California State Highway 74

In March of 2011, on our day off from the Canadian Record Camp in Perris Valley California, Johnny, Brian, Diane and I, drove out out to the coast. We took highway 74 out of Elsinore, winding back and forth as we climbed up into the hills. Between the road twisting and turning back and forth so much as it clung to the side of the cliff and the speed Johnny was driving, I actually started to get motion sickness, something I've never experienced before. I vowed to someday return to that highway on a motorcycle, but at that time the possibility seemed so unlikely as to be only a dream.

After I had finished my 6 laps of ecstasy on the track at Chuckwalla I continued my circle around Joshua Tree National Park and arrived back at Interstate 10, minutes from Palm Springs and home. It was only around 3:30 and I wanted to extend the trip a little so I picked out a loop on the map in the hills above Palm Springs through a town called Idyllwild that I figured would be an hours drive - max. In my mind the highway 74 I had vowed to ride was way over towards the coast, and I didn't make the connection as I went past the sign reading "California State Highway 74".

It started out looking interesting enough, and just got better as it quickly climbed into the hills, the turns were tight and non-stop. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to maintain the posted 50 mile an hour speed limit, I was struggling to get up to 40 with all the hairpin turns and warning signs. It was getting cold fast but I ignored it at first as I focused on doing my best to set up for each turn. I saw a sign go past saying "Elevation 2,000 Feet", then 3,000, 4,000, and by the time the one saying 5,000 feet went past there was a thick carpet of snow on the ground, and I was acutely aware of the fact that I was in shorts and a T shirt under my mesh bike gear. There were trees - real trees! - shading the road as it snaked back and forth and I did my best to ignore the cold as it still continued to climb. It finally maxed out at 6,000 feet, and with the sun getting low in the sky no wonder it was getting cold.

Somewhere along there I heard the sound of sirens. With the road twisting and diving like it did it was impossible for me to figure out where the sound was coming from, until a bright red Fire Engine festooned with lights appeared in my rear view mirror. What The F###? I was a Rock Star on a Race Track a few hours ago and now I'm being shown up on a mountain road by some Lunatic driving a Fire Truck? I swallowed my pride and pulled over to let him pass.

When I reached the town of Idyllwild I had already been on this loop for an hour,  I wasn't even halfway around, and the pine trees were now towering more than a hundred feet over the road as I approached the San Bernadino National Forest. Finally I made it up and over the ridge, and the road continued to corkscrew back and forth in a series of switchbacks as it dove down into the valley. Shivering, I finally pulled over into a turnout and turned on the GPS to see how far it was to Beth's place. 5 Miles? 15 Minutes? Oh no! My GPS was broken! I'm screwed! I was in the middle of nowhere, in a turnout on the shoulder of a highway cut through a boulder strewn moonscape, following an endless ribbon of road designed by a motorcycle rider on Acid. I hoped I had enough gas to get me out of here. At least it was warming up fast as the road plunged to the valley floor.

Minutes later, I was suddenly in the town of Palm Desert, which was next door to Palm Springs, and only 5 minutes after I had concluded my GPS was lost I was on Highway 111, which cuts right through both towns. It was incredible to believe that fantastic road was so close to home.

Beth and I are taking the bike to Idyllwild for lunch on Sunday, but we're going to be dressed warmer.