Mile One

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There was no pomp and circumstance about finally pulling out of that familiar parking lot. It was a humble bowing out - a solemn reverence for the city that I fell in love with. I'll always have a piece of my heart here in San Francisco but for now it was time to go forth and fulfill this adventure in the making. Before we set off eastward, however, I had one more thing to see behind me.

The Pacific Ocean. I had always been a stone's throw away wherever I lived, be it from my birthplace of the Philippines or my current hometown of Tacoma, Washington. Now that I think about it, the furthest east I had ever been without the aid of wings could be driven in less than two hours. In case it would be a while before I could feel the mists of these peaceful waves, I walked onto the beach and asked that we meet again once more.

After running my hand in the invitingly warm wash, I mounted up and headed into the heart of the city.

My first goal was to cross the famous Golden Gate Bridge but it meant having to ride through the gauntlet that is downtown San Francisco. I never considered myself a city boy though I could play the part. My driving skills and sense of direction tend to give me away and after a frustrating hour, I knew I was ready to get away from it all. Serendipitously, the traffic washed us up at my intended first stop - an overlook that had the iconic view of the bridge. I hoped to take a picture with the motorcycle and I in the foreground, captioning it along the lines of "crossing the bridge from civilization to wilderness.".

 

To my dismay, it wasn't happening. The lot was packed with tourists and a cheer leading squad was participating in what seemed like an endless photoshoot at the only viable spot for a picture. I gritted my teeth as we resigned to waiting behind the obnoxiously large tour busses but then, in my first act of improvisation, we made a snarp u-turn, got out of there and before merging into the river of cars flowing across the bridge, I hit record to give my brother's fancy camera an impromptu test run. Coincidentally, my Bonnie's "theme song" shuffled into gear over the speakers and what ensued was the perfect fanfare to kick off the road trip!

If my visor had been up, it would've recorded my ear to ear grin. We were now on our way!

After a true to definition joyride, we had to slam on the brakes for some exceptionally technical roads towards Muir Woods. With all the gear packed on, Chance's handling needed to be felt out, keeping her between the first and second gear for the cliff-hugging, hairpin turning, often one lane road into the forested mountainside. The cautious ride ended with a comical "whew" and wipe of the brow.

First order of business: invest in an annual National Parks pass! I figured I'd be spending as much time as possible meditating before the land's natural wonders and entrance fees would add up since most are government-protected regions. The old timer who always referred to me as Captain America or Easy Rider gave me the advice and suggested some places that I've duly noted in the back of my directionless mind.

First up was a place I considered visiting when my girlfriend expressed interest in seeing a redwood forest like in her textbook. We ended up going to the largest grove in Northern California as a Valentine's Day gift but after seeing the recent Planet of the Apes which was set in Muir Woods, I knew I had to see this particular grove for myself someday. (Neat little fact that I just learned: my mother had been through these woods just before I was born.)

The subconscious drive to stop at these places must have roots in my admiration for the country's first pioneers. The idea of traversing through places for the first time always excited something in me and what better place to immerse one's self than in these relatively preserved and pristine parks. This one in particular was named after one of my admired naturalists, John Muir. The name may ring a bell to some of my ragtag adventure buddies as it is also the name of the base camp at Mt. Rainier to which we try every year to reach comically ill-prepared.

I won't say I wasn't looking for a four-leaf clover.

The peacefulness of this ancient grove was a stark contrast to the industrialization just across the bridge. When I came across one of those cross sections of a redwood trunk, dating its age to events in human history, the giants towering before me made me feel so insignificant. Strangely, it felt good to be belittled as it reminded me of just how big the bigger picture of life could be.

I spent a couple hours hiking around. Felt good to be out of breath, thinking down the line that if I manage to get on a trail every now and then, the roadside food shouldn't go to my gut. Speaking of which, my last meal was my favorite dish from my old diner hours ago and it was time to have an adventurer's meal.

That's right, good old pb and j. I often packed it along with Ritz crackers when I'd go on "expeditions" around my backyard when I was knee-high and even now, towering at six feet, the sandwich still hits the spot.

The woods was a great place to start and set the tone for the rest of the journey although I didn't get to trek it all due to most of the trails being closed due to landslides. No matter - the trees shadows were getting long and hinting at me to hitch up and find a place to crash for the night.

As Chance and I rounded our compass east with the Bay to our right, the land on our left turned to rolling hills lined with vineyards and signs calling the area "Sonoma." I had heard of this valley before but never paid much attention since the taste of wine never really got around to being acquired on my pallet.

The scenary was gorgeous and the highway I was on, just as pleasant especially with the setting sun. Normally the orange hue would serve as a warning signal to a motorcyclist with the dropping temperatures but to my surprise, the air was warm.

I had no intentions of continuing far from the Bay Area on the first day but with the light lingering well past 8pm and the blanket of warm air sticking around, I rode on for the sake of enjoying the ride. Sacramento would be the first major city on my way east and at this rate, might as well be where I would lay my head first. Unfortunately, between the signs indicating the shrinking miles left to the State's capital and the growing miles on my odometer, it didn't look like I'd have enough gas to get there due to burning a lot of it in the city traffic earlier today.

No worries, I thought. One of the habits I had to break was sticking to an itinerary. So far, not having a watch helped loosen me up so the next thing was to learn to forget departure and arrival times - something beat into you as an airline employee. But I am as free from that life as can be for the time being. I exited just 20 miles out of the capital into a city called Vacaville, which put a smirk on my face. I'm not sure how it's really pronounced but I think it's fitting to my situation to insist on it being akin to "vacation."