A Magical Trip to Laguna Seca

Sometimes, time seems to drag. Really drag. This was one of those times. The last few days before we left on our trip. After all, we had made our hotel reservations ten months ago. We had our tickets in hand. The bikes were serviced and ready. It was almost Laguna Seca time. That last week finally dragged by. It was time to go.

The first leg would take us to Phoenix. Four of us set out early July 3 from Albuquerque. The group consisted of me on my BMW R1100RT, Steve on his BMW R1100GS, BC Nowlin on his BMW K1200RS, and BC’s son Nigel on a Triumph Thunderbird Sport.

We elected to take the scenic route to Phoenix. Diverting south just before reaching Grants, we took route 117 toward Quemado. This is a particularly scenic stretch along the edge of El Malpais National Monument. On the right side of the road lay fields of lava. On the left, an upthrust formation that forms part of the mesa on which the Acoma Reservation lies. The road is twisty and changes elevation frequently and abruptly as it runs through the morning shadow of the mesa. We reveled in the joy of a good challenging road and cool morning weather.

It was the day before the beginning of the July 4^th holiday, and the Highway Patrol had pledged to station at least one officer per 10 miles. That must have been only on the major highways, because we saw no one of an official nature until coming into Quemado. We had just begun to slow coming into town, when we passed a State Police car going the opposite way. Since we were still doing well over the limit, we could do nothing but smile and wave and hope he was not looking at his radar readout. Since he did not pursue us, he must have been on another mission.

We proceeded through Quemado and headed toward Show Low, Arizona, in the foothills of the White Mountains for lunch. The road became more heavily traveled, less curvey, and more prone to police presence. We maintained a more sedate pace into Show Low, and arrived without incident.

After lunching, we continued toward Phoenix, electing to stay in the high country as long as possible. About 20 miles east of Payson we began descending from the Mogollon Plateau. This land feature is an upthrust that extends from southwestern New Mexico to the Grand Canyon. In a few miles we lost 3000 feet in elevation, and the temperature rose accordingly. Once through Payson, we began dropping again toward the Valley of the Sun. It began to really warm up. By the time we hit Scottsdale it was about 110º F. We made our way across the city to Peoria on the west side of Phoenix and arrived at Steve’s son Jeff’s house. It was immediately into the pool and into cooling beverages. About that time BC received a message that there was a family emergency. He and Nigel would have to divert to Las Vegas in the morning, while the rest of us headed across the desert to our next destination, Riverside, California. Jeff had his Ducati 748 Monster packed and ready to go, and we all wanted to get an early start to beat the heat.

We arose about 0400, bid farewell to BC and Nigel, and were on the road by 0500. There is only one way to get across the desert during the summer: leave early and ride fast. Since Jeff’s bike was unfaired, we kept our speeds reasonable, and still made good time, arriving in Riverside by 1000. Why Riverside? My significant other, Jeannie (who is also Steve’s sister), had flown to Riverside the previous Sunday to spend a few days with friends there. We would pick her up there.

The balance of the day was spent relaxing by the pool, and that evening we watched July 4^th fireworks from the roof of our hotel.

In the morning we were confronted by cloudy and rainy weather, a definite anomaly for Southern California in July. We had planned to ride the Angeles Crest road (state route 2) from north of San Bernardino across the mountains to Glendale, and did not let the rain deter us. That road is legendary, and even though it was mid-week and rainy, we still saw quite a few sport bikes on the road. It is about 70 miles of 25 to 35 mph curves (if you are in a car). Since the road was wet most of the way, we were suitably cautious. Jeff and Steve took off a couple of times to test the twisties, and then stopped to let Jeannie and me catch up. (I ride more conservatively with a passenger, you see.)

Our destination for the day was San Luis Obispo, just inland from Morro Bay. We were to meet long-time friend Tomás Carlos there. He was riding up from San Diego on his 1995 Honda Magna and was waiting at the motel for us. We then had a great dinner at a steakhouse that was one of a new chain, Tahoe Joe’s, that currently has locations only in Central California. We all would go back there in a heartbeat, and can’t wait until the company expands this way. (Are they going public anytime soon?)

Friday was the ride we had all waited for: Highway 1 from Morro Bay to Monterey. The day was lightly overcast and cool, but not rainy. We decided to get in some miles before stopping for breakfast. The road quickly becomes a series or roller coaster dips and swoops as it follows the contour of the land. The road would drop to beach level as it crossed canyons opening to the sea, and then rise again toward the tops of the bluffs in sharp horseshoe bends and blind corners. The nice thing about riding Highway 1 right before the races is that the profusion of bikes heading up the coast makes car, SUV, and motorhome drivers much more aware. They even pull over when possible to let the bikes pass. Not all are that considerate, but enough to be noticeable.

We stopped for breakfast in San Simeon. Afterwards we looked for a fuel station, but there was none to be found in the small town that is hardly more than a wide spot in the road. Since Jeff’s Ducatti was running pretty low we asked where the next available station was. The answer we got was that nothing was ahead for quite a distance. We decided to back track nine miles to Cambria, a slightly larger place than San Simeon. We found a station there populated by a score of mostly sport bikes. After fueling we were again on the way north. After passing through San Simeon, we passed a gas station only about five miles north. So much for local knowledge.

We continued along, enjoying the challenge of the road, the unparalleled scenery, and the good weather. After a quick stop and photo op, Steve and Jeff decided to press on ahead. They had promised to meet a friend at a predetermined corner of the Laguna Seca racetrack during the first race. We would meet them at the track later, after dropping our stuff at the hotel.

The rest of the ride passed all too quickly as the road headed away from the coast through the forests of Big Sur, and then back on the coast for the last stretch into Monterey. We arrived at the Country Side Inn (formerly called the West Wind Lodge) and claimed our rooms. After dropping off our luggage, we headed out to the track for an afternoon of AMA races and World Superbike practice and qualifying. We met Steve and Jeff and their friend Jaime (who had flown in from Phoenix, his bike having been stolen the previous week).

The Laguna Seca race was attended by an estimated 90,000 spectators, many on bikes. The number of bikes signed up for the track ride this year was so large that they had to form three sections, each of which was assembled in a different area and took to the track in turn. The tail enders of each section would just get on the track when the leaders were returning from their lap.

All of these motorcycle enthusiasts in one place attracted a huge crop of vendors, and every major manufacturer was represented. This year Buell and Aprillia were offering demo rides. Every conceivable accessory was for sale, every remotely related magazine was represented, and just about any cuisine was offered, from calamari to BBQ ribs. Our drink of choice was Fosters, in the oil can of course.

The next two days flew by in whirl of exciting race action, a track ride for Steve and Jeff, long comforting spa and pool sessions at the end of each day, and great dinners on the pier in Monterey.

On Monday we all split up. Steve and Jeff were headed back home via Laughlin, NV, while Tomás headed back down Highway 1 toward San Diego. As for Jeannie and me, the ride to Laguna Seca was just the beginning of our trip.

We rode up the coast, taking in Santa Cruz and the peninsula, and then crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. It was an amazing way to see the bridge, since neither the views up, down, or sideways were obscured. North of the Bay Area, we headed up Highway 101, which took us through the heart of wine country and into the redwood forests. Our plan was to ride north to the Oregon Coast and spend some time relaxing at Otter Crest before returning to New Mexico and the world of jobs, bills, and taxes. The ride north from San Francisco is so varied and enjoyable, that it provides subject material enough for another whole article. Stay tuned.

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