Big Sur Ride

Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, which winds along the ocean rim from Carmel in the north through Big Sur and on to Cambria in the south, is not a fast road. But it doesn't need to be. It is a road that urges you to take your time. There are few things as beautiful as the edge of the Pacific Ocean, and there are numerous pullouts and scenic viewpoints where you can stop and take it all in.

The map above is courtesy of and copyright by DeLorme. For more information about DeLorme, see http://www.delorme.com/ .


Danny Underwood rides south toward a long curve on Route 1.

The stretch of Route 1 between Carmel and Cambria is roughly one hundred miles long, and estimates on popular mapping systems estimate a travel time of on hour and twenty minutes, but those are unrealistic estimates. I'm sure it could be done, but I'm also sure that it wouldn't be safe.

A typical ride will take you three to five hours, depending on how many times you stop and for how long.

A rocky shore. I wouldn't want to beach a schooner here.

Some rocks are bigger than others. This one supports several buildings, including a lighthouse.

North of Cambria, Elephant Seals take their leisure, sunbathing on an arc of warm sand. Signs on the highway point out the pullout with plentiful parking above the beach where the seals frequently rest. A great deal of vehicular traffic is diverted into the parking lot.

For more information on Elephant Seals, see http://www.elephantseal.org/ .

The photo below is a crop of the one above - a closer view of the seals.

A woman watches the seals and the endless ocean.

Amboy Ride

Amboy, California is a favored desert ride destination for my riding group, in addition to hundreds of others. For me, there's a certain nostalgia, since I frequently rode and drove the roads through it, including the stretch of Historic Route 66 between Amboy and Essex near I-40, in the 70s and 80s in order to visit relatives living near Bullhead City, Arizona.

Spending as little time on a freeway as possible, we typically get off I-10 at Route 64 and ride through the growing desert towns of Morongo Valley, Yucca Valley, Joshua Tree and Twentynine Palms. In Yucca Valley, Hutchin's Route 62 Diner serves up hearty traditional diner fare. In Joshua Tree, the Joshua Tree Saloon offers a fine amber bock on tap, and burgers and dogs from an outside barbeque.

After gassing up in Twentynine Palms, a left turn onto the Utah Trail takes us over the hill toward the Marine base. At the bottom of the hill, a right turn puts our tires on Amboy Road.

Amboy road runs nearly straight east, but with the rolling topography of the valley floor and the sometimes iffy state of repair of the asphalt, it is not a high-speed road. But even at 60mph, there is always something to look at. The area is surprisingly populated, and there is light local traffic.

Not far past the Fire Station, the road turns left in a long banked curve, and rises up over the Sheephole Pass, through (you guessed it) the Sheephole Mountains. The curves through the pass are deceptive in places, including decreasing radius turns and dips. On the north side of the pass, the road runs down a long grade toward Bristol Dry Lake, and the town of Amboy can be made out in the far distance.

Due to the heat, Amboy is not a good summer ride destination. Even in the winter, the shade of the gas station canopy provides a welcome break from the sun. Gasoline and drinks are available at the gas station. Since Albert Okura bought the town in 2005 for a purported $450,000, restoration efforts have been steady and are ongoing.

For more information on Amboy, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amboy, California

Riding down the long grade from the Sheephole Mountains in the south toward bristol Dry Lake and Amboy.

In 2009 this long stretch of the road is smooth, but ten to twelve year spans between resurfacing are not unheard of.

A distant view of Amboy Crater from the edge of the road at Bristol Dry Lake.

A black lava flow on the north side of the crater.

A view to the east toward the town from the parking area near the crater.

A long view of Roy's from the east.

A closer view of Roy's. Again, from the east.

A riding group from Los Angeles pulls into the parking lot for a break.

Roy's is in the process of restoring the original diner. Given the speedy rate of restoration of the gas station, I have little doubt it will be in business before 2010. I'll take a cheeseburger and Coke, please.

Looking south toward the Sheephole Mountains and the road home from Bristol Dry Lake.

Eastern Sierra Nevadas Ride

It started out, like the ride two weeks before, as an idea about going to Mono Lake, 330 miles north of my home. But unlike the previous ride, it didn't turn into a four-state, multi-day, 3,000 mile ride.

I'd ride up to Mammoth Lakes on a Saturday, stay overnight in the ski resort town, then take the camera to the South Tufa Grove for the sunrise. From the lake, I'd ride south down the east side of the Sierra Nevadas, through the Mojave Desert, then down the Cajon Pass to the Inland Valleys.

The relief map above of my target area is courtesy of Delorme and is copyright by Delorme. For more information about DeLorme, see http://www.delorme.com/ .


I started at 5:00am wearing chaps and leather jacket to keep out the cool morning air. At 6:00 I sat down to breakfast at TNT's Cafe in Victorville - any excuse to eat breakfast there will do.

Up the road on US 395 the Mojave seemed to be waking slowly. Though it was August, the temperature hovered in the high 80s until my tires touched the rim of the Sierras. Nice and cool, if you live in the desert like I do.

The Mojave waking slowly.

Proof that crows can't read presented itself at a rest stop.

A lake near the town of Mammoth Lakes.

View down a canyon toward Mammoth Lakes.

US 395 rolls north at over 9,000 feet near Mammoth Lakes.

South Tufa Grove, Mono Lake, California.

I was checked in at the motel in Mammoth Lake by 3:00pm. Rather than wait until morning, I packed the camera and tripod back on the Road Star and headed back to 395. I could see the lake from the south before turning east on CA 120. The turnoff to the South Tufa Grove is clearly marked and mostly dirt with a fair amount of loose gravel. Not exactly what the bike was built for, but a bit of slow going will do it.

For more information about Mono Lake and the Tufa Groves, see http://www.monolake.org/about/geotufa.

South Tufa Grove, Mono Lake, California.

South Tufa Grove, Mono Lake, California.

South Tufa Grove, Mono Lake, California.

South Tufa Grove, Mono Lake, California.

Tioga Pass, view East.

I woke at 2:00am. and stayed awake, hoping the weather channel would put me to sleep. it didn't work. by 4:00 it seemed pointless to try to sleep. at 5:00am I was pulling out of a gas station in Mammoth Lakes. Though I had the electric gloves on, I wasn't overdressed. To stay comfortably warm, I had to stop about every twenty miles to warm up for a few minutes.

Elk Farm.

Elk Farm? Two rather large fields on the west side of US 395 contained herds of Elk. The male 2nd from the left was the alpha, and busy keeping the other males away from the females. I'd never heard elk calls before. It wasn't what I expected.

Farther along the road, Manzanar was quiet in the early sun. There was no discernable breeze. The peace was broken only by the crunch of gravel under my boots and the whoosh of cars on the highway.

For more information about Manzanar, see http://americanhistory.about.com/cs/worldwarii/a/internment.htm .

On the way north the day before I'd caught a quick glance of a sign. The only thing that registered was the word "Manzanar". A half hour later I remembered that it was the name of the internment camp where Japanese-Americans spent most of WWII.

I kept watch for the camp on the ride home. I could make out the guard tower from a mile away. A closer view of the tower is above. The tower is a reconstruction.

The Guard "Shack" at the entrance to the interment center. It has held up well, unlike the hastily-erected wooden buildings of the rest of the camp.

Looking down Main Street toward the Internal Police Station.

Along Main Street signs mark the location of various facilities such as this one at the site of the Manzanar Free Press.

The Internal Police Station had a concrete foundation, unlike many other public buildings.

Barbed wire fencing defines a rectangular half of the camp, with the guard tower at the far corner of the rectangle.

Back on the road I kept the leathers on until I hit the edge of the desert where the air temperature climbed suddenly into the 80s. With little wind and t-shirt temperatures, it was an ideal summer day for a ride through the desert. Nothing more was needed.

Red Dragonfly

Now in the doldrums, the horse lattitudes of summer, we've been becalmed for days. Nothing of interest going on in the sky. Unless you like smog. Or are in denial and call it haze.

But some things close to home can be worth a frame or a few. On our driveway this morning a red dragonfly took up a perch on the antenna of my wife Lisa's BMW.

It was an upscale dragonfly, I guess.

Immediately below is a familiar model getting a close look at the dragonfly. It seemed to be focused on sitting on the antenna, and would fly in a loop back to it when we got too close. It didn't seem to mind the camera.

Click on any photo to view a larger version.

The following photos are 80% crops.

One Minute

When making sunset or sunrise photographs, a few seconds can make a great or small difference in the quality of the light. It doesn't matter much how obvious or subtle the difference. What matters is that the light quality is ever shifting, ever mutating from one state to another.

The changing light is what makes it interesting and is the reason why we will stand out in the elements with a camera in our hands, watching the land, sky and clouds, along with the movements of the sun, moon, planets and stars for long stretches of time. We know from experience that at some time around dusk or dawn the quality of light will peak, will be at its best for a fleeting moment, and if we're paying attention, we'll capture that light.

After all, if the light did not change, one could step outside once, make a single photograph, then give up landscape photography altogether (at least in a single locale). Boring. Few of us would have the incentinve to pick up our cameras at all, assuming that humanity bothered to invent the photographic process to begin with, rather than leave imaging to the painters, wood block printers, and crayon scribblers.

Those of us perverse enough to pursue landscape photography despite the unchanging light would find ourselves thinking about transportation as much as light-capturing devices. We would be hurrying from one spot to another on the surface of this planet or above it in our automobiles, airplanes, and helicopters, or on our motorcycles, bikes, and skateboards, frantically making photos in various places, trying to capture something different.

The photographs in this post are pairs of landscapes made at a nominal time of one minute apart to illustrate the shifting of light quality.

Coast Ride, Part 2

After snarled traffic on the freeways through Portland, it was slow going on US 101 along the Pacific. I stayed in Nehalem on the night of the 27th at The Bunk House in a clean, comfortable room. It was quiet at night in the small town. Being so close to Tilamook, I wondered if I'd find a wedge of medium cheddar under my pillow, but that particular promotional idea hadn't yet caught on.

The next morning was misty along the coast. With frequent stops for gas, photographs, and rest breaks, I followed the slow road toward the south.

Oregon Coast.

Oregon Coast.
A small sailing ship graces the front of the Tilamook dairy in Tilamook, Oregon. Being a big fan of Tilamook cheddars, I took the tour, had some cheddar, and bought t-shirts for the grandchildren.

Two views of a lighthouse.

On the morning of the 28th, I woke in a motel on the Rogue River waterfront in the town of Orange Coast. The mist was thicker than that of the previous day.

The light was nearly monochrome because of the costal mist. I thought it looked like old black and white prints.

Due to the mist, it was a cold slow ride along the coast. I was running out of time to get to San Francisco and Santa Cruz. By the time I arrived in Eureka, it was obvious that I needed to reroute my self to arrive home by Friday - I'd never make it in time if I continued to ride the slow coast roads. I turned east at Fortuna, taking Route 36 over the Coast Range, then Route 99 south through the central valley, I-80 from Sacramento over the Donner Pass to Reno, then returned home on Route 395 through the Mojave Desert.

The Sierra Nevadas Viewed from Route 395.

The Sierra Nevadas viewed from Route 395.