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.