I woke this morning with the nagging thoughts from the night prior. I had, quite flippantly, claimed that there is a lack of adequately maintained back roads in California. I drew a comparison to Pennsylvania. You can literally ride all day in Pennsylvania without setting rubber on a 4-lane. It truly is heaven. Well, when I woke, I was determined.
So I set about google maps trying to find side-roads and back-roads in my area. Roads that eventually went somewhere and didn't dead-end or turn into a dirt path. Much to my delight, I found some very good candidate roads. Still couldn't completely avoid 4-lanes. But at least 3/4 of my day would be spent on 2-lane blacktop. Or so I thought.
An aside here. I've got what I call a limited photographic memory. That means, if I stare at something long enough, I got it memorized. It is limited in that sometimes the image fuzzes out in my mind. Really. That's how I remember things. Images. Well, I 'memorized' the route. Missed my first side road. Bummer. Had to ride a ways on Hwy 1 toward Santa Cruz.
But as luck would have it, I noticed a road sign for Elkhorn Slough. I had remembered seeing that on one of the maps. So without any hesitation, I guided my 800 pound cruiser of Hwy 1 and on to adventure.
The first half of the ride was great. I was blasting along a twisting and wriggling canyon road network. Road past fields and farms and the occasional marsh. Saw little towns and ramshackle houses and ramshackle people shuffling about their daily grind. It was heaven, if only for a few minutes.
It seemed like it lasted a minute, but it was closer to an hour. I eventually wound my way out and into Watsonville. Having been here, I didn't slow down or stop for pictures. I just headed for what I had spotted on google maps - a road that wound up the back side of Mt Madonna and on to Gilroy. I could see her, or half of her anyway. The morning on the coast was damp, cool, and low clouds and mist had wrapped themselves around the top of the mountain.
I found the road which would lead me to the top with little difficulty. Quickly I began to realize why google maps didn't highlite this road. In fact, it was completely invisible until you zoomed in quite close. The road itself was just a one lane, if with fairly decent blacktop. Only the occassional frost heave or pot-hole. Thankfully there was a noted lack of gravel in the corners, of which there were many and sharp.
I road on, undaunted, through a thickening forest of towering redwood. The higher I climbed, the more pronounced the mist became until, at times, all scenery except the road was obliterated. Finally, at what I would guess was the 3/4 point up the mountain, I began to see hints of blue sky.
Heaving a sigh of relief in anticipation of warmth and sunlight, I settled into the turns with a vigor. There were no real shoulders on this road. Though with traffic being slight, I found ample opportunities to pull over and snap the occasional photo. At one point, the road ran through a tunnel of redwood. I had to stop and take in the moment. It was quite breathtaking. But I knew I had to press on. My goal was not just the top of the mountain.
According to google, this road lead up and over the mountain and then on into Gilroy. I was looking forward to the downslope. As I crested the summit I came to a stop sign at a convergence of 3 roads. Ahead of me was an unmarked dirt road that, quite obviously, plummetted down the mountain. To the left was a road called summit. To the right, pole line road. I sat for a moment, or two, considering this. The road I was on, Mt Madonna Rd., was supposed to continue on. However, the dirt in front of me was in no way passable as a road for my cruiser. I thought and thought and thought, but unfortunately my 'limited photographic memory' chose that moment to fuzz out. To make matters worse, my trip meter was reading 114 miles. At best, I can get 150 miles before hitting reserve. Then a quick 30 miles and it would be pushing 800lbs up around mountain roads. I was a bit worried.
I turned left onto summit road. About 100 yds later I saw a sign proudly declaring that this was not a through road. Damn. I continued on a bit and was quite surprised to find what could only be described as hippy heaven. I rode past a 'school', and saw the teenage students in the school yard tossing paper airplanes and dancing. I can only assume this was physics class. Or phys ed. Giving up the hopes for a gas station, I pulled a U-turn on this deserted bit of road.
I arrived back at the intersection and pulled over. I took off my gear and walked a bit down the dirt road. The walk didn't do anything to dispel my trepidations about bounding down it on my Nomad. In fact, the entire road had a rather eery and other-worldly feel to it. I didn't take a picture of it, but at the entrance to the dirt road stood the most gnarled and twisted old coniferous tree I'd ever seen. It was hung about with abandoned spider webs and mist blowing up from the valley. From somewhere in the distance a lone crow called out over and over.
I returned to my bike and breathed a bit. At least it was sunny. A few minutes passed and a car, one of the few I saw up there, pulled up. Inside were two teenagers smoking a joint. A small dog peaked around from the backseat. I asked where Pole Line Rd headed to. They didn't know. When asked where I wanted to go, I replied Gilroy. They pointed down the dirt road. That way, they proudly declared. Thanks I said, and waited for them to drive off.
Faced with the unknown before me and little gas, I decided to turn back the way I had come. Not what I wanted to do, but given the circumstances, it was the only choice. I returned home and, after warming myself with some coffee, checked google for Pole Line Rd. Sure enough, it cut across to the main road around Mt Madonna, Hwy 152. Had I gone 5 miles, I would have hit a main artery across the mountain and arrived at my intended destination for the day within 20 minutes. Ah well. Next time maybe. At least I was able to have a bit of adventure.
Till next time.
