Day 11

Day 11 of the 2018 Prefrontal Tour was to finish off the To-Do list and get headed back east. We packed and repacked the bikes, but in the end a couple things had to go - my plastic containers and black sneakers were ready for the dustbin anyway, and I had to toss them out for lack of space. Jim got a pretty cool photo of my bike before dawn, backlit by the hotel's accent lights, but truth be told the desert has put a shameful layer of grit on the old girl. We headed west out of Bakersfield, through that now familiar mixture of grapevines, fruit trees, and oil pumps. That part of California is such a strange mixture of heavy industry and food production! Everywhere it's fumes and dust, and in the process of harvesting the celery, cabbage and green onions they were packing them in cardboard boxes with gaping air holes, loading them on open trucks, and carting them through all of that mess to the processing facility. Another good reminder to wash my food! Part of the heaviest industry is in a place called the "Elk Hills Reserve", but I think it's been a while since an elk was anywhere near there... The wind was off the water hard for most of the day, and at one point you could see this enormous brown cloud of smog being blown up and out of the valley to the east. We got our first look at how an automated fruit harvester works though, shaking the heck out of the tree and letting all the fruit drop into a large pan on the front of the machine, then we were back into the twisties in Los Padres National Forest, on the way to Ventura Beach so Jim could get his feet in the Pacific. Whatever river flows (flowed?) through that part of the park is a mere memory now (see photo of dirt), just like the Mojave River which is really just a nice collection of rocks. After the beach we got a taste of In-n-Out Burger, and talked to an "adventure riding" couple, he on a BMW adventure bike and she on a three-wheeled Spyder, who were on their way south of San Diego as part of their trip to visit the four corners of the U.S. They said it will take them two years to do it, the west coast this year, and the east coast next year, so I gave them some advice about when to get to Maine to avoid the worst of the black flies, and maybe catch the Blueberry Festival in Machias. We turned north, figuring we'd stay near San Jose and catch the I-80 eastbound through Reno, Salt Lake City, and points east, but San Jose turned out to be much too sketchy for us to want to park the bikes, so we headed a half-hour northeast only to find every hotel booked in a six-town radius. So, we headed another half-hour northeast and finally got a room near Stockton. The ocean breezes were pretty challenging for most of the day and we were dog tired when we finally got settled. The closer we had gotten to Google in San Jose, the worse the navigation worked, at one point turning me the wrong way down a deserted one-way street. I pulled over to the side and prepared to make a U-turn. I slowed and practically stopped, and then realizing I was going too slow I sort of just stepped off the bike to the left as it leaned over on the appropriately-named tip-over guards. Thanks to some pre-trip YouTube research, I knew exactly what to do. First, laugh at yourself and realize you've graduated in biker terms from "will inevitably tip over" to "has tipped over". Second, if you're an amateur look around nervously to see if anyone saw you, but if you're a pro get a picture to show your friends. I forgot to do both. Last, put your butt on the seat and push with your legs, and just like that a half ton of bike and gear is back on its wheels, none the worse for wear. Jim seemed much more concerned than I was, which I appreciate. Tomorrow we head east in earnest, after we do some research on how to avoid the worst of the traffic on the 7-lane highways that are here between San Jose, Sacramento and San Francisco. Onward and upward!