GOLD COUNTRY – MONTEREY COAST LOOP – DAY 1: SONOMA TO SONORA

Part 1 of a 3-part series.

AS A YOUNG BOY, flabbergasting my mother, I walked down to Chico Book and Stationery and ordered a copy of Remi Nadeau’s Ghost Towns and Mining Camps of California. I was, perhaps, eight. For days – well evenings – I poured over the book’s photographs and stories of life in the gold country of California – the corridor along state route 49 – and dreamed of one day buying a practical car (at the time, either a Jeep Wagoneer or a VW Combi Bus) and spending the rest of my life camping out like a 49er. In the fifty intervening years, I have traveled most of 49, achieving its northern terminus at Vinton (Plumas County), but never to its southern end at Oakhurst. Little did I know I’d make it this trip.

Our plan had been to meet in Santa Rosa and travel up US 101 to Eureka, using the Eureka Inn as a home base from which to explore 299 east to Redding and return on the most glorious state route 36 west from Red Bluff. But the weather gods frowned on this, sliding a hillside across 101 north of Garberville and prompting us to scrub those plans for no plans in particular.

(c) iktome.com

CHURCH OF THE OPEN ROAD original parishioner, Randy Boek, hailing from Washington State reserved a 2010 BMW R1200 GS from Adventure Touring in Santa Rosa, California. Proprietor Mike Bongiovanni meticulously maintains his rental fleet of GSes and when Randy and I met up at the plaza in Sonoma, it was immediately evident that we were in for a good time.

I’d ridden from home in the Sacramento area, stopping in Winters at the Putah Creek Café for breakfast – if you can find a better breakfast sausage anywhere on the planet, please contact “the church” and let us know; we doubt if you can – and pausing at the Monticello Dam to see if the waters of Lake Berryessa had eclipsed the Glory Hole. They hadn’t.

© 2011 Suisun Valley

WE TRACED MY ROUTE from Sonoma to Napa on 121. Nine miles east we slipped into the bucolic Wooden and Suisun Valleys, rustic land of wineries, local farmers’ markets, bergs and hiking trails. Often overlooked by those traveling I-80 to or from “the City,” this little part in the Coast Range offers a view back to slower times where drivers pull over to allow passing, quite possibly, locals know one another by first name. In the highest reaches, every flat half-acre homes a vineyard; and as we approach Fairfield, row upon row of varietals are just in bud for the new growing season.

Crossing I-80, we rode along state route 12 toward the Delta. A pause at Rio Linda. The public restrooms are barricaded by steel gates slipped into concrete dikes. Silt rests upon the river-side of these arrangements, reminding us that flood stage means things really, well, flood, in these parts – as recently as last week.

We devised a simple plan to cross the valley floor on state route 12, catch state route 49 at San Andreas and spend the night in Sonora. Phone reservations are made at the Gunn House there.

Not far east of Lodi, route 12 begins a graceful waltz through the foothills. The spring grass is tall. Blue gilia and lupine decorate the berm and I recall that an edible bulb lives at the base of the former.

(c) westernmininghistory.com

San Andreas is the first of many towns along the Golden Chain Highway that we will pass through. Each will have brick buildings with aged and cracking plaster exteriors revealing, well, brick buildings. Highway 49 bypasses the oldest part of San Andreas, but the “business route” steers one through a town with one foot secured by history.

I know this section of 49 well, having once worked a mining claim near “Mark Twain’s (rebuilt) Cabin,” and later having served in education in both Jamestown and Sonora. At the time I drove an ’83 R65 “airhead” BMW, a bike for which these roads were specifically engineered. 49 sweeps into and out of the canyons of the Mokelumne, Stanislaus Rivers and several smaller creeks. The sun dips below the ridgeline south of Angels Camp. The ride past Columbia into Sonora turns cool.

(c) Gunn House Hotel

Our room at the Gunn House is comfortable, affordable and historic. An evening there with my wife would have been far preferable to an evening there with my riding brother, but oh well. We hiked down to the Diamondback Grill for some oriental ribs and local wine, ran across some friends from long ago, then returned to the hostelry and turn in. All in all, a most excellent first day.

***

Downtown Sonora: circa a while ago.  Source: Google Images

NOTES: Owing to the fact that we dropped the ball on stopping for pictures, many images included in these posts are swiped from Google. They are noted as Google Images, but may be the copyrighted work of other photographers, artists, sojourners, or others in league with ne’er-do-wells. When possible, I will credit the photographer or their URL and regret my inability to do so in every case. That said, the pictures are used for illustrative purposes only. The Church of the Open Road profits in no monetary sense from their use.

I recently lost track of my old copy of Remi Nadeau's Ghost Towns and Mining Camps.  I must locate it.


RESOURCES:

Adventure Touring Santa Rosa: www.advtouring.com/ Mike’s main business involves offering guided tours of some of the best roads found anywhere. Repeat: Anywhere! But Mike rents maintained, state of the art BMW GSes when they are not being used on a tour. Randy’s bike was flawless.

The Putah Creek Café http://putahcreekcafe.com was recently featured in the Food Network’s Diners, Dives and Drive-ins. Fine small-town atmosphere, offering killer burgers for lunch and, oh, yes, that house-made breakfast sausage.

The Diamondback Grill www.thediamondbackgrill.com/ had just opened up when I relocated from Sonora, but I remembered the ribs. They have moved across Washington Street from their original location and have added greatly to their menu and wine list. This is a must-stop-at eatery.

The Gunn House www.gunnhousehotel.com/ is conveniently located on Washington Street near restaurants, watering holes and shopping. Its ambience takes one back a century and a half. Nice rooms, nice staff, nice price.


© 2011
Church of the Open Road Press

SHAKEDOWN CRUISE – NO PARTICULAR PLACE TO GO

I COULD TELL it was finally spring. The temperature had ratcheted itself you by six-degree increments over the previous three days. Buckets of rain had stopped falling. Looking the month of April squarely in the face, it had been at least four weeks since the GS saw the outside of the garage. The storm had collapsed the back fence, but the back fence could wait.

I packed the camera and a bottle of Fiji water. The line no particular place to go ran through my head. Here, then is a summary:


THE CALIFORNIA DELTA has a maze of levee roads that twist and curl between Sacramento, Stockton, Rio Vista and beyond. Getting lost in the Delta is no tragedy. It is a gift. Having briefly stopped at Elk Grove Powersports (http://www.egpowersports.com/) to check out their new inventory of Triumphs (the old dealer went under in November) and drool at a sexy Moto Guzzi Breva Sport, I found myself on a couple of secondary roads splitting the Cosumnes River Preserve. Snowy egrets stood watch in the flooded flats and flotillas of Canadian honkers rose and fell on slightest waves. In three places, water topped the pavement and I found myself tip-toeing the GS through. I didn’t stop for pictures.

I motored on to Walnut Grove to glimpse a Sacramento River well within its levee constraints, but higher than I recall ever seeing it. Catching SR 160 I traced the embankments down to Isleton. In a normal year, the pear, peach and plum blossoms would appear as a carpet over the fertile bottomlands, but this year, the heavy rains washed many of the pink and while petals away. Isleton, Sacramento County’s smallest “city” provides a sturdy and clean public restroom just a few steps from the river. Its streets are Mayberry quiet – nice for strolling – and the Levee Café provides a fair hamburger.


I HADN’T CHECKED OUT the Western (formerly California Electric) Railway Museum in a dozen years, so that would become my next non-particular destination. Trough Rio Vista and west on SR 12 about sixteen miles, one comes to Vista Junction. A hundred years ago, the Sacramento Northern (nee Northern Electric) ran through these parts as electric inter-urban trains ran from Oakland to Sacramento and up to Chico. Before the automobile became ubiquitous, folks could catch an electric train and easily travel from point to point throughout the Sacramento Valley and down to the bay. At Vista Junction, some of this history is preserved and in May, most of the rolling stock is powered up for public rides. This day the museum was closed, but through the gate, I could see they’d constructed a nice new building. Didn’t stop for a picture. Must go back on the weekend when it is open.


I DID CHECK my DeLorme’s California Atlas and Gazetteer and realized that Suisun City was a brief jaunt up the highway and that there a tiny road I’d not taken before begging my attention. Rolling past legions of three-propped aliens, it appeared that the Solano wind farm would go on forever. I thought about Battlestar Gallactica and wondered if these creatures were actually Cylons in their native form. I didn’t stop for a picture.

Continuing west-northwest, a huge, gray L-1011 (perhaps) converted for military use practiced touch and go at Travis Air Force Base. Riding the BMW feels like flying, we’re told, and it felt as if my flight was far faster than the lumbering activity of the jet. I paused in line with the end of the runway, several miles off, and watched the beast touch the tarmac and ascend for another go.


WEST OF FAIRFIELD – turn of I-80 at the weigh station – Suisun Valley Road courses north into the Coast Range. This road was new to me. It begins as a four lane but quickly downsizes to a pair just past Solano Community College. A few miles up the road a four-corners named Rockville invites pause. There’s a nice nursery, a coffee place and, I think, a little mom and pop. From freeway to farm life in about six minutes, this community would support the bucolic vineyards further up the road.

The Suisun Valley Road is a delight. In the lower reaches, it traces the angular boundaries of property. Further on it changes its name to Woodinville Road conforms to route of a stream course. The road rises and falls away and twists through stands of oak. Every flat half-acre is planted in vineyard. Years ago, there was but one winery in these parts, the Wooden Valley Winery, but over the course of three-plus decades, more have sprouted up with new tasting rooms constructed to look old and quaint. I wish I’d stopped for a photo.

Woodinville Road dead-ends into SR 121 five miles east of Napa. This route I know well having taken it so many times when Auntie DeVonne was hospitalized last fall. The SR 121-128 combination carries much more traffic and many bikers. Coming my direction were two fights of about 20 motor patrol officers each, I’m assuming in training. As their Harleys roared by, I shared a salute with many of them.


THE LAST STOP THIS DAY would be the Monticello Dam confining Lake Berryessa. In deep need of a stretch I paced the viewing area and discovered, much to my horror, that Berryessa has a “Glory Hole” instead of a spillway. A spillway allows excess water to slip into an engineered channel rather than over top the dam. A Glory Hole is like a huge concrete tube, perhaps thirty feet across, that sticks up in the middle of the pool a hundred yards or so back of the dam. Water eclipsing the rim of the glory hole rushes down into this darkness and shoots out into the creek. I picture myself in a rowboat, feverishly paddling against a lake top current, only to be sucked into the glory hole and spit out at the bottom. Engineering feats to be sure, these things scare the hell out of me.

Google Images

The remainder of the shakedown cruise was on roads I too-commonly know. 128 through Winters; 113 to Davis; I-80 home. The eighty-degree day, clear sky, dry pavement, camaraderie with others and the burger in Isleton, made the first two-hundred miler of the year a nice day and another chapter for the Church of the Open Road.

Tomorrow I would fix the fence.


RESOURCES:

Since I left my camera firmly strapped to my belt for this entire excursion, you might be interested in further photos and facts found by clicking:

California Delta Visitor’s Bureau: http://www.californiadelta.org/

Western Railway Museum: http://www.wrm.org/

Wind Farm of Solano: http://www.thewindpower.net/wind-farm-2787.php

Jimmy Doolittle Air and Space Museum: http://www.jimmydoolittlemuseum.org/

Suisun Valley Wineries:  http://www.suisunvalley.com/

Lake Berryessa and really scary pictures of that “Glory Hole:” http://www.google.com/search?q=Lake+Berryessa&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=9H5&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=0FmXTaCQL4mosQPukbG7BQ&ved=0CC0QsAQ&biw=1218&bih=755

© 2011

Church of the Open Road Press

STICKER SHOCK - STATE ROUTE 12, NAPA COUNTY

A WINDOW STICKER. A pleasant one with a pleasant message. Two children, in white vinyl, praying under a white vinyl cross. Peace. Tranquility. Patience. Love: the unquestioned type.  All that Christ-like stuff.

The window sticker was affixed to the aft window of a late model Camry. Tinted. So the image looked white on black.

Pretty damned cut and dried, in my opinion. If existed both good and evil, this represented good.


CALIFORNIA STATE ROUTE 12 is a two lane affair heading west from Interstate 80 toward US 101 below Santa Rosa, through rolling hills and vineyards.  The road adequately bears the traffic that it is asked to. Everyone moves along at the legal limit and only curses blue when a semi, laden with cases of Carneros region wine struggles to make one of the hills.

I keep a safe distance and am generally well aware of how many seconds separate me from the fellow in front and how many seconds separate me from the motorist behind.

Where this lady came from to me is still a puzzle. A mystery. How she got there is not.

The first bit of road that had an inkling of straightness proved to be her opportunity to pass. I braked and pulled dangerously close to a gravelly shoulder as she rocketed by on the curving up-hill grade.  Mrs. Andretti? I presume.

Once the adrenaline cleared and my bearings were restored and I’d thanked BMW for putting anti-lock brakes on this motorcycle, I oriented myself toward this new situation, slowing, as necessary, to again achieve the two-second safety gap.

Ahead of me now, the Toyota’s rear window, was the cherubic window sticker. So pleasant. So docile. Saying so much without any words what so ever. Peace. Love. Brotherhood. All of those things her Lord and Savior might have preached. Yea, verily: did preach.


IN A MOMENT, the road shifted from two lanes to four. Shortly, there stood a stoplight and an option for motorists to head north to Napa or West to Sonoma. The Camry yielded at the light, detained by a vehicle or two in the lane ahead of her.

As she waited, I motored along side and gave the driver a meaningful (or a questioning) glance. Catching her eye, I motioned to her as she glanced at me while I lifted the shield of my helmet.

She lowered her window, although I could see the trepidation in her face, me being on a motorcyle and all.

“Nice window sticker,” I said, blipping my throttle.

“Huh?”

I cocked at thumb over my shoulder to the tinted rear window of her Camry. “Nice window sticker!”

She nodded. Smiled. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Say,” I began before the red light turned, “How would Jesus drive?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘How would Jesus drive?’”

Her face whiplashed from the smile of approval into something less. Something different. Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. Her trepidation regarding me was clearly founded. “How the hell should I know?”

The light toggled to green and she was gone.

Onward I continued, quite happy that she was far in front of me.

© 2006
Church of the Open Road Press