After closing out last night I sat and reminisced about the days I’ve spent on the road so far this trip. I got to see family I haven’t seen in a few years and experience downtown Chicago. It wasn’t all that fun, but the experience was memorable. I was able to visit places like Lincoln’s tomb and the Uranus Fudge Factory (yes, I just giggled again). I saw old motels and gas stations. And I’ve met so many people, probably mostly from other countries.
The day began cool and crisp again. I was up by 7:00 and started packing up camp when a young staff member pulled into a spot nearby. He was trying to put a concrete bench back on its stands but was struggling, so I went over to help. We chatted for a few minutes before I excused myself and got back to preparing for the road.
I take I-15 into Barstow and rejoin Route 66. I don’t find much in town, but about 20 miles later I reach Oro Grande and Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch. Created by Elmer Long, it is a folk-art installation inspired by the bottles and desert finds he collected while exploring the Mojave with his father as a child. What began as a single handmade bottle tree has grown into a grove of more than 200 glass and metal installations. A bus is parked out front, and several older visitors are wandering the property. As I return to Laurelin, one woman tells me they are from the East Coast and are touring Route 66 on a 27-day trip.
At Victorville, Route 66 merges onto I-15, and the wind begins to pick up. It never gets too bad, but it does make me slow down. It also distracts me from noticing that the road is gradually climbing into the mountains. Then, almost suddenly, it starts dropping toward sea level. The grade is steep enough to require truck warning signs, but the highway has four lanes in my direction. It finally spits me out near Rancho Cucamonga. I later realize I had unknowingly cut off a small part of the route.
I’m in Los Angeles territory now, where one city runs into the next. There is a stoplight at every intersection, and most turn red as I approach. It takes most of the morning to reach Monrovia, where I stop for lunch at the London Gastropub. Despite the name, the menu has little, if anything, to do with English food, but the street tacos are on point.
So far the signage has been okay through each town. The only reason I found the London Gastropub is because they have two signs for Route 66 at an intersection, one is just the Route 66 designation sign, the other tells you to turn right. I saw the turn right sign first. The section I end up is one of the much older ones and I have no intention of being on it. I’m in a major metropolitan area and am trying to stay on the straightest 66 path as possible.
Getting back onto Route 66 after lunch proves difficult. I miss my turn, ride too far south, and have to backtrack. Once I’m finally back on the route, I head into Pasadena, where I’m supposed to turn south, but again I miss the turn because there’s no signage. I decide to navigate to an old motel to get back on track, but I don’t know which direction I’m approaching from and end up riding east when I should be heading either south or west. Several times, I pull off to get my bearings, but it doesn’t help. Eventually, I set my GPS for Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, only to get turned around again. The chaos of the city proves too much, and I can’t find my way to where I want to be. I pull off one last time and set my sights on the Santa Monica Pier.
My plan was to park on the pier, I want Laurelin close. I’m not so much worried about her but the easily accessible bag strapped in the back seat. The bag is easily opened and the straps holding her down could easily be cut and the entire thing taken. Unfortunately the pier parking is closed due to construction, but the pier itself is still open. I luck out and find parking right next to the entrance to the pier and the spot I’m given is right next to the attendant’s stand, I have no worries about my gear. It does cost me $25 though.
Once I make it up onto the pier I realize that the pier parking being closed was actually a blessing. The wooden planks are rough and uneven and trying to navigate a 1,000lb bike on them would not have been easy. The pier is busy but not packed like I’ve seen in photos and videos. Most of the people I walk past speak to each other in foreign languages. My only goal is to reach the end of the road sign.
There’re several people around the sign when I approach. All getting their photos taken in front of the sign. I wonder how many of them have travelled any stretch of the Route and how many are taking a photo just because Route 66 is known worldwide. I snap a photo of the sign then step up to its post. It takes me a moment but I finally reach out and grab the sign post, officially ending my run of Route 66.
Running Route 66 from start to finish is nothing newsworthy. Thousands have done it, hell, that’s why the road was built, to get people out west. Thousands of people ran the road long before it became historic. But if you can find the time and the means to do it, I highly recommend you do. Be it in a car, a camper or even on a motorcycle, it’s worth it. I’ve envisioned Dad and I on this trip several times the past few days. We always had a great time on our trips, but this, oh man this would have been the greatest.
Just a short walk from the end of the Route sign is a small kiosk that offers certificates of completion. There’s nothing official about it. You sign your name in their guest book, pay the $11 price tag and get your certificate. It’s a gimmick but one I’m happy to buy into. I take a stroll down the pier just to get the full experience. There’s a bar near the end so I stop in to get a much needed cold one. I look out into the Pacific Ocean as I consume my very pricey beverage. It’s already 4:00 here so I decide it’s a good time to call home as it’s my daughter’s 16th birthday today. They’re at a volleyball game so I only get a few minutes but we can chat again once I get to my final destination.
Getting to my final destination will end up being a bit of a new experience. My goal is to get out of the big town and into the little big town, Santa Clarita. It’s 30 miles and takes me over two hours. Traffic runs very slowly but is never really stand still. The highway here is at least four lanes and I notice a few bikers passing through cars. Lane splitting is legal here in California. I’m tempted to do the same but I’m fat and heavy. I’ve also never tried lane splitting and I’m really not convinced it’s the best idea, there’s a lot of things that can happen and put you on the pavement fast.
I do in fact give it a try when traffic eases up a little. I find another larger bike and grab onto his tailpipes. It’s a bit exhilarating, but in full traffic like before, not for me, there’s too much that could go wrong.
I spent most of my day in some form of traffic. Stoplight to stoplight and headlight to taillight. I finally made it to my hotel a little after 6:00. I get Laurelin unloaded before making a quick video call home. I’ve got laundry to do tonight as well. Dinner is from Topper’s Pizza Place. I’m in no mood to go out for dinner and pizza isn’t my first choice tonight, but it’s good pizza.
Tomorrow will be a short day. I intend on blacking out my window, turning down the thermostat and sleeping until I naturally wake up, two or three times. Then it’s just a couple of hours north to spend the evening with some more family. I highly doubt I’ll have a post tomorrow. But remember, I’m on the west coast and still have to get home. I’ve finished Route 66, not the trip.
