Day 11: High Crests, Pacific Sunsets, and Near-Brawls at Neptune’s Net
Yesterday was the definitive cross-California epic. We went from the quiet, desert-baked dirt of a historic mining camp, climbed nearly 8,000 feet into alpine twists, cut straight through the heart of LA traffic to hit the official end of Route 66, and finally ate dinner on the rocks of the Pacific Coast Highway as the sun dipped below the ocean.
It was a day of massive elevation changes, close calls, and unforgettable views.
The Morning Log: Camp Coffee and Ghost Town History
I started the morning early to test out my new camp coffee burner—worked like an absolute charm. While I was sipping a brew and talking with a few neighboring campers, Pete emerged from the cabin, so I fixed him a cup too.
The campground was absolutely teeming with these unique, round little birds that looked exactly like the cartoon ones from The Partridge Family intro. I looked them up later: they’re Chukar Partridges. Dean discovered they have a massive sweet tooth and started tossing pieces of powdered donuts into the dirt, triggering a hilarious, feathered battle royale right outside our door.
Once packed up, we rode the rigs up to the main parking lot and spent the morning exploring Calico Ghost Town. It feels like a small, old-west version of Silver Dollar City. We grabbed a killer breakfast at the old Miner’s Café—French toast, sausage, and a Route 66 orange soda—and soaked in the history.
[ CALICO LORE: THE WHEELBARROW EXPRESS ]
————————————————————
The Legend: Back in the peak silver-mining days of the 1880s, an enterprising hotel owner at the top of Calico’s steep hill had a unique marketing strategy.
The Hustle: He would wheel a standard wheelbarrow down to the train station, greet arriving travelers, and offer to wheel them—and their luggage—all the way up the brutal hill if they chose to stay at his establishment.
————————————————————
Climbing Angels Crest to the Edge of LA
We stayed on Route 66 until we hit Highway 2. Every road book and touring guide calls this the number-two motorcycle road in all of California, so we had to see it for ourselves.
“Amazing” doesn’t even do it justice. The route serves up massive, sweeping curves, tight technical corners, sheer rock faces, pine trees, and towering cacti. It dragged us all the way up to a breathtaking crest of 7,863 feet. Officially known as the Angeles Crest Highway, most of the pavement cuts right through the stunning Angeles National Forest.
Just before we veered off Route 66 to hit the climb, we pulled off at the Iron Hog Restaurant. They were in the middle of setting up a private birthday party, and the second we walked in, it felt like accidentally stumbling into the wrong ballroom at a hotel. Bikers were steadily rolling in and filling the place up, but the locals were giving our out-of-town crew some incredibly icy stares. Sensing the tension, we decided to skip the drama and hit the road.
Highway 2 eventually dumped us out near Devil’s Gate. From there, we had to bite the bullet and jump onto the 101, fighting our way through Burbank, Glendale, Beverly Hills, and all the way down to Santa Monica.
The End of the Trail: Santa Monica Pier
The walk down to the boardwalk offered some classic, weird California entertainment. In the parking lot, we noticed a random van with water literally pouring out of the rear doors. As we watched, a guy walked up, knocked on the back door, the doors swung open, and revealed a fully functional, undercover mobile bar running right out of the cargo space.
We made it to the very end of the wooden pier, snapped our milestone photos, and got a kick out of a unique beach safety warning sign signed by “Arnold” (Schwarzenegger) himself.
[ THE PCH 2025 ATTRACTIONS ]
————————————————————
* The Milestone: Documented the official end of our Route 66
asphalt conquest at Santa Monica.
* The Contrast: From 109°F desert power lines yesterday to a
brisk, crisp 70°F ocean breeze this evening.
————————————————————
Gravity Checks and Near-Brawls at Neptune’s Net
Leaving Santa Monica, we pointed the front wheels north up the Pacific Coast Highway toward the iconic Neptune’s Net.
By the time we arrived, the sun was sinking fast and the temperature plummeted to a gorgeous 70°F. For some reason, the restaurant’s dedicated bike parking was completely blocked off, and the kitchen was strictly operating as take-out only. The setting sun was blinding as we looked west, causing us to miss the turn the first time.
We had to pull a u-turn, but the road featured a brutally steep, uphill incline. Blake had a major wrestling match with gravity on his rental bike (let’s just say it may or may not have gently met the asphalt), and I almost suffered the exact same fate about a split second later.
Because the main lot was closed, we parked on the beach side of the highway and ran across the traffic to grab our food. While we were waiting on the deck, an RV parked right next to our bikes started pulling out into the road. Out of nowhere, a pickup truck came speeding down the PCH, skidding and fishtailing all over the blacktop, barely missing the RV.
The pickup driver pulled a wild turnaround, came roaring back, and started screaming at the RV driver. Instantly, about 12 guys who had been helping the RV back out swarmed the asphalt and called the truck driver out on the spot. We genuinely thought we were about to witness a full-scale highway brawl, but things luckily de-escalated before fists flew.
Sunset on the Rocks and the Push to Oxnard
With our takeout containers in hand, we scrambled back over to the ocean side, scrambled down onto the rocks overlooking the crashing white water, and watched one of the most awesome sunsets of the trip drop straight into the Pacific Ocean.
[ ROAD LOG: THE TWILIGHT RUN TO OXNARD ]
————————————————————
The Ambience: The sun sank below the horizon, but left a brilliant,
deep orange glow in the western sky for miles.
The View: Absolute silhouettes of jagged mountain ridges and
ink-black palm trees against a fading sky, while the
mirrors behind me showed total darkness.
The Temp: Dropped to a crisp 67°F—beautifully cool riding weather.
————————————————————
We rolled into Oxnard, near Ventura, and checked into a local La Quinta to park the bikes for the night.
We stayed up incredibly late into the midnight hours trying to secure a highly coveted vehicle pass to ride Highway 120 straight through Yosemite National Park. No success on the website tonight, but the hustle doesn’t stop. The plan is to have the entire crew wake up, jump online, and try again at exactly 7:00 AM tomorrow morning to see if we can lock it down.
Wish us luck. Keep the shiny side up!