Day 1: LA to Monterey

Rode: 383 miles
By Dennis

If Jim's posts are the main course then mine are cheese whiz on a Ritz cracker. But at least I can beat him in a programming contest. After pulling out of California Harley at 11 am, we slogged our way through 30 miles of LA traffic--think Archer Road rush hour times 10--northward past (actually underneath) the airport, finally joining the Pacific Coast Highway at the Santa Monica pier. The PCH is an interesting road, especially in Southern California. One minute you're in an urban area that could just as easily be Boca Raton, and then over the next hill you're gazing at wide beaches on the left and jagged cliffs on the right.

After about 100 miles we stopped in a place called Paradise Cove to have some lunch. Looking at the map, I realized it was already after 1 pm and we still had nearly 300 miles to go. Lunch bought, we drove north toward Monterey into an array of fantastic curves. Every biker will tell you he loves the curves, but the problem is they slow you down. I know all you sport bike guys are laughing, but these are not your typical curves. Here if you miss the turn, you'll end up either in the side of a cliff or off the side of one. Additionally, motorists (people on four wheels) tend to go slow on these roads. So you end up stuck behind someone who is either too scared or too busy sightseeing to go faster. Either way, it's slow going.

The sun was fading fast at 8 pm when we arrived at a small inn called Ragged Edge, so named because it literally hangs on the edge of the Pacific coastline. It's about 55 miles south of Big Sur and 80 miles from Monterey. Jim said he had just seen a whale spouting before we turned in, but we all blew our tops when the gas turned out to be $4.50 a gallon! The attendant assured us we would be able to get to Big Sur by dark (he was either lying, deluded, or had never left the property). The other option was to backtrack 25 miles to San Simeon, so we decided to press on anyway. If you've been on the road to Hana in Maui, you'll have an idea of what the next two hours were like. The word "winding" doesn't come close. For the next 120 minutes, most of it in darkness, we wound along a narrow shelf carved into America's left hip. Often there were no guard rails and a 500 foot drop straight down into Neptune's bosom. (Thanks Jim for the "hip" and "bosom" line.) Adding to the drama, rocks ranging from the size of marbles to tennis balls often littered the narrow lane.

When we finally made Big Sur, there were no hotel rooms to be had. With little choice we pressed on to Monterey, where Dolly (Jim's miracle-working wife) had called ahead and secured us a couple of rooms at the Comfort Inn. After 383 miles, the place was worthy of its name.