Every visit to Napa includes wineries, that’s almost a given. I’d venture to say that a fair amount of visits to Napa also include visits to the pharmacy, to stock up on Advil for the next morning’s inevitable wine tasting hangover. We did both. I doubt that many visits to the world’s most famous wine vine growing region take in some of the more off-beat sights.

I live for off-beat, and riding to a quirky attraction is probably the best reason to ride at all, so, after a fantastic breakfast of Advil and tap water, we’re up early once again (a disturbing trend of ‘up early’ seems to be evolving on this trip) to take in the quirkier sights of the area.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that for the first time in recorded ride report history, somehow Sleeping Beauty was actually awake, geared up, packed and ready to ride before I was. Long before. And I heard about it for the rest of the day. I’ll just chalk it up to a lucky coincidence, and too much wine tasting in Napa, and leave it at that.

Our first stop of the day, touted as being featured in National Geographic, promises to be one of those Crap-Tastic roadside amusements that always sound much much better than they turn out to be.

Old Faithful Geyser registered an eleven on the Frenchy Crap-Tastic Wonders of the World scale. This is the kind of picture they use for advertising the place to potential suckers… I mean visitors like us.

One Of The Top Ten Wonders of the World?

Looks kinda vaguely, sorta, maybe a little interesting, right? Here’s a photo showing the true scale of this wonder of nature:

If the massive spectacle of literally tens of gallons of water spurting literally tens of feet in the air isn’t enough excitement, this marvelous park also has… llamas!!

Right. I am almost sure I saw some pipes leading from the pumphouse that makes the whole ‘Geyser’ work, cleverly disguised  with some bamboo trees. I imagine that this park was featured in National Geographic’s “Top Ten Crappy Parks Impersonating Good Ones.” Oh well. What should we expect for $10?

From the mild disappointment of Rip-Off Land it’s a fun, pleasant ride on tiny, cracked one lane roads up and over the mountain range that creates Napa Valley to my second Crap-Tastic stop, Litto’s Hubcap Ranch. This one I knew would be cheesy, especially by the  website description: This is a unique example of automobile-era folk art that you are not likely to find elsewhere. Believe it or not, this is even a California State Historic Landmark. The Hubcap Ranch must be seen to be believed! With a writeup like that, how can the Hubcap Ranch be anything else BUT cheesy?

We pull up in front of the ranch, unsure what to do. There is no admission booth, no signs, not much of anything besides shiny hubcaps. From the end of the driveway, a kid beckons us to come down and check the place out. Fiona, eying a single hubcap blowing in the wind, clanking against a post, says, “This looks like the perfect place for a double murder.”

I turn down the driveway anyway.

Nice Doggy

A man with a running chainsaw in hand stands at the end of the driveway. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all? Against Fiona’s better judgment, we abandon the relative safety of Rain Cloud Follows to learn the legend of the ranch.

I ask what the story is, and Chainsaw Man points at the kid who beckoned us down the driveway, shouting over the din of his clattering Stihl, “Let him tell ya! A tree fell on that shed and I gotta go take care of it!” His chainsaw revs menacingly as he walks away.

The kid, an intelligent boy of about 13 or so launches into a well-rehearsed speech. “This place was my great grandfather’s ranch. Long before there were paved roads here, cars would bounce down the rutted dirt roads, and often lose a hubcap. My great grandfather would put the hubcap on the fence, figuring the drivers would see them and get them back on their way home. Other people thought it was an art project, and started dropping off more hubcaps. Thousands of hubcaps later,” he sweeps his arms around the chrome covered landscape, “this is what we got. Feel free to check the place out. Take pictures too, just be careful of the pigs, sometimes they bite.”

Awesome! And free. I should notify National Geographic.

And, we managed to escape without being chainsawed into a million pieces too! Always a bonus in my book. Leaving Litto’s, it was more fantastic roads provided for our entertainment by the Golden State as we head back to the coast.

Crap-Tastic stop number three – Leggett, CA and the World Famous Drive Thru Tree.

Driving Through a Tree… On Purpose.

What can I say? $5 to drive through a tree is about what we expect it to be. What this place really needs to put it over the top is some llamas.

In Southern Humboldt, we detour to another free attraction, the Avenue of the Giants. Huge, gigantic, unbelievable redwoods tower millions of feet into the sky. The place is awe inspiring. We stop by one fallen giant and elbow some pesky camera-toting tourists out of the way for some pictures.

Big Tree. No Photoshopping Involved.

All this Crap-Tastic sideshow viewing is fun, but it has taken up most of our day. To stay on schedule, we should have been in Oregon already. But, on a ride such as this, on any ride really, I have always been willing to sacrifice the destination for the day, and while we didn’t get as far as maybe I would have liked, the wonderful weirdness of the day more than made up for it.

As it is starting to get late, we decide a fitting end to the day would be in Trinidad.

My riding buddy Dark Meat Snacks hails from the Fiefdom of Trinidad, so we thought we’d stay in the real Trinidad in his honor.

Of course we quickly find out there is no vacancy at any of Trinidad’s few crapulent hotels. Before we leave, we snap a quick picture next to Trinidad’s most famous landmark, in honor of my friend and his homeland.

At dusk, we ride several more hours, with darkness rapidly approaching. Northern California is desolate, undeveloped wilderness. We pull off once again to watch the sun set into the Pacific from the beautiful vantage point of a parking lot, toasting the Best Day Ever with a quick swig from my emergency Macallan flask.

Several hours later than we wanted to, we make the outpost town of Crescent City our home for the evening, ready and willing, looking forward to, even eager to take on the wilds of Oregon the very next day.

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