Fortunet 1
Fortunet1
Riding motorcycles is a big passion for a wide variety of different types of folks now days, many of which like to rack up thousands of miles as their goal, while still others are destination riders that reach their spot, enjoy the
time there, then turn back to cover nearly the same route they got there on. There is no telling just how much they really smelled the roses along the way, but I assume they did and I'm quite sure they loved it or they wouldn't be out there doing it. Personally I like adding a couple more equations to the mix. And that is to learn something interesting and new, as well as meet other riders along the way that are so happy to be out riding he or she can't help but bubble over with enthusiasm for life and the sport of motorcycle riding.
This past week brought that home to me in a big way. I had been telling my friend for over a year now about a lighthouse that was just a short jaunt over the coastal mountains, yet he had never been there in the thirty some odd years he had been living that close. Finally the warm fall day came when he dropped his gal off at the flea market to sell her Lavender products and off we went. All the dominoes fell into place. The educational experience, the epic scenery and weather, the chance meeting of an excited motorcycle rider, and the added bonus of discovering a roadside organic pie house. I have to tell you here, if there is anything to be said about being at the right place at the right time, our Feng Shway certainly was in alignment on this ride.
We met up in a tiny village called Woodside, stopping in at Buck's Restaurant just to gawk at the memorabilia pinned and framed on every wall and ceiling space available, none of which my ride attendees had never laid eyes on before. We then headed to the top of the winding scenic pass to have breakfast at the famous Alice's restaurant. Always a good location for chatting up other riders, one of us had never been there. We roll down the backside of the mountain after some great bacon and eggs, with lots of scenic rural farms, big trees and open glens to view while leisurely slanting through one corner after another. Near the coast the air temperatures were warm and we could smell and taste the ocean's saltiness coming through the slits in our face shields. Turning south on the coast highway each of us are speechless with the beauty of the blue rolling waves crashing on camel colored beaches, contrasted by the white of the splashing spray. Its mesmerizing to see this much beauty in motion, mile after glorious mile.
Time seems to favor us as the lighthouse comes into view. We roll into a ten car gravel parking lot, pulling up next to a single motorcycle and its rider. He bought his bike in Colorado and hadn't ridden it much till he moved out here. Now he is so ecstatic he has the opportunity to ride this beautiful section of coastline, and to be able to let all that enthusiasm come pouring out at this very moment,... well it was like hearing pie recipes coming out of the mouths of flowered apron wearing ladies at a church picnic. You could slice the enthusiasm in the air with a knife. Adding our presence at that very moment in time seemed to take the lid off of his homemade strawberry preserves.
This is what motorcycling is to me, at its best. No brand name preferences or lead in introductions are necessary.
The amazing light house is going through renovations by private donations only. Its rich history dates back to
1853, when after the clipper ship Carrier Pigeon ,coming from Boston and carrying 1,300 tons of cargo ran aground on the rocky shoreline. Constructed of unreinforced brick, the light house is the second tallest on the west coast. The original French lens has been moved to the fog horn building below and consists of 1,008 glass prisms enclosing the light source, which back in the day was lit by a series of concentric wicks fueled by lard oil.
The whole prism rotated on a track, powered by a weight on a cable down the center of the tower. This had to be hand cranked back up to the top every four hours during use. The fog horns were steam powered by an enormous amount of cord wood. On weekends, while workers spend their day high up on scaffolding planks, volunteer docents offer visitors information that brings you back to a more simpler and dangerous time of high sea adventure.
If all this wasn't enough to send you skipping down the yellow brick road, we discover an easily missed Pie Barn on
the side of the coast road. The smiling young lady, behind the rough wood counter is wearing a one piece flowered dress and looks like she just came from that church picnic . Again we are stunned by the down home feel of this off the beaten path pie barn. This large one room barn has organic vegetables neatly stacked in 5'x5' wooden shallow box's leaned against the walls with antique pedal tractors between them begging you to come closer.
The pies were off the charts delicious and the smiling country girl said they make unpasteurized hand cranked
ice cream back up at the farm behind us. Lordy me, I think I hear them sirens a calling me.
The Garlic Press News
time there, then turn back to cover nearly the same route they got there on. There is no telling just how much they really smelled the roses along the way, but I assume they did and I'm quite sure they loved it or they wouldn't be out there doing it. Personally I like adding a couple more equations to the mix. And that is to learn something interesting and new, as well as meet other riders along the way that are so happy to be out riding he or she can't help but bubble over with enthusiasm for life and the sport of motorcycle riding.
This past week brought that home to me in a big way. I had been telling my friend for over a year now about a lighthouse that was just a short jaunt over the coastal mountains, yet he had never been there in the thirty some odd years he had been living that close. Finally the warm fall day came when he dropped his gal off at the flea market to sell her Lavender products and off we went. All the dominoes fell into place. The educational experience, the epic scenery and weather, the chance meeting of an excited motorcycle rider, and the added bonus of discovering a roadside organic pie house. I have to tell you here, if there is anything to be said about being at the right place at the right time, our Feng Shway certainly was in alignment on this ride.
We met up in a tiny village called Woodside, stopping in at Buck's Restaurant just to gawk at the memorabilia pinned and framed on every wall and ceiling space available, none of which my ride attendees had never laid eyes on before. We then headed to the top of the winding scenic pass to have breakfast at the famous Alice's restaurant. Always a good location for chatting up other riders, one of us had never been there. We roll down the backside of the mountain after some great bacon and eggs, with lots of scenic rural farms, big trees and open glens to view while leisurely slanting through one corner after another. Near the coast the air temperatures were warm and we could smell and taste the ocean's saltiness coming through the slits in our face shields. Turning south on the coast highway each of us are speechless with the beauty of the blue rolling waves crashing on camel colored beaches, contrasted by the white of the splashing spray. Its mesmerizing to see this much beauty in motion, mile after glorious mile.
Time seems to favor us as the lighthouse comes into view. We roll into a ten car gravel parking lot, pulling up next to a single motorcycle and its rider. He bought his bike in Colorado and hadn't ridden it much till he moved out here. Now he is so ecstatic he has the opportunity to ride this beautiful section of coastline, and to be able to let all that enthusiasm come pouring out at this very moment,... well it was like hearing pie recipes coming out of the mouths of flowered apron wearing ladies at a church picnic. You could slice the enthusiasm in the air with a knife. Adding our presence at that very moment in time seemed to take the lid off of his homemade strawberry preserves.
This is what motorcycling is to me, at its best. No brand name preferences or lead in introductions are necessary.
The amazing light house is going through renovations by private donations only. Its rich history dates back to
1853, when after the clipper ship Carrier Pigeon ,coming from Boston and carrying 1,300 tons of cargo ran aground on the rocky shoreline. Constructed of unreinforced brick, the light house is the second tallest on the west coast. The original French lens has been moved to the fog horn building below and consists of 1,008 glass prisms enclosing the light source, which back in the day was lit by a series of concentric wicks fueled by lard oil.
The whole prism rotated on a track, powered by a weight on a cable down the center of the tower. This had to be hand cranked back up to the top every four hours during use. The fog horns were steam powered by an enormous amount of cord wood. On weekends, while workers spend their day high up on scaffolding planks, volunteer docents offer visitors information that brings you back to a more simpler and dangerous time of high sea adventure.
If all this wasn't enough to send you skipping down the yellow brick road, we discover an easily missed Pie Barn on
the side of the coast road. The smiling young lady, behind the rough wood counter is wearing a one piece flowered dress and looks like she just came from that church picnic . Again we are stunned by the down home feel of this off the beaten path pie barn. This large one room barn has organic vegetables neatly stacked in 5'x5' wooden shallow box's leaned against the walls with antique pedal tractors between them begging you to come closer.
The pies were off the charts delicious and the smiling country girl said they make unpasteurized hand cranked
ice cream back up at the farm behind us. Lordy me, I think I hear them sirens a calling me.
The Garlic Press News
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