Day 13: Monterey to Yosemite National Park. Hollister and Time Literally Flies

Day 13: Monterey to Yosemite National Park. Hollister and Time Literally Flies

 When I woke up this morning I wasn’t well. My head hurt and my brain was a bit fuzzy. I was still reacting to yesterday’s trip. Today’s goal was 200 miles and Yosemite and we almost made it but I was getting too fatigued. We had hoped that today would be a smoother ride but it wasn’t. The crosswinds returned and the roads were bumpy. The wind causes you to be extra vigilant, and tenser as you hold the handle grips tighter. Jeff said: “Bud you don’t look that well. Let’s hole up here and do Yosemite tomorrow.” I’m one of those people who normally want to just keep going but Jeff was right. I wouldn’t enjoy the ride, plus it wasn’t safe. So we stopped at Mariposa, 40 miles away from our goal, hunkered down in a Burger King and checked hotel prices through the Wi-Fi. All of which led us to the Monarch Inn at 2:30 pm. In a matter of minutes I was in bed and slept for two hours. I feel much better.

One nice stop we had was at the Country Rose Café in Hollister. Hollister is famous for a 1947 4th of July motorcycle event that got way out of hand. 4000 motorcyclists descended upon the town of only 4500 residents. This is where the “bad biker” image began and was cemented in the film based on Hollister, The Wild One, which starred Marlon Brandon.

But back to the café. When we came in we noticed posters for the next 4th of July motorcycle rally. The townspeople and the bikers have clearly made up. We had a hearty (not healthy) breakfast and coffee. The usual menu items plus the Mexican twist. For example, Huevo Rancheroes and a Sante Fe Omelet. Chillies, jalapenos and salsa were standard; ketchup was for babies. Well I was one of them staying safe with eggs, chorizo sausage, cottage potatoes and toast. The folks were friendly and the service was great.

And what about time flying? I hit one too many bumps and heard something fall off the bike, the sound of metal clattering on the asphalt. There was too much traffic behind me to stop. I double checked to make sure my bags were there, my phone and camera still in their magnetic bags clinging to the gas tank and I rode on.  A few minutes later I noticed a hole where my clock used to be. Tempus fugit.

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