Horizons should be unlimited

Horizons Unlimited, for my non biking readers, is a community developed by a couple of overland motorcyclists, Grant and Susan Johnson. HU has been around for along time, I think more than 20 years, and has a global reach. They hold a dozen or more rally’s over the world every year, including several in Australia, attracting people who happen to be riding in the area where they are being held, as well as people who plan their trips around them. Knowing that there would be other like minded people attending, I’d specifically scheduled it into my trip.

The Californian rally was being held at the Mariposa Fairground out near Yosemite and I had booked in for 2 days and nights. As always, I was on a deadline. It’s the one disadvantage of a shorter overland trip as opposed to a longer one (many people travel for years). I generally try to jam too much into everything I do and, with people I’d met and unexpected catchups that I was trying to fit into the last few weeks, I had to shoot straight out and then back.

One other thing that I’d definitely wanted to factor into this trip was some time in Death Valley. I’d originally thought I would go to the HU rally from the north, continue down to Death Valley and then on to Los Angeles where the holiday was ending. This would mean bypassing San Francisco. However, I was keen to meet up with Scott and when it eventuated that Sophie and Tom were going to be in New York while I was in the States, missing Death Valley was a trade off I was more than happy to make. Of course, there’s always next time!

With everything being a bit tight and wanting to actually spend time at the Rally as opposed to just turning up and then retracing my steps, I didn’t have the time to put dirt routes together. They do take twice as long as bitumen and the risk of delay is a whole lot higher. Regardless, the pavement in this part of California is very well regarded and I knew I’d get the opportunity for some spectacular riding.

The traffic heading east out of SF was pretty full on as always, including one really big interchanges (13 lanes was the biggest I counted) and it all got quite confusing. I got into a bit of a habit of pulling up at the clear ‘V’ in front of turnoffs when I was trying to work out which way I should be going. The traffic flew past me on each side, but it ‘seemed’ pretty safe.

There was a National Park not far out of SF. It nearly bounded the city and I thought it might be worth a look on the way west. It seemed pretty small so I expected it might take a half hour to make my way through it which would work well – I had quite a distance to cover to get out to the Rally site.

There is so much to see in this country and everything takes you by surprise. The unexpected beauty and grandure of Mt Diablo National Park was a classic example of this. It was tiny by comparison to the other National Parks I’d seen and was a series of golden grass covered hills (a combination of the dry season and heading into winter) that rose gently to the east. Before long the road started to climb more steeply and the bitumen became twister and twister. To be honest, I’d never seen anything so tight. The views went for ever and I was soon at 4,000 ft (1,200 m) with 360 degree views. There were heaps of cyclists that needed to be considered, but it was a spectacular run, overlooking the east and the county I would have to travel through.

Unfortunately, getting to Yosemite meant crossing a pretty significant valley that was very industrial, albeit interspersed in places with some agriculture. A lot of it was quite exposed and wind farms had been established to take advantage of this. The turbines were huge and quite mesmerising – you could see the smaller old decommissioned ones, replaced by monsters that lazily turned and dominated the ridge lines. This is an industry embraced in the US, but one that is still mired in controversy in Australia.

I’d lost quite a lot of time going to the top of Mt Diablo and I wanted to get to the Rally early enough to sit in on some of the presentations and lectures, as well as meet some people and ‘talk motorbikes’. This meant a pretty straightforward run, although I managed to avoid the major highways, sticking to secondary pavement, following a few rivers and waterways with some interesting bridges. I also passed a couple of RV graveyards – there must be a lot of these as they really are everywhere.

I made a mistake at a T intersection when, turning right with a green light, I proceeded to try and ride into the traffic stopped for the red. Wrong side of the road buddy – my first time. It was all very low speed and not an issue, but the looks on the faces of the other drivers was pretty amusing.

I pulled up at Union Point where catfish was on the menu and the good ole boys were enjoying lunch time brews. Moving east, as I was approaching the turn off to Hwy 49, the route down to Mariposa, I did make a detour down the Wards Ferry Road. This was a fairly short stretch, but it hugged the side of a mountain, winding down to a river. The ferry had been replaced with a bridge long ago, one that had become a popular place for graffiti tags. On the way out I started picking up bikes, getting closer and closer to the rally.

I arrived at the Horizons Unlimited site an hour before the sun went down. There were plenty of bikes and people milling around, so I set up camp and headed to the dining area. The meal was excellent as was the company – plenty of people to talk to, all with one thing in common – a love of motorbikes and travelling.

Over the next day and a bit, I saw a number of presentations and demonstrations delivered by people who had been out there and done it. Without exception, they were humble people who were keen to share their experiences and offer advice to anyone interested in doing the same. It was interesting listening to one fellow talk about his travels in Australia. I could, of course, relate very well to what he was talking about. He did a good job and represented the country well. Australia is on every Americans bucket list. However, without exception, they are all very concerned about our dangerous wildlife. In all seriousness, most Americans believe the country is swarming with venomous, lethal animals and creatures just waiting to attack the unwary tourist or motorcyclist. As I said to all of them the only time I’ve had trouble with snakes, for example, is when I’ve poked them with a stick. You kind of get what you deserve in that situation. I said that kangaroos at dawn and dusk are the biggest things people need to be aware of and that these can be avoided with planning and smart riding.

I spent a bit of time with Justin from WEHO in Los Angeles. I was going to be staying there and finally found out what it meant – WEst HOllywood. Aha. Justin was an experienced scooter rider (he set up one of the largest scooter clubs in Los Angeles)  who had recently taken the plunge and bought a Tiger. He was the nicest bloke – so enthusiastic and soaking it all up. I sat in on a lecture on dirt riding with him where it was interesting to hear discussion about the basic but essential techniques necessary to safely navigate off road perils. At different times over the last month when I was under pressure, I ‘knew’ my technique was lacking. I twas often because I was either too lazy or simply too tired to do anything about it. Stupid really. The things I listened to in the lecture were, at these times, going through my head as I struggled or narrowly saved a moment. It’s so true, technique is everything and will save you 99% of the time.

I had a look at Justin’s bike with him and saw that his chain was dry, very loose and needed attention. It was nice to be able to give him some assistance and get it all straightened out. So many people have helped me in the past (and will in the future) and being able to give a little back was such a pleasure. I’ll be catching up with him in LA which will be nice.

As time wore on, more and more people turned up. The Rally continued over the weekend, so these days were, of course, going to be very popular and busy. Unfortunately, I could only be there for the 2 nights, but I enjoyed the company of the people I met and it was with regret that I headed of on the Saturday morning.

I checked out after one last presentation before riding out of Yosemite. It was by Radioman (click on his name to be directed to his website) who had spent years on the road and talked about riding in South Africa. This looked like an awesome place to go with plenty to experience – wildlife, nature, people, both small and large cities, plus lots and lots of sand and dirt roads. Mark, his actual name, rode with a local who new the area well for about 6 weeks. He experienced lots of other opportunities in addition to this by accepting advice from people he met along the way. As always, the kindness of strangers and the motorcycling brotherhood made his trip a spectacular one.

The ride back to San Fran included crossing the Stanislaus Valley. As with the way out it was some highway and a lot of straight secondary country roads. I managed to keep the route running through irrigated agricultural land. Despite it being quite dry and dusty, there was lots being grown and produced. Plenty of tree crops which I thought were olives. In addition, there were walnuts with associated husking and processing plants. The other crops were peanuts, corn, strawberries and a dozen others that could have been anything. The fields were full of labourers and there was plenty of Spanish being spoken in the gas stations and stores. I’ve since been told that the most appropriate terminology to describe this demographic is not Mexican or Latino, but rather Hispanic. I really had no idea – its’s easy to offend inadvertently.

I had a quick lunch in Patterson where I ordered a roast beef and salad sandwich. ‘A roast beef sandwich and a salad?’ I was asked. It took some explaining, but I finally got what I wanted, although the server desperately want to cook or toast it .They don’t get cold sandwiches here.

Once I got across the valley, the mountains started to fill the horizon. From Patterson on Hwy 580, I was going to take the Del Peurto Canyon, San Antiono and Mt Hamilton Road’s.

Butler Maps say ‘for truely epic motorcycling link these routes together to travel throughout the Central Valley and up to the San Jose metro area. It’s only 70 miles from Highway 580 to the city, but expect the trip to take longer as the road is extremity tight and curvy. The top of Mt Hamilton Road offers sweeping vistas of the entire Bay Area and the ocean beyond’.

The description proved to be very accurate. A lot of the road twisted and wound through hot, dry valleys. It was bitumen and very rough and I was surprised towards the middle to see the odd sports bike come blasting past in the opposite direction. The reason became pretty apparent when, at the San Antonio Junction, the road turned into perfect, fast, smooth road-bike heaven. It was Mt Glorious on steroids. With it being the weekend,  everyone was out to play. I had bikes approaching me tapping the tops of their helmets – the universal sign for cops out front. I wasn’t able to travel at the speeds these guys could, so it didn’t make a lot of difference to me. Everyone else was very, very frustrated though.

I was hoping to detour to a place called Alice’s Restaurant on Skyline Drive as I headed back to San Fran, a side trip that would have added about an hour and a half to the ride. It is a very well known bikers stop (iconic actually) as well as much better riding than the freeway. The transit through San Jose was so slow – there must have been at least 20 red lights, with 3 or 4 minutes delay at each. It was getting late and I was meeting up with Scott who was going to store the bike for me when I headed off to New York the next day. He didn’t live at the garage, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too late. I reluctantly skipped Alice’s flying up Highway 101. Nothing much had changed – it was busy and fast. On  getting closer to SF, I could smell the ocean and got some great views over the Bay. It’s a nice city to ride into. Also, I had a feeling that Scott would end up taking me to Alice’s when I got back from NY – he’d mentioned it a few times, so hopefully it was part of the plan.

I booked into the Hays Valley Inn and, after a huge row with the reception when they jacked the price on me, left my dry bag with a change of clothes, my mattress and sleeping bag and rode out to Scott’s garage. It was a perfect place to leave the bike and I was grateful to him for making it available. It was easy and straightforward more than anything else – I had enough complications and logistics to organise without having to deal with a commercial storage facility. We ducked down to a local bar for a burrito, a beer and a yarn before both heading off in different directions. I’d be back in 5 days time, ready to kick off the last of the riding and finish my adventure in the US.