Day 7 - Woodside to Santa Barbara

Reluctantly, we got our stuff together and packed up the next morning.  It had been a really pleasant stay at Oceana's and neither of us were eager to leave.  But, nonetheless, we got our gear together (slowly) and mounted up.  We said our goodbyes and headed south.  I think it's fair to say that we both were feeling a little bummed out that morning.

We had discussed different options for our route to go down to Santa Barbara.  Santa Barbara was close enough that we felt we should be able to make it there in a day, but it would be a day full of riding.  Chuck had originally scoped out an inland route, that went through Hollister.  Any time we mentioned our trip, people asked if we would be taking Hwy 1 through Big Sur.  Chuck had been on that stretch before, but I never had.  Oceana highly recommended it, saying that although all of Hwy 1 was noteworthy, that was the best part.  We'd wanted to avoid it because it would be slow, but on Oceana's recommendation, we strongly considered taking it after all.

Then Oceana looked at Google Maps and pointed out that from her place to Arroyo Grande (where we planned to stop and say hi to Chuck's uncle) was 235 miles away, via 101.  That put things in perspective a bit, and our plans for taking the scenic route were put on hold.  101 would be the least interesting, but it was really the only option if we wanted to make it into SB at a reasonable hour.

So, after winding through the hills of Woodside, we spit out onto Hwy 280.  This took us past Foothill College, the junior college I attended before transferring to UCSB.  It was close to the highway, so we decided to take a quick spin through the campus.  A lot of it was the same, but there had also been some serious construction going on.  There used to be a cool bamboo grove with a little tatami hut in the middle, but now there shiny new technology buildings.  Such is the way of growth, I suppose.

We stopped in Gilroy for lunch, excited by the prospect of having In-N-Out burger again.  Sure enough, we found one right away, and stopped in.  I had a double double combo, both the burger and fries animal style.  It was not the religious experience we were hoping for.  The burgers weren't bad, they just weren't anything special.  I'd actually never ordered fries animal style before (for the unaware, "animal style" is part of the secret menu, it means adding grilled onions, cheese, and their special sauce), and I was not impressed with that.  It was a fast food version of poutine, basically.  In other words, fried potatoes with a hot gloppy mess on top.  I shoveled some into my mouth because unbeknownst to me, animal style doubled the price of the fries.  We finished most of our food, but it was mostly because we knew we'd need the sustenance.  I won't say that I'll never eat In-N-Out again, but I'll certainly opt for Five Guys if I have the chance.

With food in our bellies, we got on 101 and prepared ourselves for the monotony.  There was a car show/classic car race going on in Monterey, so we got to see some really nice cars along the way.  That was something to keep the mind occupied at least.  Though, there were a couple instances where we had to lane split, and sneaking by Lamborghinis and classic Porsches added a whole new level of stress.

I didn't take many pictures in this part, it mostly looked like this, but less scenic

We tried taking a diversionary route around King City, just to add some sort of interest to the ride.  It started off all right, some elevation change and some curves, but unfortunately we made a wrong turn, missing the interesting looking part of the road, and ending up on a flat, straight farming road.  A very HOT farming road at that.

Hey, that looks like a turn!

Another one!

The farming road put us back on 101 after a while, and we stopped at a rest area shortly thereafter.  We were sweltering in our gear.  We didn't have thermometers, but it felt like it was pushing triple digits, and the sun was relentless.  We found a shady spot and parked the bikes.  We unzipped every vent possible in our gear and hung out in our t-shirts for a bit.  I went to find a water fountain to fill up my water bottle, but there was none to be found.  A rest stop in a place as hot as this, and they don't even have a water fountain!?  There were of course vending machines, but I was nonplussed, and irritated in the heat.  Fortunately Chuck had a good supply of water on him, and we both doused ourselves before putting our gear back on.

Somewhere on the way towards Arroyo Grande

We made it to Arroyo Grande to visit Chuck's Uncle Jerry.  Jerry is a cartoonist, or rather, a writer for comic strips.  He writes the well known comics "Zits" and "Baby Blues."  I'd always imagined that cartoonists for the most part are starving artists, and the successful ones are able to live a comfortable, if modest, lifestyle.  Well, Jerry dashed that preconception.

Jerry lived on a jointly owned ranch, split up between 49 shares, 48 of which were homeowners, and the 49th being actual operating ranch land that they leased out.  I'll put it this way--there was a security gate to make it into the ranch, and each house had its own security gate past that.  Jerry's house sat on top of one of the hills, and was the type of place with a 10 foot high front door, and 20 foot high ceilings.  The living room was large enough that I could have fit some of my former apartments in there.  I would have liked to have gotten some pictures, but would have felt weird doing so.

Jerry, despite obviously doing very well for himself, was quite affable and modest.  We had a beer out in his back yard (complete with outdoor fireplace, fountain, and guest house) and relaxed for a bit.  After a bit, he took us down to bring his daughter's horses into the stable.  He had guests staying with him, and while we were taking care of the horses, they showed up.  They were from NYC, and while I would have enjoyed spending more time hanging out with Jerry, we immediately knew that these people were the antithesis of our vibe.  For instance, when we mentioned the trip we were taking, they naturally asked if we took Hwy 1. When we said that we hadn't for the most part, the wife cut in, with a thick and horrible Jersey accent "Do dey even allow motuhcycahs on dere?  What if you gwo ovuh a cliff owah somethin'!"  Without discussing it, we both knew it was a good cue to leave, and after some more painful and inane conversation, we said our goodbyes and headed back to the highway.

Jerry's ranch was up in similar hills

As soon as we got to the highway, the temperature dropped and we had to stop to zip up a bunch of our vents.  We were definitely closer to the coast now.  Our trip down 101 was unremarkable, and we took Hwy 154 outside of Santa Maria as a cutoff route to lead us to Santa Barbara.  154 is more direct to SB than 101, but takes about the same amount of time to get there. It was far more interesting to ride through SB's wine country than past Gaviota's refinery though, that's for sure.

We were losing light quickly, and we still had out tinted visors on, but we pressed on nonetheless.  We had been riding for a long time, and SB was in striking distance, so we stuck it out.

Out of focus, but I still like it

Coming over the pass, SB is in the distance

We made it into SB at the later part of dusk and the roads became more familiar.  It had been about 8 years since I'd been in SB, and a lot of memories got stirred up as we made our way towards Chuck's friend Chris's place.  We found it and Chris came out to greet us.  He shared a house with roommates, so we had to stay reasonably quiet on their behalf.  The did have a spare room for us though, a sun room with it's own entrance, which was perfect for our needs.  It was also a universal storage room for everyone, so we had to clear out some room to sprawl out in.

Chris had had a long day, and was having dinner when we arrived, so we went to get some food of our own.  There was a Ralph's about half a mile away, so we walked to it and ended up spending a lot of time milling about.  Once again, none of the food looked particularly compelling, and the beer selection left something to be desired.  Beer was overly expensive too, at least $10 for a six pack of anything decent.  We eventually opted for a decent-enough looking bottle of wine on sale, and some cheese and crackers.  And summer sausage.  We walked back to Chris's and dined on our gourmet meal, falling asleep soon thereafter.