~ Living Here ~

"See how nature-trees, flowers, grass-grows in silence-see the stars, the moon, the sun, how they move in silence."  Mother Teresa.

I was recently reminded of a picture I took that graced the cover of Living Here Magazine, depicting life in Tulare County. 

The image of poppies reaching for the sky was taken by Kaweah Lake, not far from Three Rivers, CA. It is a cold winter, but the recent rain is already turning the hillsides green with fresh grass. 

The poppies will soon begin to stir as well.

Photo by Robert Griego.

~ Lockwood Valley Washout ~

 

“The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

Lake Kaweah near Three Rivers, CA.

Lockwood Valley Road.

Recent rains washed out the road.

Decision time, cross or backtrack?

 

There is a beginning, middle, and ending to every story. Everyone knows that—this one, however, is different.

The Lockwood Creek reversed everything—A sign reading "ROAD CLOSED DUE TO FLOODING"—stopped us in our tracks. The disappointing road barriers were a powerful message on the last leg of our 1,100-mile ride.

Just then, a utility worker in a four-wheel vehicle approached us from the east, where we hoped to go. “The entire road is washed out, and passage is risky, especially on those motorcycles. There is heavy flooding. I don’t recommend it,” he said matter-of-factually.

 

Darn.

 

We stood there in silence not wanting to backtrack. Finally, we decided to ride towards the road damage to see for ourselves whether the crossing was possible. 

Officially, this road is called the Lockwood Valley Rd and it is a shortcut to Frazier Park and Interstate 5.

 

Our ride may have ended there, but it began several days earlier when my brother, Gilbert traveled from Apple Valley to our Three Rivers home. Our destination was a bike ride along Hwy 1 or the Pacific Coast Highway, something we’ve done many times before.

 

“Gilbert, here are advanced copies of the June ’24 RoadRUNNER Magazine for you and Melissa. It’s full of adventure.” He carefully tucked the magazines in his saddle bags, which were packed to the brim. His stay is long enough for a hearty breakfast—huevos rancheros, coffee, and watermelon—my wife Denise took a final picture as these two bandits left Three Rivers.

 

Leaving Three Rivers

 

Barely five miles down the road, we stopped by Kaweah Lake. “Gilbert, I call this my “Zen spot. The views of the lake are amazing,” I told my brother.

We parked our bikes overlooking Kaweah Lake. The incredible winter snowmelt had the lake filled, and the ducks below are in heaven. However, an occasional osprey soaring above had them on high alert.

The view toward Sequoia National Park, draped in snow-covered peaks, is an unmissable photo op. It never gets old.

Gilbert enjoys the scenery.

The ride west along Hwy 198 was easygoing. Back at the lake, I noticed that Gilbert was approaching 100,000 miles on his H-D Street Glide. We've racked up many of those miles—easily 25,000—together on rides out to New Mexico. Arizona, Wyoming, and Montana. He has since joined the elite 100,000-mile club.

Native American carvings along Hwy 198.

Timeless - old gas station near Lemon Cove, CA.

My favorite trip was our ride out to New Mexico and documented “In Search of POP 25.” Gilbert was instrumental in finding an important part of our family history. Riding with a like-minded brother warms the heart.

Suddenly, without warning, a crazy driver crossed the highway in front of me, reminding me to stay alert. All bikers experience such close calls and safety is number one.

 

The calm wind returned along Hwy 198 as we approached Coalinga, and Gilbert assumed the lead as I followed. We regularly switch lead riders to ensure we both stay sharp.

 

On To Pinnacles National Park

Resting along Hwy 198.

As we approached Hwy 25, we pulled over for a break to hydrate and make phone calls. Gilbert talked with his daughter, Melissa about important family news. All was well at his home and we continued to Pinnacles National Park. 

This ride is awesome, with curves and scenic landscapes. Cows in the rich tall green grass appeared, happy and healthy. 

There are huge basins of water from the recent rains. Turkey Vultures circled above us, but we were unsure of the dead prey that they seemed focused upon.

 

Time to ride on as those vultures appeared too close.  Einstein once said, “Nothing happens unless it moves.”

We explore along Old Hernadez Rd. and Willow Creek Rd.

This Valley Oak was impressive, but we had to stop.

Pinnacles National Park

The Pinnacles National Park is perhaps one of the best little national parks in America. I worked here early in my career with the National Park Service at a time when the place was still called the Pinnacles National Monument. It became a national park on January 10, 2013. I did a fun piece for RoadRUNNER Magazine called "In Pursuit of Wildness: Pinnacles National Park" in 2017.

Our favorite National Park.

Campsite #53 was perfect.

Our gourmet dinner.

As we settled into our campsite, another camper arrived at the site next to ours. He seemed a bit lonely so Gilbert introduced us and welcomed him.

"My name is Carl with a K," he said. It took me seven hours to get here as I took some back roads. I'm from Dana Point."

Carl with a K as we called him was a big guy who recently retired and was determined to reconnect with camping, which was something that he missed. We liked him immediately and he soon joined us for dinner at our camp. As he was unloading his gear, a raccoon stole his tortillas right in front of us.

We swapped stories as each of us cooked our steaks to perfection. Carl with a K had brought a steak as well and some much-needed firewood. It turned out that he had worked as an IT professional for Kawasaki Motorcycles, so topics were easy to come up with.

I encouraged him to hike the High Peaks trails as he hoped to see a California condor. A park ranger had told us earlier that four nesting California condors were in the park.

On to San Simeon, Morro Bay, and Pismo Beach

I've never been a fan of freeways or straight roads, so I looked over our options before leaving the Pinnacles National Park. Many years ago, I traveled the Bitterwater Rd from Hwy 25 west to King City. I was familiar with this route but had never ventured on the country roads that eventually led to the Pacific Ocean.

"Gilbert, if we go to King City, we can avoid Hwy 101 by taking Jolon Rd or G14 south toward Fort Hunter Liggett, but it's all new to me," I said, showing him the map. "It looks like a paved, two-lane country road all the way."

Without much fanfare, he replied, "Let's go."

The ride past Fort Hunter Liggett was peaceful, with scattered cattle ranches and rolling hills dotted with oak trees. Occasionally, we followed small streams with an abundance of California poppies hugging the cool hillsides.

Interlake Rd took us past Lake San Antonio, and we stopped to rest under a massive Valley Oak at an interesting intersection called Bee Rock before we continued to Lake Nacimiento. The temperature dropped several degrees as we rode west on Hwy 46 toward Cambria.

The ride was easy, scenic, and—although it added a few hours to our trip—it was perfect. In the morning after camping at the San Simeon Creek Campground (Washburn), a bald eagle soared majestically over our camp, an omen for the days to come.

Morro Bay is an iconic landmark and there were more people than normal as the town was preparing for the Iron Man Competition. We did some hiking and picture-taking like everyone else before heading to Pismo Beach—one of the premier laid-back California surf cities.

The ocean near San Simeon was soothing.

JBJ Round Up in Cambria served the best pizza.

We eat well on our trips.

Cambria Minosas served the best breakfast. 

Riding The Pacific Coast Highway

Morro Bay is seen in the distance.

Time seemed to slow down with each mile.

Morro Bay was a perfect spot for two bandits.

Seeing nesting Peregrine Falcons was a highlight.

Pismo Beach was peaceful.

We played tourists and had fun.

Chili Relleno and Enchilada dinner.

Welcome to Casitas Springs

Home of Johnny Cash

The ride continued south along Hwy 1 and passed Oceano, Guadalupe, Vandenberg Space Force Base, Lompoc, Gaviota, and the Refugio and El Capitan state beaches. The calmness soon disappeared as we approached Santa Barbara and our motel for the night in Carpenteria.

However, in the morning, we were off towards the peaceful mountains on Hwy 150, heading for Lake Casitas and Ojai—places Gilbert had not been to. Years ago I had traveled on Hwy 33 from Ventura to Casitas Springs and discovered a billboard honoring the late, Johnny Cash.

We both loved Johnny Cash and getting a picture in front of the sign would be priceless. Unbeknownst to us, there was considerable road construction between Ojai and Casitas Springs, and getting to the site was a challenge.

We couldn't get a photo of our motorcycles in front of the sign due to the construction project, but a helpful worker at the site offered to take our picture if we hurried. As I looked at the billboard, another fun article came to mind, "Exploring the Badlands of New Mexico, Johnny Cash style."

This picture is priceless.

On To The Lockwood Valley Road

Seeing the Johnny Cash sign was a highlight for us but it was time to head home as our adventure was ending.

"Gilbert, I know a shortcut to Interstate 5 that we can take. The road climbs high into the mountains and is scenic," I suggested.

As getting home was a first priority to Gilbert, he agreed and we followed the lines on the map—Oija to Wheeler Springs on Hwy 33 and, at the Lockwood Valley Road, we would head east towards Frazier Park and then Interstate 5.

Umpteen curves danced along the road.

The fog lifted offering panoramic views.

This couple passed us off and on up the mountain.

"The greatest adventure is what lies ahead."  J.R.R. Tolkien.

The Lockwood Creek Washout

The entire trip had been a rider's dream ride. The country roads to Pinnacles National Park were easy-going, while the riding along Hwy 1 from San Simeon to Santa Barbara was full of curves and sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean.

It seemed fitting the most memorable moment of the entire trip was the ending. Perhaps, to those motorcycle enthusiasts on adventure bikes, the Lockwood Creek Washout would be a piece of cake. On our heavy cruisers, it was different. They were much heavier and loaded with camping gear, so we proceeded with caution.

About 90% of the road was gone and only a small dirt shoulder offered passage. We decided to walk across the flooded road and then make a decision.

We once crossed a flash flood in New Mexico, so I knew Gilbert was up to the challenge, but the warning sign was stark. We both paused.

The utility worker's words of warning rang in my ear: “The entire road is washed out, and passage is risky, especially on those motorcycles. There is heavy flooding. I don’t recommend it.”

After walking across the flooded section, we agreed to go for it—it was a challenge, but we made it! 

We continued leisurely toward Frazier Park and came across numerous places where flooding had occurred but they were nothing like the Lockwood Creek Washout. Once we connected with Interstate 5, we descended the Gravevine towards Bakersfield.

The air was hot and the traffic frantic. At the bottom of the Grapevine, Gilbert peeled off to the east off Hwy 223 toward Arvin and Hwy 58. The shortcut saved him considerable time as he continued home to Apple Valley.

I wasn't in any hurry so I stopped by Bakersfield Harley-Davidson dealership on Merel Haggard Dr to rest. I come by here frequently on my road trips out east before returning to Three Rivers. 

Inside the dealership, I talk with the sales manager and share bits of this story beginning with the Lockwood Creek Washout. He listened intently. Refreshed, I continued on the final leg and arrived home after nearly 1,100 miles.

~ The Wind, the Open Road, and My Motorcycle ~

"Look deep into Nature, then you will understand everything better." 

Albert Einstein

Robert Griego on his 1964 Yamaha 80cc YG-1.

My moto journey began in 1964 when I bought my first motorcycle. 

It was a bright red Yamaha 80cc. 

At 15, I only thought about how cool I would look on this bike. I had never ridden a motorcycle before and honestly, I was afraid. 

Larry, the Yamaha owner said, "Thank you, it's yours now." He must have sensed my apprehension. "Would you like me to trailer it to your house?" He loaded my new bike onto his trailer without much fanfare along with me in the passenger seat, and drove to 1005 E. Elizabeth Street in Barstow, CA. 

It sat in my dad's garage for several hours before I turned the key. Nervously, I shifted gears as the bike rolled effortlessly down Elizabeth Street. I remember how the wind felt on my face. The wind would continue to be my companion for years to come pursuing what I love.

Since that first Yamaha, I've ridden nearly 300,000 miles on several other motorcycles, including two Yamaha 125ccs (one in California and one in Botswana, Africa), a Yamaha 305cc, a Yamaha 350cc, and a Yamaha 1700cc. 

Today, I'm riding an Indian Springfield in Pursuit of Wildness. What began as a collection of images, experiences, and travels over the years soon became the foundation for My Motorcycletales which recently turned over 200,000 views. 

The top 10 posts according to Google readers are: 

Top 10 posts at mymotorcycletales

As a result, my blog is in the top 100 Best Motorcycle Blogs at FeedSpot.

Honored to make FeedSpot's top 100 Best Motorcycle Blogs.

Thank you to my readers who have followed my stories over the years. My mantra remains intact: 

~ The Wind, the Open Road, and My Motorcycle ~