A fabulous day riding Big Sur

Overcast or sun, I was totally revved climbing on the bike this morning. It was overcast, by the way, as it has been the last three days here in California along the coast, where we 18 writers and photographers have gathered and headed off on a four-day EagleRider motorcycle tour of some of California's best.

The chill in the morning air was bracing and at least it was just clouds, no moisture, as we left the Madonna Inn to head up through Big Sur on our way to Carmel. Our first stop was Morro Bay where Morro Rock rises massively out of the water. In fact, though, the bigger attraction was a classic car gathering with a five-strong contingent of Ford Skyliners, those late '50s hard-top convertible Fairlanes and Galaxies where the trunk opened up, the roof lifted off, and then the trunk swallowed the roof. They just don't make cars like that any more.

View slideshow: Motorcycling along Big Sur

Further up the road out next stop was the Hearst Castle but while the lower elevations along the shore were clear, low-hanging clouds totally obscured the upper reaches and the castle was a no-show. At the visitor's center I couldn't help but think of the carefully preserved dwellings of the fabulously rich in St. Petersburg, in Russia, which the communists maintained to let the everyday folks see the opulence in which their rulers used to live. How different, really, is San Simeon?

Adding my down vest to other layers while at this stop proved a good choice, as the day never did warm up. I would have preferred my electric vest but I knew that even if my Heritage Softail had hook-ups they would not match the non-standard hardware of my electrics.

Just a mile or two up the coast we made another stop, at a sea lion rookery, or nesting ground. On the beach below the huge creatures looked like nothing so much as a tangle of logs thrown up by a storm. Either that or a bunch of dead sea lions. But they were very much alive occasionally a few would get into some lively shows of bravado.

Day Two Softail impressions

Speaking of the Softail, my impressions of it continue to evolve. Of course, that's the purpose of choosing to ride a Harley on this trip, to get some serious seat time on one for the first time. I'm well aware you can't form a really valid opinion of a bike in just a few hours. And I'd have to say that on my second day my liking for this bike has grown.

It truly is comfortable. The seat is the sort of thing you can sit on all day without getting sore, and the hand and foot controls are well placed for my size. I'm also getting accustomed to the type of power this motor puts out. Although judging it from what I'm accustomed to, a Kawasaki sport-touring bike, the revs per minute are sedate, it's easy power that is ready when called upon. To me it feels like it's lugging and needs to be downshifted but it will cruise easily like that all day. Then crank the throttle and it goes.

As for details, I definitely like the floorboards. The pads on the roll bars that should serve as highway pegs are too far forward for me to reach, but with the floorboards I don't need them. I would like a throttle lock or cruise control, however, and a full fairing rather than a simple windshield would also be welcome in this very cool weather. So maybe a different model Harley would be a better bike for me.

Before reaching Big Sur, Shawn Fechter, EagleRider's head of tour operations, warned our crowd of mostly European riders, who presumably have more time spent on Ducatis and BMWs than on Harleys, that they might find themselves scraping on the curves. That would be especially likely on the Softails, he said.

With that in mind I had the title for this piece written, if in fact it were true: Scraping parts in Big Sur.

Big Sur

The road began to climb and soon we were winding our way along notches cut into the cliff to accommodate the highway. Though still overcast, and at times a bit foggy, today at least we could see the shoreline up ahead and the rising, falling, curving ribbon of asphalt. With no way to get lost we were free to stay with the group or head off on our own, and you know I was gone. Throttling up these hills, swinging around these curves wondering if I could make sparks fly, I was whooping and hollering and marveling at the grand and glorious day I was living. This was not a good day like yesterday, this was a fabulous day. What did I do to deserve this day?

I stopped often and shot pictures, some of which you can see in the slideshow at left, got passed by the group, and then met up with them when we stopped for lunch at Ragged Point. Then I was the first one on the road again, got passed again shooting pictures. and hooked up again at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. Along the way I spotted a restaurant I had last seen in 1969 when they refused to serve us because we were hippies. I didn't stop to see if the "No Hippies" sign was still on the door, though I did think about going in to tell the current operators the story.

To this point the clouds had been good to us, providing a reasonably good view. Now, though, it got really foggy and there was no reason to stop because there was nothing to stop for. I cruised on into Carmel and wandered this unique little town's odd little streets until I finally managed to find the Playa Hotel, our stop for the night.

After warm showers and changes of clothes we headed down to the Cannery Row area made famous by John Steinbeck with his book of that name for dinner. Then back to the Playa where, in the room next to mine, the party continues with singing and guitar playing while I sit here writing these lines. But now I'm done.

And tomorrow, Yosemite.