At 10:45 this morning, I opened up the clubhouse. Folks filtered in, and at 11:30, the day began. The first part of the Captain’s Run was a race. The goal was to return a receipt for a slice of pizza to the clubhouse from the farthest possible point within a 20 minute window. While there were some valiant efforts, only two teams made it back inside the time limit. Both had gone to Pizza Express at Folsom and Cortland.

After eating some pizza, we rode over to Godspeed in Oakland. They had rearranged the joint in the last six months and it is really a great space. Beer, waffles, and pinball were consumed.

On our way to our next destination in Alameda, I got wondering if the MSF class was in session, so I decided we should take a look. Sure enough, there they were. We looped around them, trying our luck with the cones, and instilling bad habits in the students.

When we reached our destination, we had a few games to play. A hard-fought slow race competition was eventually won by Casey, with Cary and Cliff coming in second and third. Our nerf gun games quite predictably devolved into mayhem.

The Hangar 1 distillery was full of people, so seventeen of us headed out to Quinn’s Lighthouse for an early dinner. Stories were told, peanuts were thrown. A good time was had by all.

Today, the number of competitors for the 100th anniversary of the Perfect Score dropped by one.

Top Scores:
Papa 360
Kalle 360
Darrell 360
Tucker 348
Bob Hansen 331
Nameless Bruce 336
Frank 312
Brian 302
Cliff 271
Andy 262

Head over to the SFMC website for pictures.

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Here’s another guest report, this one from Papa Dave Schiller. Take a look at the pictures in the SFMC Gallery.

Friday, May15th, Noon:
Today seven of us, (Cliff, Darrell, Greg, Jen, Papa, Santa, and Tina), would make the quest to the Stonyford Rodeo Grounds to rally behind our Dual Sport riding Brothers and Sisters who would be challenging the 300 miles of gravel, dust, and Acura eating waterways prepared by the Oakland Motorcycle Club. Our adventure, though tied to paved road, would offer us with our own brand of excitement and sometimes surprise.

After dicing through midday city traffic without malice we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and routed ourselves towards Stinson Beach and the Shoreline Hiway. Darrell was the first to tire of the cruising speed and set his own pace. One by one the others passed and followed his ever distant taillight until we stopped in Bodega Bay for our 1st fuel stop. Darrell would be our official fuel stop/butt break guru with a 100 miles range on his tank. No one would complain even though the rest of us could near double his fuel range. All was good taking the long sweepers and tight curves that make up the coastal road and it wasn’t until the Hiway 116 turnoff at the Russian River that we had our 1st breakdown in communication. I call that turn the Jenner turnoff, however, Jenner is actually a couple of miles down the road. Well, seems Greg took my verbal instructions literally and didn’t choose to double check the provided written instruction and so wound up in the town of Jenner munching on a tri-tip sandwich, while the rest of us were tooling down River Road towards Santa Rosa.

It wasn’t until we reached Calistoga, that we pulled over for gas and made a phone call to find Greg’s whereabouts. No human answer but a voice mail was left, and we continued on Hiway 29 towards Clearlake. When we arrived in Clearlake, there was Greg waiting at the intersection of 29 and 53. He told the story of his delicious lunch and power deleted cellphone and was sure we were the ones who were lost. Wanting to keep the pace going, and denying Jen a lunch stop, we soldiered on with the promise that the best meal to be had was waiting for us in Williams at Louie Cairo’s Steakhouse.

With the different riding tempos we divided into two groups. It was on Hiway 20 where we stopped for some road work that was going on. Santa struck up a conversation with a Flag Person and photos were taken showing what friendly Hiway workers California has. This point would also bring the confirming message that Cliff’s BMW wasn’t up for the entire ride. Seems Cliff had been having an ongoing battle with his clutch cable and several strands were fraying. By the time we reached Williams, Cliff had definately decided he would be heading down Hiway 5 and back home. Down to 6 rides, we sat down at Louis Cairo’s for an excellent meal and libation with everyone’s belt being loosened a notch for comfort.

The next leg was up Hiway 5 to Maxwell for a gas/beer/ATM stop and then the last 40 miles of the day to the Stoyford Rodeo Grounds. Timing was perfect as we arrive just at dusk, but with enough light left to set up our tents. With beers in hand and greetings exchanged with our dirt brethren, we eased in to a few hours of story telling, and a concert of the Mark, Mike, and Frank Band. An after concert fireworks show was provided by the Moto Bros. and the night was complete. Sweet dreams and a 5:30am Remus wake up would come way too soon.

Saturday, May 16th 6:30am:
All the dirt riders are scurrying around, getting their roll charts, getting sound checked, and doing last minute mainteinence. I spent my time gathering my gear on the bike and at 6:58am the Official SFMC Photo was taken. With that bit of business done, we were off for what would be a 400+ mile day. Our route would be to head north to Red Bluff using only secondary roads, and some got to be very secondary. One road was to have a section of hard packed gravel 4 miles long. It turned out to be a little spooky when we passed a farm that had a string of wild boar and coyote heads stuck on fence posts with the even spookier sound of dogs crying in the back ground. No one wanted to investigate why, so we stayed the course. By the time we had reached Red Bluff we had officially traveled 12 miles on gravel. In Red Bluff, we stopped at the Cowgirl Cafe for some rib stickin’ grub and then it was off for the real reason of the trip.

A single road (Hiway 36) that had 140 miles of curves and zero stop signs. Yes. I was only able to hold back the group’s enthusiazum to take a single photo of the sign. That was the last time I saw them until I reach the western end of Hiway 36. I found the group huddled around the Hiway 36, Greg in the prone position from the exhausting experience. Another photo and off to find a gas station as Darrell is now on fumes. We had no luck finding gas in Fernbridge or Ferndale, and so had to backtrack to Fortuna for a Techron moment. With all tanks full, the next adventure would be the Lost Coast Hiway. Canopies of trees, gave way to ocean overlooks, and then to pastural fields, all the while the road twisting and turning and rising and falling until one last long sweeper dropped us down on the coast where the crossing of a buried train boxcar bridge had us sharing the roadway with some grazing cattle. More interested in their midday snack than what we were doing, gave us a clear road to get us to Honeydew.

At Honeydew, a choice must be made to either take a left and go thru the Petrified Forest, or if you go south, and some believe this is the legitimate Lost Coast Road, and this is why we took it, be prepare to go over some crazy soft gravel swichbacks. About 10 miles worth. Poor Santa. I know I’m getting a lump of coal this year. But not to worry, he piloted his blue YamaSled without hesitastion through the mess and once on the hard stuff was claiming the lead. Final leg, would start in Leggett where we waved to Darrell who had pulled over for more gas. It was when we reached the coast that we would stop for a scent of ocean air. Darrell had joined the group at this point and we made the last 22 miles together and a final left turn brought us into the parking lot of the Best Western Motel.

Rooms were gotten, a little freshening up, and we located the evening’s party room. Massive quanities of beer and pizza were consumed and at some point Casey tolds we could still party, but not in his room. We got the hint and each headed off to their own rooms and dream land.

Sunday, May17 6:30am:
Awakened by the same Remus alarm clock, a quick shower and down to the lobby for some conteinental breakfast. Several members are already there chowing down the bagels and coffee. No time to sit idle though, as another SFMC Group Photo must be taken. About half the riders are gone but a nice shot was taken regardless. At 8:30am the Street Iron Group, minus Greg, headed south. Greg would do a couple of hours in tourist mood exploring Ft. Bragg.

Taking Hiway 1 would turn out to be a good decision at least weatherwise as temperatures remained cool. Livestock however became another issue. One deer poised on the side of the road, another bounding across thr road left to right, and then a wild turkey, missed by maybe 3 feet, runs and then takes flight right in frony of me. I had to duck to miss that bird. And somewhere there is a Cadillac driver who is less than happy with my passing style.

In Gulala we stopping for gas and Darrell asked that we stop again at Lucas Wharf in Bodega Bay for lunch. We did and I ordered the Fisherman’s Stew. It was great but if you order it, either be very hungry or plan on sharing. It’s alot of food. When we were done with our food we ambled back outside to our bikes. There was an overload of Harley riders outside asking where we were going, where we had been, etc. Tina handled the PR buzz and everyone left smiling. Back on the road and all was good until we closed in on Stinson Beach. I now remember why I don’t go down the coast road on the best days. One Major Parking Lot ! Even with the cops on the corner, Tina took her Vstrom down the centerline and barely got a glance. Santa and I follwed suit and kept eyes forward not to attract any unnecessary attention.

Finally out on 101, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. Zooming through the FastTrak lane, giving Tina one last wave goodbye, it was a short drive home and sharing the experience with Sheree.

So that’s about it. Good Friends, Good Roads, Good Times,

Papa