K, F, R. It describes the group of 3 K bikes, 1 F650, and 7 Rs of various generations that went on the September club tour to the camp out in Meyers Flat. It also describes the tour leader's Knack for Finding Roads to make a memorable day.
I had not been on a club tour for a few years, but this seemed like the right place at the right time so I hopped over to Stinson Beach at the appointed time. There were 11 bikes out front of the cafe as 12 hungry riders fueled themselves for the ride. Showing what would continue as excellent leading and ride control, Lord of the Tour Don fired up at precisely 9:00 and we were off. At the other end of our spectrum President Bill (no, not THAT one!) took the sweep position on his K12.
I especially commend Don for handing out easy-to-read routing instructions before the ride and then stopping at each significant turn to be sure everyone was following. At first I was thinking what a shame it was for Bill to have to "suffer" the tail position on such a spirited bike - but then at one of the stops I heard him explain how he occasionally had to "slingshot" to catch up when the group got stretched out. His smile suggested he was not suffering back there at all.
We headed north on US 1 in the morning before the locals started their localizing and well before the RVs became rumbling roadblocks, so the road was quick, cool, and pleasantly free of traffic. Turning inland toward Occidental, it was interesting to see the land begin to change from the ocean moistened land cover to the dry potato skin hills. Although there isn't a lot of seasonal change in this part of California, I did notice that already some of the leaves were showing color on the poplar trees. Then as we moved further north, the bay trees, maples, and eventually the oaks also showed the beginnings of their turn.
All along the coast and until our first rest stop in Occidental we rode facing hundreds of bicyclists headed south (and a few two-wheeled salmon seemingly going back upstream). This was the day of the Waves To Wine tour. Strange name, though. I waved to several of them and they didn't wave back, but I did hear some of them whining about how long it was to their next stop. When we stopped in Occidental, there was the strangest looking Harley I've seen in a while. It was done up to look like a police bike (white fairing, antenna, even red and yellow lights) but it was emblazoned with RESCUE VEHICLE on the side. The rider was a fire/rescue officer who patrolled (?) on this bike. I suspect he might have wanted to be a police officer. Can't say I've ever before seen a paramedic wearing belt sheaths for both scissors and handcuffs.
After a quiet ride through the resort-after-the-crowd-is-gone Russian River area, we took the wonderful Westside Road past some of my favorite wineries, such as Rabbit Ridge, Hop Kiln, and Mill Creek. With no time to stop I made notes to return soon. The aroma of crushed grapes was pungent as we passed recently harvested fields. For an area that can get quite toasty, the temperature was holding down nicely in the Sonoma Valley. It was a near perfect day for riding. Two quick warp speed jaunts onto US 101 and off the next exit got us to a gas stop, then we headed for lunch in Booneville at that cafe that speaks its own language - the Horn of Zeeze. (Booners have developed their own lingo just to snow the tourists. A "horn of zeeze" is a cup of coffee.)
For a while it looked like we would end with more riders than we started. We passed two BMW bikes stopped on the side of Dry Creek Road and they eventually fell in behind us. But they flew past when we turned toward Booneville so it didn't seem they were headed to the meeting. Well, they missed the best part of our ride. Route 128 to Flynn Creek Road, then Compeche Road to US 1 was the kind of riding that scrubs the nubbins off your tires. Don sure knows how to pick 'em.
For the rest of the distance, there wasn't much of a choice for us roadies: US 1 and US 101 to Meyers Flat, although this part of both thoroughfares is more enjoyable than you would expect. With nearly 40 miles of twisties from Fort Bragg to Leggett, and sections of US 101 still only 2 lanes, this was definitely not freeway droning. What little traffic there was graciously gave way for us to pass, so we were able to take the curves at our preferred speed. And the view of the coast was spectacular with huge breakers caused by recent storms exploding onto the beaches, enough so that later some riders had to wipe salt spray from their face and windshields. I mention "roadies" because Tony on his R11GS decided to make his own roads and took the longer shortcut over the hills.
Whether by chance or timing, Don led us into the campground with precisely enough time to set the tents before the club meeting began. As it turned out, at least two of the riders were on their first-ever tour with the club. My FuelPlus reports it was 265 miles in 6:32 hours and minutes of engine run time, for an average of 41 mph. I'd say it was a splendid introduction for them and a great day for us all.
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