My alarm blares, and I wake up in a panic. It’s still dark out. Whaa?? 5:30?!? Oh, shit! Where am I? Did I miss my flight? Slowly the realization dawns that I am at Fiona’s, and Keith and I have an ambitious day planned. Unfortunately for her, Sleeping Beauty was stuck at work, and would be missing the festivities of the day. Even though our economy is in the toilet right now, thank goodness the country still needs nurses. Someone has to pay for all this fun!

After attending to the usual morning pre-flight rituals, we suit up and head out. Our plan for the day? Head west on the 210, unravel Little Tujunga Canyon road before heading to Ojai and Highway 33, then out to the Pacific Coast Highway, hopefully getting as far as San Simeon, so Unleaded can see (and smell) the fat Elephant Seals lounging and farting on the beach.

But first things first. Traffic.

As good as the canyon roads are, getting to them is often riskier than riding them. Even with the HOV lane, lane splitting and everything else, the world famous California highway traffic did it’s best to waste some of our day.

We exited the madness for some breakfast near ‘Little T’ Keith, trained by the U.S. government to always be prepared, brought his own breakfast beverage, lovingly borrowed from a neighbor’s tree.

Morning OJ – Some Assembly Required

As soon as our waitress sauntered over, even before she took our order, Unleaded Buddha-ed her.

In the entire history of Keith Buddha-ing people, only one person has turned him down, citing ‘strong religious beliefs.’ Most people have a good laugh, then strike a pose with Buddha, because most people, including our very nice waitress aren’t all that uptight.

After gorging on a fantastic farmer’s breakfast, we snuck back into the canyons for some more of the ol’ right-left-right that is so popular in these mountains. Little T is a road with one purpose, making me happy. I don’t think there are any houses up there, in fact I don’t think there is much of anything except great views, fresh air and no traffic.

The perfect recipe for any road.

Unfortunately for Unleaded, in addition to my crapulent ‘Point and Pray’ camera, I brought the ‘good camera’ and soon was barking orders at him. “Go down there, turn around and come back at full speed.”

“OK, now I want you to head down through those curves, ride until you go around that big bend, then turn around and come back.”

“Fantastic. Now, go to the other side of the ridge, waaay over there, ride all the way down, then turn and come back at top speed.”

Always nice to have such a willing subject for my photographic abuse.

After unwinding Little T, we aimed for Ojai, the start of my other favorite road, Highway 33. Once again, passing through the little town of Santa Paula, I had to stop, because once again, I saw something I’d never seen before.

The town of Santa Paula had erected a statue honoring me and Unleaded, celebrating us passing through on our Marathon Milk Run.

Santa Paula would have made Frenchy’s Top Ten list if it wasn’t for what happened next. Once we were done monkeying around, we mounted up to leave. Of course, we had to pull the bikes up on the sidewalk for these pictures, but it seemed pretty harmless. Louie the LEO, who pulled over and unrolled his window didn’t seem to think so.

Now, it’s decision time. If I stay, I’m going to be subjected to a pointless lecture from an underpaid, angry cop about how dangerous my sidewalk riding stunt was to the populace he is charged to protect, not to mention how illegal it is, blah blah blah… Then, I’ll say something stupid and get a ticket.

When faced with a situation like this, I find it’s best to just leave. Not leave as in run from the cops, I mean get going before Smokey the Bear has a chance to start his sermon. If he wants me that bad, he’ll let me know. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission and all that. Keith agreed, because when I looked for him, I noticed he’d ridden across some grass and over some big railroad tracks to escape out the back.

Evidently Louie the LEO had too many donuts that morning, because he let us go. The rest of the ride to Highway 33 was uneventful. I am sad to report that no other towns erected statues in our honor.

Highway 33 is one of ‘those’ roads. The ones that are described by every single motorcycle magazine cliche there is. The ones that you just want to go on forever, even it makes you end up in Canada. The ones that are worth a whole day of boring highway just to get to. The ones that make you smile, just knowing they are there, and they are THAT GOOD. Highway 33 is a good, good road. I took extra pleasure in bringing my friend to this sacred place, much like my friend Dan did for me so many years ago.

Keith Loves 33 Too.

I could get into the cliches about the ride, but I won’t. You know all the phrases already, and I’m not a good enough writer to come up with new ones. We railed, hammered, bombed and otherwise enjoyed our way through the paradise that is Highway 33.

When the curves stopped, I realized it was lunch time. We passed a small place with a few motorcycles parked out front, accurately called ‘The Place.’

Keith did his thing with owners Vicky and Alick, two extremely friendly and not uptight people.

The Place is the kind of place that it might take twenty minutes just to order, because Alick and Vicky have to catch you up on all the latest gossip. And the conversation is as good as the food. This day’s topic? Plowing, tractors, and pulling up rocks out of fields, who does it well, and who doesn’t. Once you’re in The Place, you are part of the family.

Over a buffalo burger and fries, Unleaded and I looked at the map. Plans were once again about to change. The Elephant Seals of San Simeon were reachable, but it would mean hours and hours of boring highway slogging to get home. I looked at the map for more of those squiggly lines.

Owner Alick came over, and suggested heading inland toward Lake Isabella and Highway 178. “You guys won’t be disappointed, I guarantee it!”

Some quick mileage calculations followed, and with that suggestion, and that guarantee, we had a new destination.

Before we left The Place, our new tour guide Alick informed us they also have a small house out back for rent. My mental wheels immediately started spinning for a return trip this summer.

But first, we had our current trip to complete. We angled east towards Bakersfield, and a few hours later, we found ourselves at the entrance to a huge valley, the Kern river boiling beside the road, with huge, boulder strewn mountains on either side.

Alick was right. I got genuinely excited. My pictures show how I could barely contain my excitement.

Yeah, my ‘Hang the Camera Off The Side’ picture taking technique is definitely rusty.

The scenery on SR 178 was mind boggling. And, being so jaded, it takes quite a bit boggle my mind. This road wound through some of the most stunning scenery and geology I’ve ever seen.

Reaching the other side of the mountains, we turned onto Highway 14, directly into the fiercest gale force wind I’ve ever had the displeasure of getting stuck in. We leaned into the wind at obscene angles. Sometimes the wind would gust even harder, and at that point we just held on and tried to stay upright. It was so strong that twice it blew me from one side of the road to the other, across two lanes. Thankfully there were no cars nearby, or it would’ve been curtains for certain. As dangerous as it was, I laughed the whole way down, because it was either laugh or cry.

Finally we turned off this deadly wind tunnel for a little respite in a gas station. As I filled Rain Cloud Follows, I swear a rolling tumbleweed sped across the lot.

Missed the Tumbleweed by One Second

Keith came out of the gas station with a strange look on his face. “Dude, I just realized we’re ten minutes from my sister Jessica’s house!” A few weeks ago, we’d made plans for Jessica, who rides a Ninja 650, to possibly ride down and meet us for the last day of our marathon. But since we were so close, those plans were also about to change.

Jessica quickly threw a bag together, and our suddenly large motorcycle gang headed for the highway, Fiona’s house, a huge steak dinner, and a well deserved, honest to goodness Best Day Ever toast.

Our Entire 590 Mile Route

Tomorrow, pics of hot chicks spice up my boring ride report as we head back into Azusa Canyon for one more day of fun.

The next part of this masterpiece can be found here.

Author: frenchy

One Response to “Milk Run Marathon – Day Two”

1. Eric Albright says:

   March 4, 2009 at 11:28 AM

   Bring on the hot chicks!

   Reply