January 29, 2010
Drat it-foiled again!
Some of us make lists of things we want to do before we become worm food and I am no different. I don’t call it a bucket list because I don’t intend to kick the proverbial bucket. My plan is to be shot by a jealous husband. In 30 years.
In any case I always wanted to ride the entire coastal highway from San Diego to the top of Washington using my scooter as transportation. I have already covered the part from Pismo Beach, Ca. to Port Angeles, Wa. So I only had that little bit to go from Pismo to San Diego. And I had all day to do it. Success was within reach, or so I thought.
I saddled up and headed south on Hwy1 out of Avila Beach. I passed through Pismo Beach and picked up the scent as it were. It was another Chamber of Commerce type of day along the coast, with the clear skies and the beautiful scenery. I realize now that I did not stop and take a picture the entire day. There are so many photo ops along the coast that your mind convinces you that there will be a better one just down the road. And there is. And I didn’t stop for that one either. Shame on me.
I had a really nice ride to about Malibu which is a lovely town with houses hanging onto the beach seemingly by a fingernail. From that point on the mass of humanity that we call Los Angeles and Long Beach set in. I stuck to hwy 1 where I could but at some point I was more interested in surviving the traffic than accomplishing any goal. I hung in there through Long Beach and fought my way through stop-and-go traffic for what seemed like hours.
Highway 1 eventually turns into Interstate 5 at Dana Point so I got on the dreaded freeway. But suddenly I was doing 75 instead of 5 and that felt pretty good. Well I was doing 75 when I wasn’t stopped. And it was scary. Twice vehicles slightly behind me and in the lane next to me had to smoke their tires to avoid hitting the car in front of them. I thought that So Cal has unusually bad drivers but I now have another theory. I think that when I went by them they got to looking at the Spyder and not the traffic stopping in front of them. I don’t mind that they admire the bike but having them swerve to a panic stop right next to me is not a good feeling. Maybe I am just being vain and they are just bad drivers.
At Carlsbad I should have got off of interstate 5 and got back on the coast highway. It runs parallel to highway 5 and has several names but by this time I was just too exhausted to care. I had been on the bike for just about eight hours with only two stops for fuel. I had only eaten a banana that I had lifted from the breakfast buffet back at the hotel. I had drunk a mouthful of diet coke that had been bouncing around in the trunk since the day before. And the sun was setting. So I missed that little 30 mile section from Carlsbad to San Diego. Maybe I will pick it up on the way home. Maybe I will be shot sooner rather than later. Who knows about these things.
But I checked in to the Palm Island Motel on Shelter Island. I met up with my sister Belle, the Crab Queen, and brother-in-law, Lou. They had come to San Diego by train from Louisiana and were celebrating their 43rd wedding anniversary. Wow! It seems like only yesterday I use to catch them necking in the driveway and now they are all grown up. Awwww.
My kind of view
They were kind enough to buy beer and we had a few while watching the planes and ships go to and fro the Navy base across the water. We then had a good meal at the hotel and told stories. And then I went to bed. Exhausted and defeated in my quest to finish hwy 1.