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[fourstar]

With apologies to all of you riders who are unable to ride because of the weather, I present the following tale of a road trip to the coast I took on Thursday, December 11.

Tule fog is a central valley phenomenon that materializes every year when temperatures drop and humidity is high.  The dense, bone-chilling fog hugs the ground and blocks the sun, casting a depressing, ambition-robbing gloom and wreaking havoc on roadways.  It can last for days or weeks or even months.  The interesting thing about tule fog is that it remains fairly low, sometimes clearing completely as little as 25 feet above ground.  It is readily apparent when entering the valley from the South during the day.  As you drive down the final approach to the valley floor, the fog bank looms ahead just a few miles and extends as far as the eye can see, but you can virtually look over the top of it.

Thursday morning I awoke to news reports of “fog delays” (where local schools delay opening for several hours hoping the fog will lift, or at least thin) and roadway visibility of as little as 100’.  I had a 1230 appointment in Santa Barbara and had planned to brave the fog and ride South over the Grapevine and West on Highway 126 to 101.  This was going to be my first long trip on the new CUSE4, and I wasn’t about to let a little fog change my plans. 
I donned long underwear, an extra shirt, a leather jacket, chaps, and a full-face helmet I’d borrowed from a friend.  I felt a little like Randy from A Christmas Story in his snow suit.  When I left home at 0930, visibility in my neighborhood was several hundred feet.  My confidence was bolstered – but short lived.  As I left the suburbs and entered the rural farming areas south of town, the fog quickly thickened reducing visibility and condensing heavily on my fairing and face shield. 

At one intersection, as I waited for a traffic light, I realized that I could barely make out the sign for a school across the street about 100 feet away.  I made my way gingerly to I-5, watching for lights and listening for vehicles at each intersection.   Only the smell of the dairies near Millux Road told me I was nearly to the freeway.  I wondered what that stretch would be like if the fog remained as thick once I was there.
As I passed the northbound off-ramp of I-5, I saw a leather clad rider standing alongside the road next to his Ultra Classic wiping his face shield.  We waved to each other and I wondered for a moment how far North he was planning to go, and how bad the fog was going to be further up the valley.  As I turned onto the Southbound on-ramp, I was pleasantly surprised to see that visibility along I-5 was easily 300 feet.  Many drivers would be terrified by 300 feet visibility but after the last 5 miles of 100 foot visibility I felt like I could see forever!  I also knew I would be in sunshine by Grapevine.  Air movement along the freeway soon opened visibility up to 1000 feet and I quickened the pace a little to get through the chilling wet.  The fairing mounted air temperature gauge hovered below 35 degrees.  The heated grips and seat were doing their jobs but I found myself idly wondering if HD made heated floorboards as well.   
With the XM radio pounding out classic rock I carefully passed cagers and trucks.  I could imagine people inside of those vehicles thinking “I feel sorry for that guy.”  If only they knew…

At the Highway 99 interchange, southbound vehicles emerged suddenly from the fog, much like football players coming out of the tunnel at a championship game.  Bright sunshine bathed the landscape and the temperature warmed almost instantly.  Drivers collectively kicked up their speed, enjoying their new found freedom.  The outside temperature climbed to 60 degrees and I set the pace for traffic up the winding Grapevine pass.  I passed through Fort Tejon and Lebec, mountain communities near 5000 feet in elevation, where the temperature was twice as warm as it was in the gloomy valley below.  The warm sunshine, music, sights, sounds and smells and the thrill of the powerful machine I sat astride brought feelings of contentment and excitement.  I had long since turned off the heated grips and seat.  I thought about my family and friends who questioned my judgment about riding out on such a foggy day. 
I continued down the 5 to Highway 126 enjoying the warm sunshine.  Light clouds spread across the clear blue sky in the LA basin.  I turned West on the 126 and fell in behind a guy on a Deuce.  We exchanged pleasantries at The Old Road stoplight.  I don’t know about him, but I was thinking about how fortunate I was to be riding on such a beautiful day. 
(Continued below)

[fourstar]

I continued West, taking in and thoroughly enjoying everything with all of my senses.  I had to set the cruise control to keep myself from getting too much over the speed limit.  They shoot a lot of radar along 126 because of a huge number of accidents.  Still, I felt okay at about 10 over, figuring no self-respecting CHP was going to waste his time on me.  There are always much bigger fish-to-fry, and fortunately several of them passed me from time-to-time to draw fire.  I scrupulously avoid exceeding the speed limit at all through the small towns intersected by 126.  The uncontrolled access and ignorant drivers making left turns (among other hazards) require extra care.
Before I knew it, I was merging on to 101 North.  The sea air was a little cooler, but it smelled great and was still very pleasant.  Frankly, I was over dressed, but not uncomfortable and not about to stop.  I passed empty beaches, empty campgrounds, and hotels and motels with “vacancy” signs.   All around me other motorists sat strapped into their cars and trucks, tightly gripping their steering wheels and staring intently ahead, seemingly oblivious to the blue sky, sunshine, clean-fresh-salty air, and coastal views that blessed them.   

I stopped for a minute at the Harley dealer at Padero Lane just outside of Carpinteria.  The friendly staff was busy selling bikes and clothes and parts.  I couldn’t find anything I had to have, so I climbed back aboard the bike and finished the ride to Santa Barbara.  My business there was short.  By 1:00 I was back on the bike and riding down to Cabrillo Boulevard to check out Palm Park and the ocean.  The parking lots were practically deserted, but the skate park was full of boarders and a small but steady stream of runners and bicyclists took advantage of the boardwalk and the beautiful day.  I decided right then to take the long way home.

I had already taken off the chaps and heavy jacket.  The long-sleeve tee shirt and undershirts were plenty of clothes for this day. I switched helmets and put on the half-shell and a pair of sunglasses.  After a gas stop I headed north on 101 for Santa Maria, about 70 miles away.   I literally rocked up 101.  The sun-light danced on the blue Pacific Ocean.  The Channel Islands were clearly visible, and lots of ships, boats, and oil-rigs dotted the ocean.  On the left, tall palms reached into the sky.  On the right, the changing colors of the grapevines and trees created a beautiful landscape.  I laughed to myself when Sammy Hagar’s “I Can’t Drive 55” came on the XM radio.  At that point, I really couldn’t either.  Although I wanted to enjoy the beautiful coastal scenery, I didn’t want to get back into the valley too much after dark and the CVO really wanted to get wrung out. I passed El Capitan Beach, Refugio Beach, and followed the 101 as it cut back inland passing through Buelton.  Wineries and ranches dotted the rolling green hills on each side of the highway.  Oak trees fighting the winter for the last of their foliage added more color to the countryside.  One or two other riders going the other direction gave me a wave.  The rolling hills and scattered buildings slowly gave way to more suburban surroundings.  Walls sprang up along the freeway and traffic picked up as I neared the city of Santa Maria.  I stopped at the Harley dealer and bought a “fill and go” funnel, then used it at my final gas stop for the trip.  Worked pretty good, but pricey for what you get.  I knew the ride across the Cuyama Valley on Highway 166 was going to be colder and that it was going to get dark on me too, so I put the leather back on and switched back to the full-face helmet before I took off on the final leg of the trip. 

There was hardly any traffic on 166, and I got to really enjoy the ride.  The Ultra is superbly stable in the turns and the 110” engine really likes to go.  Even with all of the stifling pollution control devices, the engine delivers gobs more torque and power than the 88” engine on my softail, and the 6 speed transmission makes it really tough to keep the speed around legal limits.  But I tried.  Especially when I saw the Chippie near Cuyama.  Fortunately, his attention was focused on somebody in a pickup truck. 

The full-face helmet has a dark shield, and the setting sun behind me was making it increasingly difficult to see.  I kept flipping the shield up, but eventually it would work it’s way back down.  I had to ride the last 60 miles pushing the shield up every minute or so. 

I putted through the speed trap called Maricopa, and then skirted the city of Taft on Highway 119.  Commuter traffic was fairly heavy, and it was dark.  Fortunately, the full-on fog had not yet returned although the air was damp and hazy.  I arrived safely home before the fog settled back in.  The trip meter read 370 miles. 

You know, of all of the things I’ve put on my motorcycles, the things I've enjoyed the most are the miles.

[Buy early]

fourstar, outstanding writing and report. Being one of those northerners who's bike is up on a jack for the winter, I really appreciate living vicariously through your report. It helps that we spent some time in California (5 years in San Diego) and have been to many of the places you journeyed. Could see myself being there.

Keep posting, it'll help us get through the winter - photos would be nice as well - the scoot and the journey!

[erniezap]

Damn, I wish that I could write like that!  Sounds like a great time!

[JCZ]

Wow......I just realized I wasn't on that ride with you.   Thanks for the report.  Of course knowing all those roads and having road them recently helped to visualize.  However, you can always fall back on writing books when you retire.

Terrie and I did get to put down about 70 miles today on a little ride but I'll not even try to match your blow by blow, turn by turn narrative.

[elvislee]

I was riden right along with ya...Could visualize it all...Very Impressive! 

[Jock]

Sweet...Thanks for the read...

[mr_magoo]

Thanks sorry I missed it sounds like you had a great time.  Like the idea of heated floor boards.  Wonder if they would last longer than the heated grips.

[Buy early]

By the way, I did catch the Simon & Garfunkel reference.

[spydglide]

Hey Fourstar, great write-up.  When your fairing temp. gauge read 35 degrees, what do you think the true temp. was at that point?  Was it close to that?  You rode thru a great range of temps that day.    spyder

[rmsubs]

Fourstar,
  Truly great write up for a days ride. I as many others sure wish we could of been out riding.

Jim