and she jumped on just like in the movies where the desperate couple escapes the zombies, someone drives by and without stopping the other one jumpes on and they ride off safely into the sunset. "Phew" (wipes brow in exasperated manner). That night we dined at a 5 star restaurant called "A Cena" which means 'come to dinner' or 'come eat'. The food was exquisitely gourmet. The atmosphere of the sidewalk table, candle lit, warm Portland night was just epic. Savoring every bite and enjoying every bit of my company and conversation, the day had been perfect. So when dinner was all said and done, every plate licked clean, to top off an already beautiful and funfilled day, we decide to dine our bodies on some moonlighting at the city park pool with a couple dozen other pdx locals all looking to vet the midnight craziness after hours. Tecate in hand, clothes in the other I approached the warm waters and got in. The pool was full of fun people of all ages all there to have a little late night trespassing fun. We met some sweet people and shared some laughs. About an hour into the splashing around, a park truck came around and kindly asked us to move along. We gladly put on our wares and planned our next assault on the city...the strip club. Mobbing to the end of town to a gravel parkinglot on a corner block under the interstate we roll up to a patron getting escorted out. Always fun. Once inside we watched some neat dancing, had a few rounds, and made nice with the ladies. After a few hours of that we sobered and saddled up to head back to Nicoles for movies on the big screen and a slumber party.

Shooting rapids on a pool floatie: Wednesday in Portland proved quite an adventure. Per the request and acceptance on my part to meet Tina (one of the girls from the nude beach two days before) at 9:30 am to go rafting down a river all day, I set my alarm for 8, debated calling in sick, then decided to just suck it up and go anyway. Enroute to the meeting spot I rode to southern pdx out by Milwaukie, or, no...wait...even further down in BFE southern pdx, where I found a Dollar Bell (breakfast) and took it to a house where I met up with 4 new peeps, jumped in a car, and rolled 30 minutes out to a leg of the Clackamas river. Note that it was overcast when I woke up and still hadn't cleared by the time we arrived at the river, and we were still going to get in the water, freezing and the whole shebang. Sucking it up we did. Rafts looped together, life vest on, we began the float. Equipped with a semi-pro inflatable kayak, an inflatable dingy, a ski innertube, and my floatie: the recliner pool floatie complete with arm rests, back rest, and no sidewalls for protection. Needless to say I was handed the life vest.
Floating the smooth green waters and bobbing along the rapids we made our way down 4 hours of the Clackamas river, pulling over for important things like rock jumping, rope swinging, and flashing other patrons of the river route. Oh what a day. When we got back to the house Tina jumped on my bike, Courney drove the pace car, and led us to a delicious burrito spot up on Harrison St. In fact I'm starving just thinking of it. That afternoon after Tina and Courtney jumped in the car and headed back south, I continued north to visit my Couch St. fam for some family dinner and down time.

Road to Lynden, Washington: So it was time to plan the rest of my route north on my journey to Canada. My friend Stephanie had just contacted me and said she was in Washington along my route so I decided to plod all day from Portland all the way to the tip of Washington, one mile from the Canadian border. The 5 was fast. More epic greenery, pastures, forests, and good weather let me to my last leg off the 5 and throuh some serious farmland to Stephanies girlfriends moms house where she'd been living for about a month now. Bottled up in podunk, I was the first sight of refreshing farmiliar humanity aside from the country folk and a mother in law that she'd seen in a long time. Can you say cabin fever? We had a great little visit my first night, and in the morning she took me to a cute little town where we had the best hashbrown breakfast ever!!! I have got to go back.

What happens in Canada stays in Canada: On the 13th day of my ride I headed up and into the wild green yonder of Canada. I jumped the border at coincidentally Canadian route 13 that typically would have led me up to Canadian Interstate 1 and into Vancouver, but instead I took a side road marked 16 and followed it to the 99 into Vancouver the way my google maps had originally led me from the US 5. I immediately felt like I was in a different country. at this point you might be thinking something along the lines of "duh" but really why must a coue miles immediately feel so much different. The speed markers are in Kilometers per hour so I just followed the other cars until I got the gist of their speed limits. Canada is socialist, and clean, and beautiful, and happy. True story. Everyone is nicer.

The first thing I did was turn my phone off. I wasn't about to be charged foreign rates. I got to Mitch's house about 4 and met the rest ofthe crew. They were going out for a bit so I opted to just stay in and catch up on some Canadian news, while kicking so comfortably back on the couch. After all the local issues I could handle, I took a nap. When I woke and realized I'd be left to my own entertainment for a while longer I decided to head out and down around the pier which takes you to a busy little bay where sail boats and yachts come in and out all day and night. Not long after, the kids got back from a romp around town and we promptly did some cheers to ring in Mitch's birthday. Let the games begin. We were up for a bit but headed to sleep to catch the dyke march early the next day.

In the morning we had a delicious home cooked breakfast (eggs, Canadian hash browns, pancakes, strawberries and blueberries).  Dyke march was about to begin so I jumped on my bike and headed out to the park where I was going to meet up with the crew who had taken a taxi.  I was going to march with them, but I didn't see them so I decided to ride with the other bikers and police escorts for the march. It was slow, and loud, not really my scene. But I did get to ride without my helmet and thats always a personal favorite. We ended up at a nice park in a cute neighborhood. There was a performance stage where different acts and musicians performed all afternoon. There were refreshment and food booths. But I was more concerned with the shady cool spot where we were powowing. I ended up finding my crew after walking around the park with one of the other riders and we found a nice spot to chill and enjoy the day. The day before Stephanie and I had discussed her comin up for the day, she said she'd wear this Asian parisol so I could find her. So after a while of sitting down and park getting packed Mitch said she was going to go walk around, to which I said "hey if you see a tall hot chick wih an Asian parisol ask hermit her name is Stephanie, and if it is bring her back to our spot.". No shitting you, 10 minutes later mitch walks back with Stephanie. Hahahaha. Great the crew was now complete. We found ourselves having an amazing time. Vacuums, mixed drinks, trips to the beer store, dank German beer, climbing of elephant statues, backyard parties, big burgers, and new peeps. The day was great. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sunday I got talked into staying the whole day, and night. Oh how bout add some neat ingredients to the day and you climb walls, get in trucks, jump on the backs of city buses, lose friends in parks, topless cartwheels, climb trellis outside clubs you wait to open, and rubber duckies are a good addition to any party. Then you somehow get home. Monday we woke up and headed out to breakfast and the nude beach next to the university. What a great way to wrap up my adventure in Canada frolicking freely in the foreign surf. I was officially a happy Jack. After the beach Sam and Seth headed off to catch a plane to San Francisco. Meanwhile, I gave Mitch a ride on the moto back to the pad and then I jumped on the 1 and headed down back to my little border jump into Lynden, Washington.

Keep checking in everyday cause I'm adding story as I remember it...and when I have energy to sit on here for hours writing.

Birthdays, bars, parks, bbq's, losing friends in parks.  (hahaha) so let me tell you this:  I will come back and elaborate on this last 7 days of my adventure when I get more time to think, reminisce, and I'm not hungover and underslept.

Just didn't want you to think I had forgotten all about my blog.

But oh, do I have some stories for you so stay tuned.