Hey Everybody. Long time, no see. I'm back though with 68.7 miles of twisties under my belt and some cool winter pics on the Treo.
I had planned to ride more during the winter as there had been good weather but an ear problem and other ambitions took me on another path.
I took off yesterday om a mild and warm Saturday afternoon to just do some city riding, hit some cafe's and come back in a few hours. Little did i know a literal detour would take me onto the freeway and up the road a piece to the junction of Highway 2 and the Angeles Crest. I saw the riders gassing up and decided to stop off and partake in the anticipatory revelry. I gassed up and waved to a few riders.
As I pulled out of the station a wheel turned, a light bulb went off, I had a revelation...I must go up the crest... if only for a few miles.
Those few miles turned into 8 and those 8 turned into 34 and 7,140 ft Elevation,... snow and ice nipping at the edges of the road! Needless to say I was happy to be there. I stopped for a few photo ops, reached Mt. Waterman and then turned back and finally went to Newcombs Ranch - a great roadside stop usually filled with bikers and mountain lovers of all sorts.
It was a place I had often heard about in motorcycle lore. Now I was a part of it and nothing could be better then that. When my memory jarred me I realized I had been there years ago after a long days snowboarding at the local peak. A group of us had waited to hear the news of lost friend and boarder who had decided to ride off the backside of Mt. Waterman with his friend at sunset. The story ended happily enough. The boarders returned covered in snow as they had hiked there way out in no time.
The new wood and remodeled interior had covered those memories seemingly forgot.
I drank down my third cup of Joe and talked with some of the riders. A old Norton, a Suzuki and a few Multistradas sat out front.
Tony, a young but seasoned vet, was excited to hear I was a new rider and had rode the crest on a 695. "Good for you" he said, "way to go". "Just be careful". I wouldn't tell him I sometimes road like a little old lady form Pasadena but then again I didn't board double black diamonds in Jackson Hole my first season either.
After a much needed break I headed back down. Light and shadow peppered the pines. I said to myself what a world, what a life, it was ours to have if only for a time.
68.7 miles of twisties.
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