Conclusion 2022 Recap Day 9

Day 9: September 18, 2022
Barstow to Goleta, California

April 20, 2024

To the California Coast!

Barstow to Los Angeles: The plan for the beginning of this day was to ride the Red One all the way from Barstow to Hesperia, south of Victorville.  C.K. Shepherd had ridden through those towns to Los Angeles back in 1919, but the road C.K. took after that – over Cajon Pass into San Bernardino – is now gone, having been paved over by Interstate 15 back in 1957.

Rim of the World Scenic Byway: In 2018, I scouted an alternative route through the San Bernardino Mountains via part of what is known as the “Rim of the World Scenic Byway” (CA-138/18). Unfortunately, this route revision consisted of a steep and twisty road that runs from Hesperia up to the summit near Crestline, and then down an even steeper twisty grade into Arrowhead Springs north of San Bernardino. And to make things even more racy, throw in the many motorists, most of whom seem more interested in velocity than enjoying any scenery, let alone the chance encounter with a 100-year-old slow motorcycle. This route would admittedly be a challenge for me, but I rationalized the adventure would be worthwhile because it had many picturesque spots. Still, despite my best effort, I was saddened to nix this portion of my ride in the interest of safety. I knew there were just too many impatient motorists driving at speeds much higher than my leisurely sight-seeing preference on this relatively narrow, steep, and twisty road. While I will be forever disappointed by missing the breathtaking views and challenging ride this road had to offer – views similar to what C.K. would have seen in 1919 – I lived to ride another day. But I also knew this wasn’t the actual path C.K. rode, soothing my disappointment.

The National Old Trails Road Out of Barstow: But I did have a workable plan to ride the National Old Trails Road (old Route 66) west out of Barstow and then curve south through Victorville and to the foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains in Hesperia. After that, it would be nothing but city traffic into Los Angeles, a far cry from the experience C.K. had riding through orange groves in the country east of Los Angeles in 1919. C.K. wrote that in San Bernardino, after his No. 1 piston completely disintegrated, causing the engine to seize, he spent two hours fishing chunks out of his crankcase while refreshing himself with a locally-available snack: oranges found growing on trees. But those orange groves are now overgrown by urban sprawl stretching some seventy-five miles east from the Pacific Ocean. Also, unlike C.K.’s engine trouble he was again experiencing when he arrived in the Los Angeles basin, the Red One was still running on all four cylinders, and I was quite looking forward to visiting the building that once housed the Henderson Motorcycle Agency in 1919 downtown Los Angeles.

Leaving Barstow: I was riding the Red One west on the National Old Trails Road (old US 66), northwest of Barstow, and was just getting into open country when my saddle started getting very squirrely. This caused the bike itself to become unstable, so I pulled over. It seems that 2,000 miles was as far as I was going to get on my previous “fix” to extend the studs under the nose of the saddle. It had all come apart and the tang that used to connect the chassis to the seat was now just flopping about.

We got out the epoxy and set about bonding things back together, but that stuff requires at least five hours to set. I was disappointed but, short of spending another night in Barstow, we had no choice but to press on with the Red One in the trailer.

Soon enough my day got brighter. Here we were at 907 South Main Street in Los Angeles where the building at that location today gives every indication it is one and the same structure that housed Henderson Motorcycle Sales Co. in 1919. The storefront is now a yoga studio – of all things – but I could envision Henderson motorcycles lined up for sale on Main Street. There is also an alley next to it that could have been used to roll bikes into the garage. Sadly, I have never found any period photographs of this Henderson Motorcycle franchise.

The Red One parked right out front of the Henderson Motorcycle Sales Co.
building from 100 years ago.

After our brief stop at the old Henderson Motorcycle building, we drove up to 426 South Hill Street, the street address for the Hotel Clark where C.K. stayed while waiting for his third engine overhaul to be completed. While exploring this area some years earlier, apart from noting that there were few, if any, storefront businesses and virtually no pedestrian traffic, I also took note that Hotel Clark was closed and walled up without anything resembling a public entrance or parking garage. Unfortunately, despite multiple changes in ownership over the last hundred years, the Hotel Clark was still not re-opened in 2022.

Counting our blessings for the generally light Sunday traffic, we headed for Ventura. We stopped at the In-N-Out Burger in Oxnard. They don’t have those in Ohio where I live or Hawaii where my daughter lives, but since my daughter always raves about this joint when she visits California, I saw this as a great opportunity for some good-natured ribbing. Burgers were eaten, photos were texted, and the intended envious reaction was received. Mission accomplished!

After that we went up US 101 (locally known as “the 101”) a few more miles to Exit 65, just east of Ventura, where I was able to ride the Red One through Ventura on the same Main Street that C.K. rode back in 1919 as his odometer “ticked off the 4,500^th mile” on his 4,950-mile trip.

One thing that made my passage through Ventura challenging was that they had turned several blocks of Main Street into a pedestrian mall in the city center. Unfortunately, signage on the resulting detour to parallel on Santa Clara Street does not tell you when it is possible to resume riding west on Main Street.

As a result, I guessed. When I thought I’d ridden far enough west, I turned right on Palm Street hoping I would be able to re-enter Main Street, but Palm Street only allowed vehicles to cross Main Street. Worse, Palm Street became extremely steep after crossing Main Street, which caused problems for both me and Willie. I stopped and doubled back, but Willie could not make a U-turn and was forced to grunt the truck and trailer up to “the summit.”

After another block or two west on Santa Clara Street, I was finally able to get back on Main Street. There, Glen and I rejoined Willie who was somehow magically waiting for us coming the opposite direction near a shopping center parking lot. Glen and I turned left onto Main Street and Willie turned right to tuck in behind us as we continued west toward the next landmark, Emma Wood State Beach.

The first problem we faced was that the only available route from Ventura to Emma Wood State Beach involved riding a short distance on “the 101,” a major road with three lanes of traffic at freeway speeds. The onramp was steep, but I still wanted to do my best to reach at least 55 MPH by the time I had to merge. By the time Glen told me I was clear to merge, my throttle was cranked WFO. Glen was “directing” traffic away from me and Willie was running interference behind. I felt like I had the Red One nearly at terminal velocity when we reached our exit, so I was able to just coast under the overpass and onto the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), formally known as California Route 1, at the southern end of Emma Wood State Beach.

Those of you who have seen the cover of my 2019 book, Across America by Motor-Cycle – Fully Annotated Centennial Edition, (the cover of which shows C.K.’s bike on the beach in California with mist obscuring the more distant landscape) might understand my ambition of finding the exact spot that photograph was taken.

I wasn’t able to assure myself that C.K.’s photo was taken at this exact location, but my extensive research revealed no plausible alternatives. We stopped to take a picture in case this might be the only opportunity. I remain confident that we must have been very close.

I was very excited about the prospect of being literally “on” C.K. Shepherd’s trail. I had no doubt that C.K. rode his 1919 Henderson along this very same beach road on the way to San Francisco in mid-August 1919. I rode a few more miles up the beach until it became clear I was going to have to merge back onto “the 101.” I pulled over so we could enjoy one last look at the Channel Islands and Pacific Ocean before we packed it up for the day. Our overnight hotel was a few miles further, just past Santa Barbara in Goleta.

The next day would be our last full day of riding. We would end our day in Gilroy, south of San Jose.

Mark

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