Connecticut to California – Day 12 – August 23, 2000

Today was an extraordinary day in so many ways.  As I write this from the swing on the front porch of a Kamping Kabin, I have so many mixed feelings – this is the last full day of touring in the quiet places – tomorrow I will negotiate San Francisco and arrive in Mariposa – to meet the rest of the Valkyrie riders – for Valkyries in the Valley.

Today began with a drive through the Avenue of the Giants.  There was very little traffic as I drove through this morning – and I was able to cruise very slowly among the majestic redwood trees.  I sensed it as a holy place.

About half way through the drive I came upon a sawmill – there were redwood logs piled high waiting to be sawn – and suddenly I became aware of the cataclysmic contrast between the whole growing trees I was passing and the limbed and gouged logs I was seeing at the mill.  On the other side of the mill was the dimensioned lumber – sawn ever so precisely and piled ever so neatly – all cut up in 1x and 2x and 3x etc. etc. etc.

I sensed in this moment a mirror of life.  Today, on my motorcycle cruising through the redwood forest – I feel whole.  Most days, however, in the busyness of every day life – I see myself sliced – just like the laser head slices the log – into dimensioned pieces  - designed to satisfy all the demands of my life.

In the quiet of the redwood grove I contemplate Sacred Selfishness – and I discover Holy Wholeness.  I resolve to remember this time and this place.  And perhaps at this moment I understand best why I ride a motorcycle.

Leaving the giant redwoods, I return to 101 for a few more miles before turning off on California 1 – The Pacific Coast Highway.  Again there is little traffic and I am able to enjoy the twisting and turning road as it makes its way to the coast.  I mostly share the road with immense logging trucks and learn a couple of important things very quickly – there will be gravel in every turn – when you share the road with logging trucks there will be bark on the road at the most inopportune time.

As I reach the coast, I am grateful for a small and subtle change in the weather from yesterday.  The temperature is about five to seven degrees warmer – and the ceiling is up to about 500 feet – making the ride along the ocean – quite extraordinary.  Obviously it would be wonderful if it was sunny and 75 degrees – but I am grateful – just to be able to see and enjoy this awesome coastline.

I am, once again engaged by farms and ranches directly at the waters edge - a farmhouse sitting at the top of a cliff – the water directly below and beef cattle grazing nearby.  I am confused by smelling the unmistakable aroma of a dairy farm – mixed with the characteristic smells of the sea.  Fishing boats near the beach sort of illustrate – surf and turf with milk – if you please.

I decide that I would like my last night on the road before I reach Yosemite – to be quiet one – so I call it a day early and check into a Kamping Kabin at the KOA – near Manchester State Park.  After checking in, I take a drive into Port Arena for dinner and discover a lighthouse along the way.  Dinner is on the water at Port Arena – where fishing boats are returning to port with the catch of the day.  For a moment I am transported to the Maine coast – the cool temperatures – a tiny fishing village – except the sun rises over the water there – and sets over the water here.

And I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to see both – from my motorcycle.

The bike trip meter says 203.6 the Garmin III+ trip meter says 208.5 and I say Goodnight from underneath my blanket in Manchester, California.

Connecticut Yankee in Yosemite Valley- the Trek
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