Shirt tale

I'm wearing my Nepenthe denim shirt this morning because it makes me happy.
My girlfriend - now my wife - bought it for me in July 1997 when we were on our first real vacation together.
Nepenthe is a restaurant along the Pacific Coast Highway about a half-hour south of Monterey. It's a magical place along what I've come to call the Holy Road - the most scenic stretch of highway I've found in my roughly 300,000 miles of motorcycling around North America.
The shirt is faded and frayed and Maria won't let me wear it outside the house anymore but I love the look and feel of it. Here's what I wrote about that trip a few years ago in Motorcycle Tour & Cruiser magazine:
I first visited this magical area in 1986 for a BMW motorcycle rally and I've returned several times in recent years, drawn back by that fabulous twisty road between Monterey and Ragged Point.
It dives and soars along the cliffs where the mountains march down to the surging sea in a collision of shapes and colors. The images never fail to amaze me.
Whenever I return to Big Sur and the majesty of this spectacular place, I always long for someone with whom to share the experience.
The longing was fulfilled in 1997 when Maria flew out to join me in Monterey.
I was already a dozen days into my Annual Midlife Crisis Tour at this point. I'd visited my son Sean in Portland, Ore., and we'd done a camping loop of the lush green Olympic Peninsula. From Sean's house, I tore down I-5 on my ’91 BMW K100RS in a two-day run to Palm Springs to visit an Internet friend.
It was early on a Tuesday morning when I rolled out into the mid-80-degree Palm Springs predawn darkness to make my rendezvous with Maria in Monterey.
Weeks earlier, I'd used the Internet to book a room at the West Wind Lodge in Monterey. As I rode through the empty streets of Palm Springs, I knew Maria was already in the air, winging her way west.
The sky was beginning to lighten when I blended into the stream of westbound traffic on I-10.
As I crested the pass at Banning, the temperature dropped about 15-20 degrees and I pulled in to a gas station to put the liner into my jacket. The attendant came out to chat and observed that mine was only the second BMW motorcycle he'd ever seen. I smiled and decided against commenting on his powers of observation.
The freeway traffic slowed to a crawl somewhere around San Bernardino. I sat in line briefly, resigned to my fate. Then a motorcycle shot past along the line separating the left two lanes, reminding me that lane-splitting is a way of life for L.A. area riders.
I watched closely, noticing the car drivers seemed to be cooperative. After another rider flashed past, I gingerly eased into the “bike lane” and headed past the slowed or stopped cars and trucks. It got a little tight in places and I took an occasional break by easing back into a lane, but over the next several miles, I figure I saved myself a half-hour or so. Sometime after I-210 swung west, I picked up the Ride Share lane and it was clear sailing all the way back to I-5.
I gassed a short time later and rode over the mountains that form the northern ramparts of Los Angeles, stopping for breakfast at Grapevine where I-5 descends to the floor of California’s great Central Valley.
After consulting a road map, I took Calif. 46 west to U.S. 101 at Paso Robles. It felt good to be back on El Camino Real and I relaxed into the ride up to Salinas. I found the connector route to Calif. 68 and soon motored past the Toro Place Cafe and Laguna Seca Raceway – places I'd gotten to know in 1986.
After a little fumbling, I found Munras Avenue and the West Wind Lodge. Checking in, I was pleasantly surprised to learn Maria was already here. As I dropped the sidestand in my parking place, my lady emerged from the room to greet me with a very welcome hug. We did a brief soak in the motel hot tub, then set out for Maria's first visit to Calif. 1 and Nepenthe, my all-time favorite restaurant.
Leather-clad and eager for the ride, we got onto southbound Calif. 1 and the road I dream about all winter.
The Carmel Highlands were in fog – it was about 4 p.m. by now – but it was still a glorious ride and we soon broke into bright sunshine.
Summer in Big Sur means fog much of the day. It’s not unusual for the coast to be shrouded in marine fog until midday, when the sun burns through, only to yield to fog again as afternoon becomes evening.
Nepenthe is a rare delight – a casual restaurant with a great, affordable menu and a spectacular view of the mountains and the Pacific. It grew out of a getaway Orson Welles built for himself and Rita Hayworth, but the two divorced before they got a chance to use it. The rambling complex that is Nepenthe consists of the Phoenix gift shop, surmounted by the Cafe Kevah on an expansive open deck cantilevered over the cliff. Up the hill from the cafe is an upper restaurant that offers a mix of outdoor and sheltered dining. Over the years, I’ve come to treasure Nepenthe as a perfect spot for a meal or a break. The place takes its name from the mythical Greek drug of forgetfulness and it's a perfect moniker.
The relaxed atmosphere, enhanced by the tinkle of wind chimes and soft New Age music and the subtle scents of sea and shore always lifts my spirits. It helps me shift gears from the rush of the road to reconnect with the silence within and the beauty around me.
The lower cafe at Nepenthe was closed for the day, so we went upstairs and had a wonderful dinner seated outside and facing the sea. I had salmon steak fresh from Monterey Bay and Maria ordered a shrimp and scallop salad. Nepenthe was the perfect welcome back to Big Sur and it put us in a mellow mood.
The ride back was one of the most amazing I've ever had. The fog was rolling in and every bend in the road brought a new fantastic scene: fog spilling into a sun-filled canyon to our right or plumes of mist welling up like geysers over the cliffs to our left.
We got back to the room happy but very tired – we'd both been up since well before dawn and Maria, especially, was running on empty.
We took our time about getting up the next morning, then hiked down Munras Avenue to Denny's for breakfast. We walked down to the harbor where we watched a sea otter preening himself in the water just below the harbor master's office. Leaving our furry friend, we strolled west along the shore, stopping to explore some of the shops at Fisherman's Wharf and sharing a peach frozen yogurt cone.
We continued on through Cannery Row to the Monterey Bay Aquarium where we marveled at the world class displays of marine life from the microscopic to the huge.
The Monterey Bay Aquarium is a must-see attraction for any visitor to the area. We stood mesmerized for what must have been a half-hour, peering through the largest aquarium window on earth at the giant fish that flourish in the million-gallon tank that replicates the offshore world of Monterey Bay. The place also features a spectacular multi-story kelp forest and an always entertaining colony of sea otters.
After a soak in the motel hot tub, we rode back down to Fisherman's Wharf for a generous seafood dinner at Rappa's Seafood Restaurant at the end of the pier. I was reminded anew that the seafood is yet another reason I love this place so much.
We rode back to the motel and bagged it about 9 p.m., very full and very tired.
We were up early Thursday morning and rode out to the Toro Place Cafe for breakfast. This is a pleasant little eatery near Laguna Seca. They serve a tasty breakfast and I love the eclectic décor, highlighted by an old-fashioned glass-topped gas pump that is home to a family of goldfish.
After topping off the tank near Laguna Seca, we returned to Calif. 1 and headed down the coast. The light fog soon yielded to sunshine and we stopped often to admire the colors, examine the plant life and take pictures.
This is not a road for hurrying. With some of the most glorious scenery in North America, this is a road to be savored – a ride to be stretched out as long as possible. The road cooperates with twists and turns that snatch you back from cliff’s edge, deep into a creek-cut canyon before hurling you back up the mountainside to yet another breathtaking view of wave-dashed rocks and swirls of blue and turquoise and aquamarine.
Mother Nature and the Pacific don’t want this road to be here and periodically they conspire to blast it with winter storms and landslides that carry away great chunks of it. The El Niño storms of 1998 were particularly bad and closed the road from February to May. Glancing down and to the right on the last tight switchback south of Ragged Point, we were startled to see a semitrailer truck on its side in the ravine – a grim reminder of why you seldom see big trucks on the Big Sur stretch of Calif. 1.
We made quick work of the 40 miles of sweepers north of Morro Bay and began looking for lunch. We chose the Galley for its view of the harbor and Morro Rock. Lunch was cheerfully served fried shrimp and clam strips. We watched the gulls and pelicans swoop and dive in the afternoon sun from our table by the window.
After lunch, we visited a nearby gift shop were Maria bought a ring for her daughter, Morgan. Standing by the bike, I heard Maria shriek and turned to see her splattered with pelican poop. It caught the right shoulder of her leather jacket, a dab on the top of her head and splashed onto the tank, fairing and handlebars of the bike. One whiff made it clear that pelicans like seafood, too.
We got some paper towels from the gift shop and cleaned things up as well as we could before gassing and getting out of town. The ride north went quickly because Maria was getting more into leaning into the turns. We stopped at Lucia for iced mocha and iced tea before pressing on north.
We reached Carmel and the beach near Point Lobos in time to dance with the surf and watch a golden sun set on a near perfect day.
After shedding our leathers, we walked down to a liquor store and picked up a six-pack of Pacifico beer, a bag of Tostitos and some jalapeno cheese dip for a few hours of television watching.
Another splendid day!
We returned to Denny's for breakfast the next morning and ran into two couples on matching white Honda Gold Wings from Tennessee.
Today's ride would be an inland exploration. After breakfast, we headed down Carmel Valley Road – a county road separated from Highway 1 and the ocean by the coastal mountain range. Lying in the lee of the ocean breezes, Carmel Valley is usually free of chilly maritime fog this time of year. About 10 miles down the road from Calif. 1, we shed our jacket liners.
As we cruised south, the road plunged into twisty canyons, following creeks and over-arched with ancient oak trees. I felt as if I had been transported back to old Spanish California as we rode mile after mile in the dense woods, seeing only the occasional car or pickup truck. We passed an isolated ranch with curious-looking signs requesting, “Please avoid newts crossing the road.” A little further down the road, a sign advised: Cattle Guards Next 11 Miles.
Eventually, the road climbed out of the canyons over vast brown grassy hills, affording vistas that opened onto mountains and valleys for miles. The road was designated G16 and, on an impulse, I turned right at a bridge and followed G17 toward Greenfield, past fields of grape vines flying silver ribbons to scare birds away from the ripening fruit. At Greenfield, we picked up U.S. 101 and rode north a few miles until I saw a sign directing us to Soledad Mission.
We found the mission a short time later west of the main highway. A BMW K75 belonging to another couple out for a day ride leaned on its sidestand in the parking lot.
The day was warm, but it was comfortably cool inside the thick adobe walls of the restored 200-year-old mission. After exploring the mission and wondering at an improbable statue of the Virgin Mary dressed in black lace, we lit a couple of candles and returned to G17. We followed the road north and west through more agricultural land where farm workers were packing lettuce in the fields.
Picking up Calif. 68 just west of Salinas, we returned to Monterey and the West Wind Lodge. We changed clothes and rode down to Fisherman's Wharf for a delicious dinner of seafood provencal at Ablonetti's followed by ice cream cones for dessert.
Even though it was a low-mileage day, these were quality miles.
We gathered up our dirty laundry and spent about an hour at the Del Monte Shopping Center laundromat, then capped the evening with a soak in the hot tub.
We rolled out about 9:30 Saturday morning and headed down Calif. 1 for one last coastal ride.
It was chilly and foggy and delightful.
We passed a large herd of Herefords on the plateau sweeping down to the sea just north of Big Sur. In a corner of the field were a couple of herdsmen, dressed as cowboys – one of them wheeling his mount in clockwise circles as we flashed by. We gassed at the BP station at River Inn, paying a stunning $2.30 a gallon for 92 octane premium.
Then, it was on to Nepenthe where we arrived moments before a large contingent of the California Pantera Club, out for a Saturday morning drive. Intent on beating the car club crowd, we hustled up to the Cafe Kevah, where I had an omelet and Maria had a tostada. We fed much of our sourdough toast to the Steller's Jays and the crows that patrol the cafe deck looking for leftovers or handouts.
We stopped a couple of times to take photos, finally drawing rein at Lucia for drinks and a $3 chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookie. There we passed a pleasant half-hour in conversation with another motorcycle couple from Indiana. Finally, we took our leave and headed back north, stopping a couple of places for Maria to get pictures of me on the bike with the coastline features in the background.
As we approached Carmel, we found ourselves in s-l-o-w stop-and-go traffic, stretching all the way past Carmel Valley Road. After several minutes of crawling, we were passed by a Harley rider on the berm and followed him past scores of cars to the open freeway.
Back at the room, I called a Yellow Cab while Maria changed and we packed her leathers. The cabby arrived within minutes and I followed the cab to the airport, catching up with Maria halfway through the terminal.
We hustled her to the gate and she was off to Los Angeles, Chicago and home.
I rode back to the Lodge, read some of Ted Simon's Jupiter's Travels, watched some TV and dined on pizza and Diet Coke from Domino's.
It was a hurried conclusion to a my best-ever visit to my favorite places and I realized that night that it would be a hard act to follow. I hit the road early the next morning for a ride home that took me through Yosemite, the deserts and canyonlands of Nevada and Utah and the mountain majesty of Colorado.
Solo travel has its merits, but once you find someplace special, it's even better when you can share it.