Friday 26th September 2014
Mineral village to Santa Rosa via Chico & Clearlake. Highway 32, I5 & Highway 29.
Well, it's a sad day today, our last day on the road. We have a couple of choices, either make our own way back to Santa Rosa or go with Chris for 1 final day of sight seeing.
I took the former option, my OCD wouldn't allow me to do anything else and I was keen to get the bike back, unloaded & washed. I couldn't have left it till the following morning, then have to get to the bus to the airport.
This was the 1st day on the trip where I'd had to fend for myself & I made a right pigs ear of it. Every other day Chris had suggested decent places to eat en route so today I decided to 'wing it'. The hotel restaurant didn't open until 0900 hrs & I was away before that & was pretty certain I'd find something fairly quickly. The ride into Chico was excellent, lovely views again & the weather was terrific, I was the happiest boy in the warm Californian sun.
A quick fuel stop saw me pulling into the fuel station as Pete & Geoff were just disappearing up the road. Chico looked to be relatively large so I by-passed it, I was used to privately run cafes in smaller towns and National Chain restaurants didn't appeal to me any more.
I was on the I5 in no time. Bugger. Okay I'll see what options the roadside advertising hoardings offer me. Not much other than National Chains again. Double bugger. So I kept going to the turn off for Highway 29. There's bound to be something along here & bingo! I was right, there was - as soon as I turned off the Interstate. Result.
Arse. It's just a fecking petrol station & the 'Great Hot Food' I'd seen advertised was in fact microwave fare, the type of which you can get anywhere.
I could have retraced my steps & gone into the small town of Williams which was no more than 3 miles away but oh no, I knew better than that. So I rode on. Within a few more miles there was finally a family run restaurant where I could get something decent to eat, it looked pretty quiet but that's not so unusual after all it was mid morning and I was on an empty road. I pulled into the car park ready for my final Road Trip feast congratulating myself on my excellent Adventurer skills. Closed. Not just closed, but closed, closed, as in shut down & derelict closed. Where's Chris when you need him?
I had no choice now other than carrying on. I know America has areas of vast desert but none of them can possibly compare with this. In 3 weeks I've never seen such a wilderness of refreshment.
Hang on though, what's this. There's a place at the junction for Clearlake, it's set off the road, up a small track but it's definitely A) A restaurant & B) Open. Sorted. Pah, who needs Bilco? Not me, not 'Will of the Wild', oh no. Follow me chaps, I'll see you right. I entered the restaurant with a slight swagger, chest puffed out. "Can I help you sir?" asked the lady at the door. "You sure can, I'd like a table for one, some English Muffins, coffee & a glass of your finest orange juice please". A quick look round as I was giving my confident reply showed that I had done rather well. This was a plush place and I had it to myself. No other diners and just the one 'waitress'. Oh yes, I will do well here.
"I'm sorry sir, we're not open yet. And we're a private members club". Talk about bursting my balloon.
So Clearlake it was. Clearlake sounds lovely but trust me it's not. With all due respect to the people of Clearlake it's a dump. As I rode through there was a dearth of cafes but eventually I found this place, which was the polar opposite of everything around it. It was clean, modern & warm a real gem of a place.
The old girl in charge was fabulous. She clearly knew everyone else in the restaurant & despite having 1 leg noticeably shorter than the other she was tearing about like a woman possessed. There was no way anyone was leaving without saying goodbye to her & if you were a bloke a big hug was the minimum expectation, more often than not she required a peck on the cheek before letting you out. Once again I ordered my staple fare of English Muffins, Kwaffee & Orange Juice. Once again the muffins & coffee arrived, once again the orange juice didn't (this happened quite a few times on the trip so I'd come to expect it by now). As I was tucking into my muffins the owner came over "How was your orange juice?". "Oh it hasn't actually arrived yet.". "I know!" she laughed, "That's why I asked!". She was terribly apologetic & wobbled off to fetch it for me. As she put it down she leant close & apologised again "Would you like some champagne to go with that, compliments of the house by way of an apology?" she whispered. "I'd love to but I'm afraid I'm on the motorbike" I said - pointing at the bike jacket & crash helmet on the seat beside me. "I KNOW" she guffawed, "That's why I asked!".
She was lovely, a real character & an absolute star.
The ride back to Santa Rosa took in some more fantastic roads but I got stuck behind a lorry doing 15 miles an hour UP every hill & 115 mph DOWN every hill. No worries, I'd got this far round without getting a tug on the ear from Plod I wasn't going to risk anything now. Unlike Glyn who got pulled over for speeding less than 20 miles from Santa Rosa on the same road.
He got away with it though as it turned out the copper had just used the 'speeding' thing as an excuse to stop him, he was actually intrigued by the Glyn's no. plate & wanted to know more. Once he'd established it was a British plate he entered into conversation with Glyn & Sandra. He recognised their accent as Scottish & regaled them with stories of his Scottish ancestory. All well & good but Glyn's more Yorkshire than Yorkshire Tea & Geoffrey Boycott. 'Appen.
As I rolled back into Santa Rosa BMW the welcoming committee was out.
These are 2 American Pit Bulls owned by the people at BMW Santa Rosa & they are just the loveliest dogs. The grey one is the smaller of the 2 but she doesn't half dominate the other poor dog who's half as big again.
One by one the others who's decided to make their own way back rolled in
Mark & Jo.
Tony & Sue
Dean
Glyn
Pete & Geoff
and Andy
The dealership owner kindly took us to our hotel in his minibus but as we were arriving the weather gave way & the heavens opened; I was immediately winged back to the ride from Bend to Crater Lake.
The others, who had gone with Chris had been caught in a few showers during the course of the day but I'm not sure if they managed to avoid this particular downpour.
The hotel was lovely, on another occasion I could happily stay here for a few days.
Out of the window there was a rainbow. I gather this is an unusual event around here, I overheard one local telling her friend that she'd lived in California for 45 years & this was the 1st one she'd seen.
It seemed entirely appropriate though. 3 weeks ago I'd started the trip under a cloud of gloom & after 5,300 miles of utter bliss I'd arrived at the end of the rainbow.
We all, bar Geoff, had a meal at a steak house up the road (ribs for me though this time, huzzahs!) where we joined by Chris' cousin James. He's a top kid. It was a good way to end the trip. I was sitting with Sandra & Glyn which was just a delight. The conversation centreing on Glyn's choice of main course was pure comedy & reminded me of what I was going home to tomorrow & how lucky I was to be doing so. Sandra & Sarah, seperated at birth.
Just as I was nodding off back at my hotel room I heard a familiar voice shouting 'Oh fcuk it' followed by a loud splash. There were 3 people in the pool. I have names & I have photos, but I will say no more...........
Most motels are now very biker friendly as we are the guys keeping them in business.
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