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2956 miles covered from sea to shining sea. Well almost as I started in Charlottesville which is about 120 miles from the Atlantic and ended in Poway which is about 30 miles inland from the Pacific. Poway is a “City in the Country” about 20 miles north of San Diego. Pretty pleased with myself, nevertheless, even as the motorcycle Gods chose to play with me on the last day.
Started in Ehrenberg which is on the Arizona side of the Colorado river and I have nothing to say about it because there is nothing to say. Same could be said for the Colorado River here as it has pretty much been sucked dry by the time it has reached Ehrenberg. What little is left is used to irrigate the land I passed through on the way to San Diego heading west. My route took me south of the Salton Sea, through Anza Borrego State Park and on to Julian in the Cuyamaca mountains. At 4,200 feet a pimple compared to what I have been through. Julian is an old bike stop favorite from the many years of living in San Diego. Today it let me down, but I am getting
ahead of myself. Route 78 to Brawley is boring scenery, grayish sand and brush, but the road itself offers the kind of roller coaster you would happily put your 5 year old in, caused by the many washes for the rare times it rains. I would have heard Boo going weee if it weren't for the soundproof case he travels in. A case normally reserved for helmet storage. Just as you are thinking when will this end you come upon the Imperial Sand Dunes. Forty miles of pure yellow sand. The experts tell us they have accumulated from the wind blowing across the ancient Lake Cahuill. Lawrence of Arabia would know as he was filmed here. Just after the dunes I encountered a poor truck driver standing in the road who was about out of fuel and asking me where the nearest gas station with diesel was located. My faithful GPS told him he should turn around and head back to Brawley. I did not hang around to see if he got stuck in the sand trying to reverse direction. Beyond the sand dunes at the base of the Cuyamaca mountains was the adult roller coaster. Seriously, I felt like 800 pounds of loaded motorcycle and 185 pounds of me (I wish) were lifting off the road. Boo dented the top of his hat. There was thick cloud over the mountains as I approached and as I wound my way up to Julian I was immersed in thick cold fog. By the time I crawled into Julian I was damp and the temperature was down to 50. After a hot cider it was down through the fog for the one hour trip to friends and family. Like I said, the motorcycle Gods were playing with me. Ironic that the only time on the whole trip I used the heated jacket and heated grips were where “it never rains in southern California.” Yes it did rain as I approached our place here. Apart from a few drops in past days, today, within a stone's throw of my destination, was the only time I got wet and cold.
The Beemer never let me down and only asked for a quart of oil the whole trip. Boo was the perfect traveler, the weather was great for the most part and America was vast, beautiful and diverse. I am honored that I was able to make such a trip. In a final epilogue tomorrow I will make a few observations about B road America today. Spoiler alert, It made me sad.
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