Bunk-a-Biker

It was time for a new experience and take that plunge called Bunk-a-Biker. A Worldwide resource of hosts who offer services to bikers on the road. These services can range from full board to a place to pitch a tent to a fully equipped workshop. The hosts tend to be bikers themselves with all hosts having a passion for meeting new people and helping them on their way.

We had contacted one such host, a few days prior, and arranged to stay a couple of nights in Sarah’s trailer in the front garden. A self-contained unit where we would be out of the way of the family, if we chose.

The road to Sarah’s was not as action packed as previous days, with the twisty roads limited to 50mph and frequent overtaking lanes making it feel more like a main highway than a smaller road. The chosen route was to take us through Loch Lomond as the namesake for the Scottish location where Isi’s Dad’s ashes are scattered. Loch Lomond couldn’t be much different to its Scottish namesake, being high up in the mountains and hot - this was not the cold loch of the Scottish Trossachs we were expecting.

Lunch was nothing special except we found this! Didn’t taste the same as it was made under licence by Hershey - a disappointment!

The mountains surrounded the valley floor, containing the sunny goodness and warmth that the grapes thrived on, whilst providing us with the twisties we thrived on but, dare I suggest and not for the first time, the never-ending curves and climbs were taking their toll on our energy and reaching Sarah’s was a blessing for more than just a place to end the day.

On arrival at Sarah’s, the place was empty. With earlier messages, we had been told where to go, what to do and to help ourselves to a beer from the fridge. We hadn’t expected the advice that the area was safe, would be so ably demonstrated by the front door of the house being wide open. We assumed there was someone home but, having shouted in through the door and ventured a small way in, we realised there was no one home and the door was just left open. We pulled it too, and started our off-loading.

Sarah’s daughter and grand-daughter were the first to arrive, giving us a huge welcome and dealing with the queries we had. The young cat was a playful little thing that loved to get in the way and insisted on sitting on the bike seat as we deployed the invisibility cloaks. She was invisible but her claws no less painful - yet another pet we would have happily made room for! When Sarah arrived, we were pretty much settled and cooking a meal. Washing our dishes in the house and volunteering to washing Sarah’s family dishes too, we had a chance to chat and agree the next day would be a ride out with Sarah.

This was my first experience of a port-a-potty. For some reason, it had been raised and getting on and off was a challenge for me. Anyone with shorter legs would really struggle. Lucky we’re happily married as the experience of doing a number 2 right next to Isi sleeping was not one of our most romantic moments.

Sarah rides a Triumph with street tyres. To be fair, I reckon if Sarah was riding the same as us, I’d still have the same observation - Sarah is fast! Obviously, this is her backyard and she knows the roads and whilst I could summon up many other excuses for my inability to keep up, I just couldn’t…. The twisties in this part of the world are insane and never ending. A quick drop in to the valley then another climb out and so you repeat.

We did drop in to the very trendy and affluent St Helena to pick up a huge sandwich and admire the place and the people, then it was back in to the hills. At one point toward the end of the day, we stopped at the Nichelini Family Winery, the oldest winery in the Napa area, still in the ownership of the same family since 1890. During prohibition, the winery provided “medicinal” wine for those that could legally claim it and bootleg for everyone else. They did get caught, they did get fined, they did continue…. The building was old and showed the scars of time. The surrounding area showed the ravages of fire from two years prior, right up to the edge of the buildings. One person noticed a whisp of smoke and alerted the fire brigade but they were busy elsewhere. Call it fate or call it what you will but, somehow, the fire surrounded the building but didn’t touch it…

Then it started to rain and none of us were prepared for it. It was a slower ride back to Sarah’s and we were all really happy, yet tired, after a great days riding.

The following morning, we packed the bags, said goodbye to Sarah and her family, and headed for San Fransisco - it was time to ride the Golden Gate Bridge!

Access to the viewpoints of the bridge was via a one-way tunnel, controlled by lights. Needing a fresh coat of white paint, the tunnel was still recognisable as it featured in a number of Hollywood films from the 50’s & 60’s. The road continued to twist and climb until a roundabout pointed up to better views or down toward the bridge. We went up a short way and stopped to take photos of the iconic bridge. Not the best angle or the best time of day as we were facing in to the sun.

We rode back down toward the Golden Gate Bridge! Whilst impressive, its history and place in folklore is more impressive than the structure itself. But the most impressive part was our thoughts, knowing we had reached this iconic bridge on our own motorcycles, all the way from England! WOW!

And it didn’t stop there. Riding through the streets with heady skyscrapers and smaller colonial buildings we had a sense of being there but not being there. However, the traffic and the potholes would bring us back to reality as we navigated the busy streets heading toward another icon.

Anyone who knows anything about San Fransisco will know about the really, really steep roads where various car chases would see cars leaping across the horizontal road that joins from the side. We were riding these, though a lot slower! Then there was Lombard Street. Instead of just a steep road, they had decided to put in 8 hairpins and have a very twisty road. Unlike the car in front, we could not easily stop as putting a foot down whilst holding on the brakes on a steep incline of brick paved street would prove very difficult. We did allow some distance to develop before we plunged down but no matter how slow we went, we did catch the car and had to overtake at the bottom - it was fun to ride but a bit technical for slow riding and fully loaded.

San Fransisco “tick”. We had a lot to do today, so we took the less impressive but far busier Oakland Bay bridge on the highway toward Modesto. We were in need of fuel, so we took the exit ramp thinking we could easily find it. Nope, not as easy as we thought as we ended up taking the scenic route BACK a junction, before finding fuel, adding another hour on to an already busy day.

Oakland Bridge seemed more impressive to me…

Before we left on our trip, we both invested in new Rev-it riding gear as we knew whatever we had would be used and abused during the trip. We’ve always been fans of Rev-it gear. In Canada, Isi noticed her trousers were wearing where the trouser material covered the rain gutter in the ventilation panel. It seemed that the hard rain gutter was pressing against the material and the daily movement on the bikes saddle was causing the material to fail. Mine were doing similar but nothing like as bad as Isi’s.

For the last 6 weeks, we had had conversations with Rev-it UK and then with Rev-it USA to arrange replacement trousers. Whilst not strictly within the UK warranty, they wanted to do the best they could for us. The Horizon 3 was never sold in the US, so alternative trousers were offered and BMW Motorcycles of Modesto was the pace the replacements were sent for us to try.

On arrival the staff were interested in what we were doing, albeit it took a little time to find the right person who knew why we were there. The box was presented and we were directed to the changing room. We were not impressed with the contents as Isi’s trousers were far too big, the trousers had separate rain liners and were different colours. They didn’t match and were unsuitable for what we wanted. Emails with Rev-it continued as they fully understood our need for matching gear to go with the matching bikes and the desire for built in rain protection. The challenge of replacement trousers being somewhere on our journey would continue for a while longer…

With a need to find a bed for the night, the staff told us of a local campsite and off we went. I’m sure the location would be great at the beginning or mid-season but, by now the pitches were tired, the bear boxes were damaged and there was no chance of a fire on what was promised to be a cold night. Booking dot com came to the rescue and we found a cheap room in Stockton that had mixed reviews. An hour later, we pulled into a very un-inviting car park and parked between two cars that obviously hadn’t moved for a while and people seemed to be living within. The reception windows and door had bars and the receptionist was sat behind a screen that had not been cleaned for some while. The booking transaction was completed by passing paperwork through the opening at the bottom of the screen.

The receptionist must have seen the motorcycle gear and knew we would want secure parking, so she provided us with a room that was literally within arms reach of the bikes (if you stretched through the bars). Parking was around the back in a gated compound that was closed from 8pm to 8am. Our bikes joined an assortment of vehicles that would not have looked out of place in a junk yard. Some had a layer of dust showing they had not moved in some time. The walkways leading from the room to the car park were fenced in from floor to ceiling. The small piece of walkway that didn’t have a floor above, had the fences either side joined with a caged roof. This was feeling like something I had seen on Porridge and expected the room doors to be locked at lights out!

The room was sparse and, whilst no smoking was permitted on the premises, the previous “inmates” had obviously declined to read the signs plastered everywhere. In fear of being charged (financially) with some one else’s misdemeanour, I invited the receptionist to visit and make a note it was not us. Despite feeling like we were in some kind of jail, the receptionist (and other staff) were very cheery, polite and happy to help.

With the bikes chained up and invisibility cloaks deployed, we decided to go hunt for food at a gas station a few hundred yards up the road. As we walked out of the hotel, we were surrounded by numerous homeless people in various conditions of substance abuse or mental health or both. In the dark and for two ‘elderly’ foreign tourists from a well-to-do background this was unnerving and a side of the US we hadn’t really expected to see. There was a sense of desperation that was only made worse when we saw the selection of food available in the store. After enquiring about how long the sandwiches had been on the shelf and gaining a response of “about a week, they’ll be fine”, we settled on more snacks and sought the sanctuary of our hotel room.

The person in the room above us kept different hours to us, with loud music and pacing the floor for most of the night. And so it was, we were up early, desperate to move on and hoping the bikes were still where we left them!

As I was removing the invisibility cloaks, a fellow inmate came to join me and we talked. He was obviously a long-termer and whilst he didn’t tell me his story, he was well spoken and knew a lot about World affairs and other such subjects. Then it was 8am, the gates opened and the influx of day visitors came flooding in. One such young couple and their dog, avoided my eyes as I watched them climb the stairs and enter the room directly above ours. They had obviously spent the night on the streets and were looking for some sanctuary through either a safe-sleep or more substance within which to lose themselves. This was all new and saddening to us. To see the human suffering that the ‘have nots’ are going through in todays United States.

As I continued chatting to the first man as we loaded the bikes, a beaten up 4x4 with bald tyres, belching black smoke and kitted up for sleeping in, pulled in to the car park and the owner came over to enquire about us and ask how it was that we ended up here. He was obviously a regular and knew everyone in the area and pretty much warned us to “get out of Dodge” as soon as we could. He said he would be working on a car opposite the gates and when we left, make ourselves known so he could record our departure.

As we departed, I duly hit the horn and he popped his head up from the hood and videoed us leaving. We never did know what he was going to do with it and didn’t care to stop and ask. We didn’t even know if it was his car he was working on…

Both feeling tired from a poor nights sleep, grateful for our departure but saddened by the lives we had seen, we took to the highway and headed South to Yosemite Park and the South entrance it had been suggested we take.

F… F… F… Freezing!

California Baby!