A slow peel from the coast up "the 5" and then east to Lake Elsinore eased us back into riding mode.
California hills, green from the recent rains, presented a new perspective of this terrain. Always brown on our previous travels, the mountains surrounded us with a new mysticism. Do Hobbits live here in the winter?
As we braided the twists of amazing route 74, Rascal flew again and stretched her wings that had been folded in the city. Just before the lake we ran into a unique biker bar. Hell's Kitchen has every kitschy accoutrement that a biker bar could offer. Outdoor music, politically incorrect signs, and plenty of skulls and flames welcomed riders to relax here. An ornate coffin, a skull to automatically lift the lid and an array of salad bar items within. Only in California can the leather meet the la-de-da.
Down time on the road after lunch lead us into Hemet. A morass of malls and traffic lights almost sucked us in, but we persevered and the outcome was sweet. Into San Jacinto State Park, route 243 lifted us into a road bordered by snow and ice. As the temperature plummeted, swishy turns and grinding climbs, intensified by the chance of ice on every wet curve, challenged and exhilarated both bike and riders. Freed from itineraries and schedules, we rose together into heights of a new joined experience.
Down onto the 10, Palm Springs called us to rest. Fearful of golfers in Bermuda shorts and black socks, ancient Cadillacs cruising recklessly at 25 mph and leather faced snowbirds, we were pleasantly surprised to find a restaurant where we were the oldest patrons. Perhaps the rap music kept the zombies away!
Alone together again! It has always been about the two of us. Selfish of the time given us, we choose to be welded back to front on a bike built for two. And today we flew solo!
Green California
You could buy it!
Lots of flames
Oops!
Yes!
Do you dare to enter?
Snow
Flying solo
We went to a museum!
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