Adventure 158: Santa Rosa, California/Post B

Free parking at our start/stop spot. 

Just fifteen miles North of Santa Rosa is the little burg of Healdsburg, which started as a train stop and now stops "wineys" and "dineys" in its cute town square which is bordered with a gaggle of California nifty shops. The local literature claims that the town hasn't yet reached tourist trap status, but my back ached after the first lap around the square. Fortunately, we weren't there to be trapped. We were there to join the rapture of the landscape, and it was heavenly. The terrain surrounding the town is a series of rolling hills, some steep, but all short. The flora is mostly grape vines, but there are also patches of pine and oak forest. The grape vines were so close to the road, they nearly twirled themselves around our legs. I guess if we had availed ourselves of the opportunity to taste wine, we would have stayed in one place long enough for them to think we were growing posts. A person could taste wine every couple of miles or so since small family wineries dot the valley. We rode a thirty mile loop that meandered from one side of to the other. The west side is the Dry Creek Valley, the middle is the Russian River Valley, and the east side is the Alexander Valley. In between we passed near another small burg called Geyserville and a wonderful little lunch stop at Jimtown, which is mostly just a revitalized country store that reminded me of something I'd see in Vermont. Our lunch, a delicately prepared pork sandwich matched with caramelized onions and topped with provolone was delightful. We also experimented with some 'Mama Zuma's Revenge' potato chips that claim to be made from the hottest peppers on the planet. I can't argue, but the heat was a nice compliment to the savory pork.  After lunch at Jimtown, we did taste four sips of specialty wine at the Ridge Winery. The wine we tasted can't be purchased in stores; it's available only at tastings and through wine clubs. All four samples we tasted were rich, full bodied, fruity, and pleasant. It was "Hizuu" as my son, Steve, would say. He means high class, and we certainly qualified, standing proudly at the bar dressed in tight spandex. This ride, number one of the top ten, is very popular for the wine, the scenery, and the riding. In high season, it must enjoy a steady stream of cyclists and automobile tourists. Today, however, even though the weather was beautiful, warm, and windless, we were nearly the only riders on the road. In the whole of thirty miles we saw just ten other cyclists and just as few cars. In all, it validated our decision to leave the soggy confines of the redwoods for this 'other' world of California dreamin'. Tomorrow, we are going to ride through downtown Santa Rosa on its bike trail out into the wine country again toward a little burg called Windsor. The riding guide calls this ride "entry level". No matter. All cyclists know that twenty-five miles is twenty-five miles. For now, all I can say is that life is good, especially today. 

 All sorts of flowers accompany the vines along the road, including a few olive trees. 

 A row of neatly cared for migrant homes.

 The vines, the pines, and whatever else in on your mind.

 They told us the old vines produce less but better fruit. Good news: Old is good.

 My best gal checking coordinates.

 The view across Alexander Valley.

 Cutsey and artsey, but most of all excellent. Go here if you can.

 The cutsey part.

 Some of the artsey part: a miniature kitchen toy made of tin.

 The drop dead gorgeous view from the porch.

 The patio, covered in grape vines of course.

 Pork sandwich with caramelized onions on a ciabatta roll, garnished with home made sweet pickles.

Tandem heaven. Just a little taste stop at the Ridge Winery. Like Albert Collins says, "I ain't drunk, I'm just drinkin'. 

Adventure 157: Santa Rosa, California/Post A

Drying Frac out, all portals open!

And suddenly we entered another world. Traveling south, we drove through the exquisite forests of Northern California. Highway 101 changed from four lane freeway here and there to two lane twisting, winding thirty mile an hour curves through old growth groves complete with funky roadside attractions featuring wooden gnomes, Bigfoot carved in wood, and, of course, spirit infused candles. Long hair and tie dye t-shirts marked a stark contrast to the speeding autos on the four lane stretches. Just as suddenly, as if by magic, we dropped into wine country. Vines nestled right up to the road and spread like money on a casino table over the hillsides. Tasting rooms popped up like forest mushrooms, and the once grand haciendas turned wineries lorded over the landscape. Each mile we covered drew a bit of the mist away from the sky. By the time we neared Santa Rosa the sun was shining bright and the temperature neared seventy. We almost stopped to put on sun screen. We arrived at Sonoma County Fairgrounds RV Park around one-thirty. The campground host, a gregarious guy named Chip (From Washington State) checked us in, and after we set up, we walked the two miles into the bustling downtown core of Santa Rosa. As you would expect in California, flaming hot rods tooled the strip. One was an emerald green reverse low riding sixty-eight Chevrolet Impala that screeched a police siren about every fifty feet. He was followed by a parade of muscle cars, one of which was a SS Nomad that had a gleaming chrome header bulging out of the hood and a vanity plate that read: YOUDLOSE. The streets were full of walkers and noticeably absent of "old" people like us. The crowd was actually quite young: twenty to thirty I'd say. There was also a significant presence of homeless, all of whom it seemed had huge pit bulls on leashes. We haven't been here long enough to get a lay of the land, but the townsfolk seemed to coexist with the shopping carts, and both the city square and the one local park we saw had a cadre   of hapless folk milling about. We ate dinner at an Irish pub called Stout Brothers. The food was medium but the screen was big, the Giant fever pitched, the crowd oiled, and our waitress was excellent. Our table was near the door, so we had a great view of both the big screen and the big world outside.  I saw couples, singles, and young families. I saw smokers  lighting up near the curb in between innings.  I even saw a young bloke sneak a quick toke from a metal pipe, which he slipped quickly into his pocket as he walked past. What I didn't see was anyone that looked like me. We left around the fifth inning in search of an ice cream shop called 'Frozen Art' which makes all its exotic flavors in house. Judy had Mexican Chocolate, her favorite. Even though the evening had turned cool, I must tell you, the light and warmth left from the sun made it feel like summer. We stopped here because we read that this is a bicycling mecca.Tomorrow we are going to do a thirty-five mile ride out of Healdsville that rolls through the vineyards. The ride, just one of ten great rides in the area, sounds perfect. Stay tuned and always remember, life is good, especially today. 


 We learned at the Humboldt Redwoods Visitor center that the trees draw much of their water from the mist and fog that drapes them every morning.

 Soon to be the site of my next victory over the Wily Cager.

 Just another cute blond girl in California.

 I just missed the emerald green Chevy in this art shot.

 Actually, Judy's fish tacos were quite good. I was a bit disappointed in the Irish rashers.

 The Everett building at game time.

 Our table with a view.

Frac snuggled in for the night.

Adventure 156: Humboldt Redwoods State Park/Post B

Adam

Lucky for us, we got a nice ride in yesterday. A fierce wind storm passed through during the night, toppling small trees, ripping limbs from trees, and shedding pine needles like confetti all over the roads and trails. It carried with it some considerable moisture as well. As a result, we've decided to cut our time short by a day or two in order to find some dryer weather. Since it was raining today, we took a 'Driving Miss Judy' tour of the Avenue of the Giants and checked out a few of the groves. Even in the drab dampness, the forest is quite fabulous. We walked a few of the groves, oblivious of the weather, but the debris on the road made us change our mind about staying here another day. Even though the weather is due to improve tomorrow, I doubt that the limbs and shards of wood will be removed from the roadway. Dodging flat causing debris lessons the fun of riding in my estimation. During lunch, the Wily Cager made an attempt at evening the score by skunking me to the tune of $108 dollars. Grrr. I'm sure she used some sleight of hand maneuver that I couldn't pick up. We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in Frac listening to the rain drops create a marimba beat on the roof, and we even took a foot splashing trip around the campground, just to feel like the little three year old (Adam) I saw this morning splashing as boys are wont to do. His patient and wonderful mother stood by watching and smiling. It warms me to see a young mother encouraging a sense of adventure as opposed to yelling, "Get out of the water, you'll catch the death!" He certainly would catch the death, the death of his spirit if he had been unlucky enough to have fate deal him one of those moms. But Adam is lucky and his giggles trailed with me like a bird song. Two or three of our other campground mates who were braving the weather in tents pulled up stakes before any light could make its way through the canopy. I watched two twenty something girls fold their soggy gear somewhat haphazardly into the back of their little hatchback. One couple, a pair of touring cyclists from Canada remained in the nearly empty campground  Their banana colored tent was so soaked it was as see through as bikini babe in a wet T-shirt contest. They had little choice since they had no little hatchback at the ready. As a bicycling tourist with some experience, I hope for their sake that the weatherman is right and that the weather improves tomorrow. These trees are a fairy land extraordinaire when the sunlight filters down through the canopy. The ferns glisten, the moss gleams, and eons of memory float over the imagination. Riding a bicycle gives one time to enjoy the best (and worst) of these things. Happy we are for our aluminum tent, though we did reminisce a little bit last night about the worst (and best) nights we'd ever spent in a tent. We realized we had at least thirty years of tent camping memories, and only a few found us floating in puddles in the morning. All of this is to say, life is good, especially today.

 Fric and Frac nearly alone in the campground.

The front view of the Kellogg Travel Log, an RV carved from a tree.

 Mounted on a 1917 Nash Quad with heavy steel rims, this rig padded its way through the forest  and all the way to New York City.

 Dyerville washing away in 1955.

 The town called it quits when it washed away a second time in 1962.

 The weather rock: If it's wet, it's raining.

 This tree was a seedling the same time Jesus roamed the holy land.

 After watching the environmentally biased movie in the Visitor Center, I became a tree hugger.

 I just photographed the sign. My camera can't capture the tree's grandeur.

 This downed fellow is at least 150' long.

 In Annie Dillard's book, The Living, she talked of settlers building cabins from the burnt stumps of Douglas Firs in Bellingham. I can believe it.

 Stump art.

This pleasant little grove is nestled along the banks of the Eel River.

Adventure 155: Humboldt Redwoods State Park/Post A

Avenue of the Giants

We left Gold Beach under drizzly skies, but the light in the Southern sky guided us like a beacon. We travelled nearly 190 miles with traveling mercies. We stopped for lunch and gas in Eureka, CA. Lunch was at a little sandwich shop called 'The Hole in the Wall'. We shared a club with all the fixins' except hot peppers. It was very good. In addition, we were able to park just a block away with good access to 101. Along the way we watched the ocean waves change from sandy brown to emerald green. Welcome to California. We arrived at our campsite in the Redwoods about three-thirty and immediately set off on an hour's ride along the Avenue of the Giants. Wow! The pavement was baby butt smooth, the wind was light, an the temperature was near seventy. To quote my buddy , Ed Drouin, "This is great!" For dinner, we built a fire and roasted hot dogs (American style).  The evening is soft and the fire is warm. It's the first night of a scheduled five. We are boon docking (No power; real camping except for the Aluminum tent). It will be a good test of the batteries on Frac. I'm sitting here right now at the camp table under a grove of giant trees, and through the miracle of satellite I have two bars of 4G reception. Time will tell if that will be enough to download pictures, but here it goes. Oh, I forgot. Life is good, especially today.

 Hello California.

 I agree with the claim, and so do 97% of Yelpers.

 Club on whole wheat.

 The Bunny carrying the whole bike!

 Big trees will be the subject of photos for a while.

 I last travelled this road with Annie in 1972. I bring all my best girls here.

 Site #21.

 Warm and happy.

Weinies three.

 The ocean is magnificent and powerful, but the mountains draw me more.

 The site of a town called Dyerville along the Eel River. It was washed out in 1955. Now only the overlook remains.

My best girl enjoying smoked salmon on toast (I only go for the cultured ones).