Since I'm still unemployed and nothing else was going on today, I suggested that I meet my friend Carolyn for lunch today up at Alice's, a local restaurant in the hills that is a popular spot with motorcyclists. I felt confident that I could find it, seeing as I had just ridden past it a couple of days prior. Not only that, it was at the intersection of two major routes though the mountains. How could it go wrong? Well, for starters, I couldn't find my way out of the city. It took me much longer to figure out how to get to the road I was looking for and by now I was starting to panic that I'd be late. I didn't have an easy way to check the time and didn't want to waste the time it would take to call and let Carolyn know that I was running late, so I just kept on going.

Fortunately I had borrowed Dan's GPS and at this point I pulled it out and told it to tell me where to go. I ignored it's first few suggestions simply because I couldn't find the streets that it was refering to, but eventually I saw a sign that matched what the GPS was telling me and I took the turn. It was difficult to follow the GPS because I don't have a mount on my bike and had merely stuffed the unit into the mapcase of my tank bag. This let the GPS turn upside down for more difficult reading, not to mention the glare of the sunlight reflecting off of the plastic surface to inhibit the legibility of the screen. But somehow I managed to find a road that I recognized from reading previous maps and verified with the GPS that this is where I should be. Finally!

I pulled into Alice's, found some shade to park in and checked my timepiece: I was two minutes early! Carolyn wasn't even there, and wouldn't be for another 10 minutes. This left me time to relax with my glass of water and contemplate the people who came to this restaurant in the hills. I watched Carolyn pull in to the parking lot and we were soon enjoying a non-too healthy meal of various foods covered in cheese and more cheese. And garlic.

Much to Carolyn's chagrin, she had to go to work. Me? I had nowhere to go, so I thought I'd do a little exploration. I had the handy GPS, so I didn't think I'd get too lost, at least for too long. And besides, the Bay Area members of STN have a little game called "photo tag", and I knew where the latest photo was taken and I was out to tag it. I bid adieu to Carolyn (after she pointed me in the right direction) and took off towards the coast.

I followed Rt 84 towards the coast, turning south just before it ended at the Pacific. Instead of enjoying the cool ocean breeze I headed south on a slightly inland road called Stage Rd. The northern teminius of this road is in San Gregorio with a hand painted sign declaring the building on the corner part of a stagecoach run from the 1850s. Stage Rd was narrow and unmarked and infinately fun. There were a couple of on-coming trucks, so I had to keep on my toes to stay out of the way on the many blind corners. But the scenery was varied, including a couple of views of the ocean itself and some well-kept farms. I eventually came upon the site for the photo tag and stopped to get my own photo of it (proof that I'd been there on my bike) before continuing on.

Old La Honda Rd eventually joined back in with La Honda Rd and I was essentially back where I started that morning, at Alice's restaurant. This time I went northwest from the intersection to see what #35 had to offer me. The road here was wide, fast and clean. I could see how other riders would be tempted to open up their throttle and take advantage of it. Fortunately the KLR doesn't inspire me to do that too often and today was just a slow day to explore. Which was a good thing, because I was able to spot the sign for Kings Mountain Rd, a section of pavement that Carolyn had recommended to me during lunch. This was another narrow and extremely winding section of road, often times curving back on itself as it dropped quickly down the east side of the Santa Cruz mountains.

The road eventually dumped me out in Woodside where I found a water fountain and some shade, both of which were much-needed by this point. I rolled easily through Woodside, admiring the large estates and equestrian outbuildings. I was heading home, but in no really hurry to get there. I eventually found Portola Rd, which lead me to Arastadaro and then home. I was hot and sweaty and tired, but it had been a good ride. And next time I'll take my own bottle of water.