After spending yesterday doing household chores that I have ignored for months, I decided this morning with coffee that I needed to pay attention to my new Bandit with more conviction than I had cleaning the mold out of the shower. So after a second cuppa joe and synapses jazzed, I donned my riding gear and rolled the bike out of the garage for a run through the twisties, something which I have done very little of with this bike.
It’s funny how after a while we get ready for a ride on auto-pilot. I had my ipod, iphone, camera in the tank bag before thinking anything about it. I had my purse–a girl’s gotta have her purse–and the liner to my jacket, just in case it was colder in the higher elevations, and a second set of unvented gloves. I gave the bike a quick once over and was off, still feeling a little gun shy with this big ol’ boy, like my first fumble so many years ago in the back seat of a convertible. This was the day, the day to see if I was Woman enough for this beast.
Now, the one thing that I did forget ended up being the one thing I desperately needed, the GPS. What ever was I thinking. I did discover that I not only use it for routing and finding myself, but, most importantly, seeing the road ahead. I have truly come to rely on this magical box to show me the twists and turns ahead. I am then allowed to travel more briskly and with less surprise unless someone is stopped in a blind/off-camber corner writing down a phone number… more about that later.
So, I was BLIND without my GPS in more ways than one, but persevere I did, all that with only one phone call to Gary, my navigational home system. And damn if it doesn’t work well!!
But all that’s later, right now, I was about gas and getting the heck outta Sacramento, post haste. I decided to try and find Pardee Dam, which always seems to elude me even with my GPS. I didn’t exactly get lost, but it was a creative route to say the least. The dam lookout was blowing like crazy, but I stopped for a photo and to chat with an old timer whose most invested query was “how fast does that thing go?”, to which I replied, “faster than I want”. I’m sure he was an undercover cop.
The overlook
The Dam from the overlook
Memorial Day 2011
As I breathed in the view, I remembered that Campo Seco was nearby and decided that would be my next stop. I got back on the road traveling over the dam, joined by several cyclists. Now these people simply amaze me. It can’t be easy, riding a freakin’ bicycle over all those massive hills, and here my biggest concern is just keeping my bike upright without over gassing and these guys have to dodge vehicles, and pedal like crazy just to keep going. Uhhhh, no thanks.
I stopped and shot a few compulsory photos of Campo Seco and watched as the bicyclists flew on through and right then I decided my route. Follow the bicycles, they must know a cool way outta here! I took my time, to give them some lead. and promptly lost them. Who knows which way they went, but I was on my own here listening to music in my cocoon, singing in my helmet, beating the howling wind and soul-searching for a direction, something I have done my entire life! Yep, Angels Camp, of course, and coffee… if I ever find a main road!! That’ll work.
The “lipstick red “Bandit
The blind leading the blind… actually it’s to keep the flies off.
Seems a bit late for spring flowers…
I finally found 12 and then 49 and made my way to Angel’s Camp and got a cuppa in hand before calling home to find out how I could get to Jesus Maria or ?? After talking to Gary I decided to go Sheep Ranch Road, which I had never ridden. What a riot that was. If you like goat, loose teeth and badly off-camber turns, then you’ll love Sheep Ranch. I must say, I had several good chuckles, and a couple of oops moments, but me and the Bandit had made a truce… that was, until I grabbed a mistaken handful of throttle in a corner and nearly sent myself over the front bars. Danm dood, you’re a twitchy bastid!! I regained my composure and spoke softly and convincingly that as much as he wanted to be in control, I was, after all, riding HIM. So lighten up there, mr. bandit!!
Getting onto Sheep Ranch… not bad here
Sheep Ranch was an exciting little road and from there I connected to Railroad Flats and then to 26. We are talking goat personified, tight twisties, great pavement, bad pavement. I rode the gamut of craziness and made it home to write about it. A good day in my estimation!
When I got to Volcano, I had to make a decision. Do I ride Ram’s Horn Grade or Sutter Creek? Both are awesome roads, but while talking to the locals they confided that Sutter Creek had a water crossing. Not wanting to push my luck I asked how deep and how fast. The reply moved me right to Ram’s Horn, “only about 9 inches deep.” I looked down at my wheels and thought, 9 inches… hmmm, granted it was a man who told me this, and I believe his 9 inches and mine are possibly quite different, but I decided to take Ram’s Horn anyway. I had forgotten how awesome that road travels. What a ride!! By the time I got to Shake Ridge and Fiddletown, my old standby roads, I was feeling totally tuned in, albeit a bit hot!! This is where the white car driven by yet another “I am the sole person on this road” was stopped, writing down information from a sign. I was lucky. She was certainly in the middle of the road. No warning, blind corner and person in roadway. I cursed as I dodged her and thanked my lucky stars for an open lane. It was only a moment until I heard the horn of the car behind me. Morons…
Volcano
The rest of the ride was rote. I have ridden this route so often that I can fly over it enjoying leaning into the corners, smelling the sweet floral breezes, and loving the music flowing into my brain, paving the road ahead. Check out Trace Bundy’s Dualing NInjas or Decemberists January Hymn… sigh.
I believe I have compiled a list of Bandit thoughts…
1) Beware the twitchy throttle
2) It doesn’t turn as tight as my old bandit, which means I suck at slow speeds until I get used to it. It also means that my cornering isn’t as grand until I practice more.
3) It’s heavier… think about where I am stopping, always.
4) It’s a brute… it will kick my arse if I am not vigilant… always.
I stroke the gas tank and smile. We are starting to bond.
Home with Makers Mark and a smile!
Today’s route 210 miles:
