I rode into a tree.

Actually, I was up early this morning.
Not "retarded early" like a few days ago but normal early, like 6:30 or so.
The hotel coffee was just unacceptable so I went on down the hill to the gas station, which was only marginally better.
After a brief discussion with the attendant about "The Great DeBeers Conspiracy" and a debate with an older woman on the trail about snails vs. slugs (my interests are very diverse) my morning was whittled away by talks with various techs about film installs going on in Atlanta, Charlotte, Knoxville, and Dallas, and then I had a talk about the nature of cross-country motorcycle travel with another guest at The Inn at The Tides, which was nice, but then I got Shangai-Hai-ed into a long sermon about the benefits of being a Jehovah Witness.

Attention Jehovah Witnesses:
You seem like nice enough people but please remember, you can not and will not convert me to anything prior to my morning pot of coffee.
It's just not possible.
Before I get that first gallon or so of coffee funneled into my maw, the VERY only thing I am thinking is, "What can I say, to this person, right now, to make them go away so that I can get more coffee?"

Eventually, I agreed to read some literature and possibly go on a mission trip to Mozambique if he would just point me to some partially ground beans and let me get to the check out desk before 11.

After check out, I rode south on Shoreline (aka, Hwy. 1) to Bodega Highway were I hung a left to go down to Hwy. 12 were I took another left towards Sebastopol.
Highway 12 takes you past St. Terese de Avila, the church that Hitchcock used in his movie, "The Birds", and into town.
It was nearly noon already so I stopped at Whole Foods for a sandwich and a couple bottles of Grandma's Sweet Tea (good stuff if you're gonna buy bottled).
The weather was just perfect so I sat outside in the shade with my goodies and had a nice chat with some locals, including Howard, who had riden 16,000 miles on his Yamaha back in 1971, and Chris, who makes kits that convert your motorcycle to electric - according to the other guys, Chris is quite the rocket surgeon and his cars and bikes regularly beat the Tesla electric cars at the local races.  Kinda cool.

Highway 12 takes you to Santa Rosa where I picked up 101 North towards Eureka (where I stayed last night).  I could've gone Interstate 5 and been to Portland much quicker but I'm glad I chose the scenic route.
101 North from Santa Rosa is breathtaking.  The road winds thru gorgeous little towns and thru the mountains as you head into Redwood country.  You pass thru Ukiah, Willets, The Redwood Forest.  The mountains look like wave after wave of dark greens and ochres and browns as you cross Eel River on it's way to the Pacific.

The air was cool.  I can not tell you what a relief it's been to actually need the heavy leather jacket that Mr. T loaned me.
Yesterday I had on long underwear (tops and bottoms), jeans, leather riding pants, an El Pinche Pirata tour t-shirt, a flannel, and the leather coat and I was perfectly comfortable at 65 mph.  Glorious.

Periodically, the road shifts from 4 lanes down to just 2, and in those spots the redwoods crowd 101 casting deep pools of shadow that little sunshine makes it thru.  It's beautiful scenery and every second I was glad to not be on the interstate.
Around Humboldt, the trees get even taller and the road dips and turns around the mountains and crosses bridge after bridge where you can look down hundreds of feet to the gorge below.
I remember looking off to my right as I crossed the Eel River (for what might have been the fifth time) and seeing a train trestle crossing the river just a little east of me.  The sunlight was shining on the metal and reflecting on the water below as it cascaded over the rocks, flowing towards me and my bridge, and on down to the ocean.  It looked like a postcard for the entire northwest, and even though I only caught a split second glimpse at highway speed as I passed, I wondered how long that memory will stay with me.  I've seen so many gorgeous little moments like that, that I think, certainly they can't all stay in here forever.  But maybe they will.

Humboldt is stunning and if you haven't come this way, you definitely should.  All these beautiful little mountain towns to see, nestled underneath those giant trees.
I turned off of 101 a couple of times to get even closer to them and towards the end of the afternoon took the detour thru The Avenue of Giants.

Along The Avenue of Giants.

It took all afternoon, but I made it into Eureka just as the sun was getting low and the air dense with fog rolling in off the ocean.  It was actually cold and I had to stop and zip up the jacket all the way around my neck;  quite a change from a couple weeks ago and when I had seriously debated riding in my underwear just to keep cool.