My son’s going to grad school at Cal State LA and lives in Alhambra, so I thought it would be fun to ride down to visit him…without setting foot (well, tires) on any freeway. In the end, to save some time, I did include I-280 shave about 30 or 40 minutes off the first day’s ride. But the rest of the way I was on nothing grander than state highways.

Which ended up being pretty cool! Except not on the first day, when it was pushing 90 degrees most of the way down to Coalinga via Hollister. I love my Yamaha FJR-1300, but the air conditioning doesn’t work too well at those temps, even at 65+ mph.

I had an interesting experience overnighting in Coalinga because my hotel¹ wasn’t near the downtown where all the restaurants are. I don’t like eating in my riding gear — the boots are tall enough that sitting in a normal chair is uncomfortable — but it was way too hot and far to walk, and Coalinga doesn’t have ridesharing services.

I ended up riding in my jeans and sneakers²…which felt really, really odd because I always ride in my safety gear. Funny how what we do so easily becomes what we must do. Dinner was at a local pizza place called Fat Albert’s and was very tasty. I also enjoyed overhearing the excited young girl’s baseball team awards dinner. They’d come in first!

The next day I rode CA-33 south along the western side of the San Joaquin Valley. It was nearly uninhabited, and starkly beautiful…interrupted by very large oil fields. I worked for Atlantic Richfield back in the late ’70s and ’80s but had totally forgotten how many big oil fields exist in California. They’re well past the boom time stage, as you can tell from the new ownership plaques bolted on top of the names of the major oil companies that used to own and operate the fields, but still actively producing. One of them, close to Taft, must still be a big producer because it’s still operated by Chevron.

Climbing into the hills defining the southwest corner of the Valley (south of Taft, and Maricopa…which barely exists anymore) was nice, because the temperature dropped pretty rapidly. In fact, when I turned off onto Hudson Ranch Road to head east towards Pine Mountain Club, the ambient temperature got all the way down to the low 70s…which was really pleasant after the 80s and near 90s I’d been dealing with.

The sky was a beautifully clear blue and there were striking views of the southern end of the San Joaquin…which I didn’t bother to stop and take pictures of because Hudson Ranch Road is a fun twisty!

Pine Mountain Club, where I spent my second night, is a pocket-sized vacation/retiree community. It’s also only served by Verizon cellular, which I learned the hard way when I couldn’t find my accommodations and couldn’t contact the person I’d made my reservation with³. Fortunately, I ran into a lot of very helpful locals, one of whom knew my hotelier and called her for me. My room/suite was very nicely appointed and had some nice views of the surroundings. If you’re ever in Pine Mountain Club and need a place to stay, get in touch with Tony & Elizabeth at Village View Rooms.

And don’t forget to check out the mac-n-cheese, loaded with your choice of meat topping (I went with pulled pork) at Hungry Al’s Bar & BBQ. Delicious! As were the coffee and pastries at Bear Claw Bakery and Cafe.

The final day of my ride to Alhambra involved cutting east to Palmdale and then taking Angeles Forest Highway south over the mountains. It was kicky cruising through Gorman and skipping over the I-5. I’ve been through that pass many times during my life in California, but watching all those people focused on getting where they wanted to be ASAP while I was cruising through the beautiful landscape made me appreciate my route choice even more.

Stopping for coffee in Palmdale I ran into not one but two riders with whom I swapped tales. One of them hadn’t ridden for years because of a close call on an LA freeway. I told him part of the reason for not going by freeway was because LA drivers are still the way I remember them: very polite but given to doing death-defying maneuvers to get around you if they think you’re going slower than god intended. I reminded him that you have to be a little crazy to ride a motorcycle, which proved he’d finally recovered his sanity.

Angeles Forest Highway was a fantastic twisty, climbing and descending thousands of feet (I bet Angeles Crest Highway, which goes further up, is even better, but it was sadly still under repair after last winter’s torrential rainstorms). Even better, I had the uphill route pretty much totally to myself: while I saw a number of cars heading north past me, I only saw one car going the same way I was. And since he wanted to push his sports car to the limit, I let him pass me and quickly lost him in the distance.

Coming down into the LA basin was a little disappointing, but only because it was hazy, so I didn’t get to see the megalopolis laid out in front of me. The twisties were still great, though.

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1. the Best Western Plus on West Jayne Avenue ↩

2. plus my riding jacket, gloves and helmet; I’m not insane ↩

3. I couldn’t get WiFi calling to work for some reason ↩