Calaveras
True happiness is an empty road under an empy sky in
a huge empty space. Sadness is the same without the motorbike. This is probably
not Confucius, but it should be if he would be still around. If you hate
people and live in Silicon Valley Calaveras road behind the Diablo range
is difficult to beat: in two hours we meet maybe two cars. On this wonderful
saturday we set off direction North. I planned to drive to Mono Lake, Dora
though that a shorter ride would be more reasonable, so I sought a road so
slow that our butts get their training anyway. Temperature is 30 C., about
90 Fahrenheit, for the metric challenged. Hot enough, for everybody. But
the air is so dry that the leather stuff is not too hot, at least while you
drive...
Around the hills are huge brown waves frozen in motion, and we dive between
them. The colors are true California, cobalt blue and golden brown, and the
incredible clarity of the air sculpt the countours so sharply that nearly
hurts. So much beauty can be beared only tempered with the prosaic, and nothing
better than a burger and a Corona in a god-forgotten place can do that, and
the Sunol Coffee House & Cafe fits perfectly. The burger are juicy and
good, the fries crispy. And I meet two italians women that live in this place.
Go figure.
Stopping at Pleasanton for gas we get a tip: Morgan Territory. Even
less people, and huge hills all over the place, sprinkled with cows.
And no, we don't feel guilty about the burger...
The long way back is just highway: hot, fast, practical
and boring, but we reach home before night and before our rears give up on
us.
