Riding the Mendocino/Sonoma County Coast
for the Umpteenth Time
I am writing this piece for myself so I can remember. Remember what it’s like to have a day – an unplanned day – to do whatever the hell I want to do. And a recent Saturday it involved ratty little roads to and from the coast split by a glorious run from Mendocino to Fort Ross on State Route 1. I’d jettisoned the voluntary time commitment associated with a vital community group – it was someone else’s turn – and rewarded myself with this.
Orr Springs Road connects Ukiah with Comptche and the coast at Mendocino. In October the narrow route crosses ridges of grasses dry since April…
…and descends into seasonal creeks surprisingly not dry.
Remnants of the region’s past are evidenced by this little jack-stabbed teepee burner long ago used to incinerate slash from a small logging operation. Constructed of corrugated metal, it is a rusty one-of-a-kind structure.
I wonder where the associated mill might have stood.
Also out Orr Springs is a clothing optional camp and/or resort indicated by a substantial and effective privacy fence built along the edge of the pavement. This is a good thing, I’m thinking, as I certainly wouldn’t want anyone hidden in the woods or down by the creek ogling or leering at my curvaceous and sweet sounding Italian motorcycle as we motor by.
Next, I roll past a lovely Montgomery Woods State Preserve – simply a grove of redwoods – with picnic tables, easy hiking along the creek and whispers of angels above when the breeze is just so.https://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=434 If you packed a sandwich, this is the place to pause.
A short distance beyond I come to a dilapidated homestead or a ranch of some sort with a roughly spray painted plywood sign stating, “You loot. We shoot!” underneath this not-so-cryptic addendum: “Let’s Go Brandon.” Desiring not to get shot, I didn’t stop for a photo, but looking at the state of things there, it appeared the place had already been pretty well looted.
The mid-morning air is cool and pleasant and the fall colors are beginning to turn. The road is both narrow and twisty enough that one can’t rush past this early-autumn display.
Comptche is out this way. A small berg clustered with, perhaps, fewer residents than the number of consonants in the village name. (That’s not at all true, but it is a cute line I thought of from the saddle.)
Highway 1 is fifteen miles further. The two-lane I’m enjoying tees into it. A quick jog north brings me to Mendocino, the picturesque coastal community of both legend and postcard.
The loop over to the headlands never disappoints and I found myself following a gent on a big BMW GS who was enjoying the same experience.
Home-based near San Jose, this fella was completing a loop that had taken him to Alturas, then out CA 299 to near Eureka, then down the Coast. “No hurry to get home,” I recall him saying.
Having taken this route or an iteration of it several times, I found myself not stopping for pictures I already knew I had. But this one begs the caption, “The coast is clear.”
There’s a little devil in me that always suggests it’d be cool, less pressurized, to live in a small middle-of-nowhere hamlet or village. No stoplights. No superstores. Fresh air. Starry skies at night. All that stuff. But, I argue, I’d at least like a bank where I could access my meager savings (Point Arena has a branch of my Credit Union) and a reliable place to keep my motorcycles tuned and running (I’ve engaged the independent whose shop is here to refurbish brother Beebo’s old BMW) and…
…the restaurant out at the pier has been closed the last several times I’ve gone out seeking chowder. (Not anymore.) Worry not, Church of the Open Road followers, I’m not feeding that little devil by entertaining relocation to Point Arena, (or Cedarville, CA or Tonopah, NV or Joseph, OR) but I will feed myself at Pier Place https://www.pierplacepointarena.com anytime I’m out that way. The food was hearty and substantial, the list of on-tap micro brews copious and tempting. But being on the bike, I opted for bubble water. A cold bottle of Fort Bragg’s Scrimshaw pilsner is waiting in the fridge at home.
Lollygagging south through Sea Ranch, discouraged to take favored Stewarts Point/Skaggs Springs Road due to construction, I’m facing a longer day than I had (un)planned. A left hand turn up Fort Ross Road found me leaving the temperate 72 degree coast and climbing into 90 plus degree territory on a road more pothole than pavement.
The Guzzi’s “adventure” suspension absorbed the punishment as I crested the ridge and corkscrewed through redwoods and chamise into a half-century’s ago Cazadero. This community has the requisite school, church and country store – but it also has an attraction unique and enticing. A businessperson there has taken to restoring, trading, perhaps collecting pre-mid-60s Willys-era vehicles ranging from military flat fenders* to wagons and pickups. (* Quick! Name the two other manufacturers of WWII era jeeps.)
I suspect he may even have (or has had) those wonderful two-wheel-drive phaetons known as the Jeepster. Dad had a ’50. Brother Beebo later had a ’49.
Someday I’m going to muster up the courage to wander in there and ask if I can nose around a bit.
Eight hours and nearly 250 miles proved a bit too long for an old cuss like myself. The hundred degree ending temp didn’t help. But I gotta admit, a day on the bike traveling through remote sections of the Coast Range with a nice lunch thrown in for good measure, did wonders for my mental health.
Edging toward my mid-70s, I’m not sure how many more days like this I’ll confidently enjoy on two wheels. Better grab ‘em while I can.
o0o
Today’s Route: North on US 101 to Ukiah, take last exit; north on State St (under the freeway); left (west) on Orr Springs Road to Comptche and CA 1. South on CA 1 through Little River, Albion, Elk, Manchester, Pt Arena (lunch!); left (east) on Ft Ross Road; right on Seaview; left (almost immediately) on Ft Ross Road to Cazadero. Continue to CA 116; head east (redwoods, Russian River, vineyards) to US 101.
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