October in Big Sur,

[Hondafarian]

I was lucky enough to be contacted by a friend some weeks ago that held a week long reservation at Kirk Creek campground in Big Sur for the beginning of October but wasn't able to use the first three nights. After determining there was no way to transfer the unwanted nights, we jumped on the online resv. system simultaneously and as he cancelled the nights, I scooped them up. Unfortunately, unless you book months in advance, taking advantage of cancellations has become a necessity in many well-loved campgrounds in California and Big Sur is no exception. I had stayed in this campground many times during the nineties and was a little taken back to learn there was A) no longer any running water in the campground and B) the sites were now $45/night. Yikes! The water issue would be a complication since I was looking forward to taking the 13. Again, lady luck shined her light and a buddy with a full size truck and a giant tent and cots agreed to go. This was perfect as I'd have a support vehicle to haul the water, firewood and other excess luxuries including beer. I've had very limited chances to camp from the 13 in the last two years since owning it but this opportunity was ideal since I could test pack all the necessities but still enjoy the luxuries.

I spent the better part of last weekend shopping for food, pulling out camping gear and test fitting the necessities on the bike. The t-bag on the passenger seat would hold my clothes, personal items, sleeping bag and bike cover. The small soft-sided cooler would strap to the back of the pillion backrest. A small tent would sit on the rt side pillion peg and strap to the tipover bar. And, of course, the travel ukelele would sit on the left pillion peg. The side cases were stuffed full of miscellaneous gear like 6 liters of water, hiking boots, etc. How would it all ride? Stay-tuned.

All packed for a monday morning departure.

 

[ToddC]

Yahoo....! Keep us posted.
T

 

[Hondafarian]

Knowing there must have been many sleepless nights out there anticipating part 2, here it goes:

Monday morning rolls around and the final pack commences. I had a dry food box packed, a kitchen box, 2 firewood boxes, a beer cooler ready to go...that just left the food cooler - half the size of the beer cooler. I loaded everything on the bike and strapped it down. All seemed snug and secure. Then made the 1.5 mile drive, via cage, down to my buddies house and we started loading the back of his truck. Among all the other goodies, he had a trunk load of cut oak to offset my small branches and kindling. No one was going to go cold on this trip. He spent the first 10 minutes telling me about all the issues he was dealing with that morning, the power had gone out without warning, wrapping up business deals, dealing with his aging father with dementia who lives alone, yada yada yada. He said he'd be leaving late but I started to worry if he was going to make it at all. I had enough gear and supplies on the bike to make one night, at least, so the trip wouldn't be a complete washout.

Drove back home and made the final push to depart on the bike. I was shooting for a 10 am departure but it was after 11 by the time I was sitting on the bike pairing the ear buds and plugging the directions into google. 170 miles direct to camp but I like to go the backway, hugging closer to the coast and avoiding the 50+ mile stretch of the 101 freeway. This turned out to be more like 180 miles. Just as I was about to start the engine, my buddy calls - repeating everything he's dealing with but estimates a noon departure. Perfect. I'll be going the slower way and will have plenty of time to stop for lunch. We should reach camp close in time and with plenty of time to set-up before the 6:47 sunset.

Clad in my new but untested Cuber pants and Bilt mesh jacket I hit the road. Traffic is light ascending San Marcos pass and air is a slightly cool mid sixties but jumps around depending on the ever changing elevation. I reach back periodically and feel the cargo pieces. Everything is staying in place and not noticeably affecting handling. I keep my speed moderate on this 2-lane windy mountain road until a scenery consuming touron in a cage gets in the way then it's "release the dogs of war" on the 13 and watch with great joy as the speedometer effortlessly tops 90 during the pass on a straightaway. Ahhhhh, sweet ST. Reaching the end of the pass, I jump on the 101N for 9 short miles, exiting at Los Alamos to take the 135N and PCH 1 north through farming country where the aromas run the gamut of skunky ripening cannabis to sweet strawberries. I batten the hatches for the inevitably gusty winds as the coast and the Guadalupe dunes appear. At Arroyo Grande, I jump back on the 101 for a few short miles to San Luis Obispo where the trip really gets good. Watching the average mpg I notice it maxing out at 40. From previous trips it should be around 44-45 by now but I write it off to the first 60 miles on the tank spent running around town and the gusty head winds. Jumping back onto PCH1 at SLO I make the 15 mile run towards the coast and the town of Immoral Bay. The last decent sized town before Big Sur is Cambria so I set a course for there enjoying the gorgeous coastal views and ideal riding along the way. At Cambria, I cruised the main drag looking for some type of casual eating where I could keep the bike in sight. In the middle of town was a popular taco trailer next a bank parking lot. I parked on the street and joined the short line. It was 2:00 by this time so I ordered their largest burrito de pollo and a side of beans and rice to go. Being torn between wanting to just get there and being starved I decided to only eat a portion before hitting the road for the final 45 mile push. As much as I love riding, getting off the bike after 3 hours was a great relief. Waiting for the meal I heard a strange, slightly musical cacophony. Across the street was an older man with a guitar around his neck, rocking away and undulating to the sound. Looking closer, he was uni-armed which explained the unique musical stylings but he was having a grand time rocking out and chatting with the passersby.


The meal finally came and the burrito was the size of a human leg. As I tore into it with a cannibal's passion, the phone rang. My buddy was only about an hour behind but planned to make one more stop for ice and supplies. I wrapped up the femurito, tossed it in the side case and jumped back on the bike, crossing the street to one of only two gas stations in a remote tourist town. Yup, $7/gallon for 92 octane. Oh well. I reset the average mpg and started back up the coast to arguably the prettiest portion of the trip. Passing through San Simeon and squinting to see Hearst Castle up on enchanted hill, as he called it - bringing in $50k per day during the 1930s would be enchanting to anyone, me thinks. Starting up the southern end of Big Sur towards Raggedyass Point I could see some transient fog moving through and watched the temps dropped to the high 50s. Enough is enough, I pulled over and dug out a warm pullover having discovered a mesh riding jacket over T-shirt is only good down to the low 60s, at best. Big Sur weather is as volatile as the rocky cliffs and jagged shoreline is beautiful. I've seen huge water spouts form while driving down it's highway and felt multiple Pacific storms blow in overnight while attempting to sleep in a wind-ravaged tent. Hopefully, this trip would be different as the forecast called for a warming trend, with no precipitation, during our 3-night stay. One wonderful but unusual aspect I noticed during the drive drive up the coast, the traffic was almost apocalyptically light. There wasn't a single cellphone addled cager driving up my tush while I peacefully enjoyed the dramatic views. This was due to the road closure just a few miles beyond our campground. The winter storms wreaked havoc on California roads and Big Sur is prone to washouts worse than anywhere with the steep Santa Lucia range backing up to the coast. The miles slowly ticked away as the scenery became more breathtaking. I passed the "town" of Gorda with a roadside lodge, restaurant and only accessible general store and just 10 miles to go. Happily, the fog all but disappeared leaving a cool, hazy marine layer. Suddenly, my target was in sight.



I checked in with the camp host, located our site and parked and unloaded the bike. Not a bad view looking north up the coast.



More to come...

 

[Sadlsor]

If you can't learn to pack lighter, consider a hitch and a trailer. (I'm not judging!)
If you have never pulled a trailer, a Bushtec doesn't phase the 1300 in the least.
The gas mileage will drop about 10%, but it sounds like you're camping much anyway. A German Shepherd is optional -- but not for me.